[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/nYJBXcD.jpg[/img][/center]
[color=Lawngreen][center][h1]James Camron[/h1][/center][/color]

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SOLDIER Camp, Zalera Tundra
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Mysterious.

Intimidating.

Cool.

Dangerous.

As the SOLDIER's walked into the encampment, many of the regular troops around would feel as if they somewhat embodied these characteristics to the T, seeming more like a pack of wolves amongst sheep in their sleek armor, the shine of their varied weapons gleaming in the faint light of the Zalvera moon. However, unbeknownst to them, this illusion would soon be broken in an extremely undignified way.

[color=LawnGreen][sub][sub][sub]"Outtatheway[/sub]outtatheway[/sub]outtatheway[/sub]OUTOFTHEFUCKIN'WAY!!!"[/color] A figure bolted out of the depths of the transport Shyp like a bat out of hell, holding both his stomach and his mouth as he made his way into the chilled air, only to trip near the bottom, doing a slight roll along the ground before landing facedown in the dirt. As they tried to rise from the ground, a faint choking sound could be heard, followed by the unpleasant sight of them unloading the contents of their stomach onto the ground in front of them, the mess of sick steaming and [i]bubbling[/i] as it settled into the dirt, giving off a somewhat offensive odor. 

Feeling a tad bit better, James rolled off to the side, making sure not to have any of his dreads fall into the pile of his vomit as he laid on the ground, letting out a low, miserable groan. [color=Lawngreen]"I. Fucking. Hate. Shyps."[/color] He muttered before taking one more roll to the side, getting up shakily to his feet and brushing the dirt and light snow of himself. As the probably many eyes looked him over, they'd notice a few things about the James. First being that he was young, barely out of his teen years and with little to show for it in terms of body size. He was thin, lean, and while some musculature could be seen through the layer of black under-armor that he wore beneath his light over-armor, it wasn't anything to write home about. Next would be his armor that, despite being made exactly for him, still looked a bit big on the young man, as if he'd taken his father's suit and gotten chosen instead of his old man to go on the mission by mistake. It wasn't much, just a sturdy under-armor covered by durable armored metal plates over his key areas, keeping him well protected, but still maintaining a majority of his maneuverability. The final two thing they'd notice, however, was that it didn't feel cold anymore, and that any aches, pains, or discomforts had seemingly been forgotten, replaced by a low undercurrent of energy that seemed to get stronger and more vibrant as one got closer to the young SOLDIER.

Back to James, he was taking a moment to make sure his stomach had finally settled before getting back-up, cursing Raganavic in his head. [color=Lawngreen][i]I knew this would happen, dammit, I told you that this would happen if I ate before we left on the mission. Yet you had to make me eat five servings of spaghetti, a tuna fish sandwich, and three bowls of soup. God, and now where is it, huh? It's in the ground over there in a foul smelling mess.[/i][/color] Raganavic response was merely the feeling of satisfaction and phantom pangs of hunger echoing through James' stomach. [color=Lawngreen][i]There isn't going to be time for that, you dumb lizard. We're here on a mission, doing work, my first real job since joining this thing. Forget about your stomach for just two minutes.[/i][/color] James' frown only deepened as he felt that same sense of satisfaction, only this time he could taste the spaghetti on the tip of his tongue, the pangs of hunger creeping up from his core not being so imaginary this time

[sub][color=Lawngreen]"Ugh. . . I wish I could trade you sometimes, I really do."[/color][/sub] James muttered under his breath, taking a moment to readjust his bow, check his knife, and look his pistol over before making his way into the camp, knowing that all eyes were on him but acting as if it didn't bother him.