[center][color=8dc73f]Ruben Verislav[/color]
[color=8dc73f]Level[/color]: 1
[color=8dc73f]Day/Time[/color]: Day Three - Evening
[color=8dc73f]Location[/color]: Forest of Skyrim
[color=8dc73f]Tag[/color]: [@Holy Soldier][@Lugubrious][@Zarkun][@DracoLunaris]
[color=8dc73f]Word Count[/color]: 1130
[/center]

Unsure of how to respond to the name "soldier-medic," which was promptly followed up with the even more ridiculous "Russian dude," Ruben merely gave the Boss a sharp nod. From the other nicknames (none of which were anything close to professional), it was apparent that his real one, much less rank or position, would be used. Unfortunately, to the Boss's ignorance, Ruben had always been addressed by his rank and surname (Squaddie Verislav), until it was replaced my his call sign (Guardian). He made a mental note to remember that he was now Russian Dude, the soldier-medic, like it or not. Boss was the new Commander, and orders are orders.

With his introduction complete and the Boss's nicknames assigned (including to the new woman, who appeared behind them and was given an even more ridiculous name), the briefing began. Or, it would have, if the group hadn't been rudely interrupted by what appeared to be a scout, though he was most likely an ambassador sent to arrange their meeting with Ulfric. He was dressed for the weather and era, which was ever bit fantasy that Ruben had braced himself for. He noted the sword at the man's side. Hopefully being armed was a general custom here. Not that he had any right to question openly carrying weapons. He was never in public without a rifle in his hands and a pistol on his belt. His grip tightened on his weapon ever so slightly nonetheless as he prepared for orders, which were cut just as short as the briefing by the expression of confusion on the man's face. Apparently, he had not been informed as to the appearance of his visitors. This was confirmed seconds later as the man turned a shade of white that would have put the snow to shame. He let out a scream of absolute terror and retreated at an impressive speed. 

Ruben glanced to the place the man's eyes had focused on and found himself facing Captain Piper. He blinked, then recalled the briefing back at the castle. Gods of steel, they said, and here was a humanoid made of metal. It didn't take much effort to put the pieces together. It was a mystery so simple that even the Boss was able to figure it out. He assured Piper that she was great, no doubt to the great relief of the robot, who would undoubtedly have been decimated without his word of comfort.

The series of interruptions continued as the horrified man was relieved by ten warriors brandishing hand weapons and wearing no armor of any kind, unless animal hide would achieve anything. Instinctively Ruben crouched into a low stance, jumping forward past the line of fire of his teammates raising his rifle, bringing the sights up to his narrowed eye. His rifle had a decent effective range, which was soon reached by the barbarous battalion. Ten red holographic crosshairs appeared in his scope, locking onto each man and generating their estimated health. Each was assigned a hit percentage, a two-digit number that rapidly approached 100%, and the damage each would take. Two rounds per target, one if he was a good shot. His 25-round burst rifle would down half of the enemy force with ease.

Of course, engaging enemies was only part of his job. Satisfied with the rifle's calculations, he scanned the immediate terrain, formulating a source of cover for each ally to take. He created a mental shield over each tree and decently large rock, assigning them either half-cover or full-cover. A large tree a few feet away provided cover for a ranged fighter. Two rocks northwest of his position would allow melee allies to advance without placing themselves in too much danger, while keeping them within running distance so that he could reach them and apply his Medikit if necessary.

The order to prepare for a fight was given, along with the request to suggest a group name. Ruben disregarded it, focusing on the approaching targets. They were in no particular formation, with some far ahead of others. Their lack of armor would allow the high-caliber rifle rounds to travel through multiple targets. Ruben wondered briefly if the rest of the group had been unassigned because the Boss was expecting his to engage them all with his first volley. It didn't matter to him. Orders were orders. All he needed was the order to fire.

Any second now.

To his surprise, the tall, blue-haired woman stepped in front of him, blocking him from engaging several targets. He scowled. The Boss hadn't given her orders to change position. What was she doing?

[i]"I am Azura, from the kingdom of Hoshido.”[/i]

Her weapon dropped to the ground.

[i]"We wish to parley with your leader.  There is no need for violence, or fear.  This is for you: a token of peace.”[/i]

Ruben gritted his teeth in frustration. He didn't care who this woman was. She did not have the authority to act without orders, much less speak for the rest of the group! Parlay? There was no negotiation here. This was open combat, and she was blocking his line of sight. What was going on?? HE forced himself to keep his mouth shut. The Boss would handle this. His frustration was abated a few moments later as a strange feeling engulfed him. Azure had chosen this moment to perform a song, but is was a strange song. For reasons he couldn't understand, he considered the prospect of not fighting. The adrenaline flow subsided and his heart rate lowered to a more natural pace.

The others spoke, but he wasn't paying attention. The spell was effective, but it did not persist. He may not have been trained to resist magical mental manipulation, but he had been trained against extraterrestrial attacks, and already his mind was fighting to regain control he wasn't aware he has lost. However, the mind is a powerful tool, and the longer the others spoke, the clearer his head became. Blinking a few times, he began to see the enemy threat as a threat again. The Boss said to fight. One single thought, one rule, forced its way through the serenity and peace. It took a while, but it eventually overruled his thought. Without thinking, he said it aloud.

"[color=8dc73f]Orders are orders[/color]."

The spell dissipated a moment before the Boss began to speak, and the rifle was at the ready again. What the others did, said, or felt was irrelevant. He couldn't care less about the opinion of the blue-haired singer, strafing her position and taking cover behind a tree stump, rifle primed and locked onto the nearest target. Orders are orders, and all he needed was the order to fire. It was up to the Boss now, and Ruben listened intently.