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[sub][color=Silver][i]Garnian Salient: Front Line, August 25th - [b][url=https://vimeo.com/170620454]The Battle of Hill 58[/url][/b][/i][/color][/sub]
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[color=Silver]	By the time he'd finished his scouting spree, the group around him had already thickened in numbers. The rubble they were hiding amongst was starting to become cramped, which was a dangerous constraint onto the group's possible survival. All around the hill's ascendance, troops were still beginning to climb up, some even taking the time to shoot whilst they clambered up with little aim. More and more were starting to reach the top, but those behind the church rubble were still finalising their plan. It was an honest and smart move to make, but Jean still felt under pressure from those behind him. What if they were being framed for cowardice? Lieutenant Middleton was always going to be on their back, he felt, especially with a Darcsen like Jean. Before he could initiate the plan, the gunners were still shifting on their stomachs to line and deploy their armaments, giving him a few seconds to take in the scenery of the comrades around him. All of them were grizzled and drenched in the rainfall. Some had specks of other people's blood soaked into their uniforms whilst others were somewhat clean for the conditions of the battle. A thick ooze of mud slopped off of one's helmet like a guttering gall sloping from a liver. For starters, he saw two individuals having a bit of a small argument, one that seemed to irritate Jean. The man, at least from Jean's perspective, was persisting to take his tools to give him better speed. For what? Jean was already on edge from the stress of the battle, the violence taking its toll around them and the dropping of bodies left, right and centre. This was not needed. Jean, still squatting, crawled forward and broke the two a part, his eyes starting to stress out with red veins of worry.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"No one is taking anyone's gear. N-No one, you hear?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean was required to raise his tone to compensate for the gunfire in the morning's dew. There was still a tremble to his tone, letting everyone know that he was in fact afraid, possibly more than anyone else. Jean had someone, a very interesting looking girl, compliment him on his act of [i]heroism and bravery[/i] towards fishing out a dead Sergeant's body. What cruel irony.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"U-uhh...t...thank you, uhm...Private."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Whilst he didn't know Kalisa's name, the impact of her outspoken compliment was quite a lot to take in. Had he really transformed so quickly as to garner some minor respect within the first ten minutes of conflict? It was a large consideration, yet he still persisted in awkwardly nodding. And so, Jean stood up slightly, still concealing his head only slightly below the ridges of the debris. Jean whipped out the binoculars one last time, checking the situation. The pathway was still clear, but only if the gunners did their job. And now was the only time they'd have to move, knowing that the overflowing numbers of friendly soldiers taking cover behind the broken church would only justify mortar or artillery barrages on their position.

	Jean took to the front of the rubble, holding his rifle and checking that the bayonet was still attached to the tip. It wasn't blocking the barrel and still allowed for him to shoot, but it still gave some extra weight to its tip, making aiming slightly more trickier for the young Lance Corporal. Everyone was behind him and his heart pounded with fear over whether or not it was a plan he could comprehend. Some of those waiting for the signal were watching him with beady eyes. Jean then started something he couldn't imagine doing ever. If anyone paid enough attention to him, they would have seen the singular tear dribble down his right cheek, signifying that he was desperately wishing to be elsewhere. All around them, bodies continued to fall and others managed to narrowly dodge the rounds of Imperial gunfire, yet he still found his inner emotion to panic. And with that, he turned back to the gunners, and raised his hand hesitantly with constant shaking.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"O-Open fire, Gunners! Go, go! Follow me, i-if you will!"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Jean, for once, didn't hesitate to stand up and be the first one to run as soon as some of the gunner's began to open fire. The wall of suppression holding them back was a risky challenge but Jean was determined to see himself survive. However, it wasn't out of bravery or nobility, but cowardice and fear itself. He rushed forward, knowing that some of the shocktroopers and other vital soldiers were behind him. He couldn't guess who was and who wasn't. In all honesty, Jean would not have blamed if all of them stayed behind the cover and waited for him to run alone into the faces of death. They were human too, and the Darcsen Lance Corporal was nothing more than a sub-species of the rest of the group.

	When he took those first steps from behind the church, his mind and ears fell silent. Everything became muffled as he let his legs desperately carry him onward. There was nothing but then poetic reality of the battlefield all around him. His mind spoke in rhymes and cryptic stanza as they rehearsed what needed to be said about the battlefield. The damnation of mud, blood and soil corroded into the facec of the mountain in such a way that Jean thought they could dig beneath the entire battle. Obsolete shots of retaliation came from the barrels of unnamed soldiers all around him, committing to their own charges up the hill. It was as if everyone wanted to triumphantly conquer this piece of hell, yet it was futile to even think in such a positive manner. Jean was desperate to prove to Olivia that this was to be the time he joined her in the heavens above. With a stride forward, he continued the pursuit. The pitter-patter of bullets from the Federation machine guns seemed to slam against the hill's peak, pinning down those who were quick enough to dodge their incoming hellfire. Frantic squeals of whistled bullets sprayed above his own head, passing from both in front and behind. Footsteps were somewhat audible in the splatter of the mud below their boots. Jean was scared, beyond all comprehension, which was why he must have continued the pursuit of the hill's top.

	Metres turned into drawn out miles as they continued what felt like forever's distance. It was clearly not as far as he thought, but the wave of unrelenting sombre ensured that he was in a drawn out suffering that lasted an eternity. But despite this, he finally fell into it. By some miracle, he and several others began to drop into the foxholes just below the hill's peak. It was the specific place he had designated their plan to call a rendezvous point. Quickly, he turned, taking the time to breathe and take in the massive achievement of surviving up until now. Without thinking, he turned and barked out, in a trembled and fragile manner, to those who'd followed him.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"S-Shocktroopers! Lob the b-b-bombs! Lob 'em now!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]This was it. Throwing the ignited bombs into the trenches would give them a small segment to jump into within their hiding place. From there, it would be a brutal case of close quarters engagement and bloodfest. Jean just hoped that it wouldn't be as bad as he imagined the gruesome battle would conclude. However, he knew deep down that he was wrong.[/color]

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