[hr] [h1][color=8882be]Echoes of The Past[/color] [/h1] [h2][color=ed1c24]Europan War I[/color][/h2] [hr] [color=#50c878]“Oh God, who hath given unto me the strength to wield this blade. Give unto me the wisdom to discern the lambs from wolves. Give unto me spirit and strength to raise it once more. May you guide not only my arm, but that of my brothers and sisters as we come to you again in prayer. Let us hear your voice and rejoice that you are here! We do not shame ourselves by hiding away while evil yet still roams our world. In defense of those who cannot, lead us into the darkness and make us your blazing flames of righteousness. For those who believe- and especially those who do not- so that they may understand your glory. Amen.”[/color] “Amen.” [center][h3] [color=#50c878]Senja Penttilä[/color] 0300 Hours St. Gaétane Cathedral [/h3][/center] [color=gray][i]It is a disastrous situation. Civilians and soldiers alike are huddled like lambs to the slaughter in the burning cathedral. So desperate are they to extinguish the flames of war. So desperate are they to save the lives of the dying and teary eyed. The black octopus wraps its tentacles around the foundation and demands it yields. It craves the destruction of the building. It seeks to tug and pull until its very core crumbles to the weight of Imperial might. But God is watching. God- hears the prayer of his people. So it would seem. For as they cry and pray for their salvation the blazes grow ever more violent and daunting to extinguish. But now- it burns from within. Twenty-four men and women of faith kneel before a woman of emerald hair. Twenty-four men and women of faith vow to defend the innocent. Twenty-four men and women grit teeth with blood in their eyes as they fasten their armor and rest their helmets at their side. Hush… Hush… The mother speaks. She speaks and reins in the horror. The blood thirst is slowly controlled as she speaks of family and peace. She reminds them of their neighbors- how nice they are. She reminds them of God and of their duty to love and cherish those who remain. Now roar! Roar in your flame! The crusader yells! She speaks and unleashes the fury! Rage is tempered- refined with an objective in mind as she speaks of the defense of the innocent! She reminds them of the fallen- how loved they were! She reminds them of God and their duty to enact his will upon those who would threaten the path to progress! Twenty-four enter the night with blade and gun in hand- their swiftness in the night a terrible light of holy fury. “Here they come!” A soldier shouts, readying his firearm! [color=#50c878]“For the grace of our lord!”[/color] Senja bellows- cutting him down with the full swing of her waraxe! “They’ve breached the rear!” Another panics! “Surrender yourself we demand once more!” A crusader demands! “F-for the empire!” The Imperial rebukes, swinging bayonet in offense. “For our God!” The crusader enforces- breaking it in defense. Three hundred men fire into the night with round after round scratching metal and earth. Twenty-four raise banner to light, crashing against the might of the oppressor with blood on hands. A volley staggers the warcry- silence enters the night for a moment as the shout of the holy quiets. Is it over? The Imperial wonder. No- an officer things. Yes- a soldier hopes. Deranged- lunatic- unhinged and unstable many think. Yet the night is still too young. Many are called by radio, many do not respond. The Imperials crawl through the hillside battlefield, checking crater and trench for the slits of the defender. Quiet… Quiet… “Under attack!” An imperial cries! BAM! SLASH! BANG! CHUCK! [color=#50c878]“In the name of his glory!”[/color] Explodes from Senja, her fury crashing down upon the advancing men of the empire. Many come to meet her and yet still do more find themselves being fired upon by hidden crusaders from all sides! Some imperials come to intercept- but cry out in pain as traps latch onto their legs. Confusion erupts as brave men burst from the shadows, a banner of the church held high and a steel blade swung low. In minutes the organized force is dismantled. In minutes the mighty aggressor tucks tail and runs. One hundred and forty-two lay upon the ground. Four crusaders lay among them. But despite these odds the crusaders regather and clean their blades, watching intently as an officer steps forward. “Who is the officer who represents you?” The imperial officer asks, his hat in hand at the base of the hill. [color=#50c878]“I represent these men.”[/color] Does Senja speak from the safety of her trench. “We desire a truce.” The officer responds, gritting his teeth in searing defeat. [color=#50c878]“As do we!”[/color] They meet and shake hands. The crusaders tend to their wounded. Imperials watch from the base of the hill with weapons in hand- stunned by the sight of the wild defenders now so calmly treating the wounded. Blood filled eyes now warmed the soul as one by one the soldiers of the battlefield were pulled off the field. The soldiers from within the Cathedral are filled with joy. An impossible victory has been won! Only forty men to fight three hundred! The boldness of twenty-four to wage war directly and the cunning of twelve to support them from within! The Imperial officer is thankful he leaves with more men than expected and in his bittersweet loss he fulfills his end of the deal. Food, medical supplies, and funds to help the civilians survive. And though she was coated in blood and cuts she removed her helmet with pride. Her return to the church shined with glory as the sun rose to grant warmth and rest to the brave men and women who gave their lives to defend the survivors. The sun rose to grant a new dawn to the warriors who approach the doors sealed for siege. She basks in the light for some time, a fulfilled smile absorbing the love of God. It’s a look she so proudly holds. It’s a tale so proudly told. And the warmth she would give Michael is one that lifts the soul. It tells of one who has finished their long and winding shift. It tells of one who has given everything to what they love. She holds it and speaks softly. [color=#50c878]“We won.”[/color] She blinks so slowly. Seeming to give an approving nod before collapsing, the crusader takes her rest. Her helmet lays at her side. In the horizon- reinforcements arrive. [/i][/color] [hr] [hr][color=silver] As Eija turned to face Michael she gave him that same warm smile. A welcoming shine from a woman so eager to accept another at her side. It is without hesitation. It is without fear. But most of all- it is filled with love. It’s an echo from the past from a face so familiar. [color=50c878]“Of course! Please! Um- I’m Eija Penttilä! And you are?”[/color] She asks, eyes exploring his gentlemanly frame. How long had it been since he had seen a face so familiar? How long has it been since that emerald shade has graced his eyes? Perhaps- too long. The past or the future? Which did he see?[/color] [@Conscripts]