[centre][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181008/b02a8e514a847d83c3d8892fffdb6f35.png[/img] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210321/d4c9096245e86ddcc604696fdd4644be.png[/img] [img]https://i.postimg.cc/LXVZP8VT/e414bec1248f8d57e0e96b8fa1bbd547.png [/img] [h3]Jakou Morvan[/h3] [color=Silver][sub]December 30th - Gossiping before battle[/sub][/color] [/centre][hr] The atmosphere that both the Sergeant and the newcomer created was heavy, but the sapper failed to pick up any tension among them. From the mannerism, the way that the Sergeant stood dumbstruck and the quick order to get both himself and the Private a room, it wasn’t difficult to discern their unspoken pain and bond. And for that, Michael did not have any reserve to respect their wish. He too packed his belongings and made his way out to where Elliot and Jakou were. [color=bf00ff][b]“Well, my typical guess would be that they just lost each other in a battle, and now just discovered each other again.”[/b][/color] Was Michael’s response upon arriving and hearing the question. It was way too common nowadays, squads decimated, cut down by machine guns or artilleries in a vain and desperate attempt by the higher ups to gain like 200 yards of territory. In fact, his squad wasn’t doing that much better at Hill 51. That unnamed Cruxian woman who gave him that first sense of reassurance. Now she’s 6 feet under. Same goes with Mila, Gwyth and others he knew but was now dead or missing; the former a lot more common than the latter. [color=bf00ff][b]“Other than that, who knows. I’d love to ask them when they are more comfortable about it.”[/b][/color] Emmerich watched in silence as the woman began openly displaying her hatred towards imperials, speaking about torturing them with a morbid glee in her voice. So many times Emmerich had heard similar words. Truth be told, Emmerich couldn't bring himself to feel anything as he heard the woman's words. Any signs of patriotism or even any feeling he could have for being an imperial were long gone, along with honestly, most other feelings he could have. Regarding the war, his superiors (both the old ones and the new ones) and most other things and so, Emmerich simply watched in silence, no emotion in his eyes as he simply sighed. Hatred ran deep in both sides of the war, a misguided hatred that was implanted on the heads of soldiers, thanks to inflamed speeches, propaganda and lies from the ones on the top, only to feed their own greed and selfish desires. To them, soldiers were nothing but pawns on a chess board. Nameless pieces in a gigantic chess board that only existed to be used and then thrown away. [color=gray][i]"Back to waiting..."[/i][/color] he thought to himself, with an exhausted expression as the NCO who admonished the woman shooed the rest of the people away after the girl stormed away and the commotion ended. As the NCO began talking with one of the newcomers, Emmerich walked away, looking for a bench or any place he could sit down to wait for his next orders. After all, that was 'life' for him. A constant cycle of waiting, killing and then waiting again. Being 'alive' was too strong of a word to define what that was. For Emmerich, he simply 'existed' and nothing more. Just as he got out though, he saw a small gathering of people who were talking to each other. The first had asked what the soldier and the woman had with each other, to warrant such blatant display. After hearing that, two others who were passing by joined the conversation, each one with their own ideas and views. [color=gray]"Whatever it is, is either too personal or too important for us low soldiers to hear."[/color] Emmerich said in an emotionless tone, a few steps away from the others as he walked away from where the NCO and the other newcomer were. Elliot nodded at everyone’s responses. The Rennesian simply stated that he didn’t know, the Tyrellan made his own theory as to what had happened, and the Imperial said that it didn’t matter. To the marksman, they were all valid answers. [color=#239C89]“True enough.”[/color] He said, acknowledging everyone’s words. [color=#239C89]“Me, I don’t know what to think, myself.”[/color] Elliot sighed. [color=#239C89]“...Not that it matters much, anyway.”[/color] The young man then turned to the sapper who had been assigned to them. [color=#239C89]So...[/color] He starts. [color=#239C89]”You’re the one in charge of squaring us away. Do we need anything else, or are we covered?”[/color] [color=bf00ff][b]“It’s good to be aware I guess.”[/b][/color] Michael shrugged his shoulders. He probably never would have anything to do with them in the future. Hell they might even be dead on the same day. But who knows what the Lord had in store for him. He wouldn’t want to misstep on relationship issues, even unintentionally. [color=bf00ff][b]“But he’s right, beyond this is just gossiping, so let’s keep it that way.”[/b][/color] And thankfully, it was kept that way. Elliot changed the topic over to the trench raid mission. On that note, Michael was reminded of what he was told just earlier. [color=bf00ff][b]“Ah, yes. You’d need a wire cutter. Remind me how many people are on this mission and I’ll get on it before we depart.”[/b][/color] The sapper scratched his temple, pondering over what else to grab. Fighting wasn’t the only part of the mission; there was also getting there and getting back. And for a human mortal, the barbed wire is the most annoying and painful thing to cross aside from the bullet, so he wanted to make sure the team didn’t have to waste time doing that. [color=bf00ff][b]“Other than that, not really. There’s no tool specifically for capturing prisoners, so you just gotta bring what makes you best. Whatever that may be.”[/b][/color] Michael sort of rolled his eyes away at the last sentence. Hey, if human lives weren’t going to be preserved, at least the mission could be finished. He knew the higher ups probably wouldn’t get anything out of the prisoners that isn’t misery, but he just suppressed it for now. [color=bf00ff][b]“On another note, I don’t think we’ve properly met each other. Call me Michael, your local sapper of the squad.”[/b][/color] He gave a friendly smile to the group and a slight bow with a hand on his chest. [color=bf00ff][b]“How is everyone doing today? Prepared for some close quarter fights?”[/b][/color] The topic of their NCO’s former relationships with the mysterious arrival was soon relegated to the background, something Elliot was thankful for. It was good to hear everyone’s thoughts on the matter, but he also knew that it wasn’t good to linger on it. Soon, the topic shifted to raid preparations. The marksman nodded in turn, making a mental note of Michael’s advice. Wire cutters made sense for a raid like this, and it was good to be mindful of the task at hand. As for tools that would work well on this mission… Elliot didn’t have much in the way of nonlethal options as a marksman-- the garotte might seem like a decent option at first glance, but if it is used as intended with the correct technique… it would shatter the victim’s windpipe, crush their throat, cut their arteries, or a mix of the three. Not to mention that it was exceedingly difficult to actually use. It was far more likely that the raiding party would get spotted and have to resort to firearms before they’d be able to sneak up on any half-decent sentry. ...still, if there was any mission where a tool like that would shine, it would be a nighttime raid. There may be some merit in a garotte made of softer materials like cloth or fibers for nonlethal takedowns, as opposed to lethal assassinations. Something to think on, he supposed. Before Elliot could think more upon the mission and the preparations pertaining to it, Michael had said something that snapped the marksman out of his reverie. The sapper introduced himself to the other two-- that’s right. Elliot didn’t actually know many in this platoon, seeing as he was transferred here only recently. Might as well get acquainted. He waited for Michael to finish, before speaking in turn. [color=#239C89]“My name is Elliot.”[/color] The young man said to the other two, giving them a polite nod. [color=#239C89]”As you can probably tell, I’m a marksman-- not that my scope’s going to do me much good in a raid like this.”[/color] He gestured to the scoped rifle slung around his shoulder. [color=#239C89]“I suppose today’s been a good day-- though I can’t say that I’m exactly… excited for the mission ahead.”[/color] Elliot sighed. Close quarters wasn’t his forte, after all. [color=#239C89]“...But we’ll get it done.”[/color] His tone was matter-of-fact, as if failure wasn’t in the cards. Soon after each one of them gave their own brief opinion about how the NCO and the newcomer knew each other, soon the conversation moved to more important matters, such as the oncoming raid and the preparations for it, more specifically, the only tool that was basically omnipresent in any engagement in the type of war they were fighting: wirecutters. With both sides making ample use of barbed wire to protect their trenches and their positions, any raid of any kind or even any advance towards the enemy lined required a wirecutter. After seeing what happened to unfortunate soldiers who got entangled upon barbed wire, no soldier dared to complain about the added weight of the equipment. It was then that the sapper introduced himself as Micheal, waiting for the others to tell their names. [color=gray]"Emmerich, I'm one of the disposable pawns the higher ups like to call "shocktroopers"... Not that different from the Empire, to be honest."[/color] Emmerich said with an acid chuckle, his words too close to the truth to be considered as a joke. [color=gray]"If nothing goes wrong, we will be fighting in real close range, without much space to move around. In that range, a pistol and a knife do their job as well as, if not better than a rifle."[/color] he mentioned, after Elliot, the marksman, mentioned that the scope wouldn't do him any good on the oncoming raid. “Jakou”, saying it while rising his right hand as to make a short wave to the group. “And I am also one of those disposable shocktroopers too.” Disposable, he hated hearing that word but, it is true. Someone has to do what they do, charge at the enemy in the first wave. Someone running into gunfire and barbwire to clear a trench. Someone has to and he ultimately chose this role to his near regret. “Well, I am prepared to fight in close quarters and knock someone out”, pulling out his trench mace. “Just a need a good swing to the head and it should knock someone out.” If not give them a concussion he knew that but, chose not to say that part. Granted command’s orders were to capture a imperial alive, they did not say the condition. A morbid thought, that Jakou quickly buried in his mind. Only do the damage needed and nothing else, he thought. [color=bf00ff][b]“Oh nice.”[/b][/color] Michael leaned his head a bit as he saw the trench mace in Jakou’s hand. [color=bf00ff][b]“That’s at least something meant to take prisoners.”[/b][/color] Whether or not this guy was as much of a character as that Darcsen girl earlier was in his mind but at least Michael could give a bit of benefit of the doubt to him that he’d do his job properly. He was glad to have a couple of dedicated ‘disposables’ to cover his own disposable presence too. [color=bf00ff][b]“I wouldn’t say I have the best setup for a trench raid.”[/b][/color] Michael said as his eyes gestured towards the shovel and carbine on his back. The shovel would be his best friend there, but it was still a bit clunky to use. If he’s too close then it’d be hard to swing it with full force, so he’d just have to watch his distance. [color=bf00ff][b]“But it’s not bad to use in close quarters. I had some…”[/b][/color] He shrugged. [color=bf00ff][b]“‘ok-ish’ experience with them.”[/b][/color] Elliot looked over at three other soldiers present. It seemed to him that the others expected to die. They very well might-- and so could he. To the marksman, if the thought of probably dying on the battlefield would help steel their nerves, then there wasn’t much harm in it, he supposed. Michael then spoke up about his own equipment, and an experience he had with his shovel at close quarters. “I’m glad to see we’re all satisfied with our lot in life.” Elliot chuckled inwardly. “If we all come back from the raid in one piece, how about we all get a drink? You can tell us about that little experience you had too, afterwards.” He suggested, gesturing to Michael at that last sentence. Truth be told, Elliot wouldn’t normally be the one to suggest something like this, but he figured that by having something to look forward to at the end of this, things would be better for everyone involved. Besides… Drinking alone was no fun for anyone. Emmerich listened to their words, nodding in a silent greeting as each one introced themselves, mentioning a bit about their skills or the oncoming raid. After the introductions ended, Elliot mentioned if they were okay with having a drink if they all got back safely, which made Emmerich raise an eyebrow, surprised for the offer. [color=gray]"Are you sure you want to be seen sharing a drink with an 'imperial scum'?"[/color] Emmerich asked, with a dry, sarcastic chuckle. [color=gray]"Usually, I drink by myself if I can get my hands on something that's at least decent enough to swallow. Having someone to share a drink with once in a while might not be that bad though."[/color] He said pondering about the invitation a bit, before accepting it. [color=bf00ff][b]“Certainly, that would make for an interesting storytime session, wouldn’t it?”[/b][/color] If that meant they’d get to know how he brutally killed an Imperial he spent a few nights before chit chatting with, or bashing another’s skull with a helmet, yeah…sure. That normally would be a horrific and traumatic event to retell, but Michael had already grown to accept that blood stain on his conscience. He should be able to even joke about it as long as he is aware of its nature. Speaking of Imperials, what Emmerich just mused about himself was certainly an interesting personal detail. That got Michael to wonder how many of his fellow comrade in arms were formerly Imperials. Hell, what counts as Imperial scum here. There are Gallians living, studying, working in Imperial territory longer than in Gallia, now returning because that country doesn’t want them anymore. There are half-Imperials whose circumstances drifted them into Federation services. There are defectors, refugees and all other sorts of unfortunate circumstances like that too. Too much complexity to feel anything resembling hatred for the ‘imperial scums’. If anything he hated that term itself. So reductive and meaningless. [color=bf00ff][b]“Well, I shared a drink with one, I’ll do it again.”[/b][/color] Michael said, seemingly very casual about it, [color=bf00ff][b]“Besides, what can possibly be the problem with that?”[/b][/color] [color=gray]"Did you?"[/color] Emmerich asked, raising an eyebrow, surprised as he heard Michael mentioning that he had already shared a drink with one. Truth be told, people like Micheal were rare. Emmerich didn't really know if Micheal had the same thoughts about the war and the prejudice between both 'sides' of said war, but even though, it was still rare to see people who saw people by what they were and not by their birthplace or something. [color=gray]"People tend to lose themselves to the war... Fall into an endless spiral of hatred, born from the pretty words of a few big-shots that never even stepped into the battlefield themselves..."[/color] He said with an sarcastic chuckle. [color=gray]"They end up hating and killing the wrong people, for the wrong reasons..."[/color] he said with a deep sigh, the sigh of a man who had seen war from up close on both sides. From a man who had healed, drinked and killed people from both sides. [color=gray]"It's good to see you are not one of those though, Michael."[/color] he said, nodding to him with a faint, almost imperceptible smile. Wrong reasons…. The words echoed in Jakou’s head. Those words that Emmerich said stayed in his head. Did he join for the wrong reason? Sure he enlisted by choice while most were probably conscripted. Forced to fight a war that they may not wish to fight and die for. And his reason to find glory in this miserable war. Against his parents’ wishes to keep their beloved paragon alive and safe from the war. He can just imagine how his parents felt or reacted to his enlistment. And imagine what he will do once this war is over and he returns home. If he returns home that is. War is cruel but, so far he has managed to survive this long. But, did he join for the wrong reasons and are now killing for the wrong reason? All for glory, he will find a answer sooner or later but, for right now. Jakou is leading to the wrong reasons. But, snapping back to the present from his thinking, did Jakou speak. Albeit with a unsure tone. “Drinking with an imperial? Uhhh, I do not know about that. Maybe after the war but, right now…. Well kinda, weird to talk about drinking with them when we are going on a mission to capture one.” Weird to him at least, “But do I know, I am just a shocktrooper that survived this long.” Putting on a shrug and saying no more. It was honestly a little bit funny hearing the responses of the two larger men grappling with the idea of sharing a drink with a supposed enemy. Emmerich was full-on philosophical about it, while Jakou found it strange. It so happened to be that they both represented Michael’s emotional state at a certain point in his past. He too wondered how it would feel like being friendly to an enemy you will be killing the next day, and he too lamented the state where he had to kill someone so akin to him. [color=bf00ff][b]“Thanks,”[/b][/color] Michael inclined his head slightly at Emmerich, before turning over to Jakou. [color=bf00ff][b]“If you don’t know about it, how about drinking with a friend?”[/b][/color] He figured this Imperial shit is enough. Let’s actually try to approach human interaction from a human perspective. Eliminate all this Imperial-Federation crap from this conversation. [color=bf00ff][b]“How about this? We’ll have a drink together when we return. And until then, let’s remember each other by something that isn’t nationality or heritage!”[/b][/color] He said, looking at the three gents before him with glimmering eyes. [color=bf00ff][b]“I’ll start. I study engineering at home before the war, loving cars and all sorts of automobiles. I also love my little home of three, so much so that I still cuddle my mama from time to time. No shame.”[/b][/color] Michael stated that with pretty much no embarrassment. He knew it might sound soft to a lot of people, but who cares. He doesn’t care. If one is willing to be petty about it, he’d pity their existence. Elliot watched them all discuss the possibilities of drinking together. As far as he was concerned… when everyone’s in the muck of the trenches, it doesn’t matter what nation you were born in, what star you were born under, or what flag you were waving… in the end, everyone’s the same at either end of the rifle. So while Emmerich expressed his concerns, Jakou, in turn, spoke of his doubts. Michael, ever the diplomat, decided to stop using races and heritage, even going as far as to offer up information about his personal life to break the tension, before turning to the others with bright, expectant eyes. Elliot thought about this for a moment. No matter what, the possibility of one or all of them dying on this raid was ever-present. In that sense, there was no reason *not* to get along. Shrugging, Elliot stepped up to say his piece soon after Michael did. [color=#239C89]“There’s not much to say about me. I joined the war to get away from my family, and yet… strangely enough, I’m here for their sake as well.”[/color] He said/ [color=#239C89]“...I don’t have many hobbies, but my father’s an engineer, and my brother’s a watchmaker, so technical stuff has rubbed off on me a bit, even if I’m not exactly educated on it properly.”[/color] The words that came out of his mouth were strangely… rehearsed. Keeping things intentionally vague and riddled with half-truths was easier than maintaining a completely different cover story, in his experience. Any discrepancies could be explained through a slip of the tongue or a gap in memory-- it’s not like most strangers would know the ins-and-outs of it unless they knew where to look, anyway. Still, there was truth in his words, as vague as it was, and Elliot was genuinely interested in what the others would say themselves. Thus, he stood in place, waiting for them to speak. Emmerich listened to the others in silence as they spoke a bit more about themselves. Their words made Emmerich remember of the child he used to be, of the person he could have become... The fond memories he had of his time with his mother and even his father, before his mother died and he dedicated his body and his emotions solely to the war... [color=gray]"Before the war, I was studying to be a physician, a surgeon, just like my mother, before she fell ill and died. She was a brilliant woman and a kind, attentive mother, despite her fragile health. My father, despite being rarely at home due to being a soldier was a good man. He used to take me to hunting trips, which I ended up getting a taste for and became my hobby as well. He blamed himself a lot for not being a present father and husband after my mother died."[/color] Emmerich said. [color=gray]"It wasn't long until the war took him... Fought and bled to death by people who didn't even know his name. Alone, I wasn't able to continue my studies. The two years of mandatory military service offered me an alternative. Without much choice, I ended up pursuing a 'military carreer'..."[/color] He said with a sarcastic chuckle. [color=gray]"Not much to say other than that. Saved a lot of lives with the knowledge I learned studying to be a physician. Ended just as many."[/color] he finished with a bitter smile.