BellBottomBlues

Condemned

Sure! That would be awesome. I was planning on getting those post up this weekend.

Stellar Fleet: The War in Heaven (Wing Commander/Freespace inspired Space Opera)

Lawrence, Kira

---

Name: Lawrence, Kira
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Origin: Eden Prime

Craft Specialization: Modified F-87 Aegis II Space Superiority Fighter
Callsign/Codename: Blondie
Kills: 6

---

Psychological Analysis: Kira Lawrence, also once lovingly referred to as the 'Starchild of Eden Prime" was for lack of a better word a pilot prodigy. She is the daughter of the well respected Calvin Lawrence, a Colonel for Eden Prime's naval detachment -- the 207th Sentinel Reapers. Being from a military heritage, the pressure was on from a ripe young age and throughout her days in pilot academy. Kira did not disappoint, acing all her school work and excelling beyond expectations during field exercise. Her fame (or infamy) made her a house name for all aspiring pilots on Eden Prime, even making word to some of the most ranking officers in the Navy. During this period she behaved much in the way as her father did: cocky, stubborn and risquè with a cheeky humor that landed her on the bitter end of the brass. However, the similarity breaks there, for where Colonel Lawrence was always respected for the healthy relationships he developed with those in his squadron, Kira often allowed her natural piloting talents to cloud her judgment. Recce mission after recce mission she pushed her luck with dangerous maneuvers and formations throughout Varaxian infested space. Her luck finally ran out when her orders -- controversial to this very day and commonly quoted as cardinal grievances in the chain of command resulted in the death of her entire strike wing, with herself the lone survivor. She was stripped of her rank and thrown into military confinement while undergoing the full stretch of Navy justice under two charges:

• Failure of conduct becoming of an officer.
• Failure to provide the obligations begotten of an officer to his/her wing.

After a vicious legal cycle Kira was acquitted, much to the outrage to Navy brass and enlisted alike (many think her father's connections was what allowed this). Nevertheless the damage had been done, and the prodigy once code-named Starchild was transferred to the 17th Communications Batallion teetering a fringe world that rarely saw action. Her duties usually amounted to catching stray radio waves and the odd supply run. Kira fell quiet at this point, a shadow of her former self. Though she still maintains a sarcastic composure during her exchanges with familiar faces, her dark past had taught her to hold her tongue. Emotional reservation saves lives, and to stay quiet means not a wrong word spoken.


Military Record: Right after graduation Kira was transferred to her father's regiment the 207th where she immediately took up the role of Pathfinder in Eden's highly renown reconnaissance division. Pathfinder’s were specialized wing sections whose primary focus was to establish intel ahead of the fighting fleet. They served secondary purposes as well such as linking navigation coordinates to bombardier cruisers, determining landing zones for drop pods when the Federation had boots on the ground, and guerrilla inspired tactics disrupting enemy communication lines. With such an emphasis on clandestine operations, Pathfinder's rarely amounted a numerous amount of kills. They were the Navy's eyes, not their gauntlet. Kira was the youngest Pathfinder ever commissioned, and while many had their doubts she consistently proved them wrong. Her daring formations and risky behavior rewarded her with a pristine mission success dossier (It was under her command several Varaxian transmissions were intercepted, saving countless of convoys from ambush). That is however up until her fall from grace.

Her tarnish came during a recce mission situated in the Veronius Delta, a quiet though strategically profound objective in galactic no-mans land. The Veronius Delta was unique in that it was unclaimed despite representing an excellent staging area for the Navy to launch future attacks. Kira's task was nothing short of what she had been doing for any of her past missions: identify nav-points and relay signature coordinates to command. The Veronius Delta was different however, for the Pathfinder to navigate that quadrant would essentially set a spearhead assault against Varaxian occupied space. It was, as far as she was concerned, a chance to permanently etch her name in Navy memorandum. She pushed onward with a recce team of seven including herself despite the constant warnings from her superiors about a Varaxian strike patrol heading into their vicinity. Even her 2IC begged her to consolidate, but once again she refused. It was inevitable fact that they would soon get surrounded, and Kira, the only survivor barely escaped with her life.

Her duties in the 17th Batallion were extremely limited. She was restricted from flying combat aircraft, only ever piloting communication and signal pods to and from relay vessels. After a year of this the 17th superiors deemed her fit to transfer to a craft repair division where she learned a bit of the trade from enlisted blue-collars. While her edge may have dulled her past accolades still remark on her talent as a pilot, but it was to say the least. Kira had finally achieved a modicum of self respect with the 17th and was perfectly content with maintaining a career there. Strangely enough, after finally getting settled in her superiors had told her she was to be transferred to the 144th Direwolves.

---

Here she is @vietmyke.

Cheers everybody.

Condemned

@Thinslayer
I definitely understand her mindset. I feel in due time the Serani and Lanik thing will be addressed, I'm still toying with the idea. Though, as far as romance goes progression should be as natural as we can make it. Right now Lanik is in her debt for saving his man. If there is a spark of any sort it would be for organic reasons, trial and tribulation and mutual understanding. Even if there is none I like how strong both our characters are in their own ways, they compliment eachother well as either romantic interests or companions.

Condemned

Hey @Thinslayer!

I've just got to say you're really upping your ante with your recent posts. Good for you, I'm glad you're pushing you're writing into new more challenging territory. This'll serve you well for any other RPs you end up doing.

My response might be a bit, I have a feeling it'll compound a lot of things with Lanik and Darian and hopefully I can introduce Laniks daughter at some point. Remember that whole scene with Darian and Serani? Let's just say their original plan with the whole convoy wasn't going to pan out. Can I assume the the king has children?

Condemned

Great! I'm excited.

Condemned

"N-no!" Lanik watched her being pulled down by the surrounding legionnaires. He could have spoke out, protested, but.. . there were too many eyes. It would seem so out of place, an Imperial Captain standing up for an enemy who's been a festering thorn on the Empire's side for the longest time. What could he do then? He watched. The silent bystander to a figure who had just saved his mans life. He could feel the guilt inside trip over tenfold when she shot him a condemning gaze, only made worse when Captain Moor twisted at the proverbial knife.

"Congratulations, Sir Lanik Wintergate! I must thank you for catching the Engineer for us. That was a pretty clever ploy you made there, luring it to heal your friend. I would never have thought of that myself."

Lanik didn't respond. He watched the Imperial company rally up the remaining slaves and convoy them back through the forest. In only a few minutes Lanik and Finnigan were left to their own devices.

Finnigan's spirit had improved substantially, up until the moment the elf was carted away at least. He'd been leaning forward, then back, learning the mechanics of the wheelchair that adjusted to his shift of weight perfectly. It would of course take some getting used to, but at least he could remain mobile. Finnigan broke the silence, frowning, furrowing his brow.

"We're not just going to let them take her, are we Captain?"

"No Fin, I won't," he grabbed his bow and threw on his cloak, "We need to get moving back to camp, will you be okay?"

✱ ✲ ✳ ✴ ✵

Darian reared his horse then raced to the middle of the column. The Imperial's, having established a spearhead were now constructing supply lines between the main camp and the now forward post. The battle had gone better than expected, though truth be told he had yet to actually fight an elf one on one. He did however arrive soon enough to watch his soldiers and slaves pick away at them. They were stout fighters but Darian could only assume the sheer number Imperial troops had overwhelmed their fortifications. Check off another win for his Wintergate Covenant.

Though, it wasn't soon after the fight it was reported to him his brother Lanik had survived. Damnit, stay the plan I suppose. The Covenant Rangers had rallied under Lanik as soon as he reappeared and once again were marching near the back. They were an enigmatic bunch, Darian understood, but there was something to be said about the way his men trusted his ranger brother's word over all else. An unwavering loyalty despite all the other Imperial companies talking secretly about the odd hooded soldiers that marched under the guise of a blind fox.

It was then Darian rode upon a slave wagon and sighted a silver-haired elf. He raised an eyebrow, instantly recognizing the peculiar elf. This was the one the General had eyes on. He grinned, riding up beside her, unsheathing his sword and smacking the bars with a metal clacking to get her attention.

"You look sad, elf," he removed his helm, shaking his blond locks and meeting her gaze with icy sapphires, "You really shouldn't be. The General treats his slaves oh so nicely, especially the pretty ones. You're quite talented too. I watched you wreak havoc on our front-line slaves," he leaned in closer, "I'm sure your blood tastes as sweet as your face," he laughed mockingly, smacking against the bars once more for effect.

Condemned

Lanik watched Erudessa closely as she approached to examine the wounded Finnigan more closely. Her gaze was intense, analytical almost, something the ranger himself could relate to. Waving her hand over Finnigan's lower limbs, Lanik assumed she was addressing the breakage. Instantaneously Finnigan flashed his eyes, then squeezing them, screaming in horrific pain as Erudessa moved the pieces of broken bone into their respective places. Captain Wintergate moved quickly, once again covering his mouth as he cried out. He caught Finnigan's gaze, just nodding slowly, as if to say I know it hurts, but it has to be done. She spoke naught until a few minutes later, Lanik in awe widened his eyes at the sight about to set before him.

By the light of my soul
I hereby command thee
To bear up thy ward
Thy conditions are thusly:
Hold him upright
When the ward sits but still.
To change thy direction,
Roll, tilt without spill.
Maintain with adjustments
Soft, gradually.
Cast now this spell,
All finished completely.

And with that before the three of them stood an apparatus the likes Lanik had never seen before. It was a chair with wheels, finely crafted with the usage of what Lanik assumed was ancient elvish magic. He had never seen such a sight before, and it truly amazed him. Imperial magical spectacles were reserved for great shows of destruction and chaos. This was the first time he had soon magic used in a way to create something. Already questions were stirring in his mind, but they were cut off by her voice.

"Can you help me move him?"

Lanik met her gaze and nodded. Very carefully Lanik took one side of Finnigan's weight, hoisting him up and plopping him gently onto the contraption the elf had just made. Very quickly he brushed over the arm rests, eyeing the build closely, a part of him from when he was a child reached out and reignited the curiosity he once had to imagine things on paper and bring it to reality. After his moment, he looked at Fin, who was getting comfortable (as comfortable as he could get at least) in his position. Already Lanik could tell the change in position and whatever healing magic Erudessa had cast was providing some relief. He turned his attention to the elf.

"Thank you,"

Condemned

@BellBottomBlues What are the exact parameters of Finnigan's leg injuries? Like, how much of the legs were destroyed, and if partially, which parts?

@Thinslayer

Bilateral femur fractures, shattered patella. Surprisingly though nothing's broke skin.

Condemned

The march had been glorious, ten thousand men trudging through the thicket of the beastly Aetherion forest. A conglomeration of Imperial families all moving onward with the same, vicious intent. It was here that the Imperium would cast the decisive blow against the elves and establish a foothold to drive further into the heart of their country. Darian could not be more pleased. He rode near the middle of the great column, the Wintergate Fighters holding true to their sigil akin to that of the Rangers, except instead of the cunning of a fox twas the ferocious image of a bear. The Rangers rode in the back of the column, typical for those winter vagabonds. Not that he cared, more glory for his cup.

That's when Darian heard the battle trumpets and saw the first line form up along the edge of the forest. Darian could see the exploit in the distance, a section of wall not completely cordoned off, a section his dear brother had located. He had not heard any word from Lanik since his departure. Perhaps the elves had eliminated him already. That would make things easier. A volley of arrows released from the Imperial side of the forest only to be stopped mid-air. Darian widened his eyes, witchcraft surely. These elves were talented no doubt, but they bore no match for the might of Imperial steel.

There was a brief, almost peaceful silence before the first line officer gave way into the field. Darian grinned, watching the wall of men sprint towards death. They made good pace, screaming, cursing and laughing all the way until they reached three quarters of the way in. They were greeted by the ground exploding beneath them, tossing legionnaires up into the sky like rag dolls while crashing back into the earth with sickening crunches and wails. Elemental forces of every kind barraged the helpless men from all sides. Ice froze even the most steadfast of warriors, fire charred the flesh and gusts of wind sent men tumbling this way and that. It was a massacre, and Darian reveled in it.

That's why the pawns always go first he thought to himself.

"Watch her. If you get an opportunity, subdue her and bring her to me. I want her alive," Darian heard the General say.

Darian raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He reached for his own scope and peered through sighting a silver-haired elven beauty in the distance. The composer in this symphony of destruction.

Pretty elf, he licked his lips, I'll have my way with you after the General.

Then there was the second battle horn. His men were up.

The Wintergate Fighter's lined up along the clearing of the forest. They beat their shields, growling, anticipating the fight ahead. The Rangers on the other hand took the flanks, hooded and enigmatic, equipped to move quickly. Darian paced back and forth on his steed, staring deep into the eyes of his men, unsheathing his sword.

"Let's show these imps the taste of Wintergate steel!" he screamed, the men immediately reciprocated.

"For Marcus! For the King! For the Imperium!" he pointed into the distance, "THERE WILL BE BLOOD!"

THERE WILL BE BLOOD!

The men of Wintergate charged forward with hearts of steel and intentions as vicious as cold-blooded bandits.

✱ ✲ ✳ ✴ ✵

There is a certain kind of helplessness a man can only feel when thrust into the real of the present. Lanik was feeling all these things at once, and more. Had his rangers completed their mission? Or were they captured? Finnigan, is he going to make it? Lanik was not a healer by any means. He had constructed a splint and tied it against Finnigan's legs, but other than that, he wasn't sure what else he could do. Night had fallen heavily upon the forest and the two weary souls, and the temperature had dropped far enough for their breaths to leave whispers of air with every exhalation. They would either die from hypothermia or from these elves. Lanik could feel a hopelessness growing in the pit of his stomach, a strange sensation he hadn't felt since --

Elvish dialect broke the silent night, but Lanik could make out a name.. . Yanduin.

Lanik instinctively drew an arrow and raised his bow, weapon aimed towards the sound. From the depths of the forest emerged a slender figure, an elf. He was just about to release his charge when he noticed her expression soften, as if in pity. He eyed her carefully. He had never seen an elf before, not in person at least. Darian had described them as vicious, blood-thirsty murderers.. . and that may have been true but their physical elegance sure contradicted such ideas. Lanik and Finnigan were dirtied and sweat ridden, the three crimson blood imprints over their faces smudged from heavy exertion and exhaustion alike. And then she spoke.

"May I help?"

Captain Wintergate was taken aback. He lowered his bow, and slowed his breathing. He was prepared for a fight, but... had she just offered to help him? He frowned.

"Who are you?"

Finnigan grunted in pain once more, writhing against the thick trunk of the tree.

Lanik cut his question off, and slid the cloak he had laid over Finnigan to maintain some warmth off his lower limbs. Lanik's splints were in place, but it still was a mangled mess.

"I've done what I can.. . but I'm no healer. Will he be able to walk again?" Lanik cupped Finnigan's cheek, whose face was overwhelmed with pain, "Easy brother, there's someone here to help you,"

Condemned

Beads of sweat dripped relentlessly down Lanik's face, his breathing hoarse and strenuous, every limb succumbing to a numb ache at every movement up the cliff. If the situation were favorable Lanik would have constructed some sort of contraption to bare the load of Finnigan's dead weight more efficiently, but time and resources were all but limited. It took the best of him to scale to the top, and when he finally reached, he collapsed, suffocating in his fatigue. Finnigan, still unconscious lay limp on the rocky surface. Lanik could feel exhaustion overtaking him, but he had to keep moving, at least to an area that afforded more shelter. Catching his breath, the Captain grabbed Finnigan from under his shoulders, pulling him slowly into the safety of the brush.

He kept his pace for an hour before finding a clear space in a grove that offered some semblance of concealment. When Lanik finally arrived, he was spent. Resting Finnigan against a tree, Lanik turned over, puking, straining his stomach from such physical intensity not long before. The Ranger had scaled a twenty foot cliff and tread through the forest for an hour -- all the while carrying the dead weight of a fully grown man. How he'd lasted so long was beyond him, but the thought must have came upon too quickly for not long after his vision was starting to blur.

Night was slowly rolling over the sentinel mountains, beckoning the shadowy wildlife and critters to cry their telling voices. As the sun set and the stars winked vixen promises at the earth, Lanik could feel the temperature quickly dropping. He toyed with the idea of a fire but that would be wickedly obvious and easily alert any discerning tracker for miles around. What else could he do? As he questioned this he heard a shuffling sound beside him, Finnigan was coming back. Lanik watched him awake all in one swoop, Finnigan's eyes flashed wide open, pain overwhelming his senses, he wailed into the dark night.

"Shut up! Shut up!" Lanik hissed, jumping to his side and covering the injured's mouth.

Finnigan whimpered but could fully understand the intent behind his officers command. The two men eyed each other closely, and after a moment Lanik released his death grip over Finnigan's mouth.

"My legs, my fucking legs," Finnigan gasped in horror, looking down at the mangled mess that was his lower limbs. He winced in pain, grunting, and craning his neck back, anything to offset that pain that jolted through his body.

"God damnit," Lanik looked back into the darkness of the forest, then to his man that lay before him.

He needed help. And he needed it soon.