CFProxy

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Covering fire, sprinting, shifting, and keeping within the range of the squad. The blood splattered against wood and metal with dives in and out of the trench. Drinking from the cup of blood their enemy turned around to pitch their walls. Round after round. Bolt after bolt. There was a scream then a silence. There was a stream of tears and then dried salt. Forward. Forward. Forward.

Franz had always admired the empire. From his youth he found them to be the most intriguing and home feeling collective of states to have ever been created. The federation only found strength in cooperation and compromises all while feeding its people the promise of freedom. The Federation was no more than a puppet master riding out its promises. In the end governments had to control their people by any means necessary. The way of the world was to lead or follow. Some people took that as a horrid thing. However, Franz did not. Order was necessary. Checking of powers high and low mandatory.

He accepted such an order when he joined the gang that Markus had set up. He accepted that when he saw the masses following their own orders. He accepted it when he took up arms and swore his oath. No man could take the truth from him. Life simply functioned well under structure and as much as his neighbors tried to sugar coat it there was no denying that even they were effectively powerless to government. He appreciated that the empire was blunt in how it structured itself. He appreciated that despite this singular emperor happiness could still be obtained. There was no need to use propaganda to obtain life’s true meaning. That was the poetry of collective obsession and sacrifice. It was not to be for the individual. It was to be for the collective and especially the state so that in the future, on the darkest of days, the empire could use its strength to keep that dream alive.

That’s… why it hurt…

That’s why… all of it just… hurt…

Had he not lived a rougher life, perhaps it would have hurt far more. Maybe it could have crippled him, but here he only felt so much.

He didn’t let it shake himself, but even blowing a hole into yet another imperial to prevent a squad mate from dying he had to wonder just how much his friends would understand his fight. He had to wonder just how awful things were.

He had lost track of his own kill count... Well, that wasn't quite true. He knew the count but he didn't want to linger on it at the moment. All he knew was that the squad was safe and in the corner while they had a moment of rest he held the hand of an imperial who gasped with fingers gliding across the broken structure. Screams of pain were silenced by tightly constrained lungs trying to grab something- anything for fuel. Blood poured from the abdomen, chest, and leg. The wounds were bad and she appeared to be lost. The pink hair disheveled with blood crawling out of the corners of her lips as she asked Franz a simple question.

“Am I going to die?”

“Yes.”

“I-I don’t- want- to!” Another gagged gasp.

“I know.”

“Did… I do… The empire… proud?”

“Yes… Your family too...”

“Will they remember...”

“...I will remember you...”

“...”

“...”

Her arm went limp as he held her in his arms. The upward cress of her corners drooping to a neutral poise with mouth still and barren. Even in the chaos of the noise and the blood splattered trenches he still found sanity left in him. The heave loosened his grip from the previously pressing rib cage. Gentle strands of hair flowed into the dust as blood dried and eyes glazed. Among her own body, how many more who were simply doing their jobs would suffer the same fate?

Middleton angered him when he had decapitated that poor imperial. Death was to come to all but by beheading? What a heartless fool! Still… He couldn’t… find his burning passion for the moment. Even if the moment was to be brief he needed to finish. He laid her on her back. There was a deep breath, the man standing after reading her tag and studying her expressionless face. He would remember. It was a curse he was to bare but there were just some things that ideologies didn’t cover.

You could tell a man that the other was the enemy. Us versus them. However, he knew already that this was a kill he couldn’t forget. He doubted that those who lived in the trench could ever forget theirs. He knew lots of feds would just trample on corpses and laugh at the fallen, but he would give them more respect than that. He might have been on the other side but it didn’t mean he couldn’t give them some compassion even in their dead or dying state.

He stepped to the woman’s side, picking her up as though she were a bride and held her close as he walked near the squad, throwing himself over into potential gunfire and leaving a trail of blood as he grunted and walked out of position. Out in the middle of danger he set the woman down so that she could face the changing of the light with her helmet latched on tight.

He felt like he could breathe, if only for a moment. He fell to his side, coughing hard as the round she put in him began to make him feel dizzy. He groaned, staggering to his feet and walking back to the trench. He gave one last look to the Imperial who reminded him of so much and spoke of all that he had taken away from her. He would have to take so much more from so many others. But for now he said goodbye to the one who would stay in his mind at night.

“Goodbye, Melanie.” He grunted, staggering to the trench and falling in with the wound in his chest bothering him immensely. His vision blurred. He felt something slide across his cheeks… Tears?

He pressed against the wound, holding back against trench as he looked over to his team and just watched them gather. They had made it. That girl was here too… the one told to kill anyone on the run back. The pain was growing with time, audible groans oozing from his teeth as he pulled out what little medical supplies he had as well as what he took off Melanie to, at least, prevent bleeding to death. Once more he was hesitant to ask his squad for help. He knew none of them and they were all busy with each other. It seemed fitting to himself that he would simply watch over them even in his… less than optimal state. He wasn’t sure what to feel, honestly. On one hand he had just killed people who were doing their job as he was and on the other he would never know them. He would never get to get old and see them again. He would never know who they were or where they came from. He would never know if any of them had any regrets or if he could have eased their pain in some way as they leaked their blood onto the world. He simply stopped them in their tracks, making sure to either wound for capture or instant death. He had dumped three rounds into that girl just because she landed on in him. In his rage he hurt her more than he intended and for that, he realized, the tears kept coming.

The reaper calls. He calls and he calls. The unfortunate man answers.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in…breathe…

Eyelids closed as he exhaled, his tired state ripping at him with the sounds of their deaths echoing in his head over and over. Was it bad that he thought war, while an awful experience, was a good thing? It was like a greater good that he couldn’t explain to other people without sounding incredibly apathetic. It was an art where many could claim glory and others would find death. It was the balancing act for when things got out of wack. For as much as it was a loss of those who you loved it was the ultimate sacrifice and dedication to the powers for ‘whom thou bend thine knee.’ It was a dance where all things became real and all reality became fiction. A dance in the fall with leaves. Thousands and thousands of leaves floating to the ground with the dancer dancing their dance. Round and round they go until they dance no more.

He blinked rapidly, waking up before he would become one of the thousands himself. He needed to keep awake. The peace could only last so long. He was hardly in the shape to talk to anyone and the butt of his rifle slammed into the side of a clown of a soldier who made teasing comments of his relation to the girl leaning against the rock. With that man now out of his hair, he pulled his helmet a little further down and thought. At least Jean was safe. At least the squad was safe. He blinked more rapidly, sliding a little more down as he felt his wound and grit his teeth. He pat his pockets, sighing as he misplaced his cigarettes. He groaned, an audible gargle from a bit of blood as he sat up straight and asked a question to anyone caring to offer.

“Anyone have a smoke?”

He laughed to himself, thinking about the old gang.

---

“You need more than a fucking smoke, Franz. The hell did Barri do to your arm?”

“Nothing too serious.”

“Fuck that. Where is that loud mouth anyway?”

“Down the river, with his girl.”

“We’ll see how much longer. You want the honors?”

“Nah. I don’t kill people. That’s your job.”

“Well yours isn’t to get ganged up on when I’m not looking. These doctor’s visits aren’t going to get any god damn cheaper.”

“We can always rob another ‘class-a rude boy’ like Cassie talks about.”

“Yeah and then Jack will spend another week in a cell because the dumbass doesn’t know what the hell ‘spring from the clap’ means.”

There would be a groan from Franz as Markus picked him up, lighting a cigarette and putting it in his mouth before patting his back.

“Alright, Franz. Don’t drop it.”

“Thanks.”

“Anything for my favorite boy.”

---

He pressed the end of the wound up against the wall a bit harder, palm of hand clamping against the entry point. What a day.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Franz had perhaps spent too much time thinking on when to introduce himself yet he couldn’t help but prepare himself mentally as he thought of what he had to in order to survive. Life or death he would push forward. The words of the lieutenant simply let him know that death was knocking at the door. It rapped with fury and screeched the names of so very many. It was true that he had never taken a life but he was a thug who wasn’t unfamiliar to making someone bleed. Still, this was different. Now he was being prepared to leave and in this time he thought of the only thing that could stir his blood more than anything else. He thought of that miserable Gallian who dared infect his mother. He thought of that town of depravity that dared call itself civil. He thought of his blood and of his impurity. He would fight in this war even if it meant fighting that great empire he admired. He had found himself on what he might have considered the wrong side were it not for the people he cared for. What few friends he had lived in the Federation. If not for anyone else, he had to do it for them. The end of the war would mean the beginning of a new dawn and he had every intention of living to see it come.

He fixed his bayonet, the remark about Imperials being bastards immediately burned his insides further, his teeth clenching as memories of being pushed around surged. While possibly unintentional, the lieutenant had sparked blood lust within the body of that young man. He had half a mind to fire at his officer as he finished but instead redirected his energy to the front. He turned for a brief moment to the side to check his surroundings as he vaulted over the ladder and felt his heart sink for an instance. Blood. The spray and gore of rapid fire tearing and ending the lives who had just moved to do his job. His eyes dilated as something ungodly opened inside of him. It was a moment when he truly realized where he was. This wasn’t going to be as bad as he thought war was beyond the propaganda. There was absolutely no hesitation to end them. Those poor souls were extinguished as soon as they were seen like a response team to a fire just beginning. There wasn’t even so much as an attempt to preserve their lives from his view. In that state of blood lust all he could register was that they had just killed people who would never see their homes again. As much as he adored that empire it sunk in deep that they were the enemy. They would not hesitate to do the same to him.

“If you see those fucks come at you just hit the god damn dirt with everything you’ve got. You bolt your ass to safety and take them out. You gotta look out for yourself, Franz. Nobody else will because the moment all hell breaks loose all people are going to do is look out for themselves. So fuck em, if being alive means you gotta do the same then all for it. Just come back alive.”

Franz clutched his rifle, roaring with seething rage as he turned to face the enemy and pressed forward harder than he had ever done in boot camp. He felt invincible, like nothing could hurt him from his immense emotion. The deaths of those around him only fueled that fire to avoid what he could and take down what he could see. Something triggered yet inside of him. He checked behind him as he broke rank to race ahead, seeing his squad leader lagging behind. As much as he believed he could break through with caution he was still rather aware of what would happen if Jean died. At this rate he was a sitting duck and a man had died trying to push him along. In the end Jean was more important than he. Jean could lead people, Franz had no officer training and as such was incapable of using tactics to their advantage. He noticed something that only drove him to this task further. Darscen. He was just like him. He had realized it earlier but deep within now that everything was breaking apart did it strike him as a duty beyond belief to keep one of his kind alive. Were it not for other Darscen such as Markus he would have given up. He would be damned if he let one of the precious few be allowed to join the fallen.

@LetMeDoStuff

Dashing to the lance corporal he took in heavy breaths, feeling a bullet graze his arm as he stopped in his tracks to grab the man and practically screamed in his ear as he tugged him along. “Corporal! Get your ass moving! You want the rest of your squad to drop like him? Then let’s go! We need you and we need you right fucking now!” Franz hoped that would be enough to get this man pushing forward, keeping to his side and watching the gun fire. In his head he screamed the same thing, his mind a one track mind as he maneuvered to the objective. “It will not be me! It will not be my squad!”

The world had turned into a cesspit of death and destruction with the perversion of man twisting the fabric of reality itself. Teeth grit together as he thought of the mess he lived in. The murder, theft, abuse of the common man, exploitation of all things without a government badge. Here they were all equally monsters capable of tearing through those too weak to take life. There was no longer complex personalities and the understanding that things could be negotiated. Now there was simply predator and prey.

All the while that he tried to get his lead to press on he checked the rest of the squad briefly, roaring encouragement in his fueled state. “Our leader will see us through! Don't forget what you fight for!” He felt his blood slamming into his brain, adrenaline rush pulsing through his body as they dragged through the mud and rain. He was a stark contrast to the quiet man from earlier. Where before he had simply listened to the storm now he sought to fly straight into it. Beneath all of that desire for death he hoped that this battle would be swift. He clenched his teeth, squinting slightly as the light wound began to feel its way around his arm. The damage, at least, kept his fear of death suppressed underneath layers of anger and adrenaline.

He watched Daniel race past them slowing down briefly to shout before watching a bullet hit the ground right in front of him. In an odd way that man just prevented him from taking another hit but it wouldn’t deter him. He simply pressed on, yelling once in an attempt to draw him back. “Your squad!” He didn’t have time to worry about some red head charging straight into death when the rest of the squad was still in plenty danger and in a way he had no right to even begin to criticize him because he was just about to do the same. In truth they needed to get to get out of the hell storm as soon as possible but what then? If they arrived scattered then would they still be organized? Or would they pause to regroup and get mowed down by a shocktrooper waiting in ambush? Ideally they would stay spread enough to avoid making the squad a pile of gore. All he knew was that the moment they hit they had to do it at least partly coordinated. They beat it into them enough that the squad moves as a unit. For now he would leave it be.

@Ithradine

Ears began to feel irritation at all the noise, but it would be alright. Of the group it seemed that Michael had drifted further back and for a brief moment he screamed out his rank, waving him closer as he returned to trying to keep Jean and himself alive. He didn’t know how he was going to make it or even his squad for that matter but he didn’t waste time worrying. He just kept moving, the only thing that kept him alive before. He had to keep moving, waiting for Jean to tell him what to do as he prepared himself for the tidal wave.

@Conscripts

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Franz moved at the order, tucking his helmet down to proper position before quickly marching to the front. There was no hesitation. There was only knowing that this may be the last day he ever breathes air. His heart pounded, giving himself a bit of surprise in anticipation of the main event. He kept in formation but immediately took cover in the trench once it was available. The silence was unnerving, this darkness was surely to be awoken by the light of explosives and gun fire. He did a weapon check, a brief maintenance before wiping off the water that had collected upon the rifle and peeked over the safety of the trench briefly to check for any movement before ducking back down and checking for his bayonet. Thoughts raced as he shuffled in his space and felt his emotions bubbling. Thoughts of the past.



"War? Is that what you want?"

"I'm going back. That's it."

"So what? You want me to wait here while you go out there and get killed? Use your head, Franz. They're going to the grinder and you want to be the next on the chopping block? Get the hell out of the army before that happens!"

"What else am I supposed to do? Sit around waiting to find someone that will never show up? I've tried and tried but nobody has seen her. I need to do something other than get spit on in the streets."

"And the best thing you could do is go die for the fucking Feds? The same ones that told us we'd be better in a ditch?"

"It pays. The army is nothing if not consistent with payment regardless of hair color."

"Yeah, job security isn't going to matter when you're meters in the ground. I can't believe we're even having this conversation. You want me to keep looking for this bit-"

A solid strike to the cheek. It caused the first silence of that mid day conversation and it did so with the other man holding his jaw for the moment before throwing Franz over the table and diving after. It was a struggle, both men grunting and groaning as fist and words hit with such ferocity that furniture nearly gave way under the pressure of their battle. Ten minutes. Ten minutes of struggling with Franz finally being thrown against the rotten wood stairs and grabbed by his collar.

They stared at each other, heaving and sweating with the sound of rain tapping the glass. The power went out. Lights turned dim.

It wasn't long after that they sat quietly by the campfire burning damaged magazines and newspapers, sharing a moment with warm coffee and a blanket to cover them. They held neutral expressions with battered skin.

"You know, sarge is going to kill me once he sees my uniform."

"Just see Veronica before you leave. She's laundered equipment before I'm sure she'll know how to fix it up or at least give you a new one."

"How did you meet her anyway?"

"Veronica? We were just sitting at the pool enjoying the day and I just decided to talk to her. I looked at her she looked at me and it just kind of happened. Just a couple of Darscens trying to get by. Course, she dyed her hair light blue. I always hated that shit. Sure a coat of new paint means you get treated better, but it's disgusting that we need to change who and what we are to even be accepted. To hell with that. I'm staying Darscen even if it kills me."

"You're a thug on the street, I'm pretty sure it will kill you at some point."

"Not as fast as some pretentious fuck of a lieutenant telling me to throw my body at a line of rifles. You hear about that fucking poster boy? What a god damn joke. He wouldn't last a week in the slums."

It got a laugh out of Franz, smiling as he responded to Markus "True. Still, it pays."

"With all that money you get I think about investing into a new apartment but then I remember that staying in isolation like this is the best way to be. Sure it's not what I'd call paradise but a couple Darscen sympathizers isn't going to change the fact that the world is filled with its biased selections. At least here we're a den of our own kind. That's better than any luxury suite."

"That's kind of a lie isn't it? I know you'd rather have that sweet chicken pulled buffet."

"Oh fuck yeah I would, but that's besides the point. Good food only carries you so far. I'm an idealist, just like you. I'm gonna die in a few decades so I might as well go out doing what I love and being who I am. Maybe I'll build up a family in the meantime."

"Veronica?"

"Relax, professor. She's just a squeeze. I'd like to think I have higher standards."

"I don't think she'd appreciate hearing that."

"We don't exactly have the best chemistry but it's better than being a punk ass virgin like you. She feels the same in that way."

"Always did have a way with words."

"Glad you agree. Still, I think it's time you gave up on that Amber shit. She's gone, man. You need to find someone else."

Silence. The fire burned, ripping away at the remnants of the trash as Franz stood and grabbed his letters, looking at them and then the fire before putting them back. He took the old phone book instead, chucking the behemoth into the pit before taking his part of the covers again.

"You're hopeless, Franz... Still, you're lucky you're my best friend... I'll keep looking for her. Just don't fucking die... alright?"



He was in something of a trance for a moment, gripping at his shoulder as though the blankets were there until he left his memories, his ear still placed against the structure as he listened and waited. He thanked Veronica quietly. Even if it wasn't right to work with an insider like that he didn't mind it personally. She'd never gotten caught as far as he knew and it saved him a week in the hole. This uniform felt better too, the lines weren't as irritating and it had something of a soft comfy stretch to it. It was better than the stiff and hastily made uniform they gave him at first. He took a moment to appreciate it, knowing that she picked it out just for him.

He would still need to talk with his squad eventually, but for now he settled for just staying still and listening for a shift. Waiting for the order as he remembered Markus' words.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Letter - August 25th 1915

Amber, how are you?

Have you read the other letters? Have you kept up with what I’ve sent you? Well, if you’re reading this then it means you have. It looks like its finally war for me. I figured it would be nice to let you know. I may never come back, you know.

I’ll be honest, without you I don’t know what I’ll do. The letters I left before were just so you could know how life was going for me and as we both know my blood means I’m the target of a lot of hate, but it doesn’t bother me too much. I’m still human, just like you. As long as you’re doing just fine then what else does it matter in life? Maybe one day I can walk the streets without being spit on for being an Imperial Darscen. What can I say though? I’m proud of who I am. Still, I’d rather keep most of who I am buried away. Maybe then my allies won’t bury me.

I wish I could have found you before I found myself here, but it’s needless to say that I didn’t. This letter is scrambled with my thoughts and I’m repeating myself a little bit but… My biggest regret is that I didn’t leave home sooner. I know you would have helped me escape, but I was too afraid and broken. It took a little longer to get too upset to stay home, but if I had just trusted my gut to start with maybe I would be with you. Maybe I wouldn’t be here in this war. All I know is that because of my decisions I am here now and in spirit I will be with you always. There is never a day that passes that I don’t think about you… Who knows, maybe one day I’ll stand outside and get one of those home made meals again.

Yet, there is darkness in me. Remember when I told you about my feelings? How it was getting worse and then better when I thought I had a lead? Yeah… I… I gave up. Now that I’m in the military and this has all come to pass I don’t think there is much of a chance that I’ll see you again. I’ve heard a lot of awful things about this war and I’ve traveled to so many places calling so many numbers and shipping out letter after letter just to get the response from business after business that they’ve never heard of you. I even came to the city you said you were moving to. Two years of this and I can’t say It has been fruitful in the least. I just hope Markus finds you. I still can’t believe that after two years he’s done nothing but help me. Darscens have to stay together, right?

Take care of yourself, Amber. As long as I’m still breathing I’ll keep writing. So I hope, for your sakes, that I write until this war is over. But if I don’t then promise you’ll do something for me, Amber. Remember me.

Yours truly, Franz Blau.

He thought about the letter in silence. He thought about her face and he thought about the past he left behind. He thought of the training he endured and he thought of the officer who spoke aloud with words that penetrated little. Still, he got the basics. Call the man lieutenant, be back in two hours for the lethal theatrics, gamble your life away. Easy enough.

At the very least the temperature was colder than he expected. Even as a child he loved the feel of winter and rain. Maybe it was just his blood, but nothing was better than laying down on a cold rainy day. Well, assuming he wasn’t told to work the house anyway.

After the crowd dispersed Franz marched his way to the side, not particularly focused on making friends at the moment as he thought of what to make today. A flower? Maybe a dog? Amber? A mental sigh seemed appropriate. He didn’t want to snub the platoon but his spirits were low and as it was it was gradually being improved by the rain. He watched the rain pour, taking in every small splash and every bit of mud spread by boots marching by. Boots marched by without any regard of what they were stepping on. Sure, it was just rain in the mud, but the boundaries of that comparison to life being thrown away with people moving on made him wonder just how many lives would be forgotten. The propaganda was already in. The loser would surely be ill remembered if at all, but that was the nature of end war conditions. Even such a thought like that made him think of his dark hair and feel that something about that Darscen story was wrong.

He took his mind off such things for now, simply smiling at the other soldiers as he watched them in silence, wondering just how he could help make their lives a bit better during the- show as the lieutenant put it.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Franz Blau

Franz Blau

Gender

Male

Age

17
[November 7th, 1897]

Sexuality

Heterosexual

Race

Imperial(Mother)/Gallian(Father). Darscen Descent. City of Hafen.

Appearance

A very light shaded man with an athletic build and various scars around his body. Most are found on his back, although a few long scars can be found running across his arms and legs. Sharp facial features, clean upkeep, and somewhat closed uninterested eyes while neutral. Naturally has a bit of a frown to his mouth. Dark blue hair and light blue eyes. Butch cut on formal ocassions [Although he will wear it consistently once he has made peace with himself.]. As a token of friendship, he always wears a sapphire ring on his left index.

Height

5' 8"

Personality

A somewhat friendly, although standoffish person. While he may keep quiet he is observant of others and often works to support others. His upbringing and daily life have weighed down on him, keeping an otherwise loud and energetic personality buried underneath hard coded discipline and silence.

On the field is where he feels most lively, using the roar of the battle to expose the man within the shell with an aggressive lighting. Often times this is where boiling anger is released even if he asks mostly as a dog on a leash. He acts within the boundaries of his orders, but without specification he may very well do things with technicalities as justification. Even still he is selfless, providing himself as a shield for others when needed and putting the lives of others before his own in most situations.

Off duty he is a depressed and quiet loner. Although he tries not to show it, he has a weak will to live for himself. Books, art, and music give him joy even if he is critical of the hobbies he pursues which results in him destroying the things he creates. Self loathing is evident as he rarely ever talks well of himself and compliments, if ever received, are unnerving. However, he is mostly content with living life in this way. Even if he believes he is free from oppression, his true nature is still locked behind caution and conditioning.

Rank

Private

Role

Rifleman

[He is willing to fill any role, but close quarters combat is his specialty. Until he has made peace with himself, he will attempt to simply follow rather than do what he is capable of: leading.]

Equipment

[Standard Equipment based on class.]

Potentials
[Hot Blooded] He has found that many emotions that he was forced to hide away in his youth has now bottled up into a tightly constrained funnel of seething anger. Playing with his emotions too harshly will result in an explosive man who is reckless and focused in bringing pain to others. Even the sight of a Gallian may trigger past memories, ruining his mood of the day. --> [Equilibrium] (Locked)

[Gallian Hater] Hating his father and Gallians who showed merciless remarks against him, he has nothing but hatred for many Gallians. While he is aware that he has made some Gallian friends, within his emotional state he believes Gallia to be a worthless stain on the world map even if he was not treated perfectly in the Federation. Given the chance, he just might take himself up on the offer to eliminate a couple throne rats.

[Darcsen Bond] His best friends were Darcsen. While he did have other friends, none did he feel closer with at the time than the boys and girls with dark hair. He will always prioritize protecting those who made life worth living before anyone else.

[Aimless Idealist] Without purpose and with thoughts swirling he finds himself distracted from time to time in battle and without a strong will to live he doesn't try very hard to fix such a flaw. However, his idealistic thoughts keep him in check and preforms much of what other soldiers may have issue or hesitation with without as much of a struggle. An army is nothing without unity. As such, he will act if the interest of the nation no matter how much it might hurt in most situations.

Biography

Early Life

As a child he was taught that Imperials were the enemy. He was taught that no other race of people were so lowly and foul by a man who was bitter of memories which he never spoke of. For whatever reason, the man he called father had an undying hatred and bias against the autocracy. He boasted of Gallian superiority and often times spoke ill of his mother. With only his father in his life and a restricted schedule with defined boundaries of where he could be and when, the boy only knew that being quiet and whining little would yield a man that his father could be proud of. Or so he told himself. In what free time he had in the park with Amber he was a loud and happy child, enjoying his time with her immensely before one day he stopped seeing her. He would stop receiving the hot meals she brought, the warm smile she gave, the joyous games they played, or even the friendly loving attitude she presented.

Adolescence

Life continued. Routine after routine was drilled into him and with his continued education he came to learn more about the world around him. Year after year he listened to his father drone on about Imperial inferiority. Year after year he dealt with being told that he was never going to be the son he wanted. When he rebelled he was met with hand and leather and any free thought was eliminated for a period of submissiveness. Even if it made him an efficient student, being a child forced to grow up early and dealing with

He was orderly, developing himself as an individual who could often be identified as a loner but with the aspirations for something other than the life he lived in. Reading book after book about the Imperials and Gallians he found much to love and hate of both, but due to his father's aggressive methods and abusive behavior, the teenager found that Gallian failures were emphasized in his mind and heart and Imperial achievements were graced upon his shoulders. Even mistakes and failures that the Empire had made were dismissed with a forgiving and understanding attitude. This mentality would only grow with each year further he stayed with his father.

Fear began to turn to hatred and in a time where he had reached his lowest thus far, he saw Amber again. Still a delivery girl and still as friendly as ever. However, it would not last. For a year they enjoyed time together and he often went home late just to spend hours with the friend he had made. Once more she brought him meals, smiles, love, and friendship. Under the night sky they would talk for hours and for a time it had seemed as though life was finally turning around. After the year was up, she had explained with a heavy heart that she would be moving away. Life in Gallia was over. With a teary goodbye they shared one last moment before Amber left to the Atlantic Federation.

Franz was devastated and the punishment delivered by his father had become numb to the touch. Life had become more dull than before and his ever growing depression ate at him. Gnawing at the young man he found releases in his life. His art of which was the most commonly practiced. While drawing a uniform based on a military book he borrowed he realized something that would pivot the direction of his life. IF he could escape to the Federation and join the army he could provide himself a living while giving himself time to find Amber. At the age of 15 he arrived on the Federation's shore after months of planning.

[1912 - 1913] The Atlantic Federation

Life in the Federation was different. Yet despite how different it was he found himself falling into old habits and keeping a schedule for each day. He often wore long sleeve clothes all year round to hide the scars and trauma and enrolled as soon as the Federation allowed. Time in boot camp was enjoyed, finding what was often painful for his comrades to be far less intimidating for himself. Even if not the best soldier, he was grades above the average green soldier through his own work. In mock battles he was always strongest when provided corridors and tight spaces. Out in the open he faced the issue of being outmaneuvered and vulnerable due to not thinking ahead or paying attention at all times. However, he often held down ground for allies, covering flanks, and being a general team player that was strong when fighting in urban areas under the command of others. His goal is to simply follow orders and fight. He currently cares not for if he ranks up or not.

[1914] The Atlantic Federation

After two years of searching not one person had told him the whereabouts of Amber. Not a single soul knew of who she was or what she had done. After two years of checking, calling, and writing none had given him the answer he had hoped for. After two years his depression finally ate away at what drive he had in finding her. Now, with war on the brink and an aimless future, the young man moves to live life as a soldier. To victory or death.

[Bonus]

Infancy

Even if he only knew her briefly, he remembered her warmth. He remembered the sounds of men yelling with his mother breathing heavily. He remembered the sounds of struggle. He remembered the gunfire that occurred and the sound of his mother crying. He remembered the sound of his father saying those slurs that he would eventually come to understand. Even if very little, it is what he remembered about his infancy.

Federal Neutrality

Adopting a "just war" policy, Franz finds himself neutral of patriotic feelings towards the Federation and does his best to block out feelings for the empire. After all, it is just war.

Affiliations

Henry Hammer (Father)
-----
Erwin Blau (Father-In-Law)
Emma Blau (Mother)
Erika Blau (Half Sister) [Born January 23rd, 1896]
Heinrich Blau (Half Brother) [Born December 12th, 1894]
-----
Amber Longblade (Friend)[Born 1896] - A friendly delivery girl and childhood friend.

Relationships

[Civilian] Amber Longblade - Childhood Friend

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

If it gets approved then I'll come back and reformat everything at a later date. I've been craving some VC rp ever since I've gotten back into the VC series (having played 1 and still playing 4) so maybe this will fill that craving. Good luck regardless.

I kept things "brief" to get down the gist of the character So I hope it works just fine.

Franz Blau

Name
Franz Blau

Gender
Male

Age
17
[November 7th, 1897]

Sexuality
Heterosexual

Race
Imperial(Mother)/Gallian(Father). Darscen Descent. City of Hafen.

Appearance
A very light shaded man with an athletic build and various scars around his body. Most are found on his back, although a few long scars can be found running across his arms and legs. Sharp facial features, clean upkeep, and somewhat closed uninterested eyes while neutral. Naturally has a bit of a frown to his mouth. Dark blue hair and purple eyes. Butch cut. As a token of friendship, he always wears a sapphire bracelet on his wrist that he was given to by Amber. It holds upon its center.

Height
5' 8"

Personality
A somewhat friendly, although standoffish person. While he may keep quiet he is observant of others and often works to support others. His upbringing and daily life have weighed down on him, keeping an otherwise loud and energetic personality buried underneath hard coded discipline and silence.

On the field is where he feels most lively, using the roar of the battle to expose the man within the shell with an aggressive lighting. Often times this is where boiling anger is released even if he asks mostly as a dog on a leash. He acts within the boundaries of his orders, but without specification he may very well do things with technicalities as justification. Even still he is selfless, providing himself as a shield for others when needed and putting the lives of others before his own in most situations.

Off duty he is a depressed and quiet loner. Although he tries not to show it, he has a weak will to live for himself. Books, art, and music give him joy even if he is critical of the hobbies he pursues which results in him destroying the things he creates. Self loathing is evident as he rarely ever talks well of himself and compliments, if ever received, are unnerving. However, he is mostly content with living life in this way. Even if he believes he is free from oppression, his true nature is still locked behind caution and conditioning.

Rank
Private

Role
Standard Infantry. Prefers Shocktrooper.

[He is willing to fill any role, but close quarters combat is his specialty. Until he has made peace with himself, he will attempt to simply follow rather than do what he is capable of: leading.]

Equipment
[Standard Equipment based on class.]

Potentials
[Hot Blooded] He has found that many emotions that he was forced to hide away in his youth has now bottled up into a tightly constrained funnel of seething anger. Playing with his emotions too harshly will result in an explosive man who is reckless and focused in bringing pain to others. Even the sight of a Gallian may trigger past memories, ruining his mood of the day. --> [Equilibrium] (Locked)

[Gallian Hater] Hating his father and Gallians who showed merciless remarks against him, he has nothing but hatred for many Gallians. While he is aware that he has made some Gallian friends, within his emotional state he believes Gallia to be a worthless stain on the world map even if he was not treated perfectly in the Federation. Given the chance, he just might take himself up on the offer to eliminate a couple throne rats.

[Darcsen Bond] His best friends were Darcsen. While he did have other friends, none did he feel closer with at the time than the boys and girls with dark hair. He will always prioritize protecting those who made life worth living before anyone else.

[Aimless Idealist] Without purpose and with thoughts swirling he finds himself distracted from time to time in battle and without a strong will to live he doesn't try very hard to fix such a flaw. However, his idealistic thoughts keep him in check and preforms much of what other soldiers may have issue or hesitation with without as much of a struggle. An army is nothing without unity. As such, he will act if the interest of the nation no matter how much it might hurt in most situations.

Biography

Early Life
As a child he was taught that Imperials were the enemy. He was taught that no other race of people were so lowly and foul by a man who was bitter of memories which he never spoke of. For whatever reason, the man he called father had an undying hatred and bias against the autocracy. He boasted of Gallian superiority and often times spoke ill of his mother. With only his father in his life and a restricted schedule with defined boundaries of where he could be and when, the boy only knew that being quiet and whining little would yield a man that his father could be proud of. Or so he told himself. In what free time he had in the park with Amber he was a loud and happy child, enjoying his time with her immensely before one day he stopped seeing her. He would stop receiving the hot meals she brought, the warm smile she gave, the joyous games they played, or even the friendly loving attitude she presented.

Adolescence
Life continued. Routine after routine was drilled into him and with his continued education he came to learn more about the world around him. Year after year he listened to his father drone on about Imperial inferiority. Year after year he dealt with being told that he was never going to be the son he wanted. When he rebelled he was met with hand and leather and any free thought was eliminated for a period of submissiveness. Even if it made him an efficient student, being a child forced to grow up early and dealing with

He was orderly, developing himself as an individual who could often be identified as a loner but with the aspirations for something other than the life he lived in. Reading book after book about the Imperials and Gallians he found much to love and hate of both, but due to his father's aggressive methods and abusive behavior, the teenager found that Gallian failures were emphasized in his mind and heart and Imperial achievements were graced upon his shoulders. Even mistakes and failures that the Empire had made were dismissed with a forgiving and understanding attitude. This mentality would only grow with each year further he stayed with his father.

Fear began to turn to hatred and in a time where he had reached his lowest thus far, he saw Amber again. Still a delivery girl and still as friendly as ever. However, it would not last. For a year they enjoyed time together and he often went home late just to spend hours with the friend he had made. Once more she brought him meals, smiles, love, and friendship. Under the night sky they would talk for hours and for a time it had seemed as though life was finally turning around. After the year was up, she had explained with a heavy heart that she would be moving away. Life in Gallia was over. With a teary goodbye they shared one last moment before Amber left to the Atlantic Federation.

Franz was devastated and the punishment delivered by his father had become numb to the touch. Life had become more dull than before and his ever growing depression ate at him. Gnawing at the young man he found releases in his life. His art of which was the most commonly practiced. While drawing a uniform based on a military book he borrowed he realized something that would pivot the direction of his life. IF he could escape to the Federation and join the army he could provide himself a living while giving himself time to find Amber. At the age of 15 he arrived on the Federation's shore after months of planning.

[1912 - 1913] The Atlantic Federation
Life in the Federation was different. Yet despite how different it was he found himself falling into old habits and keeping a schedule for each day. He often wore long sleeve clothes all year round to hide the scars and trauma and enrolled as soon as the Federation allowed. Time in boot camp was enjoyed, finding what was often painful for his comrades to be far less intimidating for himself. Even if not the best soldier, he was grades above the average green soldier through his own work. In mock battles he was always strongest when provided corridors and tight spaces. Out in the open he faced the issue of being outmaneuvered and vulnerable due to not thinking ahead or paying attention at all times. However, he often held down ground for allies, covering flanks, and being a general team player that was strong when fighting in urban areas under the command of others. His goal is to simply follow orders and fight. He currently cares not for if he ranks up or not.

[1914] The Atlantic Federation
After two years of searching not one person had told him the whereabouts of Amber. Not a single soul knew of who she was or what she had done. After two years of checking, calling, and writing none had given him the answer he had hoped for. After two years his depression finally ate away at what drive he had in finding her. Now, with war on the brink and an aimless future, the young man moves to live life as a soldier. To victory or death.

[Bonus]

Infancy
Even if he only knew her briefly, he remembered her warmth. He remembered the sounds of men yelling with his mother breathing heavily. He remembered the sounds of struggle. He remembered the gunfire that occurred and the sound of his mother crying. He remembered the sound of his father saying those slurs that he would eventually come to understand. Even if very little, it is what he remembered about his infancy.

Federal Neutrality
Adopting a "just war" policy, Franz finds himself neutral of patriotic feelings towards the Federation and does his best to block out feelings for the empire. After all, it is just war.

Affiliations
Henry Hammer (Father)
-----
Erwin Blau (Father-In-Law)
Emma Blau (Mother)
Erika Blau (Half Sister) [Born January 23rd, 1896]
Heinrich Blau (Half Brother) [Born December 12th, 1894]
-----
Amber Longblade (Friend)[Born 1896] - A friendly delivery girl and childhood friend.

Relationships
[Civilian] Amber Longblade - Childhood Friend

[Cancelled]Our Darkest Hour [1930-40s Tech/Aesthetic]

I have decided to shut down the thread.

While I place the blame on myself I did not find that the activity was enough to really keep my own interest as I continued to work on all things. As it is, despite dming before I feel like I've failed in that regard and I apologize to the crew, but mostly radio silence in the discord isn't quite what I was hoping for. I hope you all find an RP that you like as I move to close this RP down. Maybe I'll try this again in the future when it is all fleshed out, but for now I will leave it as an unfinished and canceled project.

[Cancelled]Our Darkest Hour [1930-40s Tech/Aesthetic]

Im dropping out since there doesnt seem to be any progress made.

@RangingWolf

Fact is, there wasn't a lot of communication in the discord to begin with. There was little to no discussion and no questions being asked about anything while I worked on the thread. When I did post up a bit of info and even provided a channel for submitting characters there was essentially radio silence. Because of this, I just went ahead and planned to just info dump when it was all ready.

I respect your decision and I take the fault for not updating with every bit of progress made and for probably mismanaging the time I spent on extras in the world building process and trying to set up the thread with information that isn't necessarily relevant to the rper. All in all, if you choose to go then I wish you luck in finding a thread that will provide you better than I have.

[Cancelled]Our Darkest Hour [1930-40s Tech/Aesthetic]

Looks really interesting if you are still accepting.

@pandapolio

We still have room, so yes, if you're interested then I'll welcome you in.

[Cancelled]Our Darkest Hour [1930-40s Tech/Aesthetic]

Iqua Qoten and The 107th

The 107th was the first Iron Guard division to be created, the personal project of the general who introduced the concept and first experimented with on the 73rd Infantry Division "Mogley" when an adequate reinforcement was unavailable. To compensate for the losses and to hold the city of Balkurk, the major general changed the design of the division and modified its interworkings to better constitute a defensive. His modifications were temporal, but the use of heavy tanks, additional artillery, and more support personnel allowed for better coordination as well as reinforcing the idea that all riflemen should be trained to properly dig trenches at increased rates to resist large infantry pushes with more efficiency. Anti-tank, artillery, and armored elements served as repellents for light tanks and deterred even medium and heavy armor when the conditions were ideal.

The 107th itself took on a brand new design, experimental and last minute. The Major General's confidence in these new division designs were expressed to be primarily for defense, the tanks primarily being distrubuted to the hardest to fight areas where casualties are expected to be the highest. Firepower, as IQ believes, is the essential factor in halting an advance. So long as heavy support is in place, a larger force cannot advance without sustaining heavy casualties in retaliation.

In addition to the division design, the Major General also introduced fire walling, or often referred to by the men as "fire pits", in excess to the point that it has become a staple of Iron Guard defense. The use of "fire pits", trenches that have been filled with gasoline, by which the defending force creates a long range set of ignition lines to discourage the attacking force from using previous trenches against them. In the event that the lines fail to ignite the trenches, incendiary artillery shells are fired to grant a long line of fire which burns the infantry inside, deters attackers from advancing, and allows the artillery teams to take advantage of the hesitation to hit waves of infantry in rapid succession. However, if the infantry manage to work their way past it, it is the duty of the infantry to repel the attackers and of the tanks and anti-tank units to beat back armored advances.

Iqua's successes with the 107th have been remarked as sufficient and with every successful defense comes the promise of improvements to the division. It has had several advances which have worked in the division's favor and it even managed to capture the Tovian city of Toyette which resulted in the rescue of the remains of the Tovian 3rd Armored Division "Alkar". In total, 48 tanks, 1,248 infantry, 2,433 civilians, and a single cow were salvaged from the battlefield along with equipment recovered by the defensive force. However, when the city was besieged again, massive losses were taken as air supremacy was achieved by opposing forces. The results were devastating. Bombing runs, counter artillery, rapid motorized invasions, and heavy tank support drove the 107th out of Toyette, killing 1,800, wounding 3,300, and driving morale low in what was considered to be their most disastrous defense that they were not prepared to deal with.

Iqua openly blamed the airforce for their lack of support in defense of the city, but as the officers of the airforce would often respond with, "numbers are stretched thin." and supporting the exiled governments in attempting to reclaim land and assets has driven the majority of the airwings to the northern and southern front. Despite the lack of air support, Iqua has worked closely with Field Marshall Edwin Qoten to develop new projects for use in the eastern front including new fighter, anti-aircraft tank, anti-air and anti-armor equipment designs as well as several improvements to the general equipment of all personnel.

The division has received praise as well as dissonance within the military, but its slow and steady method has set the standard for defending the eastern front. The major general was also allowed a Tovian support regiment which consisted of 1,000 of the 1,200 men reclaimed from Toyette and an additional 2 tanks to round out the 48 to 50. The remaining 200 men were assigned to communications as the regiment served primarily as a supportive fire power unit rather than a fully fledged division.