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“None of us are pathetic, and you certainly aren’t.” Tonya argued, almost defensively. “We’ve only been at it for two days, stands to reason we aren’t professionals yet. You’ll see. We’ll get better. It was bound to happen sooner or later anyhow, us learning each other’s identities I mean…” Despite Tonya’s protests to the contrary Bella still seemed upset and shrugged her off. They worked together in abject silence from that point on, up to their elbows in greasy water and sticky pans. A few times Tonya glanced over at Bella, hoping to strike up a conversation again to little avail. She felt a little hurt, her own day hadn’t been too great either, they were all hurting, but Bella could’ve at least acknowledged the attempt at openness. Tonya decided not to stress on the issue, though she would’ve welcomed some remedy to the awkward silence. Sighing Tonya fixated on her work, trying not to think about her reception once she got home. Ossar being angry was the least of her worries.

When their time ended Tonya slushed some of the overflow into the sink with her wet towel and went to retrieve Ossar and the now empty milk carton. Behind her Bella uttered a heartfelt apology for the way she acted, but before Tonya could say a word she rushed out of the kitchen joining the others outside. “There’s nothing to apologize for…” Tonya trailed off, a confused, hurt look on her face. She’d hoped they could’ve cheered each other up working together, instead it was like Tonya’s presence had made things worse.

“I’m such an idiot, always messing up like this.” She grumbled to herself, sliding Ossar’s sleeping form onto her hand and depositing him at the base of her neck, where her hair hid him from prying eyes. “I hope she’s not mad at me.” First it’d been Eddie, their argument on the school steps earlier that morning. It made sense now why’d he’d been so interested in what she thought of Talon. Surely he still resented the way she’d yelled at him in front of everyone, Tonya winced just thinking about it. And now Bella was upset at her, and Tonya wasn’t even sure why, or if she really even was. Maybe this was just how Bella coped with her feelings. Her mind absorbed in these thoughts Tonya barely acknowledged the others, until Eddie showed the girls his kwami and Bella began crying.

“That’s what they wanted us to do.” Tonya said in agreement with Alex, the older girl made good sense, and clearly held strong reservations at the thought of all of them knowing each other’s identities. “But whatever they wanted was then and there, and the cat is clearly out of the bag here and now. We have to live with it, whether we wanted to or not. I suppose we should agree only to talk about it – if at all in secret, and secure places.”

After a minute, Tonya waited until the other girls had gotten a fair distance off, hesitating at her locker door. Seizing her chance she stepped forward, tapping Eddie on the shoulder. “Hey, Ed, can I speak with you for a minute.”

Intrigued!!!

I was checking in the OOC, and I was asking you to specify where the description of the trials were. But then I checked the IC and found them.


There is a certain appeal to the calm before the storm. No words were spoken between the five Mando warriors as they sat in cold meditation, the weight of their weaponry heavy in their hands. Life, death, failure, victory, all possibilities for the near future, a certainty only moments away, and yet impossibly far. The entire thing seemed surreal to Javi Knol. The years of his life, the grueling training, the boring drills, and the unwavering hatred all amounting to this one moment of energy and adrenaline. Javi felt the same way before every conflict. His moral conscious, his fear, and his rationality would all compete, pleading, begging, and screaming for him not to do what he was set to do. But in the end they always failed. Javi would partake in this high stakes game of problem solving, understanding the severe consequences for failure. Except failure and death wasn’t an option anymore. He was a Mando’ade Warrior now, and he possessed a different mindset.

The tarp was torn away, and the battle began. Power surged from the jetpack launching Javi off his feet and carrying him over the barrier, depositing him unceremoniously upon the lawn. His cold breakfast lurched in his stomach and then settled; as did his reason, morality, and fear, each emotion fading into silence at last. All that remained was the evolutionary trait that all creatures possessed, and the training etched upon stone inside his head. Roll, get down, shoot, run. Javi operated like a well-oiled machine, trusting his fellow clan mates to protect him just as he did for them. Whatever differences that existed between them evaporated like smoke on the wind. They would succeed together, or die alone. It was their training and determination against their enemy’s, and Javi wasn’t about to allow Imperial loyalist best him.

Teeth gritted to a near breaking point Javi kept pace behind Old Man Resol, his once cold T-21 now hot, even through his gauntlets. The automatic rifle unleashed bursts of death at an unprecedented rate, the perfect weapon to discourage any hopeful troopers from taking shots at the exposed Mandos. One trooper, by mere chance alone scored a hit in the brief elapses between Javi’s bursts, his red bolt connecting with Javi’s shoulder plate. The armor burned but held, the warning singeing deeper than any burn ever could. Be more vigilant! The Corellian gunner returned fire, but the trooper ducked down, popping up again a few seconds later to release a more accurate shot. He never got a chance to learn his lesson, or revise his foolishness. Javi made sure of it.

Steam rose off the superheated barrel hissing eerily as the damp air surrounding them reacted to the unnaturally hot weapon. The last one inside Javi thumped his T-21 in irritation, not liking what he was seeing. The blaster shouldn’t be heating up so fast, even though Javi was shooting at an unmatched rate the cooling fluids should have kept it at least touchable for another three hundred rounds at least. Problems like this could kill a man, through no fault of his own. On such a high stakes mission dealing with an overheating firearm was not a predicament Javi wanted to be in. “Damned, humid weather, damned cursed planet.” Javi muttered, even as he paced backwards, following the footsteps of his comrades. At least due to the slight lull in the battle the weapon would have the opportunity to cool. Javi shifted the gun down to a hip-line position, providing rear security for his squad, watching the receding corners, and passageways warily. A women darted across the room behind them, taking cover behind a cushioned chair. Javi jerked instinctively, T-21 raised to kill but he hesitated. Obviously she wasn’t a combatant. Or was she? Racked by indecision Javi let the women alone, giving only a word of warning to his fellows to watch for noncombatants. “I don’t like this, we’ve got to many uncovered positions from which they could spring.” He added, flinching yet again as another supposed noncombatant scurried away. “The Imps will have an easy time surrounding us.” Javi glanced over towards Kast, the team’s explosive expert. “Maybe add some trip mines with leg poppers? So we don’t have any unwelcome guests joining us without us being in the know.”

@Inkarnate Sorry, Never mind

I have a question.

What is the requirement for a new Greenband joining the Redwatch, and how is the recruitment operated? Do they have to be of a certain age, pass a test, or just show up to the recruitment office some Saturday morning and sign their life away? Or are they rounded up from prisoners and exiles like in Game of Thrones for the Night's Watch?
There would be no fouler way to meet death then that by a peasant’s bow. Frans Vou stood in rapt attention, his booted feet spread ready to spring at a moment’s notice, his blood eyes darting from bush to tree in a vain attempt to spot one of these “bandits” disguised amongst the foliage. The Breton knight was no woodsman, and his untrained gaze could spot neither hide nor hair of any individual. Whether that be due to his inexperience or the actual lack of foemen Frans Vou did not know. Shrugging his shoulders the knight errant took his heater shield in hand, bracing it before his chest to guard his bulk from the woodsman’s shafts, his other hand resting on his sword hilt. Frans Vou wished he’d worn his plate and chain, the steel might’ve guaranteed his protection from the arrows, and he could press forward and engage this threat face to face, but alas the gambeson he donned then, though a decent protection against a slashing blade would fare little better than linen against a longbow. No, battle would not aid them this day, if there were truly a horde of peasants hiding in the trees diplomatic words would save any bloodshed.

Of course his companions and the bandits did not seem to share this understanding, and conflict arose in a flurry of arrows and ice. The Breton gasped at the seep and ferocity in which the ice-mage and bandit attacked, and braced himself to feel arrows thunk heavy against his shield, and yet none came. Eyes hardening Frans Vou drew his blade in a steely hiss, pointing the longsword towards the hail-pattered tree from which the arrow emerged. “Montjoie brigand, zee knows not what zee sayiz! Zere be nomagicien de la mort amongst our ranks. Zy acts are zat of a coward an’ fool. Surrender lest we charge ye an’ smite zee where ye stand foul denizen of zee forest.”

Casting his gaze to his left Frans Vou ensured his companions would indeed support his advance forward should the man not surrender himself forthwith. He was quite confident at this stage that their attacker was indeed alone, perhaps some brigand hoping to loot the corpses of the dead. Whatever his purpose the Breton knew swift action would be required to placate him. Frans Vou knew well that the man was skilled with the bow, evidenced by the swift succession of arrows he’d loosed. Even the skilled longbow sergeants his father employed for the Bluspereaux garrison couldn’t draw and shoot with such accuracy and speed. If he wished to see another dawn he would have to press in close to where the longbow would be useless even in the hands of the most skilled archer.

Taking a single step forward Frans Vou readied himself for the charge, laying the flat of his blade against his shield, the battle-hardened edge readying to sing and taste blood if need be.
“I’d appreciate a raise.” Jean joked as he pressed a series of buttons on his dashboard. “Us Sheriff blokes don’t get the appreciation we deserve from th’ Federation community. Thing is though, I’m likely to be promoted to galactic director if I bag our buddy-ol’-pal Bobby an’ I won’t have to worry bout finances ne’er ‘gain. So keep your head in th’ game an’ don’t die on me. I heard wot Mac said, I don’t wanna have to come carry y’all out.”

The Ranger shuddered ever so slightly as the pirate cruiser drifted into it, causing the lights to flicker as extra power was directed to the shields. They held, but Jean didn’t like the grinding sound emanating from the ship’s stern. “Look,” he told Ursa, his voice growing more serious. “I’m impressive right, but even I can’t keep pulling stunts like that, the deeper y’all dive into the belly of th’ whale. The shielding and armor is just too much to punch through. So try not to engage th’ pirates in all out warfare again. If ya don’t mind that is, I prefer your pretty face in one piece.”


-----

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor the five survivors of the original pirate score took to the figurative hills in something more akin to a rout then a fighting retreat. Tearing down the hallways at full tilt weaponry and honor abandoned they moved faster then they ever thought possible. Further along they came across a patrol of four others, who in voices of dismay realized these five were the only remainder of a much larger force. This understanding led to more than one pirate shaking in their boots at the idea of an enemy who could slaughter fifteen of their brothers in arms with ease. Moral considerably lowered the scheming pirates rearmed their compatriots and scattered about in hidden positions, preparing an ambush for the encroaching invaders. Fingers steady on triggers they waited on baited breath, watching for any movement to emerge around the corridor.

Sorry that took so long guys, I've been busy and suffering from a severe writers barricade.


“I…” Tonya’s voice trailed away. She’d never been a delinquent like Brian Braouts, in the sense that she underwent indictable deeds for the mere sake of being rebellious, but over the years she’d known her share of punishments, and even a few spankings from her father. Tonya learned to never let the instances bother her too much, and just allow it all boil over and evaporate on the wind. Sure it hurt at the moment. Tonya rubbed at her own bloodshot eyes in remembrance of the difficult car ride back to school, and winced at the thought of confronting her father again that evening. Chances were she’d shed a few more tears before this catastrophe was resolved. However in the meantime something had to be done to help Bella. Awkwardly Tonya stepped closer to the other girl, gingerly placing a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“I don’t think so, at least I don’t think they can.” Tonya said in her most comforting voice. It cracked a little, but she managed a little smile. She pulled the question-mark miraculous out from under her shirt, bouncing the tiny charm in her palm. “See, since we have these they’re bound to us. And they would never leave us, look how good of a team we are. Helping each other out, and beating up those last two villains, stopping Rouge-Bat, twice. They’ll be able to forgive, one, big, mistake… Surely.”
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