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Jeep Wrangler male Banned

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STATUS: Do what I do and write two novels and then have like 4 people read them B) 3 yrs ago
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  • Last Seen: 1 yr ago
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
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    1. Jeep Wrangler 3 yrs ago
    2. ████████████ 11 yrs ago

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Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
Current Do what I do and write two novels and then have like 4 people read them B)
1 like
3 yrs ago
We've got a certified "Bozo Down" today
3 yrs ago
Also why's everyone getting so pressed about writing perspectives like dude just go write a book lol
3 likes
3 yrs ago
Might want to pick it back up before I put it in my wallet
3 yrs ago
40k fans are like the "Can he beat Goku" guys of Science Fiction
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Bio

Literally 1984 by Jorjor Well

Most Recent Posts

In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Train to Amone, September 2nd - Approaching the Recruits

Jean was a little confused by the words that the marksman used. He was quite the excited young lad, it seemed, who wanted nothing more than to do his part for his country, alliance and people. What a poor individual. It might have been propaganda that had lead the poor fool out to these forsaken lands with the intent to kill because a poster or a Prime Minister said so. How unfortunate this whole unnecessary conflict was. Ignorance was sometimes said to be blissful, yet Jean couldn't help but lose his smile when he joked about spending the upcoming worst months with them. If he hadn't of smiled and chuckled, Jean would've understood what he meant, but taking such extremities with a light grain of salt, rubbing it hoarsely into the wounds that the previous battle had struck against the Regiment, Jean quickly dismissed the possibility of understanding truly what this ignorance was. It wasn't his fault, of course, but Jean knew it was something to pity. Besides that, he simply sighed to himself and shuffled with his pockets before responding.

"Yeah...worst months...If only you knew that to be true. Anyway, don't call me Sir. Should'a told you in camp that an NCO gets referred to by their rank and not by a commissioned status of respect, because I don't know. Our Captain kind of gets cranky when we don't use the proper procedures of formalities, however when he's not around we always seem to refer to one another by first names, if we know them. So, feel free to call me Jean, if you want, unless you prefer to use the mouthful of Corporal Robin-Charpentier. He shrugged to himself with a somewhat decent smile on his face before looking back down towards the offered Longfield. Jean hadn't yet seen through their optics but imagined it was more than likely the same experience as looking through the pair of binoculars still wrapped around his neck. Thinking about that tool, however, caused him to look down to the binoculars. They weren't the new issued ones that all the other NCOs got on their promotions but instead it was still the one from the corpse he plucked on Hill 58. The gruesome truth behind that older model made him shudder slightly, as command refused to give him another whilst he still held the custody of that particular apparatus. "I'm...fine, honestly. Can't find more things to distract myself now I have all this responsibility on my shoulders. Only recently became a Corporal and started out as a Lance Corporal only a week or two ago. Not exactly experienced, I'd say, but...well...everyone here has already been through a lot, more than we need. I can only imagine what Amone will be like..."

@Daxam
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Train to Amone, September 2nd - Approaching the Recruits

His craving for the baguette was cut short by the welcoming of Isaac. He seemingly had overheard the extremely bizarre conversation shared between himself and Freya only moments ago and was quick to question the whole interaction as much as Jean had previously. Within his first assumption, Isaac did have some falsehood about the knowledge he knew of the Oceanic woman that'd just unveiled far too much details about her plans with her love life. It was an easy mistake to make, however Jean knew exactly what there was to expect. He looked down to him and chuckled lightly to himself, closing his eyes and rubbing the back of his head once more with a slightly confused tone to his voice.

"You don't have to keep her in check, Isaac. She hasn't yet caused any...well...formal issues that could compromise anything we have, but we still can keep as much of an eye out for her as we should the rest of the Platoon. Though, that being said, I don't think she'd like being called a recruit. In fact, she's more veteraned than all of our platoon put together. Almost all of the Oceanic soldiers transferred to our regiment have quite a strict combat record that goes all over Europa and beyond." Jean sighed as he saw her once more dart in and out a few more cabins, her accent still quite audible from the small distance they held. It was a strange puzzle as to how someone as joyful and giddy as her could hold such formidable experience. Jean had sneaked in a few peeps towards the records of their replacement soldiers, ones who were specifically assigned to his platoon, and had understood how expertly she managed her role alongside the great Marathon. They'd come together from a long-way away, and so it was almost completely understandable how someone of her calibre garnered the respect and success that she held. However, her personality also helped solidify the reasoning behind why she was yet to be promoted, even with her experience. "I'm sure you've heard all about them. Her, specifically, she'd been to that Southern Front that was in the news so much. Operation: Breaking Gates, someone mentioned a few days ago. Went through hell and back, and then dove straight into it again as soon as she returned to the central Europan theatre."

Jean eagerly placed his hands on his hips, staring blankly down the train's carriage with a small smirk on his face. The more he thought about the things she'd done for her sake, as well as protecting the others around her, made her seem all the more admirable in his eyes. It nearly made him forget about the questionable things she'd brought up during their conversation, to which he shuddered once more upon reminiscing over it. Quickly, he looked back to Isaac and nodded with a somewhat determined glare carried upon his face. It was, for once, the most inspiring he seemed to look before then.

"Anyway, I can see to your request. I hear the next stop has a few books and newspapers waiting for us to catch up with the worldly news of the Federation, but those'd get boring. If you want, I can grant you permission to take a peak at the storage compartment. I took a look there last night with Lucia, who seemed to be scavenging through the private letters of others. Whilst I don't condone it fully, I must say there's some rather humorous things written and drawn by individuals. I hear Britta has some sort of song written down there, but most of it was scribbled out it seemed. Other than that, I've got the duty to introduce myself to the other new recruits...the actual recruits, this time around." Jean walked forward, nodding to Isaac as he left, before he stopped and turned around, lowering his voice towards the familiar NCO that had just spoken to him. "O-Oh, and if you heard anything about a poem for Kalis-...uhh...a girl, don't mention it to anyone. Pretty please?"

With that stated, Jean had to wander around with the thoughts of who to meet. From carriage to carriage, he began to see each and every new recruit he could find and introduce himself. Jean held a somewhat confident and joyful happiness as he did so, mainly because he knew that the spirited troops that had joined them were exploding with morale and courage themselves. To hold such begrudgingly dark undertones to everything he said would just rain shit down upon their fabulous parades.

The more he went by, the more he spoke to. Jean intentionally avoided Michael's new partner to talk to. Ironically, even though he showed so much excitement for the man, the myth and the legend for being present, Jean entirely missed and walked past Thomas Carter without even knowing it was him. Instead, he went further down the carriages until he eventually got to someone who he recognised from the files. It was a new face, definitely, and for once it was someone from Europa as oppose to the Dominion of Oceania. Jean had a faint memory of reading his registration file and knew the tiniest piece of information about him, but it was good practice to introduce himself towards the ones that had to work alongside the Corporal further down the line. Confidently, Jean walked forward and extended a hand towards the marksman, who held his scoped rifle firmly within his hands.

"Private Ward, I presume? I'm Corporal Jean-Robin Charpentier, I'll be your NCO for this day forward. Just thought I'd stop by and give a friendly welcoming, as well as point you in the right direction towards the rest of our Platoon if you don't mind giving them a small shout." Jean's smile was genuine, for once, and instilled a great deal of warmth towards his output. He hoped to try and comfort or include the new soldiers of his Platoon as if they'd been there the entire time. Even so, it was quite clear that Jean was fairly interested in the Longfield he held and its magnified optics. Jean had always pondered what it would be like to be a marksman of any calibre, but it wasn't something he could truly picture himself. "Come very far to get here? I heard good things about your potential marksmanship, and I would like to say I welcome it eagerly. I can assure you that our next destination should be quite fitting for someone of your roles, perhaps."

@Daxam@FalloutJack
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Train to Amone, September 2nd - Sonnet for Her

Jean had felt this day since the battle of Hill 58 had reached its conclusion. On the frontlines of this new war, one that had ripped almost every country from Europa into one gigantic mess, there was a strange normality to those who'd served for long enough. It was a concept that no man or woman at home could truly understand yet here on the ever-changing battlegrounds of Europa it was considered nothing more than a regular occurrence that all were to abide by. Replacements, they were called by Jean. Whilst the term reinforcements was still technically correct in its formality, in reality all these new soldiers were simply replacements for those who'd already been killed in the brutish conflict that had engulfed the previous lives of the others. And yet, it was still an enigma as to how one man must adjust to such cruelties. Deep down Jean knew that everyone was dependent on him adjusting quicker than the others. It came with the promotional job description. Even with the support of Private Franz and Lance Corporal Isaac, Jean could almost tell that all of them might have thought of him as weak, less of a soldier and least responsible for the promotion itself. Whether or not that interpretation Jean held was true, he tried to bottle it up and continued the last few days with a smile on his face. The train was tiresome and filled with no activity other than the occasional stops for rations, food, equipment, pleasures and more. It was at times like these when Jean was thankful for his interest to write.

For the first time in a while, Jean had been writing once more. There was no one at home, however, to write to anymore. No one was there to receive the letters and so he only wrote the poems and memoirs of certain days down into the smaller notepad he'd scavenged from the cargo carriage. When those like Diana had tried to snoop out what he was writing about, in terms of the poems, he'd generally hidden all he had and would hesitantly excuse himself for drawing battle plans for Amone. However, he'd actually scribbled down poetry about the war, about the horrors and the lights that shone throughout the grimness of the skies above. There was, however, one special poem that he'd tucked at the back and embarrassingly refused to let even himself re-read it from time to time; a sweet sonnet simply titled: The Girl who holds thy Scarf. Of course, a poem about Kalisa would definitely be something he'd find embarrassing, so why wouldn't he hide it?

The train had stopped in traditional fashion, however the majority of the train's occupants were somewhat excited about what there was to see. These were those new replacements, of course, who were to fill the empty spaces left by the previous battle. Freshened looks from the Federation's large accessibility. Darcsens like Jean, Edinburghers from across the channel. Word had it that even the Dominion of Oceania were also being assigned to the 15th Atlantic Rifles, having a reputation of incredible shock-and-awe tactics on foot. Honestly, Jean was perpetually glad of such trivial information about their new veterans as it would help ease him into a space of comfort. These were not all, though the majority still were, newborn soldiers awaiting to find their baptism by fire, if they were to survive the ceremony itself. Oceanic troops were generally very well spirited and focused heavily on raising the morale where the brass couldn't. These were things that the Platoon, and regiment entirely, needed to keep them going. Even so, some of the soldiers began to dwell upon the horrors of Hill 58 again now that they'd spent so much time waiting on a train. Jean had remained, himself, at the back of his carriage, staring out the opposite window to that of the platform. He dared not to look into the eyes of the bands of misfortune awaiting pickup. He heard their voices of course, as many of them flooded into the cabins and seats to thicken the numbers the train carried. And despite their new arrival, Jean remained alone in his little corner, staring out the window with his flask of water tightly clasped between his fingers.

Fifteen minutes, however, after the train had set off, something caught his attention when he felt a quick tug on the back pocket of his uniformed trousers. Jean swiftly turned around and enclosed his hands tightly around the wrist of the person reaching into the pocket, clearly picking some form of information from what he had. Were they a simple scavenger trying to get by their misery by looting those who were not aware? No...instead, before him, looked a semi-surprised yet happy looking woman, with blonde hair tightly kept in a ruffled tail. Atop of her head sat a brimmed hat with one side tilted, as well as a feather or two sticking out of it. Across her coat were a large list of decorations, service accomplishments, a few ribbons and even a strange foreign cape draped around her shoulders. The drabs of her shading made it quite clear that she was simply one of the new replacements, though this time from Oceania, and she almost burst into laughter when Jean was quick to turn around and grab her wrist violently. Jean quickly reacted, taking his hand slowly off of her wrist and realising the harshness he may have proven to her skin.

"Calm down, love, you've got quite a lot of bite to that clutch, don't you?" Immediately, Jean felt his eyes almost stare in confusion towards the dialect she presented. Why was she speaking like that? Oceanic troops and natives didn't...have an accent did they? Jean was quite unfamiliar with what each accent of the Federation sounded like. Those from his area held a more florescent tone whereas those from Edinburgh were usually quite brisk and straightforward in their manner of speech. Then there were the Vinlanders, like Reyna, who'd held that iconic tone of voice, yet this was something new. It was almost quite hard to understand because of how strangely joyful it sounded. "Don't worry though, I only snatched this lil' bugger, right here."

Jean's eyes snapped open as she quickly revealed what she'd pickpocketed from his personnel, to which she presented the small writing book he'd been scribbling away within for the last few days. Before he could react, she turned his back to him, not running however, and began to flick through the pages quickly as she found a page to read out. Still caught in the confusion of the moment, Jean hesitated as she read out the first few words.

"The Girl who holds thy Scarf. To think I were to see such glistening awe; before me stood such glory and beauty. She was of similar past and present-"

"H-Hey! Give that back!" With one swift motion, Jean used his slightly larger height and armspan to swipe it from her own clutches, but the realisation had already occurred when she'd begun to recite the sonnet he'd written the day before. Jean was almost sweating from his brow with embarrassment, a slight tone of red encompassing his face. "Since when was it normal to steal from-"

"Is she preeeeeeetty?" Once again, she interrupted him and leaned slightly closer with a teasing glare and smirk. It was painful to see how obvious he'd already made the first lines, so obvious that this annoying stranger had already pieced together something.

"I-I'm sorry, what?"

"Is she pretty? The girl who has your scarf. Is she on the train? Ooooh, can we meet her? Can I be the bridesmaid?!" Jean, almost instinctively, threw his hands forward and slapped the book, the small pocket book she'd previously taken, onto the top of her head. It wasn't enough to obviously hurt the annoying creature that had made its apparent appearance, yet it was enough for her to get the message as she stopped talking and instead chuckled to herself. "Oooooh, Corporal Charpentier has a lovely deaaaaaaaar!"

If by some miracle a religion Jean hadn't followed existed, it was clear that their equivalent of the devil had bestowed an annoying audible torture before him. Her accent made it slightly patronising following any words she uttered out in a teasing manner, however she seemed to be using it to her advantage. One of the few things Jean was glad for was that he must've been out of the earshot of other soldiers and comrades he'd come to know. God forbid what would've happened if Michael had heard, who'd easily turn this into another comeback gag in revenge for Jean associating his liking for Lucia as more than beyond legalities concerning romantic decency. It could've been even worse if Diana was within earshot, perhaps understanding that he had taken interest in another woman in the platoon and would make it her lifelong dream to go out and gut the bitch who'd stolen the attention of Jean.

"What are you...No I don't. Also, how the fuck do you know my name?" Jean wasn't one to use explicit language in such light-hearted scenarios, however Jean was truly taken back by the rapidity of her interception of both his secrets and identity. It was quite scary. In fact, Jean soon regretted asking as she suddenly burst into a long explanation as to why she knew, seemingly not taking any breaths whilst recounting the events of before, somehow managing to even go off topic from the simple question.

"Well I arrived on the train with Corporal Thomas Carter. I'm sure you've heard of him. They call him Marathon, because he is a quick runner and did a lot of it back in the Southern Front. Some people think I love him but I really don't, but I might find more and more people in your little Platoon to mingle with, if you know what I mean. Anyway, as I was trying to say, I went to go see the Captain. He's a stingy bastard, isn't he? All bite and bark together. You don't get to see a lot of that nowadays. Most officers are just all bark, no bite, yet he holds both. Doesn't hold a candle to fun either. All he does is grumble about some girl and then whine about how his rations aren't yet prepared. Well I saw him, and had to hold back from giving him a piece of my mind, before talking to him about who I was. At first he seemed to hold a bit of interest but soon tried to get all formal. I must say, though, he does have quite a dreamy glare, doesn't he? It's like a real fire is within his eyes and I just wanna snap it out of the handsome chap. If it weren't for his personality I would've shown him the true potential of an Oceanic Shocktrooper, if you know what I mean? If you don't know what I mean, I mean I would've taken him to that cabin and-"

"Okay, what the fuck are you even on about?" Jean's face was wincing, unsure of how to make her almost explicitly unhinged words slip by unnoticed. He held a staggered pose, looking directly at her with a rather confused glance holding some slight disgust over the imagery she planted into his head. It wouldn't of been so bad if it hadn't been Middleton that was the topic of discussion. Quickly, Jean changed the subject as soon as he had the chance. "Can you just...answer the question I asked, instead of talking about...that." He shivered just at the thought of what she was to say soon enough, making him crease his face up once more upon the thought's striking.

"Ooooh, okay. Well Middleton told me to fuck off and to talk to someone more tolerable instead. So he sent me here, gave me a name and I just walked around the train looking for you the past ten minutes."

Jean managed to hold back the urge of slapping his own face with his own palm, devastated by that being the simplest answer she had to give. How could she not have just said that in the first place and sparred him the mental torture of her and Middleton... Even the thought of the words she said would cause him to feel rather anxious on the inside, causing him to shiver again. What's more, she was already announcing that she'd gladly flirt and mingle with everyone else in the platoon, which made him wonder if he was really safe. Was her idea of morale boosting simply to sleep with every known lady and gentlemen she came across? If Jean had known in that moment that she was the fabled skinny-dipper of the Federation then he might've just leapt from the train right then to end the worries he had. What was worse was that now this strangely alluring female knew about his sonnet for...well...his fellow Darcsen. And no, it wasn't for Franz.

"Obviously...obviously he'd send you to me." He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor, before quickly recapping her monologue and returning the stare back at her, looking in curiosity. "Wait, did you say Thomas Carter? The Thomas Carter? Marathon is on this train?!"

She began to giggle, knowing that Jean was clearly a fan of the stories everyone had heard back home and in their training camps. The pride of Oceania, of course. With a hat brimmed to the sky and a spirit worth following into hell, no one who'd heard of his stories could argue that he was nothing short of a legend, and a justifiable one in comparison to the false tales of Middleton's kindness. Jean remembered hearing about him in his training camp as all the other soldiers around him spoke highly of the actions he'd made. Some told of the times he ran across the entirety of No-Man's Land to simply deliver a small picture of his friend's sweetheart back to its original owner, who'd been sat in a dugout on machine-gun duty. Others would always bring up his most famous tale of highhandedly securing an entire mortar pit of 20 on his own in the dead of night, using nothing but his bayonet, an officer's handgun he looted from an Imperial's corpse and the almost suicidal commitment of his thrilled entrepreneurship in combat. Even Jean, a man who was against the idea of war and suffering, couldn't help but see a spirit and guiding light in the stories told of him. He stood for a good cause in helping his comrades and ending the war quickly, rising through popularity as a simple farmer from Oceania. Middleton may have been falsely considered a war hero back home for the nation of Assen and its refugees, however Thomas was clearly a people's hero. He had no riches nor importance to him other than getting his job done as well as he could.

The girl flicked Jean's uniform, around the chest, with an almost gimmicky grin to go with it. She seemed to be having a lot of fun out of seeing Jean's sporadic reactions, though she hadn't yet considered what Jean had been through at the Battle of Hill 58. Besides, it didn't seem to be her place to ask, which Jean was somewhat grateful for, as the situation itself took his mind from that horrible memory.

"Spotted another fanboy, ay? He truly loves that fame, sometimes, and I try to stop it from getting into his head. Anyway, how about instead of knowing him, you know me; I'm Freya...Private Freya Baines. And if it weren't for you interest in that girl with your scarf, you'd be hearing that name a lot more, if you catch my dr-"

"I don't have much interest in that girl...I mean, I do but not in the sort of twisted ways you-...and yes she's pretty..." Jean finally answered her question, causing her to break into hysterical laughter. She slapped her hat and caused it to fall off of her head, before she picked it back up with a furious chuckle engulfing her. It seemed like it was her plan all along to get the answer out of her. Fucking crafty bitch, though to call her such would be totally sporadic and uncalled for.

"Bingo, ol' geezer. I knew that'd work. Anyway...I'll be going to see your other subordinates, Corporal. I'll let you write more sonnets to your lovely dear and eat some of the baguette rations eagerly. Who knows, I might go see this girl you like whilst I'm walking around." Before he could object or go against her, she seemingly skipped away without a care in the world, darting into some other cabins to annoy, flirt or interrogate all the other veterans, new soldiers and unfamiliar faces she was yet to see. Jean smiled uneasily at her strange passion for flirtation, light-heartedness and bright aura, but it still made him uncomfortable knowing she now had a first impression of his poem for her. Yet, now that she mentioned it...Jean really craved eating one of those baguette rations...
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Do not fret, the OOC is still a real thing for my updates, I haven't forgotten about it.
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Train to Amone, August 26th - Appraisal

Jean smiled and rubbed the back of his head with a slight chuckle before beginning to tamper with his helmet. On its side was the still-image of the bullet mark that was left from Hill 58's incursion. Jean seemed to take a liking to its more memorable close-call towards death and insisted on keeping the same helmet instead of finding another one. Whether it was for a grim reminder or a grateful ode to fate was another story, however. Back to his smiling, it was definitely caused by his appreciation for the words everyone said. Franz was adamant that as a Darcsen, the two would be bound by a racial bond that could never be severed, offering to follow him through to the end and back for the sake of brotherhood and camaraderie. Isaac also shed some light onto Jean's previously absent parade by remarking his actions in leadership atop of Hill 58, which he had easily forgotten about himself. A spark of amplitude came about his mind once he'd wrapped his head around the achievements the group had made on the first battle so far. It was quite strange to see that those who'd spent only a day around one another had come this great distance in such a minute amount of time. It was surreal, in fact.

With courage, Michael had promised to assist Lucia whenever it was possible. Jean couldn't help but chuckle to himself over the words of kindness he had for the frail and vulnerable Private amongst their ranks. She was indeed an angel to be preserved, and with the growing suspicions of Captain Middleton having something to do with her condition it was only responsible for the band of brothers and sisters here in the Platoon to do something about it. She was one of their own, after all. Jean, Isaac and Michael had all promised and reminded her that she was no longer alone and was part of the Platoon. Jean knew that in Amone, each platoon within the regiment was to be divided into Squads of a certain calibre and number, and Jean would be taking minor command over his own with whatever activity going down in the city. Whilst he knew of the briefing and was not yet inclined to share the information, there was no telling what exactly they were supposed to be doing in Amone. All the information that had been given was that the city was split into many pockets of Federation and Imperial controlled sectors and garrisons, making the interior a mess when considering who controlled the urban battlefield itself. Lucia was likely going to be joining them, which was something Jean had to bargain for with the Captain a while back. She technically knew the men and women of Jean's group the best seeing as they were the only ones willing to put themselves forward for her.

As the train continued onwards, chugging down the rails without much thought to the racket it made, Jean stared out the window, still fiddling with his rifle. Some of the mechanisms were a little stiff for a moment but the quickest spot of exterior cleaning managed to free up the clogs inside the Longfield. There was something quite peculiar about how the Longfield had been manufactured and that was how it was clearly a dominant service rifle compared to the Imperial's counterpart. Having a bolt mechanism that was angled, pointed down specifically, made it fairly easy for bolting and rapid motions to be followed up when cranking in repeating shots. Still, the Imperial current design was functioning off of a 90 degree cocking bolt that sometimes obscured the vision and fluidity of the operator. The Longfield had addressed these issues before the war had begun, which was surprising considering the Federation's reliance on the Vinlanders and their scientific progressions. Edinburgh were clearly to thank for the sturdiness of the rifle, of course.

When his eyes trailed out of the window, Jean saw a flock of birds sail by in the wind. The sky contrasted the desolation of the countryside below with starkness. Above, they seemed beautiful and free, able to glide liberally without a care in the world. The land below told a story of horror, previous battles and homelands that had been torn from their positions and scattered like bodies from an artillery explosion. Trenches were still visible and the horizon, where the frontline had apparently pushed towards a week ago just off to the side of the Garnian Salient, held a barrelling plume of smoke and ash caused by the fiery cauldrons of the modern war. Jean simply sighed and looked back down to his gun, before speaking up once more.

"It's a shame really, seeing the countryside so battered. I never pictured it to be this bad, but when Private Louis Vanhousen, y'know that more recent famous poet from Edinburgh, described the landscapes as lunar-apocalyptic, it was unbelievable. I guess there's a bittersweetness to its sight, knowing that this can act as a reminder for our future selves never to repeat this atrocity again. Whether that's from the death of a friend or the responsibility weighed down upon us, our shoulders, we all have something to remind us of why this is such a terrible outing." Quickly, he snapped back into reality, after having spoken (mainly to himself) in a soliloquy of curiosity. Jean turned to the men around him and smiled, standing up once more to create more room. He left his helmet on the table yet continued to carry his rifle. Jean knew, though hadn't dwelt upon the thought as much as he should've, on Daniel's request to talk to him once more. It was a worrisome request, but the man recently had his promotion and it was likely to remind Jean that he was now responsible for their lives and should control his emotions because of the dangers they held. Eagerly, however, he was stood not for that reason and instead looked back at the comrades he was temporarily leaving behind. "Us boys show promise, though. They say brotherhood and camaraderie goes a long way on the battlefield, so if we stay together as one, we'll surely see the end of this conflict, no matter who the victor is. We might not all be soldiers, but we are all defenders of something, whether nationalism, pride, honour, familial values or morality. I'll see you lads later, I've got to go ask Staff Sergeant Baker if he has a spare stripper magazine collection; I think I left mine back in the dugout in Garnia."


Train to Amone, August 26th - Climbing Frames

After two hours of the train's journey, something sparked up in Lucia's eyes. She'd been relieved from Captain Middleton's watchful eye and began to retreat further down the cabin, a strange smile upon her face. Some of the soldiers around her greeted her in a friendly way, some even complimenting her as an angel. She would fluster and giggle at their words, finding herself open to a life of strange consistency and happiness that she'd never encountered before and during Middleton's experimentation on her mentality. Part of her knew that going around in a go-lucky style was ill-advised and definitely something her superior would not fully embrace as complimentary to his work, yet it made it more exciting to know the factor. Some of the people around her showed a brash and almost rebellious side she'd never thought to explore, and so the darling of Assen wandered down from carriage to carriage, greeting, thanking and giving her grace towards every known soldier she could see.

It occurred to her, however, that when she reached the last carriage she had not yet seen the members of her Platoon, who were amongst the nicest she had encountered yet. With a fabulous smile, she continued onward and only hung on to a slight sense of worry that Michael and Isaac hadn't boarded the train by accident and were left behind. Contrary to this belief, however, she managed to spy them moments later in their own cabin, now with another soldier who she vaguely recognised. Lucia almost burst into the room with a timid but bright grin on her face, squealing a name or two of the ones who'd prominently helped her before.

"Isaac! Mickey!" Something must've felt strange, as suddenly a new light was being showered upon them. Now that she was outside of the battlefield, she had the chance to let her mind flow free of creativity and worry at the sights of her two guardians, to which she brightly walked towards with a slight skip to each step. Both of her hands were tightly held behind her back as she wandered inside, nodding with both eyes shut and a wide grin. She stood in the doorway and took off her helmet, placing it on the table alongside where Jean had left his and beamed towards the three still left in the room, Franz included. However, only having heard it from other people talking to one another about him, she gave a wrong but wild guess as she looked at him. "Hello Francis! I hope you're doing well now that we're away from that horrid place."

With striking euphemism, she deliberately refused to refer to the previous battlegrounds to anything less than a horrid place, almost nullifying how internally and externally damaging the Battle of Hill 58 had actually been. It was where she'd claimed her first life, and yet it wasn't even one of the Imperials. A conflicting mix of emotions always surrounded that minute, the one where she pulled the trigger on the retreating girl, and as she watched her corpse fall back into the trench once she'd finally succumb to the bullet wound to the neck.

Even so the thought was still lurking at the back of her head, one thing she had taken for granted from Captain Middleton's teachings was her new ability to suppress true emotions whenever she wanted. It was still a hard challenge to commit towards, but in that moment Lucia managed to force herself to forget about the brutality of Garnian's Salient and instead focus on the three youthful guys before her, to which Middleton had previously told her not to mingle with too much. Either way, she was not exactly going to lose anything around them, was she? And if she did, there wasn't much she could lose that was inherently bad, was there? With a strange giggle, she suddenly walked towards Michael and began to awkwardly clamber over him. It was rather innocent, but she simply crawled across the table, gently trying to push past Michael in order to get to the seat next to him, before sitting herself down without having been invited. She giggled again at the fact she'd just used her own comrade as a climbing frame before she began to speak again.

"Sorry Mickey. This seat looks more comfy. I saw a pillow here anyway." For some reason, it was quite obvious that the girl had come from a sheltered lifestyle that was simply taken away from her within an instant. If it hadn't been for Middleton, who still sheltered her from the necessities of a social mentality, she would have simply wandered aimlessly looking for a purpose in life like she had with the refugees. Using Michael as a climbing frame for a second just to snuggle up to the wall-and-pillow seat was still quite a strange act, even for her standards. Still, she continued to giggle politely to herself, before continuing once more. "Captain Middleton said he didn't need to talk to me until tomorrow, so he dismissed me. And so I wanted to sneak over here to talk to you guys. I wanna give a big thank you because you've all been very nice to me, even though our superiors say I shouldn't get friendly with others unless ordered to."

Before long, she quickly unflipped a small notepad from her breast pocket and a small graphite pencil before she began to look at Michael, Isaac and Franz to scribble some small pictures down. She suddenly held a strong face of concentration, one that seemed to sporadically change from her previous and outlandish presentation of giddiness. Continuously, Lucia maintained her pencil to her paper with striking motions as she scribbled away, talking to herself whilst doing it. In-between every few scribbles, she would look up to Michael, smile politely and then go back to her drawing, before shutting the book and refusing to show anyone.

"No looking. But I'll show you someday, if you're kind to me." Lucia continued to smile, closing her eyes once more as she did it. But before long, she already lifted her legs into a sort of fetal posture by curling against the wall and pillow. It seemed to be the first real comfort she'd had in a while, and every moment of it was to die for. "I saw Jean and I knew it was a good idea to thank you all for being so kind to me. I don't have many friends here in the Federation Army, and I don't have many people to go back to at home, but you've all made me feel like I belong somewhere and it's all I could ask for in this terrible world. Soooo...Thank you Francis, Isaac and Mickey!" And just like that, she stretched her arms out and gave a rapid hug to each and every one of them, one by one, before clambering back over Michael a second time to snuggle up in her pillowed position again. From here, she didn't say anything and just listened to everyone else. For once, she was caught in the moment of hearing stories of other people, and simply sat there for hours with a warming smile on her face. It was the best she could do to return them of their kindness.


Train to Amone, September 2nd - Boarding the Wartime Express

"Bloody hell. You can trust the Federation to put up a good fight with the Imps but they can't hold a candle to their train schedules, ey?" A few laughs from the newer soldiers and familiar experienced Oceanic troops came from around him. He'd already become something of an icon towards those who were waiting around to their new assignments. Many of those all around him were new soldiers, fresh meat from the training camps who were awaiting to be tenderised by the brutality of the war ahead. Unlike them, however, the Oceanic soldiers who were being sent to join them were all made up of those who'd at least served six months at a minimum in the war itself. It seemed the boys and girls from the Dominion, like Thomas, were all eager to stop waiting around and just get back to work. None of them wanted to really be in the war, but to help with the morale of the greenhorns awaiting in the same train station as they were none of them showed any fear. It was the Oceanic way to present confidence and prestige. How else had they garnered such reputations as the best shocktroopers in all of the Europan War?

Thomas held some nationalistic pride in knowing that the war had completely shaped the view of Oceanic men and women across the Federation. Previously, their overlords in Edinburgh primarily were dismissive of giving praise to the Oceanic government and simply considered them as a colonial prospect for new life. Some even reduced their existence to evolutionary experiments to withstanding harsher climates. Bullshit, Thomas would always say. Oceania held the toughest outbacks the Federation had to offer, and the wildlife down there knew exactly why. They made infertile lands liveable and profitable for the farmers, like Thomas' family, down in his home-country. Life was hard but fun down there. Not a single Europan soul could adjust to such conditions so quickly as the Oceanic natives could.

Now, however, the war had allowed them to prove themselves as combat soldiers and troops of the frontier. The new war had been told to hold the most outrageous of conditions the world had ever seen. Cold trenches that were filled to the brim with water and mud. Seemed like a regular bath in the horse's trough, Thomas thought. Great bonanzas of firefights, men clambering on top of one another to beat the life out of each other. Hell, sounded just like how he used to play with his father as a child. None of the Oceanic soldiers wore helmets. They all wore the same hats, each with their own tiny variation to set them apart from one another, from brim tilts to feathers and more. Thomas felt a strong clamber to his right arm, clearly being his companion once more. Freya, of course, seemed to always be a bit touchy with the people she spoke to. It was an alluring experience most men and women fell for if they swung such ways, but Thomas was immune to her natural bereavement.

"Don't be rude, Tommy-boy. Don't want some stupid cunt threatening you with yet another demotion." She laughed before flickering her blonde fringe aside to see better, gently letting go of Thomas' arm again to eagerly peer down the train tracks. All around the greenhorns and Oceanic troops who were awaiting the pickup, soldiers and nurses who'd been sent to the very rear lines were bustling around in sporadic unison. The frontlines had managed to move quite far forward, at least another fifty miles away from where the train station currently was. Even though they were so far back, the land had still been ravished by the conflicts of the Imperials and Federation beforehand. At least two years before, towards the first and second year of the conflict, this land was once the Imperial frontline, getting ready to push onwards, but now it was a simply railway system for the Federation. It was a strange thought indeed.

"I'll do whatever the bloody 'ell I want, Frey. Now bugger off and flirt with some other geezer, right?" Freya and several other Oceanic troops began to laugh, before they started spreading out slightly. Thomas, specifically, wandered towards a soldier he'd only known the name of from others talking, one who was the many greenhorns around. For once, Thomas knew that the confident, or nervous, looking individual could use some of the veteran's talk. Truth behold, Thomas hated the war and the suffering that came with it, but what good was it to not approach it all with a cracking smile on his face and the need to punch the nearest man-sized bird back home? "Gwyn, right? Loosen yourself up, you look like a surgeon just pumped y'full of metal."

He jokingly patted the smaller boy on the back and grinned brightly. Everyone here must have known about what they were getting into. According to the officers around them, the regiment they were being assigned to had gained some notoriety in the recent weeks but were also struck extremely badly. The charge of Hill 58 was becoming a nicely known story as it spearheaded a major frontier on the northern end of the Europan Front. It was a step closer to Gallia, who'd also been caught in the crossfire after a rapid invasion for resources committed by the Imperials. It further fuelled his distrust towards their military standing, knowing that they were breaching the true rules of war. In fact, the act sickened him to a certain degree, but Thomas remained reluctant to let that anger show. Most of the newer soldiers, as well as the Oceanic troops, were clearly nervous from the fact they were being assigned to a regiment with such a high mortality rate in the previous battle it was within. With all of that aside, the newer soldiers were excited to see their hero, the recently promoted Captain Middleton, who was an icon throughout the civilian homes of the Federation.

"Don't take the jokes seriously, lad. Just an down-under tradition to keep the giddiness going, especially in rough times. Nervous about joining a regiment some could call cursed, or are you just excited to finally meet your Federation hero, or whatever, and get some Imperial arse?" Thomas chuckled as suddenly, the soldiers who were all waiting began to cheer in unison as their carriages began to come around the corner. It slowly drifted its way into the station and let off a boundless set of steam upon the awaiting soldiers, who began to slowly clamber aboard and fill all of the empty spaces there were to fill. Most of these soldiers were definitely newbies from within the training grounds, whereas only about 20% of the replacements were Oceanic, to say the least. Either way, Thomas patted the arms of Gwyn again and chuckled, giving his usual insight of encouragement. "Remember, fucking-lad, the reason this war ain't over is because we haven't yet had a chance to scare the imps off. One look at you and they'll be waving that good ol' white flag, am I right?"

If only he could share the harsh reality of the war with these confident sprites. Perhaps he could have saved their expectations. Clearly they were davids joining the Goliaths of the 15th Atlantic Rifles, new soldiers who'd already been through hell. Whether or not they'd welcome or shun their new replacements' confidence and adventurous sides was something that was yet to be discovered...

@Landaus Five-One@Conscripts@Ithradine@CFProxy@FalloutJack@Daxam@Jacky@Brithwyr
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Train to Amone, August 26th - Gratitude for Michael

Jean looked towards Kalisa with a somewhat pained look. Hearing her story made him feel like weeping himself, but instead he found himself simply staring with an almost straightened face. Something about what she said began to anger him, something that he never really felt before. There was an agonising temptation to avenge those within her story, ones that made him feel tense in his arm muscles. Jean leaned forward, and with a singular thumb he also wiped off a tear she'd missed from her cheek. Having seen her, for the first time, go red in the face was almost heart-warming once more. He retracted his hand before sliding past Diana and taking to his feet. Underneath his arms he held the steel helmet that was issued to them by their government. Jean felt a strong disconnect from his previous emotions as he held a somewhat weak smile on his face. The train had only just began to move, and yet he wasn't sure if the rest of the troops within his platoon were just asleep or talking to the others they'd become close with. However, as he raised himself to his feet, the other Lance Corporal he'd come to know, Isaac, was there listening, and began to respond to such trivial revelations of Jean's familial tragedy.

With intrigue and perched interest, Jean looked towards him and took the advice to mind. Newfound power? Delegate responsibility? It was true that now Jean was expected more from those above and below. No longer was it just a case of having a single chevron and little to no respect, the Corporal position was often seen as the backbone of the entire non-commissioned officer lineup. This might not have been true in most cases, but hierarchies were always dependent on the lower classes to get the jobs done. Corporals were often seen as the frontline leaders who led squads and fireteams in battle when the Sergeants were not around. That thought itself made Jean somewhat timid, but he suppressed that feeling quickly with a sense of desperation.

His face looked as if he were being strangled tightly with an emotional strap yet he still kept a somewhat deadpan expression once more. Jean was still attempting to satisfy the masses now that he had a new role to fulfil, but Isaac's word gave him a sense of inspiration for the second.

"I see...Thank you very much, Isaac. Your offers are all too kind, same goes for both Diana and Kalisa too. Despite my difficulties, I do feel that this is the regiment and platoon I deserve to be a part of. I know my performance has been...unsatisfactory, to say the least, but I will compromise from here onwards, and will attempt to make amends to my wrong-doings as an NCO. Just as I will count on you all, you will finally have me to put your trust in too." He gently patted Isaac's back before turning back to Kalisa and Diana. From there, he kept his helmet underneath his right arm and lifted his left to wave to them in an almost strangely friendly manner, beaming a newly found smile across his face. Underneath, despite the hidden emotions of sadness and grief still striking his body, he knew that it was something no one needed in that moment. Not even he needed it. "I'm going to take a wander up the cabin, you two. I hope you don't mind me leaving you two here alone, though I don't suspect you'd have anything to spit at one another over anyway. Besides, you two seem to be the lights of the train anyhow. Try not to get all embarrassed either, though it suits you both."

Despite referring to their beauty collectively, Jean looked and smiled more at Kalisa with a grin, only just holding the urge to wink at her for fears of his own self-consciousness. After having complimented the two, though Kalisa more than Diana it seemed, he turned and left the cabin, turning the opposite direction as to where Isaac went with a light chuckle. For once he seemed to be oddly spirited considering his latest mood the previous night and morning so far.

Continuing down the cabins, opening the doors and shutting them accordingly to get through each carriage one by one, he simply watched the men and women from the Regiment as he wandered through. Some of them smiled at him with a nice silent nod, others gave the somewhat warming verbal greeting, others however were still glum from the battle before. Jean couldn't blame anyone who was, as he still was himself, and that the battle was fully beyond the level of human kindness. More and more distance was yet to be covered, however he soon found himself stopping dead in his tracks when before him came out Lucia, closely followed by a oddly-friendly looking Captain Middleton, who held a pipe in his mouth as he exited. Lucia suddenly had a somewhat difficult expression upon her face, one that read of strange rekindling within her. There were several marks onto her gun and a few bloodshot glistens in her eyes. Whether she'd been crying or simply broken from past memories was out of Jean's knowledge, but she nodded towards him with a smile. Lucia looked as if she were about to hug Jean, but hesitation and the watchful eye of Middleton forced her to withdraw the gesture and instead simply meant she would wander further up the cabin, followed keenly by her superior.

Jean tilted his head and sighed heavily, before turning around. Lucia was problematic. It wasn't an insult towards her, per se, and rather a jab at the conditions she was being put through. Jean's mind was at equals to those who'd so far come into contact with her: sympathetic and almost heartbroken at the sights and sounds she'd been forced to mingle amongst. She was only 16, only just most likely, and was quivering visually at the thought of another battle coming up. Jean had heard the information in more lengthened detail about the upcoming show at Amone. It sounded somewhat difficult to understand what specifically they were being asked to do. Apparently a strike force specialised in breakthrough tactics were to go before the 15th Atlantic Rifles before they would be inserted into the city's warzone. Word had it from other soldiers back in Garnia who'd known a guy, or two, who'd been in Amone that it wasn't as chaotic as the regular frontiers of the Europan War, however it was plagued by tension, a different kind of danger and an immense worry of turning the wrong corner. It had also been told by some of the Sergeants nearby, talking away to one another, that the new batches of troops were to be picked up by the 29th of the same month they were in. Three days away, it seemed, the replacements for the fallen at Hill 58 were to start arriving. It, however, was the specifications some of the talkative NCOs gave that surprised him.

Alongside the regular Federation soldiers, both men and women who were to simply fill the seemingly nameless blank spaces that needed to be filled, there was a new breed of soldier being called into the regiment. Jean had barely heard much about them as such, minus a few tales from within his training camp days, but it seemed that natives of the Dominion of Oceania were too joining the frontier. It gave hope to some soldiers knowing that, as the Sergeants boasted a strange sense of pride in their talent. A lot seemed to be in agreement that the Oceania homelands were home to some of the best shocktroopers the Federation had to offer in that day-in-age. Despite the good news, part of Jean still couldn't get behind the fact that many of them were likely to be killed in the upcoming months of the war to yet be explored.

Jean made his way back to the original carriage he started in, waltzing through that familiar cabin once more. As he passed the cabin he resided in before, where Diana and Kalisa were, Jean took off his Darcsen scarf completely and, whilst she wasn't paying attention, bowled it straight into Kalisa's face. It's soft texture couldn't have caused any pain whatsoever, he presumed, and as she was targeted for the rest of his Darcsen scarf, the one she had a piece from, he simply grinned and continued wandering off before she could think to throw it back at him, if she wanted to of course. Instead, Jean continued to walk with a moderate smile on his face, suddenly arriving at Isaac and Michael's cabin. Jean peered his head in, knocking before walking inside with a polite smile. He offered his hand out to Michael and Isaac once more, but stared more at Michael than his already acquainted companion.

"I hope you chaps don't mind me joining. Mainly came in to just say I'm grateful for what you two did last night. I just saw Lucia come out of hiding with Middleton, which she seems to be in a bad shape for, but it reminded me of how you two were instinctive to rush to her aid, even on my order, when I failed to provide that comfort beyond what I had. If I had a drink, I'd raise the glass to you two." He jokingly raised his empty flask from his hip and held it only centimetres above his chest before sitting down on a seat, making sure not to block the two from their position. "Sorry for the whole change in mood. Today's just been a rollercoaster of emotions, hasn't it? Anywho, if you guys want I can put a reference of appreciation and valour towards a commanding officer, obviously not that blasted devil of a Captain we have, for your efforts: both you, Isaac, for your machine gunner suppression with Britta and you, Michael, for the ability to cater for your allies...Even if you might come across as a romantic whilst doing so."

He jokingly laughed at the mentioning of how affectionate Michael could seem towards Lucia, not knowing whether or not the man was actually caring for her as a comrade, as a potential lover, or simply as someone who'd want to leach questionable photographs of the angel Lucia later in life. Either way, it was always fun to direct the more hopeless romantic trait and humorous prod at someone who wasn't him and Diana, who even Jean knew by now was still trying to flirt and claim the Corporal with furious intent. For once, Jean felt like he was talking to friend and allies, forgetting that, even if it was just for a split second, there was a war going on in the first place.

@Conscripts@FalloutJack@Landaus Five-One@SMS
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Train to Amone, August 26th - Calibrations

With a sheepish kindle to her posture, Lucia slowly trudged across the paving and into the rear cabin of the train. Her mind was spread across multiple pathways of pain, suffering and fluttery dreams that stuck with her overnight. A strong pain still lurked in the top of her forehead, tearing into her comfort and ripping it to pieces with every step. She kept her helmet tightly sat upon her head, however it wasn't without her own knowledge. She was so dazed by everything. The promotions, the request by Middleton once more to see him. Everything felt too off once more, and she simply needed a corner to cry in once more. However, after the day before, she had no tears left to cry anymore. There was nothing left in the empty shell of an adorable little mess. A splinter kept sticking itself into her thighs and digging beneath the fragments of her past self. No longer was she the innocent girl she'd been before. Flashes of imagery came before her, of the sights of the girl she shot. She was of a similar age, if not older, and the calibrations of Middleton had forced her to ultimately put an end to her heartbeat. Shivers down her spine reminded Lucia that she was starting to become afraid of herself and what she was to become.

But then, a moment passed by her mind when she remembered a slight silver lining the battle had brought. Previously, she had spent the entire time training and worrying under the rule of a dictator she did not wish to follow. There was not a single day of conversastion that she enjoyed nor could she cherish. Officers would shout and scream at her for the weaknesses in her muscle and the fragility of her composition. Men and women of higher calibres would shoot insults towards her lack of perfection and would simply refer to her as an appealing look for the Regiment. She was considered a useless pawn that was to charge, die and be forgotten about within the first day. There was not a single friend for her. No one wanted to be her ally, even her own comrades. Lucia was deemed to be alone and brittle for the rest of her life, which through this war was sure to be a short-lived mess. Even when she'd travelled with the refugees before being conscripted into the Army, Lucia had not a single soul to rely on. No matter who it was or when it was, everyone saw her as a burden for them to carry. Like an elder about to pass their judgement, she was simply on a short timer to her own demise. People would just shake their heads and tut at the eventual dismay of her tragic life. The worst part, however, was that the poor Asseni girl knew this was to be the rest of her short-lived life. There was no happy ending. There was never a happy ending.

Yet, the silver lining was there. August 25th. Not only did it become her baptism to fire and anguish, it had also been the birthplace of a feeling she hadn't felt since her very youth. Michael and Isaac, their names were. At least those were the two who were still alive and kicking. Mila had unfortunately died, and yet Lucia still held the hard-boiled sweet in her pocket and was yet to eat it. Part of her didn't want to, as it was the only living memory she had of the kind-hearted woman who took care of her. Equally, there was an Imperial, several Darcsens and more all around her, ones that were assuring her of her safety and kindness. However, Isaac, Jean and Michael stood out the most. Each of them had held her, tightly and considerately, to embrace a feeling of safety and integrity. She'd never been blessed with such human contact in years, possibly ever, since the passing of her family. Michael had supposedly carried her to safety after she'd fallen faint to the artillery bombardment on Hill 58, which in reality made her feel slightly woozy and giggly to hear. It was like a tiny knight in not-so-shiny armour, rather dirty rags if their uniforms were anything to go by. A blemished smile came about her face as the thought of all three who held her crossed Lucia's brittle mind. She liked to be held like that. It reminded her she was still human, and in fact made her almost feel light headed as such, making her simply move her eyes to aside and giggle to herself uncontrollably. Unsure of why she was like that, it seemed to be a distraction however to her superior.

She eventually came outside the door to his private cabin, one that only he resided in. It wasn't any different from the other cabins as such, the only key difference being that Middleton was the only one inside. Timidly, she knocked onto the door and whispered to herself that nothing was wrong and that she was going to be fine. Nerves and anxiety attacks like such were common for the small cuddly creature, but Lucia still couldn't get behind how used to them she'd became. After the knock echoed through the empty hallways, which would've been filled with countless smiling soldiers celebrating a victory had they not mostly been killed, the order to open up came through, and Lucia went inside and sat down.

"You...asked for me, S-Sir?" She was directly opposite from the man, who was sipping from a small flask. It smelt slightly alcoholic with its strong and foul scent. He offered her a sip silently, to which she shook her head and reverted her eyes elsewhere in the room. Anywhere but his was better for her. There was yet another silence as his drank the flask fully, sipping away like there was no care in the world, before placing it calmly down on the table and beginning his conversation.

"Indeed I did, little Lucia. It's been a while since we've spoken about your...progress, shall we say? Tell me, your first battle was yesterday. Sure it was a bloody and ruthless engagement, but what I want to know is how you felt. So, inform me, would you dear?" There was a sly manner to his speech, one that seemed to always stick around when the two were talking alone. In reality, it made Lucia very uncomfortable, even more so than she already was simply being within his presence. But, what did she have left? She had to comply. The man had calibrated her to always respond or to face more punishment. She couldn't face having the beatings impact her once more, where a fist would strike her gut or face until she followed his orders throughout. It was the only reason she willingly shot that girl.

"It...It was..." She paused for a moment before looking back up towards him, finally meeting his strict stare. "It was scary. Terrifying. Everything around me was loud, horrifying to hear. I could...I could hear the sounds of men and women dying. I never saw them die, only what remained after, and that was what frightened me. But...The regiment is looking after me. Private Daunte was taking are of me and it was really-"

"Be careful who you choose as your allies, Little Lucia. We don't want you running off with another boy, perhaps ruining the plans we made for your further calibrations. You know I care deeply for you, my little soldier. Why else did I pick you not to join the charge? It was the only way to guarantee your safety after all."

Despite her morality telling her otherwise, she'd become so obsessed with making sure she pleased her superior, now a Captain, that her brainwashed mind simply agreed with what he had to say. To her, there was a slight chance that Alexander was doing something that was best for her in a situation where every choice was damaging. Perhaps she was simply being too pathetic to realise that the Captain intended on reviving her warrior's spirit that she apparently had locked away within her. Even so, she simply nodded along to what he had to say in silence. She wouldn't utter a word, and part of her mind once more started to think of Isaac and Michael again.

"Now listen closely. We have quite a journey ahead of us and I won't stop you from conversing with our fellow soldiers, but do take care of yourself, Little Lucia. I'll go over the plans for you once more, in this room now, just to make sure you haven't forgotten with that little head of yours..."



Train to Amone, August 26th - The Two Damsels

Jean lifted his head from his buried hands and stared at Diana with a deadpan look of distress and pain. Bags had seemingly formed under his eyes, though not from fatigue but rather stress, as he looked down at his new Corporal chevrons and slides. When his eyes met that of the white arrows, pointing downwards, he couldn't help but wince in slight agony over their sight. He was promoted to fill the boots of the dead. He was promoted because there was no other option in question. Jean needed to shape himself up in order to keep his friends alive. It was a lot to ask for from a broken man, but Jean still sat there and fumbled with his sleeves in silence, before staring at Diana directly in her eyes. For a second, he simply sat there, trying to find a way to not downtred her mood, yet he failed in doing so. This time, she deserved a true understanding of his current mood, no more cryptic bullshit to go with it.

"Thank you, D-Diana...But there's no pride in filling the boots of the fallen. I was promoted because those before me are gone. Now I have to take the mantle of responsibility and actually lead people into battle as a frontline NCO. I wish for only a deity or something to save me from the pressure, but I know that in this world I'll have to perform at my best or simply die trying. There's no middle ground anymore, not with this responsibility and call to duty given upon my wretched name." He didn't sound spiteful, despite the words potentially being associated with such trivial emotions. Instead, he kept a calm and slightly fractured tone with the words he spoke, but soon enough he had to cut the words short as another knock at the door came through.

It was the second damsel, the one who he felt more comfortable around. Now healed in the beautiful warmth of the train, for once sheltering them from the rain, Kalisa asked if she could enter, to which Jean gladly pointed to one of the many open seats she could sit within. Jean, for the first time that day, smiled towards Kalisa and, for just a second, held her wrist in order to remind her that everyone was glad she was okay. Unfortunately, Jean knew her head trauma was likely because of his sporadic tackle to save her, but the sad truth was it was a necessity for her to avoid the onslaught of fire and shrapnel at the time. Either way, he still felt guilty about it and refused to let his own mind rest easy until he had made amends to the situation.

"We're all glad you're okay, Kalisa. The world would be a darker place without you here. I'm...Sorry for causing you some headaches and stuff, I hope...I really hope you can forgive me for it." After he said what he had to say, he leaned back into his chair and took his hand off of her wrist, removing his helmet and finally placing it down onto the side of the floor. Now that his Darcsen hair was in complete view, still badly ruffled from the torturous night before, Jean finally looked to Kalisa and answered her fateful question. It was bound to come, and Jean struggled to hold back the tears he'd already drained before. "I'd be lying if I said I was okay. I got no sleep because of the battle. The death got me. Worse still, a letter came through to announce inheritance of property back home. My parents were apparently...mauled to death. Feral protesters against Darcsens. Killed in the cross-conflict between military police and rioters alike. Kind of hit the nail in the coffin for me. Now I know I have nothing to go back home to. No family."

He knew the room would temporarily go silent, until one of the two would speak up, but he kept his words thin and sighed heavily, wiping his nose's bridge with the tips of his dirty fingers. Jean had managed to restrain his emotions and tears, just once however, as he'd already expended such sadness and sorrow the night before. There was nothing left for him to weep over in that train, not yet. Yet suddenly, he felt compelled to talk once more.

"I know that Diana was conscripted into the army. Believe it or not...I am here by choice." He whipped out the hip flask, standard issue, from his webbing and began to drink out of it. All that resided within its containment was water, so far, and thus he had no intent on getting intoxicated at a time like this, if ever. "Girl named Olivia. Private Olivia, Olivia Robin-Charpentier...Older sister. Best person in the world. Apparently she was killed during the First Crossing of the Maren River. I never saw her again after she left and decided to enlist a few months after she died. Must've been a mistake, as abandoning the folks back home seemed to cost them dearly. But...I'm just ready to give everything I have. Not for the Federation, who persists on oppressing us Darcsens...Not for the democracy we apparently hold dear to us. I did this for her, who seems nothing more than a faint memory now. The pressure on me isn't to just protect all of you, my Platoon and Regiment, as well as you two amazing ones...The pressure is also on me to revive the now-dead Robin-Charpentier bloodline."

He somewhat brokenly chuckled at that final sentence, sort of stating it as a joke and with some seriousness. For all he knew, the bloodline was now dead and rested upon one broken human. There was little chance for revival at this stage, and all he had left was to simply ride the waves of the war, kill whoever he was told to and to obey whatever orders he had. What point was there in having a personality? However, the more he looked at Kalisa and Diana, and listened to the things they had to say, there was the reminder that he didn't want to lose that humanity anymore, simply to become a drone under orders. That in itself was a crime he'd never forgive himself for.

@SMS@Landaus Five-One
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay







In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay








Two new NPCs, as announced in the Discord, are now ready for use when the new replacements arrive to join the 15th Atlantic Rifles.
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


I'll accept that. Place it into the character tab
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