Lennon79

SAO: Living in Aincrad

And so a shiver runs up Pyotr's spine. Sorry for the late reply, I'll get it up tomorrow.

Valkyria Chronicles: Lions of the South

Bah. Pugs are die UberMensch.
I'll post tomorrow.

Valkyria Chronicles: Lions of the South

Fucking woof. Dogs rule.
More specifically, pugs rule.

Valkyria Chronicles: Lions of the South

This is a dog only thread. Even the damn cat agrees.

SAO: Living in Aincrad

Pyotr

'Weapons, armour. Nothing game-breakingly fantastic I'm afraid but nevertheless some quality bits of loot.' Even that was overstating things a bit. Most of the equipment Pyotr had picked up was average at best, but at least it was better than the starter kit. 'As stock stands, I have two swords and a hammer, all one-handed. Some medium armour, slightly scuffed. Um... boots? Yep, light armour boots. Good for keeping them toes warm, eh?' She gave a genuine smile as he introduced himself; potential customers who introduced themselves were generally customers who would want to buy again in the future. 'Pleased to meet ya, Mr Jax. Call me Pyotr. I se-' Before she could continue her spiel, Umichi cut into the conversation from across the room. She tried to conceal her irritation over his sanctimonious comment, knowing full-well that he meant well... Even if he could come across as condescending. 'I'll invest in one soon, don't worry.' Surprisingly he changed tack, offering an item for her to sell. 'Hm, interesting... Haven't seen many spear users around though, might be a challenge to find a buyer. Unless...' She gave Jax a sidelong look, her eyes drifting to the spear slung across his back. 'Now there's a coincidence, eh Jax? Would you be in the market for a new spear with, oh snap, surprisingly high stats...'

Final Fantasy VIII: Tempus Veneficarum [7/10 Slots]

It didn't take long for Duncan to reach the mansion, even with the odd tail that needed shooting. As he trudged up the stairs into the house, he was greeted with a scene of organised chaos within. A dozen aides and soldiers ran to and fro, carrying bundles of paperwork one way and weapons the other. His father was overseeing the work, yelling orders in typical dictatorial fashion. '... Busy preparing for the takeover, Father? I hope you don't need us to deal with the Senate as well.' Duncan's flippant attitude soon changed as Constantine turned to give him a hard glare. 'Use your brain, boy. Something has gone seriously wrong. My contacts within the Security Agency have gone dark, they have agents attacking key Faction targets and I've lost all contact with the Army outside of Deling City.' To his son's horror, the Field Marshal produced and lit a cigar; the last time Duncan had seen his father smoke, the nation had nearly gone to war with Esthar. It was a clear sign that he was rattled. 'I don't know what's going on Duncan, but we have been outplayed.' The SeeD hadn't hung around to listen.

'All SeeD callsigns, repeat all SeeDs this net; regroup at the mansion immediately, out.' He ran upstairs, his mind racing through the possibilities. They had already established that it had been the PSA tailing them, but he had passed it off as typical black ops spook stuff, just them keeping an eye on their investment. But for the Agency to be directly attacking their erstwhile allies, something had gone seriously wrong. Reaching his bags in his old bedroom, Duncan rummaged around until he found a plain black canister; the ICE contingency plans, courtesy of Head Instructor Corvo. It was only to be opened in case of a mission critical emergency, but if this didn't count then nothing would. He broke the seals and unravelled what turned out to be a detailed set of instructions for various contingencies. 'Come on, come on... Betrayal by employer, betrayal by SeeD infiltrator, WMD- aha.' The document was entitled 'Interference from Outside Organisation and/or Unknown National Conspiracy'. Fitting, considering the part SeeD had played so far. He headed back downstairs, sitting at the now empty round table to mull over the paperwork. It was surprisingly detailed, explaining the multiple exfiltration strategies Corvo had planned as well as likely routes by which they might be pursued. Unfortunately, every plan required them to escape the city first... Duncan looked up as the first of the others began to show up. 'Well done team. Solid execution.' He smiled grimly. 'But I think things are gonna get worse before they get better.' He waited for the others to turn up, every so often flicking through another page of the increasingly complicated contingency plan.

Final Fantasy VIII: Tempus Veneficarum [7/10 Slots]

Alright then, I'll post tonight to gather everyone up at the mansion.

SAO: Living in Aincrad

If no-one's posted by this evening, I'll get something up.

Valkyria Chronicles: Lions of the South

I'm expecting/hoping for some PTSD moments.

Valkyria Chronicles: Lions of the South

Sergeant Harald, Gallian Militia

His eyes remained fixed on the collapsed building as the calls for orders began to come in. Harald considered himself a decisive person, a man of action... but watching half his squad engulfed in flame and debris shocked him to the bone. 'I... No, we... No, pull back, they...' It took a moment to realise he hadn't keyed the radio, long enough for him to rally and come to his senses. 'No, everyone pull back, we have wounded. Start shifting that rubble, move move!' He slung his rifle and ran flat out toward the collapsed building, praying that the others had escaped the other one in one piece. A familiar voice was yelling orders, pre-empting his own. Valkyrian grace, someone made it. He didn't stop to take control, diving into the rubble to shift as much as he could and was soon joined by the others. It took time and effort, but eventually they could see the odd patch of blue under the debris. Brick by brick, he uncovered one section to find Kyo's unconscious form beneath. Luckily he wasn't pinned anywhere and it looked like that ridiculous sword had actually helped buttress the beams that fell on him. 'Bons, gimme a hand.' Between the two of them they slowly shifted the last beam, unveiling the horrifying sight below. Far from saving him, Kyo's sword had proven his undoing. Harald tried to piece together how it must have happened; perhaps as the last beam fell, the shocktrooper had tried to knock it aside with his weapon, only to get stuck. The blade had acted like a guillotine, severing his leg below the knee. Bons staggered away, vomited. Harald had seen similar injuries before, Hell anyone who lived near a forge had, but he couldn't stop the taste of bile in the back of his throat. As the others uncovered Jatmoore's still body from the wreckage, he knelt down to administer some first aid. Can't see any other major injuries... No major cuts or breaks... No way to be sure until Kyo was out on stable ground through, so he grabbed the boy under the arms and heaved.

Luckily the others were too busy caring for Jatmoore to realise the Kyo's critical state, so he and Bons were able to work in peace. It occurred to him that they might be the most experienced medics present, what with their previous experience and training. All the more reason to focus on him, he concluded grimly. Kyo had lost a lot of blood and his pulse was fading fast. 'Bons, we gotta seal the wound and get him back to base now. There's ragnaid in the APC and... and bring a shell from the recoiless rifle.' Ignoring the private's confusion, he set to work raising Kyo's stump and affixing a belt just above the knee. He couldn't hope to stem the blow of blood with just that, but he had another idea. When Bons returned with the kit, Harald began to unscrew the shell, pouring the ragnite-based gunpowder onto the wounded stump. 'Sorry lad, but this is gonna hurt...' Bons' eyes widened as he clicked on, but he didn't object. It was a medieval method, but they didn't have much choice. When all was ready and the wound completely covered, Harald paused to give a rare prayer for Kyo's recovery... then lit the powder. There was more of a crack then he anticipated and their faces were flecked in ash and blood, but the would was sealed, cauterised by the burning ragnite. Kyo would make it... I hope.

Leaving Bons and his personal ragnaid pack to tend to the remaining wounds, Harald hauled the giant medical canister over to the others, just in time to see Hunt drag Jatmoore from the wreckage. Her wounds looked severe but not life-threatening, assuming she got her ragnaid in time. 'Calm down, both of you!', he snapped, already pulling the bolts on the canister's seals. 'Stay calm, work methodically and check your own damn wounds too.' Hunt's words stung, but he knew them to be true. The Militia just wasn't ready for this shit. As he worked on pouring fresh ragnaid over Jatmoore's wounds, Harald glanced about see how the others were fairing. Most had relatively minor injuries, healable with their personal ragnaid. The only one who looked in dire need was Sykora, out cold against a wall. '... Right, she's got enough. Hunt and Durandal, stop arguing and watch her. And next time, try waking her up with the stink salts and not sexual assault, ok?'

Leaving them to their own devices along with the remaining medical supplies, he jogged over to Sykora, calling to the corporal as he did. 'Stichler, did you see what happened to her?' He paused, giving Sykora a quick once over. 'Can't see anything serious, no major blood loss...' He ran his personal ragnaid canister over her entire body anyway, just in case. 'Gimme a hand here, get her armour off.' He carefully removed the shoulder armour, keenly aware that a heretofore hidden injury could start pissing blood at any moment. But... nothing. The sergeant breathed a sigh of relief, glad that her injuries were (hopefully) not severe. 'Alright then... Sorry corporal, but could you fetch me the salts? They're in the medical case, over by Jatmoore.' He sat back heavily, sparked up a cigarette. They had done all they could, hopefully stabilised the wounded. But he knew they couldn't hold the village against a counter-attack, nor push onward. Might have to head back to Fort Breda... Not a cheery thought.