Rockette

The Spirits Within: Oakridge Chronicles

@Hexaflexagon - Sure thing, I'll add them to my list!

@Redrum - Pff, of course I don't mind. I'll add her to my list. What is the face claim/play by or would you like me to use one of the pictures you have in her CS?

The Spirits Within: Oakridge Chronicles

@DJAtomika - That I can! What are the face claim/play by's of your characters? If you have specific pictures for me to use, you can provide those as well!

The Spirits Within: Oakridge Chronicles

@Prisk

[img]i.imgur.com/xS4e1qH.jpg[/img]


[img]i.imgur.com/la3BKvL.jpg[/img]

The Spirits Within: Oakridge Chronicles

Began the mission for the Nexus Reactor- whoo! Needed to push it along though, as much as I love having Ollie chatter endlessly.
Anyways, any questions, don't hesitate to ask.

The Spirits Within: Oakridge Chronicles

_{O A K R I D G E A C A D E M Y // June 6. // Deployment Garage.}

---

Any rejoinder laced with stoic articulation immediately transitioned and was exchanged for tacit contemplation; more or less a reservation of aphonic observation that beget a wonder to what she was thinking as she simply gazed at her verbal opponent of crooked simpers and languid simplicity. The spin and dive of his conjoined daggers was both degrees of alluring and hypnotic and implied to his utterance being a presentation of more than wayward cues, enough of a visual key to the evidence that he was beyond what her previous words and interest supplied. And Monika mutely observed on, sword returned to nestle within the cage of her arachnid vice, palm cradled against cloth and hip with an ebonette braid twisted into a complex swirl of tresses to tame the mass with little success by the stray locks feathered against cheek and jaw. Monika was beyond aware of her brusque intonations, and by the quip of his timbre and smooth inflection of his chortle, it allowed a slim reflection of a smirk to shatter the frigid complexion of her usual rigidity. It lessened the severity of her countenance and found satisfaction laden within the whorl of words and physical grace. Submissiveness coloured his appearance in spades, but the former existed naught in the poise of action and words, it was a silent reprimand to her assumptions and unwavering doubt and it only cemented her conviction that Graham had much to prove and champion to her initial impression and tolerance. His articulation though also supplied the components of being both comrade and opposite, their ideals also in vast contrasts to one another.

Graham was purposely lax whilst she was intolerably adamant; a queer compilation, she mused.

So Monika simply spared any retort, heralding down one of the army contingent to fetch her gear and swung the weight of the Caladbolg over her shoulder, the weight distributed through her palm and bend of flesh in the slim curvature of muscle that flexed with the pressure of her weapon nestled there.

"We shall see then if there is any truth and weight to your speech then, Graham." Addressing him by name was a mutual adornment of recognition and a wealth of testimony to her amplified requirements of power and impression that were only endowed more so by perfectionist standards. The sharp peal of announcement heralded their attention, summoning those gathered to board their designated vehicle within a specific time slot, punctuality and performance swathed into chaos. Monika's expression flickered at that, hardened to a glacial reserve that swelled into her eyes, forging steel and ice into a ramification of anticipation. She offered a nod in Nicholas' direction, acknowledging him in the slightest when Graham vocally addressed him a in manner befitting to his candor. She, briefly, seemed slightly exasperated by it if her pained simper was anything to glean from as she passed the duo and elegantly clamoured into the amoured vehicle.

Monika could only predict, with a feathering sigh, that he would be obnoxiously vexing for the duration of the mission.
We'll have to fix that too.

_{T H E F I E L D S // June 6. // Hammer of the Army.}

---

Terrifying squeals of metal and armour flaying apart penetrated the grating silence that slunk after ruin and assault, the remains of deluged fortification and rubber that permeated the air of rot and decay that signified the doom previously endured. Sounds escalated from the hull, the bunker screeching with repeated offense until finally it peeled open with a massive sword encased in slivers of glittering stone that provided the only splotch of colour in the depressing atmosphere thrust forward, obvious relief allowing he sword to wane and relax. Monika pulled herself from the wreckage, lashes fluttering shut against the crust of diamond tines that had ridged themselves from the sensitive lobe of her cranium, down the length of her flexed arm and spreading around the entire flank of her slender hip. Rippling carmine slid down the slope of her jaw and pooled against her breast from the impact against her temple where the crystalline spirits had been unable to conjour. She could feel their concern, silvery apparitions that palmed over her hair slick with her own essence and the sensation of spindly caresses that swept down her spine and over the juncture of her backside as she finally vacated the overturned carrier.

Monika had to silently give appreciation to her fortune that she had not impaled herself on her own sword, and to the consolation that her reflective, diamond shell had not assaulted the potential damage to inflict her companions. Known to thwart critical damage towards her mortal constitution and to any surface tangible enough to be encrusted, she could briefly glimpse the spires of ice in the remains of the crate where she had thrust and pried herself free and hoped none of the others came in contact with the glacial remains. Her own skin was immune to the frigid grace, but she had no knowledge of just how severe the temperature of her spirits were in coexistence of others; be they friend or foe. The ridging of her armour began to crumble, the threat nullified and descending in various forms tines and slivers that shattered by slight pings and scattered into glitter that fell around her sallow complexion and even decorated the sanguine hue continuing to sluice from her wounded visage. She winced, a barely intercepted flicker of emotion before she settled her sword onto her spine by the assistance of suspension units and the uniform harness and thrust her hand into the void she had created, reaching for the next person to assist them in hauling them up from the darkened fissure.

_{T H E F I E L D S // June 6. // Nexus Reactor.}

---

Reflecting a myriad of differing personalities had been a chore, but not one that wasn't feasible by constant adjustment and proffering the eternal simper of his vanity inflicted vice. With his arm still looped around Serenity, he had welcomed and greeted each individual at the board, the foyer teeming with Guardians of varying degree and within his soul he recognized the stir and whorl of his spirits: ebony sludge and crimson sparks whirring to existence. Ollie had achieved mute pleasure from the blush of his blonde rest, but could not contain the flicker of his stare that fell on Olivia numerous occasions when she led her own progression of Guardians towards the garage. Ollie had followed close behind, with the Reactor participants having summoned as a group, and was all charms and eloquent murmurs when he welcomed the final straggler of their contingent.

Now he was fixated in a brooding contemplation, relying on the process of time, transportation and travel to diffuse attention onto himself and grant him another moment of reprieve. He had not bid farewell to his sire or any of the BATW representatives, and had been denied an opportunity to grant Monika that favour when he had not located her among the forces designated for the front lines. A portion of Ollie was glad at that, if not ultimately relieved of that cumbersome effort, salutations and farewells weighed heavy on the mind and heart, and he could not afford such sensitive endeavors. So, with fingers laced and elbows braced to knees, the carrier nearly droned him onto slumber until the rapid report of gunfire violated his opportunity. With a rigid spine and a flash of anxious obsidian, he stood and cinched his grasp around a portion of railing and held on as the vehicle squealed into park and stalled with the rumble of earth signaling the opposition ahead at the Reactor. It was on the border of the Dark Zone, of course Mordrem assailants would be discovered.

"Looks like we embark here," Ollie drawled, drawing his Magus Bow and retrieving two arrows to prepare for the ultimate introduction of their enemy. He listened anxiously for further instruction and report, hours from the previous silence having infected the Guardians and infantry mutually, now he could hear faint whispers and brisk commands on the outside. In the distance, the rumble of thunder and signals of an eternal storm brewed and festered, the Dark Zone ever unpredictable in the shadow of the mountain. "Come on," he muttered, punching open the hatch by switch and witnessing the ramp descend before he drew the Magus Bow taut, nocked an arrow and exited the carrier with shallow breaths and baited expectation.

---

summary.

Monika appears slightly impressed by Graham, but that only serves to hasten and cement that he has to prove himself to her. But with no time to spare or continue banter, she boards the vehicle before the others with a nod to Niko. Later, after the tumble of the vehicle from a plasma assault, she used Caladbolg to pry open the hatch door and exit the wreckage. Though her spirits of Diamant had shielded most of the potential damage, she still suffered a cut to her lobe. She reaches down into the hatch and hole she made, her spirits having left her skin in shimmering dust.

The report of gunfire signals their arrival at the Reactor, Mordrem immediate in the area at the Reactor. The chance of attack is high with the amount scattered around, but nothing substantial in strength with low level Modrem being currently present. The Nexus Reactor mission begins, with Ollie opening the doors and leading down from the carrier, intent on reaching the Reactor just ahead by foot.

The Spirits Within: Oakridge Chronicles

@smarty0114 - Hours of photoshop, and practice! What are the face claim/play by's of your characters? Unless you have specific pictures in mind that you would like me to use?

The Spirits Within: Oakridge Chronicles

Not feeling up to my full strength at this current moment, but my post will be debuting later this evening when I'm home - not sure when I'll be getting off work but I won't let things stagnate. Till then!

[closed]

Well, it is purely evident where most lie now, and I have to admit simple defeat in my hopes that most, if not all, will return. While I abhor to close a story with tons of potential with an entire construct meant to span into a sequel even, and then some, I recognize the marks of differing interest and priorities. It falls onto being my fault, so I won't call out any respective writers here or bother to shed away my attempts! Just know that I strongly appreciate those that made efforts and stayed loyal and with me to the bitter end. It has been a wonderful time writing with you and I hope to have that privilege in future stories!

But despite that, it's with a heavy heart that announce that Requiem will be no more, I can't allow my efforts and world to crumble away without being given some sort of rest.

Once more, a strong thank you ♥ to those that stayed until the end, and a huge apology and regret on my part that you didn't get to explore the depths of your character. Perhaps the verse of Viera will make another appearance in the future, but for now, I've exhausted my tolerance and patience entirely and have to force the inevitable outcome. Ah well, it was fun while it did last!

Best wishes,
Rockette.

The Spirits Within: Oakridge Chronicles

_{O A K R I D G E A C A D E M Y // June 6, Saturday. // Deployment Garage.}

---

Monika was all the fixings and embellishments befitting a brick wall, laden with ice, cemented into perfection with uniform components dredged in colours of mute grey, flattering ebony edges with splotches of incredible azure that feathered into steelish determination and stalwart inflection. Her accent was both staunch and absolute, and when she approached the throngs of activity ascending beyond furor and capacity at the deployment garage, she dropped her gear with a flourish of sound, allowing the near thread bare capsule to echo in the drones of various articulation and commands and deftly speared Caladbolg against polished plate and steel.

And waited.

Close inspection would aspire to reveal the tension that began to lace and cord, exhibiting her visual unease and trepidation that could be acutely defined as excitement if not for the surrender of her brow that flexed and shimmered with her immersion of thought. With a vice woven around blade and hilt, and the opposite perched on the slight juncture of her hip, she rolled her weight and locked her knee into place to conform with her balanced palm and relaxed, just an increment, with the Caladbolg poised at an angle against the marred flooring. The garage was all muted tones of military uniformity, greys and soft ebonies to defuse that usual splendor of the the Academy where piping was woven overhead; crisscrossing figures of insulation and air conditioning that connected to massive units located against the exterior of the entire facility. Conditioning of traditional tactics and strategy permitted Monika's gaze to travel unhindered and through every flicker and oblique scrutiny. Every contingent that consisted of Guardians was awarded with a full platoon to accompany them to every focal point of their missions, allowing full access to the ranks and common infantry that would defer to their judgement. She only found that proper, as the pinnacle of Operation Downfall was weighed on their own ascendancy and endeavors, and thus was given popular priority. And those descending into the thicket of the Dark Zone where the inclinations of threat and harm swelled into the predictions of nigh—triple—scored probability, were granted with the largest brigade. The gargantuan doors of each deployment sector began to unbolt, cranking open on an impressive hydraulics that were initiated on the puncture of a single switch. Monika's posture became alerted as commands were issued and soldiers began to clamor on board their respective vehicles.

Of course, they wouldn't embark until all Guardians were present, and at that she pondered if the others from the informative boards had begun their path here, and oddly considered if Ollie was immersing them into conversation when she heard that mockingly laced quip that betrayed the genuine accentuation of his chosen cadence and words. His utterance pinged at her lobe, acknowledging the sardonic intention as her gaze peeked over the curve of her shoulder to do much the same; bow and all creating a curl of her lip in a satirical glower.

"Uh huh," Monika rejoined, glancing him from crown to foot [her brow quirked at the obnoxious hue of pink adorning his shoes by the laces.] She knew that lackadaisical smirk and appearance, flaxen strands of hair that yearned for some attempt of civility and taming that only increased further upon that visage adorned in a eternal simper of crooked proportions that was queerly endearing to his wayward debut. Graham Tosches. He was her polar opposite in every component, from looks to mannerisms, and spiritual aptitude with only their oculi bearing some similarity; but she knew she was of frigid hues and he of open skies. Her skin thrummed and shimmered with her glacial complexion responding to the electrical currents humming in his own being that bloomed fire in their wake, and carefully turned to avoid presenting her backside.

"I'm not fitted to any other mission, the front lines need this kind of heavy artillery." Her grasp tensed, growing taut and flexing through the cord of her arm to emphasize the sword he referred to as a device of imminent death. There was a wealth of hubris in colouring her usual accent, the slight dips and curves of her origins deluged by years in the central continent, but enough to indicate her foreign reign. Her gaze swept over him once more. "If you're here, I guess you're with the Hammer as well. Interesting." She commented vaguely, cooling tones plying her voice and indicating to her perplexity and just how interesting she thought his inclusion was. She had never sparred against him personally, but heard conceptions through the mill of defamation in the gym and circuit about his dagger wielding finesse, and while it was enough for her recall, it still had not yielded his potential. And thus, Graham had not proven himself to her. That would have be remedied.

"Well," she propped her sword against her gear and busily began to unravel her thick mane, her fingers departing the strands with well practiced habit and smoothing the tresses that fell to the small of her back before she began the long process of twisting the ebony mass into a plait. "I know Olivia Celestine is joining the front lines, if you know who that is, and I assumed a few others of the—" She shuddered. "— Aesthetic Squad would be coming as well, but it appears they're branching out to even the tide of physical strength." Her ice hued eyes slanted in his direction, her mind attempting to formulate on how he would be beneficial to the entire mission. "Now it's just a matter of waiting on the rest so we can properly create theories on how we approach the Zone."

_{O A K R I D G E A C A D E M Y // June 6, Saturday. // Information Boards.}

---

He would have to admit, much later on in the privacy as of his world eclipsed in glass, that creatures akin to Olivia Celestine both perplexed and combated against his own inclination of charms and altruistic effectiveness. She was almost genuine and obsessive in her endeavors to include the mass of Guardians smothered around the boards and was enough of a presence to diffuse attention to his own debut. Thus permitting Ollie a singular moment to quiet and dispel, the grace of lips and bone faltering to flatline into a brooding exterior and his posture to wane and slump with visual cue to the previous venture he endured under Monika's substantial blows. He would never admit to the ebonette that her corpulent strength drew curious wonderment from the BATW, or that his father had uttered how alike she was to her father, rather than her mother [and Ollie never asked how Julian knew, because no one muttered about any Abendroth's or Faye's in public venue] and how her eyes were the only indication she was of the Anatolian heritage. He knew that Monika's stoic reserves were infamous, but the single mention of her home or of the utterance of family would fracture, splintering her components of frigid grace into something of guilt and pain. And Ollie never spoke about family to her, not ever again after he witnessed the wall of impenetrable ice and stone crumble under the cruel joke of feeling sorry for her siblings in their youth against her ample power. Ollie's brood increased, darkening the swirl of his dark stare as he found himself comparing the two ebonettes he knew; one of smiles and cheer, the other of silence and rigidity.

He knew Olivia only on association with Monika, the former having done her up most best to persuade and incline the latter to join a series of festivities and jubilant celebration. Of course Monika had denied, claiming such was distracting and wasteful to her preparations that never ceased, and Ollie had went in her stead; promising to enjoy himself twice on her lack of participation.

And enjoyed himself he had. . .

"Serenity!" Ollie exclaimed, finding the blonde and swinging his arm across her slender shoulders, brooding fixation having parted and easily swathing up into a blinding, exuberant smile in her direction and joined her with the remaining of the troupe. The one who had thrown an arm similarly over Olivia vacated and Ollie bid him farewell with a two pronged salute of his fingers before returning his focus onto the slight women eclipsed slightly by the weight of his arm. He knew her on attending courses and participating in similar social circles outside Guardianship, thus finding it elementary to reflect her usual free spirited disposition. "Shall we head to the garage then? I'm eager to see if the others for our little adventure have arrived. I don't know this Eric very well unfortunately." He mused aloud, indicating to the information Olivia supplied. "But it won't hurt to arrive a bit early and see who we are traveling with, yeah?"

He briefly acknowledged a particular duo with names that escaped both memory and actual importance, they were muttering about Doral, attending the routines of conscription and persuading deserters and the filth of a particular location that Julian once uttered as a waste of time and potential. BATW possessed harsh standards, he thought briefly and found it only fitting to the leagues of requirement his father spoke of often when in presentation of one another. He was commonly observing and processing and the results were profound and agile, just as his Magus Bow was. He only hoped the Nexus Reactor yielded the results his sire was hoping and striving for.

---

summary.

Monika waits for the rest at the deployment garage where the doors have opened and soldiers are beginning to load up. Whilst being idle she answers to Graham, doubting his abilities and actual power and commenting to him in slight conversation. Ollie remains at the boards, reflects on Olivia and Monika before throwing his arm over Serenity and suggesting they leave to join Eric, and maybe others at the garage whilst reflecting on his father: Julian.

The Spirits Within: Oakridge Chronicles

@Hexaflexagon - Everything checks out on my review. Just inform Prisk where you want the locations you mentioned to be on the map, basically where you'd think they'd go and some such. And which mission do you intend for her?

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- @icmasticc
[img]i.imgur.com/lZnwZaT.jpg[/img]