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Hopefully tomorrow - I started drafting a response today, I'll finish it tomorrow on the train.
Sure, I'm interested.
Ensign Chloe O'Connor

Don't let them make you feel like you don't belong. That was what her mother had told her on her first day of school so very long ago, when she was nervous about showing up in her ratty clothes and worn-out shoes. You're just as good as any of them. Chloe took a deep breath in the back of the shuttle and wrinkled up her nose. She was a soldier now, a MAS pilot that had graduated with honors from the North Ganymede Military Institute. To be nervous at the prospect of meeting her squad wasn't just silly - it was ridiculous.

From what she'd heard, this job was supposed to be a milk-run, anyway. The situation would only get hot if things went really wrong with the peace talks, and why would they? Both sides had to know this was the best chance for an end to the destruction. Good job, Chloe. You became a soldier just in time for the war to end. She felt a pang of guilt at the thought.

After what seemed like a million years, the shuttle docked in the hangar. The pilot waved her out gruffly as he rattled off a series of authorization codes into his radio, and the side door slid open with a hiss. Chloe grabbed her helmet off from the seat next to her, slung it under her arm, and stepped out of the shuttle. The first thing she saw was a massive black machine just ahead of her - a MAS suit that looked like a Gladiator variant kneeling down and being swarmed by jerseys."Excuse me," she said to one of the white jerseys that went rushing past her, "I'm looking for the 12th?"

"Down there," the man answered distractedly, waving across the hangar as he hurried onwards towards the MAS. She followed his gesture to see a small section of the hangar that had obviously been cordoned off by some spare crates, where a motley of pilots in flight suits lazed about. Chloe took a deep breath, gripped her helmet tighter, and marched against the stream of engineers to the squad.

Someone else beat her there, of course - a dark-haired woman in black armor with the white cape of an ISS commander stopped just in front of the card game and loudly demanded to know the identity of the outfit's commander. Chloe knew that already, of course - Lieutenant Commander Ingram Shaw, Hero of Cerol, commander of the 12th, was sitting on a crate on the edge of the gathering, a steel thermos in her hand. Chloe cleared her throat; protocol might dictate that she wait for the ISS officer to address the commander, but considering that they were meant to deploy in a matter of minutes it would probably be best she notify her officer that she had arrived.

"Lieutenant Commander sir," she said, saluting smartly and keeping her posture fixed at attention, "Ensign Chloe O'Connor, reporting for duty, sir!"

You can still apply! Deadline is tomorrow, but yeah, it's not first come first served.
Legorian, The Deep One

It always started with a single note. Lymir, the high priest of the Deepfolk, stood on the roof of the temple, his coral staff clutched in one hand turned white from age. All around him was Kalanai, the abyssal city - the city was above and below him, carved into the stone walls and lit with bioluminescent plant pods. His fellow deepfolk swam to and fro in their nightly business; the hustle and bustle of a great metropolis was the same above or below the waves. Lymir opened his mouth, and the water echoed with a single deep, sonorous voice.

All around, the Deepfolk paused, and one by one they lifted their voices to join in the wordless melody. Every deepfolk was born knowing the song of the sea, and they sang it nightly with their kin until their dying day. In smaller tribes or towns, the song would be simple, quiet, and slow - in Kalanai, of course, it was more of a production. Below Lymir, the conductor of the Deep Orchestra signaled his assembled band to begin, and the musicians began to pluck at twangy instruments made of shell and fishguts. Above, a passing pod of whales began to hum in time with the song, and the great drum at the heart of the city began to beat in time to the music.

All of this, Legorian saw and heard from his palace window. It could be said that the God of the Sea was troubled, but when was that not true these days? Even still, there was a disquiet in his soul that the music of his people did not still. "Breathing light," he murmured to himself. "Red air, spinning. Ungod rising. Burning wheel bearing down, breathing light, breathing red. Seventeen prayers to a dead god. Up spears, up claws, up spinning, up light."

"Father?" a clear, cautious voice interrupted Legorian's pontification, and the mad god turned to see his son Akatun enter his chambers, clad in coral armor as usual. The demigod waved his hand over the plant-bulb in the center of the room, causing it to stir into a soft, pale glow, and brought a fist to his chest. "You summoned me? Are you well?"

"My son," Legorian said, his deep voice echoing in the water. "You did well to come so quickly. Tell me of your time above, with the she-war."

Akatun furrowed his black brow. "The surface is... strange. I often forget that I was born there, it seems so different. They are so disconnected up there, from themselves, from each other, from the world. The sun is... bright, and harsh, but there is beauty in that harshness. Koritomo is not what you would expect - not like her father at all. She's kind, noble even, but she's as fierce a warrior as you could hope to meet. I have much more to learn from her."

Legorian tilted his head. "You wish to return, my son?"

"I... do," the demigod said, nodding slowly. "It has been good to return and visit with my home and my men, but I am not the warrior I could be, not yet. And there are others like me, children of gods. I wish to see them again."

The Mad God turned. The song was speeding up outside; every Deepfolk in the city was singing, every instrument raised to join the chorus, every whale and squid that swam through the trench humming in time with the music. Finally, Legorian nodded. "Return, then. Take my fastest crab and however many soldiers you would wish for. Go to the coral smiths before you leave and select a gift for Koritomo from me - let her know it is on account of her late father."

Akatun brought his fist to his chest, a broad smile on his face. "Thank you, father. It will be as you say."

The demigod departed, and Legorian called after him, "And send a message to your sister while you're at it! Tell her that she and her host can expect a visit from me soon." There was much to do in this newer, madder world, Legorian reflected as the song outside drew to a close. He would begin by having words with Leoric.

Revised version of the CS. Let me know if this background works better!
Alrighty. Time for some feedback.

Firstly, to everyone. When you're filling out the character sheets, when you put down an image, you can delete the word 'appearance'. Bothers me a bit. Dunno why, call me crazy. Also keep in mind that any and all criticism is entirely professional. That doesn't mean I'm a professional critic, but rather don't take anything I say as a personal insult, I know people can get pretty attached to their work and some people get pretty defensive, but just know that I'm not criticizing your character sheets because I don't like you.

With that out of the way, let us begin with the feedback. Individual feedback will be hidden in your own little hider.


That's all understandable - I realized halfway through writing that that I didn't really know how presitgious being a MAS pilot actually was, and I think that shows. I'll type up the edits tomorrow - probably make her grow up on Ganymede and have her military career stem from performing well in a more conventional academy.
@The Angry GoatAwesome post! I think I can come in now with a new prompt, if @Sisyphus doesn't want to immediately reply.

By all means, go ahead.
<Snipped quote by Sisyphus>

What about your mech :o

Also something sexy is COMING

It says in the OP that the GM will pick the mech for the FNG, I think.
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