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3 yrs ago
Update: for my birthday I got into a car accident. Starting to think staying in was a better idea after all.
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3 yrs ago
"hey how did you want to spend your birthday?" - I guess sitting in front of my computer playing games isn't an acceptable answer...?
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3 yrs ago
Raindrop, drop top.

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IAF Envoy-class Cruiser Palatine
The Same Day




The fluttering flag of the Imperial Air Force danced among the heavens. A shock of black and red emblazoned with the roaring gryphons - the symbol of House Skymning rulers of Vangar. The flag was worn and the colors were beginning to fade, a few centuries old at this point. Squatting atop of the upper rigging of the Palatine, marking it as the flagship of the Vangar Diplomatic Fleet. Monstrous in its size, nearly twenty feet in length and made of the highest quality of threads by the finest seamstresses in all of the Imperial Provinces. The pole keeping it rooted in place tugged and buffeted in a groaning protest with every gust of wind. The winds themselves were thick, loaded with thick smoke and ash rising from the paralyzed battlefields that seemed to be not but misshapen clumps of green and brown far below them.

Colette Van Skymning of House Skymning stood on the observation deck in deep thought. Behind her was the vast expanse that the was the Vangar Empire, an empire which was forged by the blood and sacrifices of her ancestors before her. The empire which her father had ruled since he was but a young man. It was a land of peace and order where crime was punished with a clenched fist and everyone from the lowest of peasants to the highest members of the nobility had enough to eat upon there tables. Ahead of her was the unknown, the Kingdom of Rassvet. A land of great industry, ingenuity but also one of isolation and seclusion. If the books of history she had read in the palace library were to be believed as well it was a land of corruption and greed. Where the nobility dominated their politics to keep the lower classes repressed and below them in rank. A land where the military and nobility ran unchecked by any form of strong leader. There king only a figurehead to sign documents and officiate holidays. A strange land where children as young as ten were taken away from their lives and families to be turned into killing machines.

So why did the notion of the place excite her so much? It was a simple thing really... boredom. The sweeping vistas of the Vangar empire was too familiar to be of interest to her. Even the Palatine which was compared more often to a floating mansion or castle rather than a airship had come to become the familiar. When she was younger it's many decks and interlocking hallways were filled with mystery and wonder but over time all the nooks and crannies had been explored, there was no more secretes, only the dull and unremarkable sense of familiarity. Ever still there was a lingering sense of doubt in her mind, maybe the nobles were right, maybe she was only pushing for peace as much as she was because of boredom and a desire to rebel. Risking the so called 'honor and prestige' of the Empire by reaching out a hand of friendship to the small kingdom that had spit on their offers of peace and unification before.

Maybe they were right.

One thing her critics claimed was undeniably true: she was young and inexperienced, the only conformation she needed for that was to look at her reflection cast in the glass panes of the observation deck. Having turned twenty years of age just a few months prior, a young woman looked back at her. Hair dark hair fell in waves down to her waist, green eyes bright and filled with a sense of young naiveté and determination. There was certainly a sense of beauty about her but it was the cold and distance type that came from the upper edges of nobility. The cutting image of her mother or so she was told to believe. She never knew her mother, having died soon after she was born due to complications from the birth. She knew not the rigors and troubles of rule and politics like her father or her siblings knew. She was always the youngest, the coddled one, her father's favorite. She may of had the best education and training by some of the brightest minds in the Empire but she didn't have the experience, the foresight to do something with it.

The sound of swishing fabric brought her out of her reverie and back into the present. She turned her head to watch as a lone figure made his way towards her. He was dressed in a crisp and clean uniform of the Vangar Military. Hair grey in color and perhaps a bit longer than typical military regulations, a thick mustache and beard that would've been just as common on a lumberjack. He walked a decided level of purpose about him soft footfalls echoing across the empty chamber. His name was Albriech Bernhardt, some time ago he was a general and war hero of the whole of the Empire. He retired some twenty years back serving in a less prominent role as a tutor to the Emperor's children as a favor to his childhood friend. Uncle Albriech was a permanent fixture of Colette's life and he had always been her favorite tutor. It was upon her request, not her father's for him to accompany her to Rassvet.

"Ah there you are milady. The servants have been looking for you everywhere." Albriech explained as he closed the distance standing next to her gaze focused intently on the horizon. "I should of figured that you would be here. You always did favour the views from up here."

"Yes. My apologies Uncle, I just needed to find somewhere quiet to think. I wasn't really feeling up to being followed around by the whole retinue." She explained, voice tired.

"Something troubling you then?"

"I just wonder if I'm doing the right thing." Colette responded producing a slow nod of agreement from the older man.

"The terrible affliction that comes with being in a position of authority. As it were. I thought the young miss was certain of her position regarding our current matters in Rassvet." Albriech reminded her. It was true since the wars one year anniversary she had been one of the more prolific voices for peace.

"I am certain... I just don't know what it means for our home. Wasn't it you that always told me that war was a necessity needed to fuel the Empire?" She asked looking towards the older man. In return Albriech gave a small smile as he stroked his beard seemingly in deep thought.

"Very true, but I propose to you the words of another wise man" He offered, " - I will do all within my power to ensure the continued prosperity and well being of every man and women beneath me."

"Who said that?"

"Your father, on the day of his coronation." Albriech explained as he placed a hand upon Colette's "From the first day of his rule, he has been focused upon the well being of the citizenry. This war has produced nothing but bloodshed for no gains to speak of. While some may not like the idea of peace, it may truly be the best course we have available."

"Even so, all we have done to the people of Rassvet is destroy their towns and set there fields ablaze with fire. Every single offer of peace we have put forward they have rejected for they feel that our terms have never been generous enough."

"And so it is your job to do what the others can not. An easy task? No. But one that can we be accomplished? I certainly believe so"

"You make it sound so easy Uncle."

"Like most things. Anyway, before I forget, Captain Rekks desires to go over the security detail one last time. I understand why your father trusts him so much, but can the man ever be persistent."





Hunting the gryphon was wholly less fun than any of them were hoping for. Rather than swooping into the creature's nest and engaging in battle with it, the Barghest squad had spent the better part of several hours tracking it down. Perhaps it was a sense of pride that made them refuse to turn back to town to sheepishly tell the Marshalls they were incapable of finding the blasted creature, or it might've been the fact that they'd already sunken hours into finding it. Either way, it was nightfall before they were finally able to locate the Gryphon's nest.

They called it the Petrified Forest National Preserve. Long before there was a Rassvet or a Vangar, this whole section of the badlands was a beautiful forest. Colossal trees bigger than any skyscraper, huge grazing beasts, and other wonders all growing huge on the Mist. After a time, the water's that once fed the area stopped coming, the ground grew dry and cracked, and things faded away. The only left was facsimiles: minerals and stone that took the shape of once living things. The squad snaked through this landscape of hills and bends. Navigating around the occasional petrified trunk of a tree that lay as if discarded by some giant after being used a toothpick. Here the Gryphon had made its nest, a short distance from Sappl Springs, and its only remaining source of tourist income.

The Gryphon had nestled itself within a small alcove of rock and fallen trunks, the musky smell of beast and dead remains emanating from the small shelter. The Barghest squad had settled in maybe a few dozen meters away, prone on a nearby hill where they could observe the monster and make a plan. Plan A was sit on the hill and unload on it with everything they had- it would definitely kill the Gryphon, but it would ruin pretty much the entire carcass. Its skull was a bit too tough for a bullet, but if they could get a shot at its underbelly or chin they would be able to take it down pretty handily- they just had to get it out of the nest.

"I say we send Bette out as bait." Galahad remarked, smirking at his own joke. "The Gryphon might think she's a rival."

Any further comment out of Galahad was quickly silenced as they heard a low pitched squawk and the squad dropped behind the ridge of the hill they were on. For a second Galahad thought the Gryphon had noticed them, and weapons were almost instinctively being drawn as the Gryphon began climbing out of its nest. There was another loud, low pitched squawk, and the heavy beating of the beast's wings as it took off from the ground and began flying straight towards them.

"Fuck, here he comes." Cursing and bracing for a fight, Galahad drew his gunblade and pointed at the Gryphon, as it flew over and past them. Eyes and heads craned as the Barghests looked up and over their shoulders, watching the flying beast as it didn't fly at them, but rather away from them- fleeing.

Galahad was about to complain about having to track it down again before he saw it- before they all saw it. Nearly impossible for anyone to miss, as out of the cloud layer above them fell a massive fireball. The members of Barghast squad could clearly see that it was not a magical fireball or meteor, but rather an airship falling out of the sky. The airship was huge- bigger than any Rassvet warship. The colors of the ship were hard to make out- as everything was painted orange and grey by its trailing fire and smoke, but it certainly seemed like a civilian liner rather than a warship, if its smooth shapes and angles, and large, probably formerly white balloon was any indication. That being said, it was rather hard to see the entire silhouette of the ship, its back half was all but missing and its sides appeared to have been peppered with holes- likely of the cannon variety- and belched fire and smoke.

Passing overhead, Galahad craned his neck as he watched the massive airship continue its fiery arc across the sky, pieces of wreckage, debris, and even a few parachutes broke away from it. Galahad winced internally as he saw a few of said parachutes collapse- as shrapnel and debris punched holes in them or crushed them. The airship was rapidly losing altitude and continued to shed large chunks of itself before it smashed into the badlands several miles from them.

They could still see the glow of the fire and smoke from behind the craggy rocks and hills- which glowed brighter for a moment before the ground rumbled and a explosion erupted from the location of the wreckage, sending more wreckage flying as the ship’s Mist Reactor went critical and failed.

“That doesn’t look like one of ours.” Galahad murmured as he pulled out his phone, his brow furrowing as he noticed that there was no signal- not even emergency lines. The radiating mist from the explosion was probably fucking with their signal- that, or something particularly sinister was afoot.

The HMS Nyx, descent towards the surface of Venus



Victor found himself where he usually did as of late- along at his observation deck at the top of the ship. Mulling over the past few hours, and the events that had happened. The attack, was a shock for him- for all of them, and before he knew it he along with a few others were assigned to a task force with the sole purpose of hunting down some pirates and giving them a good shooting in response to the black eye the Empire had just received. He was unsure whether the attacks were planned or coordinated, but he did know that it was no pirate they were after, but the Butcher of Banzig herself. One of the biggest legends of the war, Cahtrida was supposed to be dead. So they were either fighting a ghost, or someone pretending to be her- and Victor wasn't sure which option he'd have preferred.

Most of the fleet, unfortunately, was unable to follow Victor onto the surface of Venus, and were stuck waiting and watching while the Nyx, and two accompanying Scroop destroyers- the Mimi and Fifi deployed to the surface. They had the general location of the hijacked ship and signal, and the plan was relatively simple. Find and destroy anything that moved- with extreme prejudice. Unfortunately command had ordered them to do so without glassing the local area so the 5th was going in down and dirty to take care of business.

Ayame, with her 122nd Direwolves would load up with Albatross gear and run recon on the local area. Upon pinpointing the location of the pirate signal they would relay the information to the Nyx and the destroyers flying above. After which they would provide direct fire and support for the Mimi and Fifi's assault teams.

The Mimi's mobile suit team, would be equipped with PINT-1 300mm Recoilless Launchers on top of their standard Heckler rifles and the Fifi's team, would be kitted out with heavy liten shields, not unlike the one mounted on Victor's own Knight Errant. The assault teams would deploy straight from their ships and onto the target location once provided by the Direwolves, and would themselves screen the approach for royal marine dropships tasked with assaulting the ground and ship itself. Meanwhile, the ships themselves would be able to provide limited amounts of support fire via missile launchers and MAG cannons. Accuracy and guidance would be limited once wilberforce particles began getting denser, but they should still be able to soften up entrenched locations or break up what cover the pirates had.

Victor himself, already dressed in his flight suit would be on standby atop the Nyx, his Albatross equipped Knight Errant ready to jump into the fight at a moments notice.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen." Victor said aloud, automatically transmitting to everyone on the squad and tactical frequencies. Operation Retribution is go. Command has no need for prisoners- take surrenders at your own judgement. Don't waste your lives and keep an eye out for your wingman. Lets get these sons of bitches."

"Direwolves."
This time, Galahad's voice was transmitted directly to the Nyx's hangar and its pilots' headsets. "Get your fangs out, we're hunting big game today. Izumi, deploy when ready."
Looks interesting!
In SPIRITUM 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
“I don't think so.” Galahad replied coolly as he returned from the front desk- having just caught the tail end of the conversation on bunking and Bete's comments, a quartet of keys hanging off a loop on his finger. “If its all the same to the rest of you, I'd rather not wake up to the smell of vomit.” He added, tossing a key at Bete and a few others with casual mist-powered flicks.

The Cloudgazer, witnessing its first bit of business in weeks probably, opened up most of the floor for them- a quartet of two bed flats, all next door to each other, though the Barghest squad had set up most of their kit in the empty parking lot, with a small portable fire pit, a gas grill and a collection of collapsible stools, beer cases of varying fullness, and the nearby steps for seating areas. The truck sat nearby, its trailer unhitched, doors open and engine idling as music spilled out of the radio inside and over their makeshift camp. There was the smell of charcoal and lighter fluid as Ray started the grill, and the bright afternoon sun had given way to the gold and purple of the evening sky and a cool, early autumn breeze that wasn't quite biting but just enough to warrant a jacket or sweater.

As the WARDENs of varying drunkeness relaxed and laughed and joked with one another, it wasn't hard to notice a figure stepping up to their little tailgate. For almost all of them it was almost impossible to miss- their training and situational awareness long since drilled into them made them well aware of the crunch of combat boots on gravel from about twenty meters away. Silhouetted in the evening light was a fellow in a wide-brimmed hat, but otherwise uniformed like a Rassvet army regular. The uniform was flat khaki rather than camouflage, and on his left breast there were the Rassvet sword and runes, but on a shield. Marshalls.

"Evenin' there! Just stopped by to check up on you young travelers, make sure alls well!" came the voice of the Marshall, an old, gravelly baritone of a voice with a slight drawl. His hand rested casually on his hip- no more than an inch away from a holstered handgun.

“Marshall.” Galahad called back as a way of greeting, “All's well over here. Anything we can do for you?” Galahad's eyes flitted from the badge to the pistol, but took another sip of his drink casually.

"Well, there's a war on out here, and orders have it that it's my job to check up on anything unusual. So a bunch of young folks like you looking like you just left the Citadel..." he shrugged, "Well, you know." The man was bold- Galahad gave him that, deserters were heavily persecuted by Rassvet, but if the Marshall thought they were deserters, he was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to approach them on his own. Still, the man looked like he could handle his own well enough- maybe not against a cadre of WARDENs, but well enough against whatever this backwood might throw at him.

Galahad stood up, "You'll want to check our papers then?"

"Yeah, sure do. Just one of you will do, I don't see the point of running all y'all if it checks out."

Galahad nodded as he got up, gesturing to the others that he'd take care of it as he did. As Galahad began walking over to the Marshall he caught the glimpse of of a scope glass- Marshall wasn't alone, and wasn't stupid either. Now aware of the rifleman, Galahad was slow to reach into his pocket, not out of any particular fear, moreso out of a desire to ensure that nothing escalated. It was wartime after all, and there was a heightened security tension. Deliberately pulling out his wallet and ID, Galahad passed them over to the Marshall who quickly flipped through it.

"Says here Third Class, correct? So what's a bunch of WARDEN types doing out here?" In Rassvet, a police state, they were expected to show ID, papers, and endure a check at any given moment. This fellow, out in the boonies a bit, was at least a little more common sense and friendly in his approach. Around Orestia, these guys acted like they were on the front lines already, and that everyone was a spy.

"Graduation. That and the peace talks give short leave before we head out. One last tour of the place we're dying for before we go die."

The Marshall nodded and read off the ID number on Galahad's papers, along with a photo ID and description, got some sort of response in the earpiece, and then handed papers back, "No problem, young man. You check out. Sorry about that, but we're not a big detachment and we gotta be careful in these parts."

"Actually, come to think of it we could use a hand," the Marshall said after a moment, and somewhat sheepishly. "There's a Gryphon been harassing what's left of this town's business for a bit now, if y'all could you know... take care of it. I'm sure I could "lose" a bit of collected funds and whatnot from the lockup. Hell, could throw it on the grill too, take a few trophies... you get the picture."

Galahad smirked and gave a short laugh before taking back his stuff and returning to the group. "According to the Marshall there's a gryphon causing havoc around this sleepy little town. Anyone up for some big game hunting? Bete- I know you've been itching for a fight. Asa? Ray?"
In SPIRITUM 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Galahad could barely keep up with all the chaos happening behind him- well, he could, but he didn't want to. The chaos and noise had been nonstop for the past several hours that Galahad could barely make a dent into his book, combine the noise and the potholes, Galahad couldn't even hear himself think half the time. Still, to be fair this was exactly what he had signed up for- one last round of loud, bothersome, unsanctioned and irresponsible memories with these jokers. He had been with them for the better part of a decade now, and he'd miss them- even Bete who kept shoving her fucking knee into his back every twenty-odd minutes. For many of them, this would probably be the last time they'd ever see each other until the end of the war- if they saw each other again at all.

It was an entertaining thought, the idea of the war ending- and provided they won, neither of which sounded very plausible in the near future. Galahad wondered how many of them would actually return from the war. Sorin surely, she was a valuable asset and a long ranged fighter, it was unlikely she'd be put in as much risk as some of the others. Sabrina's family was old money, even if all the stories she had told the squad about them were true, they'd no doubt dump a ton of money into making sure she was alive. Bete was a bit of a wildcard- she was just as likely to get scrounge through and survive everything as she was to get too far into enemy lines and buried in an unmarked grave- provided she wasn't court martialed and arrested for insubordination. But Ray? Zak? Sam? The men were strong no doubt, but the war had been chewing up infantry like them and spitting them out for years now. Galahad himself was a bit of a target as well, son of a general and all- and not to mention that enemy mages were always a prime target. Asa was an infiltrator, and probably ran the highest risk of them all. The list went on.

The sound of breaking glass and more yelling brought Galahad back to earth. With a roll of his eyes and a sigh, Galahad snapped his book shut, and tossed it into his mist pocket, snapped the tablet out of the air and put it on the dash as he turned around to see what was going on. Sam had broken a bottle and gotten glass in his hands, Asa had jumped through the window in an attempt to get into the cabin, and Sorin was yelling at them all to stop the truck while Zak did the exact opposite and began speeding the truck up. All in all, business as usual for the Barghest Squad- its a wonder how they made it to the top of the standings.

"Ah' its not that bad- Sam'll make it to town fine." Galahad said with a casual wave as he watched the scene unfold before him. They could see the tiny town- if you could call it that- growing quickly in the middle-distance. If anything, Galahad was more worried about broken glass bouncing around in the cabin while they drove. Shutting his eyes lightly, Galahad reached out and grabbed at the mist in the air around them, finding the tiny and not-so-tiny pieces of glass, blood and whiskey in their midst. With a slow twisting and clenching fist- he began pulling all the flying material into the center of the cabin almost like a rubber band ball, but instead of rubber it was razor sharp glass.

Once all the glass had been collected Galahad clenched his fist once more and the glass crushed into itself forming a smooth round ball the size of a ping pong ball. Inside the ball, the liquor and trace amounts of blood formed the image of a snarling Barghest. He tossed the ball into Sam's uninjured hand.

"Here, something to remember the trip." Galahad said with a short, almost uncharacteristic laugh. Back at the Citadel, the instructors had demanded that anything they could do without magic, they were expected to do without it. Be it cleaning, writing, or other menial tasks, such that it was almost nice to be able to use magic frivolously like this. If their drill instructor had seen this, they'd probably have thrown half the squad on latrine duty just for breaking their cardinal rules.

Another snap of his fingers, and Galahd reached back and thumped Sam on the temple, effectively putting magic painkillers into his system. They weren't actual painkillers, but they dulled his senses a bit, and that combined with the alcohol would probably cover the pain until they stopped so Sorin could actually do proper medical work. Satisfied, Galahad turned back around and contented himself with looking out the window until they arrived.




By the loosest definition of the term, one could barely consider Sappl Springs a town anymore. It once was a prospector’s town, but nobody tried to make it more than that, so when the Levistone ran dry its was only a matter of time till folks went looking for greener pastures. In their place abandoned machines, houses, and other refuse remained, a destitute collection splayed atop a small crest in the topography that jutted outward from the otherwise flat countryside like a sore. Along the old main street clung the last few stubborn remnants of life: a cramped looking Marshall's office, the rare and peculiar type of dive-bar that could only be found in the middle of nowhere and combination convenience store and gas station, connected to a rustic- and rusty- single storied motel called the Cloudgazer, if the sputtering neon sign mounted to the roof was to be believed. A small but persistent ecology thriving upon the slow yet ever constant trickle of vehicles down the High Road.

The military truck broke the solemn air as it crested the hill roaring with life: music still blaring, wheels scraping against gravel, inebriated voices unfit to communicate in hushed tones, and the grumble and groan of an engine running on fumes. Puttering to a stop underneath the LED lined canopy of the gas station, the engine gave a sputtered sigh of relief as Ray turned the key. It would appear that the WARDENs were the only traffic that had come through the town that day, though no one bothered stepping out of their respective buildings to welcome the travelers.

“More or less in once piece, impressive.” Galahad said aloud, as he hopped out the passenger side. "Whose turn is it to pay for gas? I paid at the last stop." He asked as he stretched his long limbs and began making his way towards the front desk. He drew the short straw so he was paying for the first round of motel rooms. While these motel rooms weren't likely too expensive, him going first also meant he was likely going to be the one on rotation by the time they got to Costa Del Sol.
In SPIRITUM 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Act 1: In which strange occurrences are begot.
Muzak


A battered military truck pulling a small trailer, haphazardly painted a dull gray-blue, its paint chipping off in sections, shuddered along the patchy stretch of highway around the ass-end of Rassvet. The truck bumped and bobbed while maintaining its bearings as a wheel fell into each pothole. Sparse civilization gave way to rougher terrain, tweedy tan grass and short, shrubby trees that bowed lazily in the breeze, punctuated by the occasional outcropping of chalky stone. Here, there was no sign of the war, just as there was no sign of civilization- other than the occasional road stop with its typical fixings. Just some kids piled into an old truck with a roaring diesel engine, held together by little more than a few loose bolts and hope, hanging on by straps tied to the rollbars and sitting on their field packs and cases of beer as they headed out for one last howl at the moon together- A road trip around Rassvet, to visit all the places they hadn’t had the chance to before.

Then, after that, they shipped off to the dangerous and very adult business of war. After a decade together, it was going to be strange to part, since they knew they were going to be broken up from Barghest Squad into replacements for depleted WARDEN outfits on the front.

Brrcaachhnnkk


The truck lifted several inches off the ground and the radio scratched, throwing booze and bodies into the air for a brief moment as the truck collided with a pothole at approximately 70 miles per hour. There was another collective round of light-hearted groans as the truck bounced again for what must have been the fifth time in the last 20 minutes.

“For fucks sake, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to hit every damn hole on the High Road.” Galahad grumbled. Galahad was sitting back in his seat, his feet kicked up on the dashboard, showing off a pair of nice leather shoes and immaculately fitted jeans, his blonde hair whipping around his face as he casually read a small leatherbound book. His other hand loosely held a half full bottle of whiskey, and balanced atop of a simple, minimalist shirt and longcoat was a tablet suspended in midair by its corners, containing a road map of Rassvet. Glancing at the map, they were probably less than a half hour away from the nearest rest stop- a small town called Sappl Springs.

At least you’re sitting in a fuckin’ chair! My ass is going to be black and blue with all these bumps, Lance ya’ need to avoid the holes man!” Asa shrieked out from the bed of the truck, black hair blowing all over the place and a single hand holding for dear life on one of the rails. The sights of the countryside were beautiful to behold though, even for a city girl like her, she marveled at the forests and valleys. Some passing Wyverns were viewable in the seen distance, a flock of twelve dark-green ones flying out west away from the more occupied lands of Rassvet.

Hey book for brains! What kinda Wyvern are they?” Asa spat out again, leaning off the side of the truck and looking through the open windows directly to Gal.

“I don't know- not from this distance, nor do I particularly care. I'm a genius not a bestiary. They're not Vangar Wyvern Knights and that's all I care about.” Galahad called back offhandedly, handing the half drunk bottle of whiskey out the window and throwing it back telekinetically into Asa’s waiting hand.

The bottle of amber liquid swiftly trajected itself directly into Asa’s hand and she clapped her small fingers around the concoction gripping it amid the rough driving. Slinking back down into her makeshift seat of on-hand luggage and other odds and ends. Her back pressed into the rear window and she brought the whiskey to her lips, the amber liquid sinking down her gullet absentmindedly before she offered it to Ray.

Heorot Whisky tastes like paint thinner, but it’ll get ya’ drunk!” Asa quipped to her large-bodied compatriot who probably had a difficult time getting drunk. Meanwhile, light rock and radio talk show phased in and out throughout the truck amidst crackling static, as the shaking shifted the already wobbly dials on the vehicle.

"-nd welcome back listeners to RPR and our continued coverage of the Vangar Conflict! There was hard fighting around the border town of Calty today between Vangar and Rassvet forces in the current push to secure Fort Kelgrav. After several hours of fighting our brave soldiers had to make a tactical retreat. On the Coastal Front: A supply carrier was sunk today a few miles off from Costa Del Sol by a Vangar Submarine. And in more hopeful news, Imperial Princess Colette Van Skymning, the youngest daughter of Emperor Siegfried Van Skymning of Vangar arrives in Orestia later today as part of a peace delegation. More on those talks within the hou-"

Hearing the radio propaganda coming from inside the truck instantly agitated Asa, her cheeks reddened as blood rushed to her head. She gripped the side of the truck once again before roaring to one of the two in the front seat, whoever listened, they’d probably listen.

”Turn that shit off! We’re on vacation, for crying out loud!” Her long planned tangent would be cut short by another bounce of the truck bed, her grip of the railing nearly slipping and falling out of the vehicle as a tire found another pothole.

”Don’t have to tell me twice.” Galahad grumbled aloud, more to himself than anyone in particular, his hands already reaching for the radio dials. There was a sharp crack as he slapped the radio like one would a misbehaving child and the tune eventually shifted back to the light rock station. Galahad and Asa’s sentiments weren’t new or uncommon- many, especially within the WARDENs, were rather skeptical about the idea of these peace talks having any particular effect, especially when up against a nation such as Vangar. As one of their own had so eloquently put it: Peace was a hard thing to work out when one country wanted complete and utter dominion over the other.
In SPIRITUM 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

In SPIRITUM 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Just a note, at this point I'll be closing this off to new players unless they've talked to me beforehand!
In SPIRITUM 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
For clarification, character sheet templates can be found in the characters tab! I'll probably be taking character applications until the end of the week!

Once again, here's an example character- mine from an earlier iteration of this RP:


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