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3 mos 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 mos 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...?
5 likes
8 mos ago
Raindrop, drop top.

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oh wow, this flew under the radar a lot more than I intended it too. I'll take a look at all the characters so far and give some feedback when I get back from work today!
@Holy Soldier Yay fighting! I'm in too.
Someone tell me if the squadron jackets are too fratty or cheesy. I always liked the idea of them, but never knew if it was lame, cool, or some combination of the two.
The pilots of Fox Squadron carried conversation in a relatively low murmur. Most were likely sharing stories about their escapades of the past week- some more embellished than others. More than one pilot seemed to be nursing a particularly nasty hangover. The fraternity that were the RDF Aviators- especially those stationed on Macross Island drank like college kids on spring break. The past week of festivities did little to curb their habits- rather the steep discounts meant that many of the pilots often spent even more than they normally would, and more then one squadron leader had to drag a crewman to a drunk tank this week.

As it was, McKnight felt lucky in that he had yet to have to drag anyone's sorry hide back to base this past week. In fact, his squadron could've been called exemplary in comparison to some of the chaos several of the other- notably more rigid squadrons got into. Samuel's eyes flitted from his clipboard to the pilots lounging around him, sleeves of his jumpsuit uncuffed and rolled up to his elbows, pen rhythmically tapping at the clipboard itself. Normally he wouldn't care so much for check ins and dossiers, but the big brass were going to be rolling through the stick jockey's kingdom- otherwise known as the hangar- relatively soon, and he'd rather not start their first real deployment in bad standing.

Most of the squadron were already doing their own thing at this point. Staten was busying herself with an exercise, Sam never knew where she got all the energy from. Montgomery was among their oldest, an Englishman like himself. Volkov, a big russian, Cho, a twitchy korean girl, and the Ryner twins rounded out the familiar faces of the squadron. The rest were new to McKnight, by a few days or weeks at most.

The only notable face McKnight saw so far among the newbies was Goldman- though older than McKnight he was still technically a rookie, having just passed through the evaluation squadron along with the rest of their rookies. The only notable difference was that he cross trained into the VF-1s, meaning he had prior experience, which was more than could be said about a lot of their rookies who were fresh out of school and fresh out of training, with puffed up chests and shiny wings on their shoulders.

McKnight's eyes glanced up from the clipboard as he heard the clack of boots against metal, and the subtle swoosh of air that was a hand rapidly rising to one's head in a salute. The owner of the hand was a short woman, with warm golden skin, dark hair and equally dark sunglasses. McKnight rapidly flipped through the clipboard, looking for a picture to match the face to and had just found it when Staten welcomed the pilot- callsign and everything. McKnight shot Kat a look. She'd been looking through his dossiers. Again.

"Ease up rook," McKnight replied to her as he checked off something on the clipboard, "You can salute me at my funeral- or whenever the big brass comes around. Whichever comes first."

He opened his mouth to continue but was distracted as another pilot swung into their midst. The pilot introduced herself as Kalina Dragorima. McKnight internally groaned. The other squadron leaders had been talking about this one, trouble and with a habit of rebelling against authority. Looked like Sam drew the short straw for this one.

"Well, I guess that saves me another round of introductions." McKnight muttered- a bit more to himself than anyone else. Looking at the two newest pilots to join them, he nodded at both. "My name is Captain Samuel McKnight, the boys and girls here like to call me Vapor. People like to call us Spec-ops pilots, but don't let it get to your head, you're probably about as average as the rest of us here."

"Around here, we like to keep it loose and casual"
McKnight continued- gesturing to a couple of the more stringent looking squadrons in the hangar- Squadron commanders barked orders and welcoming speeches to rows of ramrod straight-backed pilots."Don't take that as a free ticket to mouth off, slack off and do or say whatever you feel like, or you'll end up on toilet duty for a week or two like Junior here." he added as a caution, jerking a thumb towards a scrawny, freckled blonde boy with brand new flight wings and a butterbar on his shoulder who crossed his arms and scowled when mentioned.

"Also, for the record, when we say meet at 0900, we actually mean 0855. 'Probably write that down." Sam half joked, as he finished up marking things on the clipboard and set it down on a nearby crate. "Brass should be coming to check on us relatively soon, so if you have any questions ask them now."

Pausing, McKnight turned around and opened up a nearby crate, pulling out a pair of black bomber jackets, electric yellow fox emblem stitched onto the shoulder and last name emblazoned across the back, and tossed one to each of the new pilots. Everyone sitting around in the squadron already got one earlier- and were either wearing them, sitting on them, or had them folded up nearby.

"Oh yeah, welcome to Fox: Never fly straight, and don't die. 'Probably write that down too."
We're also waiting on @Crimmy I believe. I'll probably get a post up anyway- not moving the plot onward but getting a bit more interaction into it
I'll wait a bit longer for @KaiserElectric to get their first post up, otherwise I'm probably gonna write another post tonight or tomorrow
Galahad Quaid

- Mid Morning -


Even by the early morning, The Moving Camp was a hub of activity. Undisturbed by the rains, or perhaps in spite of the rain, life continued on. The clang of hammers against steel, and merchants harking their wares rang out along with the sharp barks of sergeants and the wet slapping of boots in mud marching in lockstep. Eyes were drawn to the bright colored sashes that adorned the otherwise drab canvas tents of merchants and vendors, small packs of children scampered inbetween the legs of adults, soldiers passed by- some marched, others jogged, and several were facedown in the mud doing pushups. The air smelled of market and steel, accented by the musk of the wet air. The men and women of the Moving were busy at work.

Aside from Galahad of course. The young swordsman swaggered his way through the streets formed by the corridors of tents, a bright smile on his face, seemingly oblivious to the hard work going on around him. Not that anyone really expected much else out of him. Galahad claimed to be many things, and a hard worker he was not. First and foremost he was a lover, a fighter second, and a laborer a far, distant, almost nonexistant third. While the laborers of the Moving went about their business, Galahad wandered his way through the tent city, drinking, wooing women, and occasionally getting into arguments.

Currently on his mind was the attention of a pretty young thing named Aliyah. Wooable women were a bit of a rarity here in the Moving- many warriors would take their families with them in the Moving, a relative few women joined the Moving of their own accord and those that did were powerful women in their own right. Such as the Aliyah Galahad currently had his attentions set on. A former seamstress turned surgeon after the destruction of her much of her hometown by the Apotheoses, she joined the Moving with her younger sister and was one of the youngest- and prettiest- surgeons in the Moving.

"Sir Galahad! Sir Galahad!" Galahad found himself interrupted from his thoughts by a small gaggle of children. Children were uncommon in the Moving, but they weren't unheard of: many warriors brought their families with them, and many of the older children would either undergo training with the Resistance or help with other tasks such as message or arrow deliveries during battle. This group of children Galahad recognized- three boys, two brown haired and the other redheaded, and a girl with white blonde hair. The boys carried sticks as though they were swords, and one had his stick stuck between his belt so he wouldn't have to carry it with his hands. All four of them had mud spattered on their pants and a faces.

"Ah! Hallo little ones, what can Sir Galahad do for you?" Galahad said in a light tone as he grinned at the four kids. He stood well over the young children, a hand casually resting on his hip- next to his sword, the other holding a trio of lilies. His armor was clean and well maintained, even fashionable, and his cloak was open, resting just above his ankles. Though not an actual knight or of noble birth, he certainly looked the part, and the stories he told the children had led them into believing he was indeed a noble knight.

"Warmaster Szazah told us to remind you that you're supposed to meet with him at his tent this afternoon." the blonde girl said bashfully, swaying left and right with her hands behind her back.

"Hoi! shush up Amelia! Oi wanted to tell him!" whined the redhead stomping his foot in the mud. The other two jeered in agreement and one gave the girl a push.

"Ya! What e' said, this is a job for us boys, not some silly girl!" said one of the brown haired boys, kicking a bit of mud at her feet and sticking his tongue out. The girl Amelia seemed hurt- her lower lip began to tremble and her big eyes glistened a bit. "Why you always tag along wit us anyhow? We don want you around 'ere! Go on! Shoo!"

"That's quite enough of that." Galahad chided, throwing a bit of the authoritative tone sergeants loved to use in his voice- though not enough to intimidate the children, just enough to get their attention. "I've seen the four of you together ever since I came here. Why are you shooing her away now?" Galahad asked as the blonde went up to him and clung to the hem of his gambeson.

"B-b... Because... she's a girl!" explained Franz, the redhead, admittedly unconvinced of his own words, but gestured as though that was reason enough. Galahad cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at the boys, also unconvinced. "and.. and.. because Paul were makin' fun o us for hanging out with a girl." Franz finally admitted, staring at his feet and kicking at a rock.

Galahad squatted down to be eye level with the kids- though was careful not to dip his knee into the mud. "And what happens if you send Amelia off on her own and something happens to her? What if she gets hurt?"

The three boys looked at eachother then looked down, all three of their heads now firmly focused on a rock or other at their feet. Franz the redhead glanced upwards after a bit of silence to see if Galahad was still staring at them. He was.

"I'd feel real bad..." Franz finally admitted, his voice barely audible. The other two boys nodded in agreement.

"Amelia's sister patched up my da after the last battle. Us lettin' Amelia get hurt wudn be a good way of repaying her." another boy admitted. The three boys eventually nodded in agreement again, and with some hesitation walked over to the little blonde and the four of them hugged as a big group. Galahad's leg was somehow caught in the middle.

"Now, no more of letting this Paul dictate who you play with." Galahad said, as he extracted himself from their little group hug.

"Uhm. Sir Galahad, the little blonde asked, "Are those for my sister?"

Galahad grinned as he bent back down and offered the little blonde one of the lilies. "Ever the bright one, aren't you Amelia?" Galahad said as he tucked the flower behind the girl's ear. She beamed.

"If only all my conversations could go that well." Galahad commented wistfully as he watched the four kids run off- a hard day of playing obviously in the schedule.

Noon, The Moving Camp - Medical Tents.


"Ah, Galahad, you're back. Again. Aliyah said, somewhat tiredly as Galahad entered the medical tent. One of the largest tents in The Moving, the medical tent was the Moving Camp's field hospital, essentially a big tent with small dividers here and there to cordon off beds for patients. Aliyah stood by a sleeping patient in a bed- still radiant despite her plain work robes.

Only a bit over twenty, the young surgeon had fair skin, and white blonde hair like her younger sister. Her hair was tied in a ponytail behind her head, but a few disobeying strands of hair fell forward and framed her round face. Brilliant green eyes and long lashes with a small nose and plump lips- it wasn't a surprise that more than one soldier had intentionally injured himself in hopes of ending up in her care.

"So brave Galahad, what ails you this time? Aliyah asked sarcastically, punctuating with an exaggerated sigh.

"An ailment that no needle can fix!" Galahad declared melodramatically, "It is an ailment of the heart, my dear doctor." he accompanied with grandiose gestures.

"I have done surgery on a heart before, remember?" Aliyah replied smartly, successfully removing Galahad's steam.

"Oh. Right. You've told me. That." Galahad recalled sheepishly, "I also got you flowers." he added, offering her the two lilies.

"Oh how pretty!" Aliyah commented happily, Galahad's spirits immediately raising tenfold. "They look just like the one my sister gave me earlier today, they'll lighten up our tent wonderfully, thank you." Galahad's spirits fell again, this time with a heavy sigh.

Afternoon, The Moving Camp - Szazah's Tent.


Despite the rain, Galahad's spirits seemed to be positive enough as he walked his way towards Szazah's tent. Aside from the mud that weighed down his boots, most of Galahad seemed clean enough- thanks to the cloak that he now wrapped around his body to keep the moisture off of his clothing. He ducked a bit as he lifted the flap of the tent and stepped in. The mid sized tent was already starting to feel small with all the bodies that appeared to be joining them- but the first one Galahad noticed was the short, stocky frame of a dwarf.

"Duren! You drunk old scamp! I'd lost track of ya last night." Galahad grinned, "You're not starting again without me are you?" he added- gesturing to the bottle in the dwarf's hands.

He then took a look at the rest of the individuals in the room- he recognized a few of them, through reputation if not actually knowing them. The large hulking beastkin Phinuphus was known to him- Aliyah commented highly on his abilities as a healer. Reed, in his armor was hard to recognize for anyone else- a bit of a stick in the mud if Galahad recalled correctly, but someone who would have your back in a fight. There was a northman that Galahad didn't recognize- though there was rumor that he had come with Szazah, and the largest drow Galahad had ever seen rounded out their complement.

Summary: Galahad is a lazy bastard, but does well with kids. Doesn't do quite as well with the target of his affections.
Finished drafting my post, will actually write it and get it up after work

Fox Squadron Roster
Alrighty, and first post is up- I decided to start us a bit before the action starts so we have time to actually get some character development and chitchat in before we jump into the frying pan.

Its up to you guys whether you want to be new pilots or 'old faces'. I assume a pilot like Montgomery and Amanda have been there for at least a little while- Montgomery longer than Amanda probably. While pilots like Cairo, Ryan (as mentioned in his bio) and maybe Kalina are either newer pilots or the 'fresh faces' we speak of.
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