Warrior in the Shadows

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

Hugh broke into a grin after hearing Sana's words. She always made him the proudest man on the planet with the things she would say and do. He couldn't hold back his grin as he started to turn away, feeling the need to jump and skip and dance for joy. Love was amazing to Hugh. Corny, sexy, dramatic, wonderful love. It could never get old.

Before his back could fully turn, he felt Sana suddenly wrap her arms around his neck and pull herself into him. He felt himself relax as he wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his hands on her back and massaging it gently. He looked into her eyes as she pulled out the ring she gave him. It felt like all of his fight would be in that one little trinket. This simple band that hung from his neck by a chain would get him back to her in one peace. "I know you're with me."

She swiftly went from speaking to him to bringing them into a passionate kiss. He let his hands run across her body as he felt her every breath and movement. He felt vulnerable in that moment, but he also felt stronger. He felt her, soaking in how her skin felt with his hands and breathing her in. He just wanted to feel her there with him.

This was another moment he was going to hold onto. He wanted to keeping stealing as many moments with her as he could. It was like making a scrap book in your head, but this scrap book involved tasting her, feeling her, and breathing her in. Their breathing didn't go in any rhythm, but every time he took a breath he felt himself bringing her closer to him.

He nodded a smile appearing on his face, as he listened to her words. Then she pulled away and he let his hands trail off her as he almost wanted to grab her and pull her body back into his. He closed his eyes as she spoke one word, savoring it in his mind. Then she pulled away from him a final time, and he lifted his hand, his fingertips pointing towards her, as he echoed the word with a loving smile on his face. "Mine."

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

Hugh was hesitant to move, until after Sana left the wagon. He sat and relaxed for a moment, puffing on his pipe. He took a large gulp of water from a skin that lay by his side, and finally stood up. Sana made him aware of where she would be off to, and Hugh nodded in acknowledgement. He lifted his hand to her side, letting his fingers trail off her as she suddenly took leave from his presence.

He sat down, looking a little stuck in the moment. He looked at the tavern, remembering how pleasant it was when he first met Sana and the group. Back then, all he had thought about was being friendly and having a good time. It turned into so much more. Something he never asked for and never thought he would experience ever again. He nursed the pipe, giving small puffs, just to keep it burning.

Hugh suddenly stood up and walked inside the tavern, pushing through the doors. He looked to the group and listened to hear a little of the plan that was formulating. There was word that he would stay up and guard the tavern with Sana, but Sana made a different proposition; one that involved Hugh going into the catacombs with the others. It seemed almost completely agreed to. Hugh was not so thrilled with the idea, but he knew he was the best to be fighting in a cramped space such as the catacombs.

Sana came over to him and spoke to him in an attempt to reassure him. He would not feel reassured while he was down there and she was away from him, so it would be a futile attempt on her part. Hugh breathed in her kiss, trying to accept her words and reassure himself that everything would be fine. He didn't feel it at all. He would be away from her.

He simply turned away, letting her kiss linger. He said nothing as he followed the others, then stopping just before heading to the basement. "It's not my fucking fight? Why would I do this?" He angrily muttered. He shook his fist at the ground, and turned. He watched Sana as she climbed into the rafters. She was an archer, she would have a turkey shoot. She would be fine. He would be more at risk.

His face turned to a look of determination as he surveyed the room and shouted, "I'LL BE BACK! BE AROUND WHEN I GET BACK." He felt almost a little choked up when he shouted the words. He was more than determined to make it back out of the depths of the catacombs, but she had to be there for him when he got back. His life would just go back to the way it always had been, if she was not there. There would be no difference without her, except for this time, if he lost it all again, he would feel like an empty husk of a man, wandering the planet alone.

Aether: Legend of the Crimson Dusicyon - Now Recruiting Crewmates!

So? Anyone up for interacting with either Dorkface or Nikola?

@Voltus_Ventus

I could interact with Nikola. Technically, he would be Cyrek's supervisor, right?

Assuming Nikola is in charge of all the engines and shit.

The Plague (Dead)

Otis shrugged at Zomura's comment on the Irishman, and said, "Whatever you say, babe." He gave a hearty laugh after his words. He held his firearm in one hand, pointed towards the ceiling. "But I'll follow you, boss. For now. Till the army shows up." He said.

His attention was suddenly diverted towards the display of cutlery on the wall. Something that piqued his interest was the kukri knife. "Ohhh?" He grinned mischievously as he took it from the wall. He let his firearm hang by the sling as he unsheathed the knife. It was as beautiful and sharp as ever and he took an instant liking to it. He sheathed it and attached it to his field load carrier. He looked exactly the way he thought he looked; like a partisan fighter.

"I would say I feel badass, but I always feel badass." He picked up his gun in hand, and followed behind Zomura, turning and walking backwards out of the armory. "Let's leave Sean, his name, yes? Here, in the compound. He can do administrative work or something, like cleaning and cooking. It's safer. We don't need more zombies to fight."

The Plague (Dead)

Otis looked to this very haughty Japanese man and gave him a very exasperated expression. "Look buddy. This compound is illegal as fuck. Obviously. Your country is disarmed as fuck. There's no fucking guns except the ones the military, the law enforcement, and the criminals have. Forgive me if I'm not all too convinced the rest of your people can handle a gun. I know a FUCK TON of a Americans can handle guns." He paused and held up a finger, "AAAAAND, it's a part of our goddamn CULTURE, so WHATEVER, guy. Obviously you're Yakuza and you guys know how to handle some guns, but the majority of your country men have probably never even seen a gun, much less touched one. It's like you don't even know your country's laws, man. But then again, you obviously break them, so why the fuck does it matter?" His hand movements seemed to go along with his words.

"I know my gun laws, and America has the best in the world. None compare. FUCKING LITERALLY. None. Nada." He finally ended his rant and breathed. "And thank you for your hospitality and doing my fucking homework." He said with a rather forced smile. He then reverted back to pushing cartridges into magazines, filling up his backpack with as much as he could carry. It was like he was going on a one man raid, but it did appear that the entire country might be against them in a little, since so many were turning into raving cannibalistic lunatics.

Otis finished up, and slammed a magazine into the well, racking the bolt back once, and letting it fall forward. "So, mister Yakuza. Got a plan?" He said.

The Forests of Death (Dead)

Wade let his rucksack drop, as he fell to the ground. He landed very roughly but felt relief from the sudden rest. He let out a sigh as he leaned back and closed his eyes, focusing on relaxing his entire body. It was a little trick he used so he could keep walking or running. He just concentrated enough on rest that he could feel alive when he had to move again, no matter how much time he had to rest.

Wade slowly opened his eyes up again when he heard the crackle of a fire. The sound brought back a small memory of one of his many genocidal missions.

It was dark out, and fires burned everywhere. This small village had been set ablaze and the stench of death was in the air. There was chaos everywhere as men ran back and forth, killing anyone not wearing their uniform. Dead children littered the area, with mothers killed next to them. No one was being left alive.

Wade was a sergeant-at-arms, yelling orders to footmen. It was difficult to communicate with everyone at once. Too many people were yelling at once. Footmen were doing whatever they wanted and seemed to be looting. The weaker willed ones looked to be shocked at the killing, unable to move and commit to action.

Wade came up to a kid who was hesitant in killing a woman and her two children. He seemed to dislike the idea of just killing them off, as they had been told to kill everyone. So Wade smacked him to the ground and kicked him in the face. "Fucking WEAK!" He screamed at him. He then turned to the woman and her children and looked them up and down. The woman was quite attractive, with such beautiful blonde hair the likes of which he had never seen before. She looked calm and unafraid, as Wade took his crossbow off his back and pointed it at her.

She said some words that meant little to him, but surely meant much to her. He would never forget them, not really intent on remembering them. They stuck anyways. "I won't be around when you get back, my Hugh." The bolt then released by Wade's pull of the trigger and plunged into her chest. She fell and he proceeded to stab the children, as they screamed for their mother and their father. He just kept stabbing them, until they stopped moving and breathing. The blood seemed to cover him, as there was just so much.

He stepped away in disgust as the group of soldiers seemed to wrap up their purge of the area and start moving out.

He breathed heavily as he suddenly roused himself from his small nap. It appeared that he had dozed off for a few minutes. He looked to have gathered plenty of sweat from such a short nap. The dream was just bad enough to wake him so suddenly. He looked about, to and fro. He noted that the female assassin had started eating and he took heed, rummaging through his own rations, consisting mostly of jerky and bread.

Wade began to gnaw on the jerky, taking sips from his water skin after every bit he swallowed. It was salty jerky and had a lot of flavor to it. "Anyway else need food, perhaps? Maybe a bit of jerky or bread?" He spoke up. "Maybe we should get something to cook. It would be better than rations."

The Plague (Dead)

"Scarface? That can be my new nickname." Otis said, as he ran through a functions check of the weapon. It was simple for the most part. He just had no idea how to field strip it, so cleaning would be a difficult. He would figure out how to field strip it on his own. As for now, he needed to find a strap for his weapon. It came in the form of a tan nylon strap with two clips, one on each end. It was a good length and he could adjust it easy enough.

Next problem was the field load combat carrier. He found a simple nylon belt that had suspenders with magazine pouches on one side(assuming it was the front). It had a good amount of magazine room, so he put it on and started stuffing magazines into it. Then he started unloading his backpack, keeping a few pairs of clothes and dumping out the laptop and the extra shoes. After that, he started collecting and filling magazines and throwing them in his backpack.

He would be a juggernaut. It was best not to have a machinegun if you wanted to travel light and get anywhere. Of course the light infantry that was supposed to be the embodiment of airborne never really traveled that light. They would usually end up with a hundred pounds of gear or more. Especially Otis, who was the SAW gunner in his team. He despised the SAW, as it was head weighted, and you carried almost the same weight as a 240 gunner, except you had to carry it all yourself and you had no ammo bearer or assistant gunner. Not to mention you also had to clear rooms with your team.

His concentration was suddenly destroyed when he heard a gunshot and he looked up to see the whiny Irishman dancing around with a bleeding foot. "You fucking retard. That's what you get when you don't allow your people to have guns. They kill themselves. No doubt a bunch of Japanese are killing themselves now, just trying to figure out how to use a gun on a fucking zombie." Otis had the most pissed off look on his face.

He kept working, now working a little faster with the addition of a speedloader. He still looked pissed off as he shook his head. "I ain't helping him. Your problem."

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

Hugh simply closed his eyes as Sana ran her fingers over his cheeks and gave him a soft kiss, lending reassuring words. He sighed and just felt the hand on his face, bringing his own hand to hers. The feeling was comforting and never seemed to get old. He just held onto the moment until she went away to attend to business involving arrows.

He would always feel stressed by the whole situation they were all in. He could just always feel like he was going to lose it all to another bad guy and another war. All of these fights seemed to be started by someone else and then plopped in the laps of others for them to take responsibility for the mess. Regardless, Hugh would remain to fight this battle. He wasn't going to back out. Sana would be there, and he would suffer it all just to make sure she was safe. He would become an unstoppable force of nature to get to her.

He sat still for the moment, after her leaving to attend to an errand, and puffed on his pipe. He could live a good life after all of this. He could feel a little bit of anger building up inside at the thought of someone keeping him from the life he wanted to live. This character, Eliphas, would have to die. There was no doubt about that. The tyrant had to fall and Hugh would take part and be sure he did. This might be the last battle keeping him from his peaceful life. The result would be what his freedom and happiness depended on. There was a natural order of life and death, and it should not be interrupted by some freak.

Sana returned suddenly and Hugh's eyes lit up at the sight of her. He took in all of her features and let her pass before his eyes before she sat down. He looked at the ground as she snuggled up close to him, a smile appearing across his face. He felt so warm and fuzzy inside. He felt vulnerable every time she got close to him and he couldn't get enough of her.

She spoke of the new addition of horses to their entourage. It made him feel happy to know Rodger would not be overworked. He was a strong horse, but not strong enough to keep pulling them forever. He wanted his horse to relax for a bit. He looked at her as she leaned her head against him and a wave of happiness came over him. He had no idea what to say. He almost felt better leaving it silent. He loved having her there for him. He couldn't let go, now. He had to hold on tightly to this moment.

The Plague (Dead)

Otis sighed, and nodded after seeing that the man in front of him finally lowered his weapon. "Alright, that's better." He shrugged. The southern female spoke to him one last time, before they headed out. "Otis Yates and I'll take you up on that offer. I do like living." He said, looking down and taking a gulp of his salive. The only thing that made him nervous right now was the fact that he couldn't get back to the Tokyo Garrison. It looked like he would be stuck in Japan for all of this zombie business.

He had not realized this little spat he had on the road was more and that this whole country was falling apart. It wouldn't be particularly exciting to live like this. Perhaps they could stop it before it hit the rest of the world. In the mean time, Otis needed to get back to his battalion. Seeming as there was thousands of hungry lunatics between him and the Tokyo Garrison, that was a little impossible.

When they arrived at the compound Otis let his weapon hang by one hand, strolling through the gate. He noted the men in suits wielding AKs. "Yakuza. Ahhhhh." He said. He continued to walk behind the group, until they were told of an armory. Otis's interest was aroused by this prospect and he bee-lined towards the building they had noted as an armory. "YUUUUUUS." He stepped up to the building and noted that there wasn't the army organization that he was so used to. With that, he stepped inside and looked around.

A grin appeared on his face. It was Christmas for the infantryman. A ton of weapons, all new and not abused. They all seemed to have good finish on them, probably hadn't been used by a thousand different people, and hadn't had the oblivion cleaned out of them. Otis looked through until he came to the most familiar weapon; an M249. "HAHA, FUCK NO." He diverted his attention to the weapon that would have the most ammo in Japan.

It was the Howa Type 89. He had looked up the equipment of the JGSDF long before he had come before. The Howa was the standard issue rifle for their military and probably the most ammo around the country, if any, was the 5.56. Of course that was for rifles. There ought to be a good amount of shotguns throughout the country, so he could count on finding ammo for that.

With that he took the Type 89, and started collecting magazines. They had the regular STANAG mags, so he was at least familiar with that. Otherwise, it might be something to get used to. Otis started loading all of the mags he had gathered. Next thing on the agenda was to find some kind of a magazine holder, something like a magazine bandoleer, or a field combat load carrier. He would look like some kind of partisan resistance fighter if he was wearing that.

"Alright, everyone go ahead and go full auto if you wanna DIE!" He said loudly, to anyone who was present with him in the armory.

Aether: Legend of the Crimson Dusicyon - Now Recruiting Crewmates!

Last Night

The night had been silent and calm as the Dusicyon flew through the sky in all her majesty. None could really argue just how beautiful the ship was, especially not to Cyrek Krusek. Cyrek knew the ship's every crack, as he worked hard to keep her in good repair. Tonight was another one of those sleepless nights where he had his work cut out for him. He had every reason to sleep in tomorrow, but there was to be some big dinner going down, courtesy of the captain.

The ship didn't glow against the light of the moon, as she was bluntly colored enough to not be noticeable to the eyes of her prey. One thing was visible that night, and that was a small light coming from the arc of Cyrek Krusek's welding torch. He stared unflinchingly at the hot metal, through shaded lenses. Sparks would sally forth every now and then, attacking his leather jacket he prized so much.

He was held up by a strong leather tether and a harness. He seemed to be able to free float, but he was locked in place to his work with different methods. He was also locked to his work with his attention. He was dedicated to welding. It was an art form to him. He controlled the hot metal, directing its flow into the crevices, strengthening them and making the ship stronger as a whole.

This night of sleeplessness would not be to his liking. He always found it more to his liking to burn an arc during the dark hours. It was easier to concentrate on the difficult task when all the light you had was the arc.

The Present

Cyrek awoke late, having burned up the entire night of any sleep he could get, leaving it all for the day. He looked to his old clock, seeing the alarm had gone off a long time ago and had gone silent a long time ago. He jumped out of bed, still wearing the same clothes he had worn last night. He splashed water on his face and went running around his shared quarters, back and forth. He didn't bother wearing his leather jacket, as he headed out with only his tank top t-shirt to cover his upper torso and his work pants. He seemed to be wearing all of his work clothes except for his jacket.

He made his way towards the cafeteria. "Ahhh fuckin' hell, man. This is fucking bullshit." He ran through the hallways, busting through the doors only to notice he had missed even the captain's speech. "Fuck." He ran his hand through his hair and headed towards the line, walking very pronounced and determined.

He stepped into line right behind the aloof Travis Ice. The man seemed to have come in at a similar time to him, probably not for the exact same reasons as Cyrek. Cyrek had been hard at work on the repairs which kept popping up. "So you too, huh?" He said, lackadaisically. He took up a tray and started collecting food on it.