hold your flag high above your head and CHARGE! ★

I'm like the ringleader [OPEN]

whiplashings — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 20:14:13 GMT

Characters; Quistis Trepe, OPEN
Setting/Location; New Utopia training grounds
Date & Time; Second day in NU, noon
Warnings; None yet
Briefing; Quistis decides to train.

The corners of her lips curled into a small frown as Quistis ran her fingers along her whip, the direct contact of skin against Malboro leather feeling oddly foreign to her.

Having been branded by the magical tattoo the previous day, the mark made it nearly impossible for the blond to continue wearing her standard leather gloves, forcing her to detach the protective gear from the matching sleeves that donned her arms. She had been reluctant at first- ever since she had picked up the whip as a young cadet, she had always worn gloves when handling her weapon. They improved her performance, providing her with a firmer grip and giving her one less thing to worry about in case the end of her whip caught her hands in a hasty maneuver. In a sense, it had almost become a sort of security blanket for her... and eight years later, the stripping of the buttery material made her feel strangely naked.

Now, standing in the middle of the training grounds, Quistis furrowed her eyebrows in concentration as she assumed her offensive stance. Flexing the slender fingers of her right hand for several moments, Quistis then curled her digits around the handle of Save the Queen, giving the whip a tentative squeeze before slowly raising her arm overhead. In an instant, she brought the limb back down swiftly, flicking her wrist with expertise at the last minute- a satisfying "crack!" met her ears as the end of the barbed leather snapped against the earth, the familiar vibration that traveled up her arm causing for Quistis to crack a small smile.

It wouldn't take too much to adjust to- it was just exposed skin, after all.

You and your cronies, you forget so easy [OPEN; in-progress]

non_veritas — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 14:09:43 GMT

Characters; L and... maybe YOU! [Open]
Setting/Location; New Utopia
Date & Time; 2nd full day of NU stay.
Warnings; None so far.
Briefing; L lurks around NU (presumably near the main square)

L finished the eclair, setting his fork carefully on the small porcelain plate, and draining the remainder of his cup of sweet coffee. He couldn't spare much change, but he left some on the counter for the girl who worked at the counter in the small pastry shop: the eclair had been delicious, and the service, exemplary.

Slipping his hands into his pockets, slinging the bag containing his communication device over his shoulder, and making sure to tug his sleeve down over his wrist, he left the shop. His destination was the library, where he had already spent the morning.

He saw the green marking on his wrist as a problem. It was his habit to wear his sleeves long, long enough to cover much of the palm of his hand; sometimes, when he was tired, or cold, he would tuck his fingers up into the sleeves for a few minutes. The magical element of the brand made it impossible to cover for more than an hour without the skin itching to a maddening degree. The result was that he had to wear his sleeve rolled up a little, which caused minor discomfort -- no, he thought, I am irritated. The marking was another representation of what amounted to his enforced servitude for Ex Favila.

It could have been worse, though: at least there was work to do. Boredom wasn't a risk so much as not being sure where to start, so he adopted his usual method and jumped in. It would be necessary to compile data before attempting to sort it, after all.

In the meantime, the library wasn't so far away that he needed to show the marking on the street; he suspected that covering it might increase his chance of overhearing something of interest on the way. And so he ambled, slouched and deceptively frail-looking, through the streets of New Utopia.

LIKE A BRO [Closed]

inherent_sin — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 19:07:26 GMT

Characters; Big Boss & Ocelot
Setting/Location; New Utopia, Lordscourt Close, Room 29
Date & Time; Day 7 Evening? I think? I kinda lost track.
Warnings; BROFISTS. Alcohol idk.
Briefing; Brocelot and Big Bro are brospecting each other like bros in room number 29 of Verity's hotel. Oh and getting drunk. Like bros.

A vacation wasn't so bad, provided it didn't last that long and he wasn't taken too far from the battlefield. And given that he was surrounding himself with the people that he had either faced in battle before or would be in the near future, that condition was met. It was always strangely refreshing to just talk to the people, be it in person or over Amitynet, and reminded him of the fact that while he may (or may have not been, in this war's case) have been fighting for personal reasons, he never killed for personal reasons. It was just something that he did, and part of being a soldier. Not like he'd ever experienced something else.

The hotels in New Utopia were much nicer than the cabin he'd spent the majority of his nights in, too -- a little like his house back in the States, the fireplace and the liquor cabinet were almost the same. Nostalgia had the habit of creeping up to you during the strangest times.

(It was better than having to think about Snake, at least. He was glad the guy finally had some of his own business to attend to and left him alone for a while. Good for both of them, and especially for Jack's mind.)

He'd grabbed himself a bottle of bourbon from the cabinet, now lazily lounging around in the seat in front of the fireplace, taking a sip every now and again.

(Because drowning your sorrows in alcohol was so much better.)

this is all that I know. [ in-progress; OPEN ]

homicidelines — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 04:38:17 GMT

Characters; Vocal and you.
Setting/Location; New Utopia, IDK SOMEWHERE.
Date & Time; Day 7, morning.
Warnings; rrrr, violence and language, I guess. also, ~~possible light molestation~~ definite medium molestation. )8 promise anything aggressively affecting anyone else's characters will be cleared beforehand, though! ♥
Briefing; Vocal's been dragged to another place he doesn't want to be, he still can't use as much of his power as he should, and he really wants to beat the hell out of that holy kid in particular.

Vocal hadn't wanted to leave the shithole of -- Valora, whatever, he didn't fucking care what it was called. It was a shithole, everything was a shithole. He'd been dragged against his will and stamped or whatever and that magic had felt fucking weird and he hated it, he hated all of this, and he hated Bass for sending him here and he knew that he had, the bastard, even if these morons around him didn't know it or accept it.

His mood was getting progressively worse, and he wished that he had Orgel around to beat up and pick on. His hands ached to punch, to feel broken facial bones under his fists, and he wanted desperately to get the feeling of that weird magic out of his body, and now he saw buildings, and all he wanted to do was destroy them.

With a roar, he leapt up, his wings extending somewhat and growing larger to accommodate the height he planned to reach. He wanted to make this place -- New Utopia, the assholes had called it, Utopia, peaceful and friendly and all that retarded bullshit that made him just want to puke -- he wanted to make it look like Dal Segno. There was a pretty place, fucked up and torn apart and full of all those corpses ah--!

Vocal couldn't kill anyone so they stayed dead, which infuriated him to the point where he wanted to avoid trying. But he could go after the city itself, so with another roar he swung the large ball-and-chain ensemble on his left wrist.

don't think 'cause I understand, I care. [ OPEN, in-progress ]

sparingthird — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 04:04:06 GMT

Characters; Beyond Birthday and anyone else!
Setting/Location; New Utopia, ~~wandering (if a specific location in NU is established, this will be updated to reflect that, as well as the above participants)~~ a library!
Date & Time; Day 7, morning.
Warnings; None, as of posting.
Briefing; Advisor Birthday is exploring. You're free to join and bug him, but be warned; he'll probably be extra snarky.

The networks were quiet lately, and names had been disappearing rapidly -- an interesting alternative to numbers disappearing upon death, but one that worried him. He had heard rumors, "soul glitches," but hadn't bothered to ask questions himself: his last (only, really) experience with L had seriously dampened asking questions as a way to satisfy his curiosity. Through observation, not interrogation, and in a way he was determined not to disappoint the detective again, perhaps L had expected better from him, and of course he should have given better.

Now he was in a battle against L he hadn't initiated, and he was somewhat grateful. He had learned that the libraries in New Utopia were the most expansive, and the best places to find histories. His interests lay less with exploring New Utopia and more with absorbing as much knowledge about the warring countries as possible. As soon as he was free to do so he set out, dressed not in his Veritian uniform as he did to blend in on the campgrounds, but in his home clothing, jeans and a long-sleeved, white shirt, everything extremely clean, but untidy. His white sneakers padded softly on the ground, and his eyes were raised, reading faces and names; if everyone really had been moved here, then L and Mello would be here as well, and as he wasn't quite certain what either of them would look like now, he would have to read their names to be sure. The other names he observed were simply filed away for future association.

ceruleanbeast — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 10:40:15 GMT

Characters; ALL of ExFavila.
Setting/Location; The Rendezvous-Point
Date & Time; Day Six; Early Afternoon
Warnings; You better be here.
Briefing; As per instructions, ExFavila is preparing for a holiday trip.

The order had come earlier, and it had come to some surprise, perhaps, for Azul at least. He disliked having training schedules interrupted, unless it was for a greater purpose - and a greater purpose was, in Azul's yellow eyes, usually what came hand-in-hand with bloodshed. Not so much today. Perhaps a field trip could be of some use one way or the other for the soldiers and their education, but Azul himself cared very little for anything other than hands-on violence.

Still, he followed his orders, and after the initial call made sure to lead his brigade to the Rendezvous-Point. He was familiar with the place. The structure itself was not so unusual, given the layout of the whole country, but inside the building, the large open space with its strangely shaped column in the middle, the ground covered with runes and circles - here, it was a whole different story.

Azul looked briefly over his shoulder to see if the change of surrounding disconcerted any of the recruits, more out of interest than worry. He had been here before, knew what was going to come - they did not. In the end, he turned back and led the way to the middle of the room, still with respectful distance to the centre.

"You will understand soon," he growled, with a deep, low voice that was faintly reminiscent of gears grinding together. "We are waiting for the other brigades."

He cast a glance at the guards surrounding them and gave them a brief nod to let them understand they were not ready and complete yet; preparations were going to be delayed just a little longer. He did not see it fit to warn his recruits from annoying these grey-clad soldiers - it had better be obvious for them, given the strict looks all of them carried. And with that, Azul crossed his arms and cracked his neck, waiting for his colleagues to make their appearance.

[ooc: NU Event preparations are going! So, everybody? Mingle. Brig 1 guys, arrive individually as you wish, Brig 2 guys, you can assume you're already here. Talk to each other, walk around, don't poke the column, please. Your leaders will interrupt at some point and get you started. But for now, express your travel-hopes and anxieties. Have fun. :D]

Forget about your worries and your strife

fugutaiten — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 17:59:21 GMT

Characters; Yuffie Kisaragi, OPEN.
Setting/Location; Valora, approaching the 'springs/in the 'springs.
Date & Time; Day 4, 10pm, after this
Warnings; Hot Springs? :o
Briefing; Yuffie decides to what to do with her chillax time.

Limbs. Limbs, oh, gawd, aching limbs.

To be cliché about it, Yuffie felt like one big walking bruise. One of those horrid black-purple ones. Of course, it wasn't actually that bad; she had a couple of whoppers peppering her body, to be sure, but they weren't bad enough to be anywhere near dangerous. They were… just enough to get her complaining, grumbling, and generally frothing for a long, long bath. Yup.

Which was exactly what she was gonna have! Come rain or shine, she was getting in those hot springs. And she wasn't coming out. So, off she marched. Towel over her shoulder, shuriken in tow, for her date with destiny. Hot, steamy destiny. Guh. She picked up the pace, not even slowing down when the 'springs came into view. They weren't nearly as good as Wutai's, but then, nothing ever wasanywhere near as good as Wutai's; food, geography, spirit, you name it!

Get to Know Your War Buddies

voyageurduvent — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 20:48:58 GMT

Characters: Bartz and Rishfee
Setting/ Time: Day 4 after the log below...afternoon then
Location: Valora cafeteria
Warnings: none, ya?
Briefing: Bartz actually meets this Rishfee person he was talking to on the laptop.

Even though the facts of being in another country, having to fight that country's war, and still having to fight his own world's war once he got home again seemed rather daunting, Bartz was still excited to be able to have strange new adventures and meet new people while doing all of that. Not only were the people just new, they all of them came from completely different worlds. He had learned this only recently and was still getting used to the idea, but it was kind of cool to think about how many different worlds there could be. Maybe there were worlds that were only ocean, or only desert, or ones where the monsters were civil and the people bad. The possibilities were endless. However, the person he was going to meet today came from a similar world to his own, one where the monsters were still bad...and one that had monsters at all. Maybe they had pirates and chocobos too? He'd have to find out.

They had set up the cafeteria as their meeting place. Bartz didn't know what Rishfee looked like; he had only heard his voice from that smooth black box called a laptop. That thing was so small but so advanced! And even this camp was more advanced-looking than any military camp from his world, not that he knew much about military camps. There were lots of giant shiny machines standing around for some reason. The cafeteria itself was a new idea to Bartz too; one giant building that served food to tons of soldiers. Sure they had mess halls for the armies in Tycoon or other places probably, but something was different about this one...maybe he just thought that because everything was different here. But anyway, he had to keep a look out for Rishfee, so he stood near the entrance and waited, trying to guess what he'd look like from what his voice had sounded like. </div>

good morning vi...valora

voyageurduvent — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 03:50:42 GMT

Characters: Bartz and whoever else
Setting/ Time: Day 4 (morning?)
Location: Valora cabin 7
Warnings: none...really
Briefing: Bartz comes to Valora and meets his roomies? And needs explaining about laptops

He was laying on a bed. That was weird, since he didn't remember going to an inn or anything recently. In fact, the last time he'd been in a bed was like...well anyway, something wasn't right. Bartz sat up and looked around. There were three beds in total. Nearby him were some strange orange clothes and a shiny rectangular thing. I guess someone is being nice giving me extra clothes in case I need them, he thought. Except they were really strange looking, and he'd never seen an orange so vibrant. And what was this shiny thing? It was moderately light and there was like a fold in it, like a book. Even being possibly predictable to open, Bartz was still surprised and amused to find he could open it like a book. One side of it (because he thought it was meant to be held like a book) was pretty blank, but the other side had a whole bunch of letters and numbers. He played around with the buttons that bore single letters on each one, but nothing happened... maybe it was a speller, for teaching young kids how to read? Then... was whoever left this here a kid? Or was it left for him, like the clothes...and that person thought he couldn't read and write??

It was from pondering such questions that he was interrupted by the entrance of another person.

Blood-red dawns are the most beautiful.

fugutaiten — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 20:33:42 GMT

Characters; Yuffie Kisaragi, Yuu Kanda
Setting/Location; Valora training halls
Date & Time; Day 4, 6:23am
Warnings; Kanda, violence, and Kanda
Briefing; Another day, another run-in at the training hall. No surprise there, since Yuffie practically lives in the place. :|b

The pre-dawn morning was quickly turning out to be her favorite time of day.

It was so quiet, like she had the whole place to herself. Much better than the middle of the day, where everyone was everywhere, buzzing and nosy. Yuffie was buzzing and nosy herself, but then, she was a bit of a hypocrite when it came to these things.

She cartwheeled across the rooftops, bounded, flipped, jumped, and ran. Surprisingly silent, just revelling in the feeling of movement. Sheer, boundless movement, as fast as she could; as fast as she needed. There was no real routine to it. The ninja made it all up along the way, drawing instinctively from year of training, and inventing whenever she needed to invent. Technique had its place, but it was the spirit of the actions that really counted.

By the time she reached the training hall, she'd completed several circuits of the camp. Dawn was pushing onward; the sun was rising, a riot of color in the east. She grinned to see it as she slipped into the huge hall, checking her gait from a run to a soft-footed skip. Her blood was already pumping, but all the same she bowed to nothing and began with a few warm-ups. Easy stretches to complex ones, flowing with certainty into the first basic forms of the Kisaragi style. These were the soft moves; weaponless and flowing, almost water-like. She concentrated on her breathing, on expanding her awareness.

The build-up would make the flashiness all the more worth it, when she finally got to that part.

stabbywheelfeet — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 03:28:21 GMT

Characters; Azmaria Hendric, Sideswipe
Setting/Location; Just outside Valora's camp
Date & Time; Day 4 ~~I think?~~
Warnings; Nothing
Briefing; Azmaria offered to help Sideswipe with a sand-problem.

[He's waiting, as promised, in the meeting spot. He doesn't know why he's here, except that the female promised to help him get the ever-present sand out of his internals. How the others survived with the irritants in their small parts, he doesn't know.

But if the female can help, he's not going to say no. This place has made him annoyed enough as is--lack of energon, lack of recharge, and too many know-it-all humans.

So he stays put, scanning idly for a female life sign.]

Look, I create the craftsman, who fans the coals into a fire and forges a weapon. [Closed]

ghg_chapel — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 21:12:00 GMT

Characters; Wolfwood, Vash, and Megatron
Setting/Location; Ex Favila; the Forge
Date & Time; Day 4, afternoon
Warnings; Possible swearing and violence
Briefing; Megatron graciously fixed Wolfwood's cross Punisher and the priest now goes to the forge to pick it up. Vash tags along with nothing better to do.

This was the second time in the span of one month that the Punisher needed a serious fixing. Or it could be longer than one month, who knew how long Wolfwood was deadl, but it was something the priest preferred to not think about. As it was, going to the forge to pick up his repaired weapon from a robot, while being followed incessantly by a much too happy Plant, was surreal enough without adding to the equation.

"Why're ya taggin' along anyway," Wolfwood muttered to the man in red walking alongside him.

The air began to warm up as they approached the forge, and by the time Wolfwood got to the doors, beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He pushed opened the doors to the forge and nearly got pushed out by the blast of burning fuel and heat.

"Whoa, it's hot in 'ere!" Coughing from the sudden onslaught, he fanned uselessly at the air before him and stepped inside.

eternally missed. [closed & backdated.]

reflectreveal — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 13:06:31 GMT

Characters: Cecil Harvey and Megatron.
Setting/Location; Ex Favila; bar.
Date & Time; Backdated like crazy. 3 months ago backdated. :o
Warnings; None.
Briefing; Megatron's brigade are betrayed mid-operation by an enemy spy, and Cecil and Megatron are the only survivors of the massacre that follows. Megatron-mun, comment to this whenever you have the time. ;D I'm not putting it up to force it on you, I think it'd just be best to have something here while the concept is still fresh in my head.

A military commander even at the world he belonged to, Cecil should have been extremely used to this. Yet nothing like this had ever happened before. The Paladin had been briefed, yet he wasn't first-hand aware of the destructive powers of automated weapons. Nor was he aware of the fact that one of his unit was a mole which had ate with the men, trained with them... They'd shared things together, and this mole had waited until they were absolutely defenceless and mid-objective before betraying them. It had been a massacre. That was the only word for it. The losses had been absolutely catastrophic. From a tactical standpoint the objective had been a complete disaster in every single sense of the word. He didn't even know how he'd survived, a few too many knocks to the head from trying to use his body as a shield had meant that the Paladin had merely remembered something.... big. Megatron, perhaps... picking him up and then everything around him fading.
He'd prepared himself to die there with the others.

Cecil had discharged himself from the medical unit- head still ringing with gunfire and eyes still burning from gunfire against the medic's orders; wandering along the underground campground with very little regard for current temperature and not even the regard to change forms from a rather bloodied and beaten Paladin to Dark Knight where his wounds would be concealed and he would wear the mask of demon to hide his own. He was dazed. Far too dazed to revert to old habits. What had happened... it had not sunk in. The fact he had almost died had not sunk in. It was merely there.

"My brother. Even though you know well the meaning of betrayal, you would still side with others?"
His older brother's voice, once considerate and wise was now almost taunting, almost full of the venom it had been when he had been his enemy. A faceless enemy, forcing betrayal after betrayal unto him from the people which he loved. He'd forgiven. He'd forgot. He'd allowed himself to remain open to more betrayal by continuing to believe. Now.. It was hard to believe. He made his way to the cafeteria / bar and stood at the counter, watching with dead eyes as something was handed to him. Something strong. At the Paladin's next words, the hallowed Mythgraven blade started to gleam in its ornate sheath, words of Mysidian legend burning into the Paladin's skull and counteracting gunfire and screaming.

" My friends, brother.. they are my strength. ...I swear it on my sword. I will not be dissuaded from my beliefs. "
Little did the Paladin know that his brother was not here. Nor was anyone. This was merely the result of taking one too many knocks on the head, but to him it was real. His brother's methods of communicating with him had always been rather.... shaky, to say the least; so it was very little wonder that he saw this as real. Injury or not. He took a drink, hissing slightly as the substance burned against smoke and dirt in his throat. But he swallowed, listening to the mirage of blood relatives deep sigh of frustration at this subject; the subject they'd never been able to agree upon.

"Cecil... You are far too kind to be a knight."
It was true. It was one thing to trust others with everything inside of him if he was the only one which could have ended up hurt from it. But this... he'd trusted. He'd believed. It was his belief which had meant the deaths of the soldiers around him. Was this what his brother had meant, even if his words were nothing but conjecture brought on by trauma?

"Brother.."
He was gone. The presence, the voice... it was all gone.

[Closed] Show me people who drink too much, who have to try out fancy drinks...

ghg_chapel — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 05:22:51 GMT

Characters; Vash and Wolfwood
Setting/Location; Ex Favila; drinking hall
Date & Time; Day 3, night (Backdated)
Warnings; Extreme stupidity and Trigun manga spoilers (this sounds familiar)
Briefing; Wolfwood and Vash meet up again in the evening to do a little catching up. And what's catching up without copious amounts of alcohol?

Evening came around quickly, and for the second night in a row, Wolfwood found himself in the military bar. He sat at the exact same table as he did last night, in the same chair that monopolized the entrance view. However, tonight he was there alone. Livio declared he wished to be elsewhere, something about exploring the rest of the camp. Wolfwood figured the kid just didn't want to get drunk again but had enough on his mind to not call Livio out on it.

On the table sat a large pitcher of the tomas piss they called beer, and in front of him was a tankard poured full. In the empty spot across from his, a second tankard, as empty as the seat, was placed.

The cigarette in Wolfwood's hand burned quietly, lit and forgotten. Its ashen half broke off and fell without notice to the tray below, letting a thin stream of gray smoke curl up from the liberated end. Staring at the empty chair before him, with his long legs stretched out beneath the table, Wolfwood waited, thinking.

Twoism

philanthropism — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 00:47:31 GMT

Characters; Solid Snake, Big Boss
Setting/Location; Verity, north of the Training Grounds.
Date & Time; Day 4, afternoon
Warnings; Violence, language, whining, MUD WRASSELIN'.
Briefing; Snake finally has that long awaited talk with Big Boss. It doesn't go exactly as planned.

The fog that had blanketed the base all morning seemed to dissipate in the afternoon, leaving behind a thin, misty murk that hung thick in the humid air like some tangible force. Along with the dark clouds dotting the sky and the sheets of rain pouring down, it did a generous job of creating an atmospheric mood that was hardly lost on Snake -- a sort of why did I have to get out of bed for this feeling that teetered dangerously close to outright contempt for not only the bad weather, but the entire godforsaken monster infested nation that housed it.

Or it could have been from the residue of his injuries from last night. It was hard to tell. Verity had not been kind to him; three days had passed and he had already suffered a broken nose, a concussion, several hairline fractures, and a hole below his cheek courtesy of a pair of gnashing, biting teeth, not to mention the infection that came along with that. If it hadn't been for the intervention of their medic and the various others that had been at Cabin #6 that night, he had no doubt that he would be in an unimaginably worse state. If alive at all.

As undead as he felt walking through this downpour, as fatigued as he was, it did not come close to that feeling. That sick state, feverish and hazy like a dream that poured into the senses and washed everything--rational, logic, empathy, fear--away and left only primal instinct (urges) in its wake. In contrast to the nothingness it left him in when he was in its cusp, Snake could not look back on the memory of the incident without having a deep sense of revulsion and fear grip him, and it was hard to tell what it stemmed from -- the sensations that came with the infection, or what caused it in the first place.
Who caused it.

Predictably, it was the latter memory that elicited the most emotions from him. He tried not to think too much about it; not about the hiss and resentful shove that preceded the viral transmission, not about the vacant look in the eyes of the one who would move to pounce and pin him, and most certainly not about how it could have been avoided if he had acknowledged the signs (it was the 21st century, after all. zombies were pop culture staples on the level of Santa and Godzilla) and acted when he should have instead of doing things the hard way out of reluctance.

Oh, keep telling yourself that. It wasn't reluctance.
It was refusal.

Fitting that he was mentally repressing the reasoning that stemmed from that when he was already off to meet Big Boss. He knew that last night's mess was probably weighing down just as heavy on the other man, but it was obvious he was gonna deal with it in his own quiet, grudging way. As if it were a mistake one could cover up and treat like a training session screw-up.

Just like he always did. Like most of his interactions with his former-future commander, it left a sour taste of nostalgia in Snake's mouth and a faint sad feeling swimming in his chest.

Sky began to taper off into treetops. The rain made dull, static sounding pops as it came down on the leaves, coming in through the foliage but not nearly as bad as it had been out in the open. His hair was a wet mess, but like the rest of his damp appearance right now, it affected his mood very little.

Everything would start and end the same regardless.

Let's go, guys!

illfateddestiny — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 21:02:31 GMT

Characters; The First Brigade of Valora
Setting/Location; Training Grounds
Date & Time; Day 4, 9:00 AM
Warnings; Violence.
Briefing; The First Brigade of Valora at their second training session.

If there was hope that there would be someone else conducting the training session then those hopes were dashed. Especially since Teo's abrupt departure from Valora, it seemed for now it fell upon him to once again take this responsibility up again. However, it seemed that fate also didn't entrust him any wink of sleep either--what with that reaccuring nightmare the True Rune seemed to give him bothered him more frequently than usual. Then again, maybe it was that he couldn't close his eyes because of dreaming the nightmare again--he couldn't tell the difference at times--either way, he was dead tired but it wasn't like he hadn't experienced it before. It would just probably appear that he was more grumpy than usual.

Luc sincerely hoped that no one thought they would be allowed to not do anything at these training sessions. Otherwise, the mage himself would have to give them an explanation of why they were here. Especially if they actually attended the training exercise.

There were certainly advanced equipment in here; an observation the brunette had made when he had entered the training room before--even so, he doubted that many of his soldiers would be adept in utilizing them to the fullest. Luc supposed that the equipment must also be extremely durable, considering it was usually used for training--so he assumed, hopefully, that nothing in here would break easily. So, Luc supposed he would instead improvise a little--before the soldiers would enter the training grounds there would be a calm breeze. Then, the brown-haired rune mage would increase the peaceful breeze to a harsh current that would be enough to slap at your face when you walked in.

How would he do so? With the power of his True Wind Rune, of course.

Luc would then say to any soldier who then walked into the training grounds with such nice weather,

"Welcome to your second training session."

[Ooc: I apologize if the first training session wasn't that good. I'll try harder to make sure it doesn't die! It will basically just work out like last time ~~maybe~~. However, if Luc notices there's someone without a partner/or if they complain he'll become theirs. XD;]

k let's do this mgs style

inherent_sin — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 11:00:27 GMT

Characters; Big Boss & ANYONE ELSE THAT WANTS TO TRAIN
Setting/Location; Verity / Training Grounds (woods)
Date & Time; Day 4 / ~9 AM
Warnings; IDKKKKK TBA
Briefing; TRAINING TIME FOR THE FIRST BRIGADE! IT'S FOGGY SO WE'RE GONNA PLAY SOME HIDE AND SEEK ALL OVER THE CAMPGROUNDS (Note: You're expected to team up in pairs for this exercise. Post separately and then tag the person you want to pair with and have a thread. Big Boss is still groggy from the zombie attack and hospital stay but if you wanna thread with him, just approach him.)

Typical. He was the most battered and he was still the first to show up for training.

Alright, admittedly, he was usually awfully early -- unless things got serious, then he usually kept people waiting. Big Boss spent the time he had still left with one of his last cigars, sitting at the edge of the field on an old tree stump and watching the smoke blend in with the thick fog that had laid itself over the whole base this morning. Not unexpected, after yesterday's forecast, and he'd already planned an easy exercise for today -- partly because of the weather, partly because he, himself, wasn't up for that much physical strain yet; and no doubt that went for many others as well. But this is the last time, he told himself as he rotated cigar between his fingers. He'd skipped training the first day and just gave some 'homework', nothing that required too much effort. Third day he spent in the hospital, recovering from the virus he'd caught the night before. Today, they would play a game. He didn't doubt that that 'game' had educational value -- he'd played it often enough during his time with the Green Berets -- but in the end, it still just amounted to a childrens game of hide and seek. Slighty more complicated by the circumstances, but still...

Well. Stealth was the basis for everything. He cracked his neck to the side (and groaned, he'd already forgotten that was the side with the bite; the wound was dressed and bandaged and this was also the only reason why he was fully clothed for once), and smashed his still smoldering cigar against the tree and got up when he heard -- heard, not saw, more like sensed -- the first people arriving.

The jingle of Ocelot's spurs was unmistakeable, though.

*

"I want you to get together in teams of two," he explained, giving the corresponding gesture -- two fingers as he walked down an invisible line next to his (wo)men. "Visibility is bad today due to the early fog, but we'll make use of that. It's an important thing to keep in mind -- always make the best use of your environment, and adjust accordingly. You might think you're the only one who has trouble seeing, and sometimes you might panic, but then you need to remind yourself that your enemy -- in most cases -- has just the same problem. Then you need to keep a cool head and use that knowledge to your advantage." He paused, slowed down to a halt and used the same two fingers to tap against the black cloth of his eyepatch.

"And you don't necessarily need eyes to see. You have more than one sense at your disposal. Smell, sound...everything can give one away, just as much as the visible traces that you leave. You need to sense danger that lies ahead of you, smell trouble before it happens, hear movement before it occurs." Said two fingers were now rubbing one of his temples in small circles. Gotta love headaches.

"So...what I'm trying to say, today we'll be playing hide and seek. Same rules you all should already be familiar with apply. Find a partner, get moving. You're free to use the entire campgrounds for this exercise, and don't forget to give your partner a headstart of at least...three minutes. Alternate. We'll meet up here again in two hours and discuss the results. That's all."

[OPEN, in progress] the hard life of an officer

great_tests — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 19:47:06 GMT

Characters: Cordelia Naismith, open to anyone in Valora
Setting/Location: anywhere public in the Valora base, except the chemical spill area
Date & Time: afternoon/evening of the 3rd day
Warnings: None, I think... (Sideswipe? crazy people?)
Briefing: Your friendly local officer is walking around the base, talking to people, keeping an eye on things. Note: this is during the chemical spill event. Cordelia's mostly unaffected, but she'll be trying to help anyone who is. Non-crazy people also welcome. 8D

Given the average disposition of the Valoran conscripts, Cordelia privately thought the chemical spill was something of an improvement, overall. Several people certainly sounded happier than before.

Still, she knew enough about mood-altering drugs and one's first exposure to them (Betan society was extremely easygoing) to realize not everyone would be dealing well. This kind of thing shouldn't be done haphazardly. Her own reaction was not on the good side - the stuff was vaguely reminiscent of Dr. Mehta's incense stick, and Cordelia still wasn't sure whether her anxiety and stuttering for the first half hour after exposure was a bona fide drug reaction or simply memory-induced stress.

Either way, she had calmed down without much trouble (and without any unintended network posts, unlike some people) - she had a lot of practice with it. Given that, she decided she was safe to go outside, and the chemical spill was only more or a reason to walk around the base and make sure everyone was all right.

[OOC: I'm doing this as a one-person-at-a-time log, i.e. every response gets its own thread and we assume they're all going on at different times. Or feel free to jump in on a preexisting thread as well, since they're all in public.]

[log] I am what I want you to want, what I want you to hear.

immortal_lion — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 19:24:10 GMT

Characters; Rishfee (immortal_lion) / OPEN to Valora citizens.
Setting/Location; Cafeteria.
Date & Time; day three.
Warnings; TL;DR. And a slight bit of angst, his perception of what happened on his world is completely jacked due to dying before massive plot twists happened.
Briefing; I told you Rishfee wanted tea. :'(

Rishfee sat in the fifth sector; the cafeteria. The room was deserted, which to some would be strange but to the Immortal lion completely normal. Chemical spills were chemical spills after all. It was only the fact that he could avert the need to respire altogether with Blue magic which pertained as to why he graced this sector with his presence rather than hiding in cabins alike Valora's conscripted.

...That and the fact he'd managed to procure from the shops a tea very alike Aht Urhgan's chai tea. Whereas it would most likely be thrown out as trash in Whitegate. Most likely he'd never find anything quite as good as anything Whitegate could supply to those on the wages of an Immortal, but that really was of little concern. This would do. He'd managed to get here, take advantage of the fact that the place was empty enough to prepare it in the kitchens and move to a table to spend time with his own thoughts.

His own thoughts were all that he had.

He couldn't say that he had enough faith in anyone here to bother with anything but mild curiosity- the soldiers and civilians were all alike. He'd managed to percept that; no matter the rank they were all equally as clueless. They would never be Amnaf or Raubahn, or anything like them. ...They would never be trusted, let alone cared about; not really. Nor were they real enough to be regarded as anything like Naja Salaheem or the Wildcat mercenary.

He couldn't say his thoughts were pretty, that was the only problem- but they were everything. Really; he'd rather put up with Waudeen's half-sane ramblings than deal with them currently, lest he end up exactly like her.

And ah-- they were back. A sharp wave of almost-pain consumed the Immortal for the smallest of moments, a memory of looking over the top of the rooftops in Whitegate with Raubahn... or Raubahn's alias, Waoud. returning. Amnaf was nearby and he was laughing with his Captain and surrogate father; laughing at the Qujirn below on the streets commencing with the act of ripping off the "tourists" (aka mercenaries) brought in from the middle-lands. The middle-landers always fell for the same thing.. Their pittance of pay always conned out of them by the sharp-witted Qujirn before they'd even walked halfway to Serpentking square to recieve the Empire's Sanction en-route to get their necks broken by the savages which lurked beyond Al Zahbi's walls.

Raubahn and Amnaf were probably together on that street now; heads severed and strung high thanks to his failure to protect the Empress when it mattered. The Imoortals... they were a unit established to protect the Empress whereas mortals couldn't. That was the reason they were created, the reason they existed as monsters free to act with the Empire's blessing.... yet he couldn't even live up to that, couldn't even harness the powers given to him appropriately to protect her. ...All of the Immortals would have all been killed upon the news of the Empresses death. He'd failed. Therefore, they'd failed.

Silently, he poured himself more tea while trying hard to not let memory resume. ...Monsters couldn't cry. He knew that, but he didn't know why he felt like he could.

weathergate — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 00:23:18 GMT

Characters; Nue Everglenn (nue_everglenn), Nathaniel Harrowgate (weathergate)
Setting/Location; Port Avarita, New Utopia.
Date & Time; Day Three, about 9AM.
Warnings; None.
Briefing; Nue insists Nate visit NU. Investigation of rumors concerning Louis Harrowgate. Probably a lot of mother henning, too.

Traveling from country to country was a non-issue if one had the proper method, and luckily for him, James Valor's permission to leave Valora for the day granted him access to that proper method. Travel took mere moments rather than hours or days, even if it did sometimes come at the price of a sensation of vertigo.

Exhaling softly, Nate withdrew his hand from the surface of the pillar, opening his eyes as he took a few steps away from the immediate area surrounding the object. Next on the agenda was a quick gander around the heart of New Utopia's capital, Port Avarita. Though early, it was lively with people going about their daily business-- the city itself rather basic in structure, with gravel and dirt roads even, but it was comfortable. There was no sign of its leader yet, however, and he decided the wisest course of action would be to linger and wait for her arrival.

[CLOSED; work in process]

soiled314 — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 19:57:58 GMT

Characters; Mello & Sasarai
Setting/Location; Near the border of New Utopia, in Valora
Date & Time; About two months ago.
Warnings; There might be violence and strong language?
Briefing; Desperate situations call desperate measures and unlikely (hesitant) alliances.

The cloak served poorly as a uniform in actual battle situation, Sasarai had concluded long before the first clashing with Ex Favila's brigade had ended. It got heavy with rain, got in the way, and provided only meager protection against injuries. The only reason he was still wearing it was because the hood effectively blocked the rain from clouding his vision. At the moment he was in process of tearing the hem of it into makeshift bandages, his hand slippery on the wet handle of his knife and shaking just slightly of both lack of energy and after shock of adrenalin wearing thin within his veins.

The mission had gone from troublesome to nightmarish in just mere seconds when instead of few patrols of Valora's soldiers they had found an empty prison and a group of equally confused Ex Favila's soldiers. Sasarai wasn't quite sure what had started the fight, he remembered hearing gun shots, and in the next moment chaos had already rained blood and pain over them all. Stuttering commands, unfocused spells, narrow corridors quickly painted with sprays of blood and panicked shouts of soldiers, both friendly and not. Someone had pulled him along when the retreat command came, yanked his arm until his shoulder felt sore and out of place. That someone had been cut down by a soldier in a jumpsuit, goggles glaring at him behind a smoking gun. The spell words had felt clumsy and broken when slipping from his tongue, rolling out imperfect but generous enough to take an effect. He remembered clawing a wall with bloodied fingers, crying out when a bullet snipped at his arm and expecting the better aimed one to reach more lethal spot as the ground shook and earth parted at the force of his spell. To his surprise, what had happened was not a gunshot to end his existence, but something completely else.

Something that now occupied the same flimsy cover they had found between storage buildings at the out rims of the compound, something in Ex Favila's colors, completed with sharp eyes, terrible burn marks on his face and a messy blond hair. Sasarai knew neither his name, not that it mattered either, nor his rank or anything about him, except that he seemed to be in disfavor of the idea of fighting with a lonely Verity soldier when they were surrounded with troops of well rested and battle-ready Valoran army.

Sasarai studied the other soldier quietly while yanking tight the bandages around his bicep, breathing out a small grunt at the sting of parted flesh being pushed back together. It was not perfect, but would stop the bleeding and allow him to use the arm for now. The rest of the 'bandages' he shoved into the small bag he carried on his belt, maybe they'd serve some purpose later on. There was no trust wasted between them, just a wordless agreement of desperate times calling for desperate measures.

"It's damp enough to be feasible if I lift a mist. We can use it as a cover to find a better hideout," he said quietly as he leaned forward, back against a cement wall, and glanced around the corner to the street that connected the warehouses. He brushed back the hood of his cloak, just slightly to provide himself a clearer view on the surroundings, his fingers rubbed damply over a streak of blood on his pale cheek, smearing it over a high arch of a cheekbone.

COOL SCAVENGER HUNT, BRO. [open; in progress]

m_sfire — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 09:01:47 GMT

Characters; Open to everyone in Exfag
Setting/Location; Ex Favila, base-wide
Date & Time; Day 3, 1:30 AM - 12:00 PM
Warnings; Violence + food + liquor + a uniquely Exfag brand of idiocy
Briefing; ~~Titties~~ Attilic wants vodka cake. The hunt begins!

NOTE: For organization/efficiency's sake, anyone from 2nd Brigade with ingredients in their tent should post a new thread, and whoever is going after those ingredients should reply to that thread. Officers, civilians, etc. can drop in anywhere.

Asscrack of the day, Ex Favila base, frozen hell special with idiot dressing.

And how long did the head drunk plan on keeping those damn alarms on for? Not that he wasn't enjoying the occasional lesser drunk careening across the base running away from invisible disaster, but even Mello had some objections to working with constant screeching in the background this early. There were, however, advantages to needing less sleep than your average insomniac, give or take a few bars of chocolate.

Not that he had much faith in this so-called mission yielding much of use, but it was relatively easy to accomplish and yielded possible leverage with the head drunk; nothing to lose except sleep and a few decibels off his hearing (possibly a bit of skin, if 2nd Brigade was back by now).

Gun holstered (always be ready for contingencies), ingredient list memorized, and plan of attack in line, Mello stepped into the cold and made a beeline for Cabin #6; if it was a race Attilic wanted to watch, he would just have to make sure it was a disappointing one.

[Closed; Progressing] Where is thy brother?

ghg_chapel — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 02:24:20 GMT

Characters; Wolfwood and Livio
Setting/Location; Ex Favila; outside baracks -> drinking hall
Date & Time; Day 2, late night
Warnings; Extreme stupidity and Trigun manga spoilers
Briefing; Livio arrives and there's some catching up between brothers. This includes attempts in getting drunk.

Wolfwood couldn't believe this. Livio? Here? Despite other people's insistence, Wolfwood associated this place to the underworld from afterlife. There were all the fitting signs, batshit insane people, stinking environment, eternal suffering from war and pain, not to mention the place was physically underground.

Except Livio insisted he wasn't die and Wolfwood knew for a fact just how hard it was to kill the little bastard. After all, he had first hand experience, and that ended well. Which, he suppose, it really did since Livio was able to claim he was still alive after all. But that was a path of thinking that brought up strong turbulent emotions that Wolfwood did not want to untangle.

The priest stomped out of his tent with only a brief glance at the pile of splinters by the entrance. For the sake of his crazy cabinmate, he slammed the tent flap as he left. It was incredibly disappointing when it flopped.

"Argh!" Ruffling a hand through his tossled hair, Wolfwood stormed to meet another frustrating kid.

Snake, have you ever seen 'Plan 9 from Outer Space'?

inherent_sin — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 21:44:51 GMT

Characters; Big Boss, ZOMBIES & anyone else!
Setting/Location; Verity / Cabin #6
Date & Time; Day 2, Evening
Warnings; ZOMBIES (that said: there's violence and some disturbing imagery in here. Don't click if you're not one for the horror genre)
Briefing; Big Boss returns back to his cabin only to find a horde of Zombies inside it, craving for his flesh! In his desperation, he sends out a distress call! Will he lose what little brain he has to some hungry undeads, or will he be saved in time?! What will happen to him!? You decide! PS: If anyone could NPC some Zombies for us here, that'd be seriously awesome.

It wasn't exactly the first time that he's come across those Zombie things -- ever since he'd seen the first one of them almost three months ago from a distance, and thought back to what Dr. Cla--Para-Medic had explained about them to him, he'd dreamt about them. Not pleasant dreams, mind you, more like the ones he'd usually have after someone saw fit to tell him about vampire stories/movies/books just for fun.

...He still wasn't scared. The living dead just weren't a very comfortable topic to talk about, that was all.

However, this was definitely the first time he'd literally encountered them in his bedroom, so to speak. The realization took a moment to sink in, as well as the fact that he was unarmed (Ocelot's fault, definitely), and as the first rotten, decaying body -- god, that stench -- began to moan and move awkwardly towards him trying to bite him in the goddamn shoulder, Jack turned on his heel and slammed the door back shut.

Too bad the lock was broken. Oh, just his luck. They must have chewed on that first.

At least his roommates had been able to avoid ending up as zombie food, so that was something. So, after making all three nations aware of his misery (wow), all Big Boss could do was waiting, and trying to keep the door where it was to avoid an outbreak. And failing. If Para-Medic were here now -- Oh Snake, you survived a real zombie apocalypse?! That's so -- cool!

I don't think cool is the right word. He sighed, a suspicious creaaaaak coming from the door in his back. After witnessing a giant robot kill one of his buddies on the network and listen to Mikhail take a dump (???), he decided that this was definitely not his day. At least he wouldn't have to meet up with Solid now and listen to his sob story, but like that was any consolation.

Clang!

...Was that the door hinge?

[closed; in progress] Hello, hello

intothedawn — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 16:32:09 GMT

Characters; Sora and Riku
Setting/Location; Cabin eight in Verity
Date & Time; Midday, Day two. After this
Warnings; Criminal amounts of retardedness. B| What do you do man. These are KH characters. What do you do.
Briefing; They're getting out of here. Well, Riku's gonna try. Sora's telling him why this might not be such a good idea. =)

O-Oh ... he's at the door?

He's at the door!

Sora's up and on his feet with lightning-quick speed, all but leaping from where he'd been sat comfortably drip-drying on his little cot. Although he'd pulled on his shirt and shorts immediately after he'd left the showers he's still undeniably damp, and his towel-dried hair is sticking in wavy tendrils to his forehead, cheeks and neck. Carefully tiptoeing through the 'organized mess' left by his room mates, he makes it to the door without major catastrophe and flings it open to greet his friend with a glowing smile.

"Hey ... what's a guy like you doing in a place like this, huh?"

He giggles, taking Riku by the hand and pulling him in.

Riku won't allow himself to be pulled, for the moment. Honestly, seeing his friend here makes for... a lot more difficulties than it should have (which is sort of a bad thing - they're friends and that shouldn't be hard), but that wasn't his main concern here, at this moment.

"Same reason you are, dork. One question, though. Why didn't you ask about your other friends?"

He cocks his head to the side marginally, fixing Riku with a 'wow you're stupid' kind of look.

"Uh ... well I'm guessing Donald and Goofy are back home the King, aren't they? I've just got you and Kairi to keep track of now! Anyway, aren't you gonna come in?"

He fixes a standard "what the crap" look on Sora in return. He isn't moving until Sora explains himself. Considering Sora, this could take a while.

"Back home? What are you talking about?"

He blinks.

"What're you talking about? Did you hit your head on the way back, or something?"

"No, that's your thing. What do you remember?"

Sora moves to poke him in the middle of his chest, a slight frown drawing his brows together and curving his lips into a pout.

"Why are you being weird about it? You seriously don't remember beating Xemnas? Doesn't seem like something so easy forgotten, if you ask me ..."

He huffs, folding his arms across his chest and taking a step back.

"We did it together! You and me ... then everything went back to normal. Kairi helped us find our way home with her message in a bottle, and now it's all gonna be okay. Right?"

"... We beat him?" Now Riku's... a little puzzled. Worried, maybe. He puts a hand to his head, combing through his bangs. What in the...? "I don't remember any of that".

... Sigh. Riku looks down at Sora. He looks too hopeful for Riku to stay too... well, disturbed. He walks in. "Figures your place would be this messy."