"Hey, I don't doubt it. I've actually fought alongside someone like yourself, a young farmer by the name of Mozu who joined the army after a.... Unfortunate incident." Takumi grimaced, "despite her background and youth, she quickly became one of the strongest soldiers in the army."
"Okay, we'll be leaving now." Greenie said. A bit of pain lanced through Tukson's head as the two left. Ignoring the pain, Tukson turned to return to the back room. His bag was there, and he needed to leave. Now. Hurrying past the boxes, he scooped up his travel bag, and left the shop using the back door. From the back alley, he hung a left and emerged onto the street, where he would be safe from attackers simply by being in plain sight. Believing in his safety, Tukson calmly walked down a few blocks and turned into another alley. It wasn't a moment too soon, as a drab looking truck pulled up. The woman in the cab smiled and gestured to the back of the truck. Without a word, Tukson clambered into the back of the truck and took a seat next to the opening. He nodded at the other occupants before pulling a book out of his pocket.
Late that evening, Bahzell stopped at the way marker on the high road. Seeing no "truck" (whatever that was), he sat down, lit his pipe, and readied himself for a wait. Had Tomanak not reassured him that this "Fifth Legion" was indeed who they claimed to be, he'd have suspected someone was trying to get him alone for an assassination attempt. Not that they would enjoy the experience very much, as his many, many dead enemies would attest.
Sure enough, half an hour later, a green... wagon? came down the road, a loud clattering coming from the front, followed by a squeal as it came to a halt. The small woman sitting up front gestured towards the back, and he got up, shaking his head in wonder. A wagon, with no horse to pull it. He briefly wondered how it moved, and then shoved that to the back of his mind. He was sure it would be explained at some point.
As he stepped in, he let out a chuckle at what old Kilthan would have given for wagons like this in his caravans.
Looking over the other occupants, he nodded. Most carried themselves like the knew what they were doing, even if the blonde woman's outfit was an... odd choice for a warrior. Still, he would give her benefit of the doubt. It was hardly as if the chari and yathu the war maids favored offered any more protection.
His experienced eyes roamed across the remaining occupants as he took his seat, offering a nod of acknowlegement to the man in the corner, and raised an eyebrow at the halfling. Well, she wouldn't be here if she couldn't handle herself.
His gaze continued onwards to the final occupant of the strange carriage, only to raise his eyebrows in astonishment. The final occupant was a dragon, that much was clear, but completely unlike the ones he recognized from his travels. Probably for the best. The beings' odd approach to time and causality was trying even with a friendly wizard to interpret.
Satisfied that he was where he was meant to be, Bahzell leaned back in his seat and began listening to his fellow passengers. Better to keep quiet and be thought a fool here, than to open his mouth and confirm it.
Before she could act on it, the space energy dragon thingy spoke up, to her surprise... and promptly said something that would've made Numbuh 86 froth at the mouth.
"... Really?" she said, turning to face the dragon, skepticism oozing from her.
Upon hearing the "Space Dragon" proclaim his divinity, Tukson looked up from his rather entertaining book. "So you're saying that you're a capital G god? What did you do, blow up a planet or somethin'?" He asked, only a hint of snark in his voice.
Bahzell shrugged, though the set of his ears betrayed his nonchalant tone for the mask it was. "Aye, I've heard of such happening. When the Gods of Light and Dark battle over a world, they're after having to be careful not to put too much power into it, lest they destroy it by accident, which is why they empower mortal Champions. That's how I was after making Himself's acquaintance."
As he spoke, Bahzell's gaze never left the self-proclaimed god, carefully watching for its reaction.
"Creator of the Stars, huh? That's a claim to fame if I ever heard one." Tukson commented, before turning back to his book. "That said, I don't believe in you, or any god."
Bahzell raised an eyebrow. "Well now. That seems a mite foolish, though I can understand having no truck with gods or their business. Why, when I was young and foolish, Himself had to pester me into becoming His champion."
He paused, holding his hand as if it was gripping an imaginary sword, pointed at the floor between them, and then a single word rolled forth in a baritone fit to shake the very ground. "Come."
Suddenly, five and a half feet of steel flashed into existence between the two with a shimmer of blue-white light, and Bahzell tilted the sword so that the crossed mace and sword caught the light.
"I won't be after trying to make you change your beliefs, but it seems to me that only a fool denies what is in his face. And I will be after telling you when you have your facts wrong."
Tukson glanced at the rather impressive sword in the man's hand. "Nice sword. Now, while I'm sure that where you're from there are many wonderful gods, where I'm from, there's not a single benevolent one. Otherwise, humanity might not constantly be at the edge of extinction at the hand of the Grimm. Theology stopped being popular a long time ago." He paused. "Now before this discussion get too heated, may I know your name? I'd rather not have to refer to you as "The Godly Man with the Sword." I'm Tukson."
"You wouldn't be the first, and won't be the last."
Aurelion Sol snorted derisively, old memories of Targon and its various uppity Pantheons rose to the surface of his ancient mind.
"Ah yes, the gods, although mortals have been known for gross misuse of the term, do occasionally bestow powers upon mortals to do their dirty works. Rest assured that I am above such parlor tricks. Although, what god would sweat themselves over breaking one ball of dirt in their battles? Your are certainly...strange."
Aurelion Sol nodded approvingly, a little smile tugged at the corner of its lips.
"A wise belief, certainly not as self-centered as mortals are bound to be. An average man would not take a second of his day to answer an ant's pleads, assuming he could even hear them. Why should an average god be any different?"
And, with that, 362's opinion of the dragon thing plummeted to the mantle of the Earth. Soon, the conversation ventured into religious things, which the Operative really couldn't care less about. So she spent her time checking and cleaning her rifle, more out of a desire to have something to do than because it was needed.
Shadow had spent a good half hour waiting at the road the recruiter had told him to be at at the appointed time. Honestly, finding the recruiter had been harder than finding this place... whatever.
The sound of a motor pulled Shadow from his reverie, and he looked up just in time to see the truck pull up. Obeying the driver's nonverbal instructions, he headed to the back and hopped in, settling on an unclaimed seat just before the truck started moving again.
"It's thinking I am, then, that introductions are in order. I am after being Bahzell Bahnakson, Champion of Tomanak. It's skilled I'm after being with sword, shield, and arbalest. As one of Himself's champions, I can heal, though it is tiring."
"You can call me Numbuh 362," the Operative said, snapping her rifle together,"Special Forces... Well, ex-Special Forces now, with five or so years of experience in the former Yugoslavia, Saudi Arabia, Afganistan, China, the Congo and... Rwanda."
Shadow sat in silence listening to the debate about gods, having no real opinion on the matter. He hadn't been around in time to get an opinion on what Chaos was, and while the sun-worshipping religion of Soleanna was quaint, Shadow didn't really think it had much substance to some of its claims.
Then people started introducing themselves, and...
Before she could act on it, the space energy dragon thingy spoke up, to her surprise... and promptly said something that would've made Numbuh 86 froth at the mouth.
"... Really?" she said, turning to face the dragon, skepticism oozing fr
"You can call me Numbuh 362," the Operative said, snapping her rifle together,"Special Forces... Well, ex-Special Forces now, with five or so years of experience in the former Yugoslavia, Saudi Arabia, Afganistan, China, the Congo and... Rwanda."
Iowa was perplexed. "What's the minimum age at which your nation's government allows people to volunteer for SpecForce? Back home, in the good old USA, it's 18."
Iowa was perplexed. "What's the minimum age at which your nation's government allows people to volunteer for SpecForce? Back home, in the good old USA, it's 18."
"Well, the KND isn't technically a nation," 362 said, "More of an NGO, even though we do hold the moon and the orbitals. But we start recruiting at five or six years old. Four on occasion."
Iowa was perplexed. "What's the minimum age at which your nation's government allows people to volunteer for SpecForce? Back home, in the good old USA, it's 18."
"Well, the KND isn't technically a nation," 362 said, "More of an NGO, even though we do hold the moon and the orbitals. But we start recruiting at five or six years old. Four on occasion."
"Five to six years old," 362 corrected, "We lower the minimum age requirement during emergencies, or for certain individuals as defined by our rules. I signed up on my fifth birthday and underwent a year and change of training."
She shrugged. "Then again, I'm an Operative. If I'd joined the Infantry Regiments, I'd only gotten 16 weeks of training at the most."
Shadow raised an eyebrow at her, but decided to not continue the conversation. USA? Huh. Sounds kinda-ish familiar... wait, weren't they one of the founding members of G.U.N.?
And that train of thought was derailed by the statement the child made there.
"Excuse me, I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Did you say four to six years old?"
"Five to six years old," 362 corrected, "We lower the minimum age requirement during emergencies, or for certain individuals as defined by our rules. I signed up on my fifth birthday and underwent a year and change of training."
She shrugged. "Then again, I'm an Operative. If I'd joined the Infantry Regiments, I'd only gotten 16 weeks of training at the most."
"Five to six years old," 362 corrected, "We lower the minimum age requirement during emergencies, or for certain individuals as defined by our rules. I signed up on my fifth birthday and underwent a year and change of training."
She shrugged. "Then again, I'm an Operative. If I'd joined the Infantry Regiments, I'd only gotten 16 weeks of training at the most."
Shadow sat back. "Guess some things stay the same across universe - well, if you substitute 'controlling the Moon and orbitals' to 'blowing up stuff in them'."
Tukson took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "I was previously part of the Faunus Rights group, the White Fang. A few years back they turned from peaceful protests to terrorism. When that happened, I left without informing anyone. They kill those who leave in any way. So I left and once they found where I was, they sent assassins after me. I barely escaped them, and now here I am."
Shadow sat back. "Guess some things stay the same across universe - well, if you substitute 'controlling the Moon and orbitals' to 'blowing up stuff in them'."
"You'd be surprised at how quickly governments start sucking up to you when you send them one of their spy satellites in a shipping container," 362 said, smiling slightly.
Tukson took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "I was previously part of the Faunus Rights group, the White Fang. A few years back they turned from peaceful protests to terrorism. When that happened, I left without informing anyone. They kill those who leave in any way. So I left and once they found where I was, they sent assassins after me. I barely escaped them, and now here I am."
Tukson took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "I was previously part of the Faunus Rights group, the White Fang. A few years back they turned from peaceful protests to terrorism. When that happened, I left without informing anyone. They kill those who leave in any way. So I left and once they found where I was, they sent assassins after me. I barely escaped them, and now here I am."
Bahzell nodded, cocking an ear sympathetically. "A better reason than many. As to this 'Faunus Rights', I'm thinking that there's a story there, but for later."
He turned to 'Numbah 362', his voice taking on a rather unhappy tone.
"Now, unless your Race of Man finishes their growing a lot quicker than I'm after thinking it does, I believe you just told us your organization recruits children as soldiers. I'm hoping you have a very good reason."
As he said this, his gaze hardened, and his brown eyes fixed her in an iron stare.
Being a truck that has it's canopy up, the PCs inside wouldn't be able to see much of the outside, but as the truck went along, they could hear the roar of jets overhead and the rumble of vehicles rolling here and there. The truck briefly stopped, as the driver needed to identify herself at the entrance, but after that they entered the base.
It was a military base, and yet the level of activity was more like a small town. Soldiers and civilian contractors alike walked, or ran, here and there, off on their own errands. The soldiers were of different races, both the human kind and the kind that meant species other than human. Orcs. Elves. Aliens. The soldiers were also diverse in ways other than species, as well. Many were adult and male, as one would expect of soldiers, but there were also many servicewomen as well. There were adults, teens, and even little kids every once in a while. The only thing they had in common was that they wore modern-looking (to our sensibilities, anyways) military wear. Digitalcamo and all that.
The truck would stop outside a Barracks building with the words Fifth World Foreign Legion painted on one side.
The upright panel at the back of the truck swung down, and a series of crude metal steps on hinges swung out for use in dismounting. When the PCs hit the ground, they wound be met by four girls waiting just outside of the truck. Two were children, but the other two were older, closer to young adults.
The young lady with the hat and a tan waved lazily at them.
"Heya there. The name's Waltrud Krupinski. Flying Officer, and your newly-assigned CO! But I don't care for all that formal military crap. If you want, you can call me Countess~"
The response of the white-haired woman was to smack Krupinski with the rod she carries around.
"Ouch!"
"Flying Officer, how on Earth will these recruits take you seriously if you keep flirting with every living thing that moves?" she admonished her.
"Yeah, yeah, you know you like it... And this cutie here is Hikari-chan! Say hello, Hikari-chan!" she said, slapping the younger brunette in the navy blue navy uniform in the back, hard.
"Ah! Erm, Sergeant Hikari Karibuchi, at your service!" she said to the PCs, bowing deeply to them. "Please treat me well!"
"Hey, hey, Hikari-chan, that's not how it works. You outrank them, so they should be the ones asking you to treat them well!"
"Um, I don't think now's a good time to joke around right now, Krupinski-dono..."
Meanwhile, the girl with the scarf was eyeing the Recruits, unimpressed. "So these are guys Command thinks will turn this war around?" she asked, incredulous.
"And that optimistic lass over there is Kanno-chan."
"That's Pilot Officer Kanno to you nuggets." she huffed.
The stern, white-haired woman spoke up. "Anyways, compared to the other arrivals, your group came in the latest, so time for getting to know you and the Barracks will be kept for after the ceremony. Follow me and the Flying Officer at once up to the Third Floor, where your bunks are. You must all change into your Dress Uniform for the inauguration ceremony, post-haste." she said, her voice as composed and commanding as someone twice her age.
The new PC's bunk (PC Bunk 2) was at the same floor, but on the other end of the building from the PC Bunk 1, so it was unlikely (though not impossible) for the two groups to run into each other by happenstance.
Their bunks looked identical, though.
The PCs of PC Bunk 2 did not yet fully occupy the bunk yet, so there were still several spare beds and empty lockers near the door.
Their sleeping arrangements were as follows:
LEFT WALL:
Windows
Aurelion
Shadow
Servo
Nathan
Bahzell
Spare Beds
Door
~~~~~~
RIGHT WALL:
Window
Rachel
Takumi
Iowa
Tukson
Spare Beds
Door
I'm tagging everyone 'cause the below is a more comprehensive look at the contents of everyone's lockers than what I described in earlier posts.
The contents of their lockers (all the uniforms were tailored and/or custom-made in some cases, to be perfect fits. Yes, even for the dragon and hedgehog) were as follows:
1 x Pair of Combat Boots
1 x Kepi (white with black visor)
2 x Dress Uniform (consists of white dress shirt and beige pants)
3 x Field Uniform (consists of jacket and trousers, digital woodland camo)
LEGION[/b]]
5 x PT Uniform (shirt and shorts)
1 x Reflective Belt
4 x Pairs of Long Socks (long as in going up until right below your knee, forest green)
Later, when the two of them landed somewhere and asked for directions, the passer-by that Patricia approached (a young man in military fatigues and a cap), pointed down the street.
"Erm, the garage is right that-a-way. Though, for the high-tech guys like you I think they'll have to bring in the specialists, which might take some time... By the way, you're from the Legion, right?" he asked, seeing her Foreign Legion dress uniform. "Isn't there an inauguration event you should be attending soon or something? If you're havin' problems, maybe you should just tell it to the CO or save it after the ceremony? Only takes a few minutes, from what I remember." he said, shrugging.
Hartmann walked into the room and, picking up the bong, considered it for a moment. She then discreetly kept it... somewhere on her person. She then addressed the PCs around her
"Umm... Trude's getting antsy downstairs, so better finish it up soon, guys." she said, before flopping on Alliera's bed. "And, erm, about Trude... she's a good person! Really, she is! She just has trouble reigning herself in a bit. I've been her best bud for years and, well, if I had a cent for every time she told me to Behave like a proper soldier of Karlsland, I'd could retire for the rest of my life right now. Which is why I always follow her around, whether she likes it or not!"
She jumps off the bed.
"So guys and girls, if you have something ya need to talk about, and find Trudy too intense for your liking, you can always talk to me: Auntie Erica!" She followed that up with a wink and smile.
Being a truck that has it's canopy up, the PCs inside wouldn't be able to see much of the outside, but as the truck went along, they could hear the roar of jets overhead and the rumble of vehicles rolling here and there. The truck briefly stopped, as the driver needed to identify herself at the entrance, but after that they entered the base.
It was a military base, and yet the level of activity was more like a small town. Soldiers and civilian contractors alike walked, or ran, here and there, off on their own errands. The soldiers were of different races, both the human kind and the kind that meant species other than human. Orcs. Elves. Aliens. The soldiers were also diverse in ways other than species, as well. Many were adult and male, as one would expect of soldiers, but there were also many servicewomen as well. There were adults, teens, and even little kids every once in a while. The only thing they had in common was that they wore modern-looking (to our sensibilities, anyways) military wear. Digitalcamo and all that.
The truck would stop outside a Barracks building with the words Fifth World Foreign Legion painted on one side.
The upright panel at the back of the truck swung down, and a series of crude metal steps on hinges swung out for use in dismounting. When the PCs hit the ground, they wound be met by four girls waiting just outside of the truck. Two were children, but the other two were older, closer to young adults.
The young lady with the hat and a tan waved lazily at them.
"Heya there. The name's Waltrud Krupinski. Flying Officer, and your newly-assigned CO! But I don't care for all that formal military crap. If you want, you can call me Countess~"
The response of the white-haired woman was to smack Krupinski with the rod she carries around.
"Ouch!"
"Flying Officer, how on Earth will these recruits take you seriously if you keep flirting with every living thing that moves?" she admonished her.
"Yeah, yeah, you know you like it... And this cutie here is Hikari-chan! Say hello, Hikari-chan!" she said, slapping the younger brunette in the navy blue navy uniform in the back, hard.
"Ah! Erm, Sergeant Hikari Karibuchi, at your service!" she said to the PCs, bowing deeply to them. "Please treat me well!"
"Hey, hey, Hikari-chan, that's not how it works. You outrank them, so they should be the ones asking you to treat them well!"
"Um, I don't think now's a good time to joke around right now, Krupinski-dono..."
Meanwhile, the girl with the scarf was eyeing the Recruits, unimpressed. "So these are guys Command thinks will turn this war around?" she asked, incredulous.
"And that optimistic lass over there is Kanno-chan."
"That's Pilot Officer Kanno to you nuggets." she huffed.
The stern, white-haired woman spoke up. "Anyways, compared to the other arrivals, your group came in the latest, so time for getting to know you and the Barracks will be kept for after the ceremony. Follow me and the Flying Officer at once up to the Third Floor, where your bunks are. You must all change into your Dress Uniform for the inauguration ceremony, post-haste." she said, her voice as composed and commanding as someone twice her age.
The new PC's bunk (PC Bunk 2) was at the same floor, but on the other end of the building from the PC Bunk 1, so it was unlikely (though not impossible) for the two groups to run into each other by happenstance.
Their bunks looked identical, though.
The PCs of PC Bunk 2 did not yet fully occupy the bunk yet, so there were still several spare beds and empty lockers near the door.
Their sleeping arrangements were as follows:
LEFT WALL:
Windows
Aurelion
Shadow
Servo
Nathan
Bahzell
Spare Beds
Door
~~~~~~
RIGHT WALL:
Window
Rachel
Takumi
Iowa
Tukson
Spare Beds
Door
I'm tagging everyone 'cause the below is a more comprehensive look at the contents of everyone's lockers than what I described in earlier posts.
The contents of their lockers (all the uniforms were tailored and/or custom-made in some cases, to be perfect fits. Yes, even for the dragon and hedgehog) were as follows:
1 x Pair of Combat Boots
1 x Kepi (white with black visor)
2 x Dress Uniform (consists of white dress shirt and beige pants)
3 x Field Uniform (consists of jacket and trousers, digital woodland camo)
LEGION[/b]]
5 x PT Uniform (shirt and shorts)
1 x Reflective Belt
4 x Pairs of Long Socks (long as in going up until right below your knee, forest green)
Later, when the two of them landed somewhere and asked for directions, the passer-by that Patricia approached (a young man in military fatigues and a cap), pointed down the street.
"Erm, the garage is right that-a-way. Though, for the high-tech guys like you I think they'll have to bring in the specialists, which might take some time... By the way, you're from the Legion, right?" he asked, seeing her Foreign Legion dress uniform. "Isn't there an inauguration event you should be attending soon or something? If you're havin' problems, maybe you should just tell it to the CO or save it after the ceremony? Only takes a few minutes, from what I remember." he said, shrugging.
Hartmann walked into the room and, picking up the bong, considered it for a moment. She then discreetly kept it... somewhere on her person. She then addressed the PCs around her
"Umm... Trude's getting antsy downstairs, so better finish it up soon, guys." she said, before flopping on Alliera's bed. "And, erm, about Trude... she's a good person! Really, she is! She just has trouble reigning herself in a bit. I've been her best bud for years and, well, if I had a cent for every time she told me to Behave like a proper soldier of Karlsland, I'd could retire for the rest of my life right now. Which is why I always follow her around, whether she likes it or not!"
She jumps off the bed.
"So guys and girls, if you have something ya need to talk about, and find Trudy too intense for your liking, you can always talk to me: Auntie Erica!" She followed that up with a wink and smile.
The Celestial Dragon shrugged as internalized who would be his....commanding officers.
Right.
Interesting choices.
Floating over to his bunk, silently questioning the need of a bunk for a floating, immortal space dragon, he picked up his painfully dull uniform. Not even a proper hat in sight. Boring!
"You know, I'm beginning to question the wisdom behind this." Aurelion Sol commented as he tried to slip on a pair of pants only for the piece of garment to fell through his ethereal lower body. A few attempts with the boots yield similar result. "Ah well, nobody wears pants around here anyway."
Being a truck that has it's canopy up, the PCs inside wouldn't be able to see much of the outside, but as the truck went along, they could hear the roar of jets overhead and the rumble of vehicles rolling here and there. The truck briefly stopped, as the driver needed to identify herself at the entrance, but after that they entered the base.
It was a military base, and yet the level of activity was more like a small town. Soldiers and civilian contractors alike walked, or ran, here and there, off on their own errands. The soldiers were of different races, both the human kind and the kind that meant species other than human. Orcs. Elves. Aliens. The soldiers were also diverse in ways other than species, as well. Many were adult and male, as one would expect of soldiers, but there were also many servicewomen as well. There were adults, teens, and even little kids every once in a while. The only thing they had in common was that they wore modern-looking (to our sensibilities, anyways) military wear. Digitalcamo and all that.
The truck would stop outside a Barracks building with the words Fifth World Foreign Legion painted on one side.
The upright panel at the back of the truck swung down, and a series of crude metal steps on hinges swung out for use in dismounting. When the PCs hit the ground, they wound be met by four girls waiting just outside of the truck. Two were children, but the other two were older, closer to young adults.
The young lady with the hat and a tan waved lazily at them.
"Heya there. The name's Waltrud Krupinski. Flying Officer, and your newly-assigned CO! But I don't care for all that formal military crap. If you want, you can call me Countess~"
The response of the white-haired woman was to smack Krupinski with the rod she carries around.
"Ouch!"
"Flying Officer, how on Earth will these recruits take you seriously if you keep flirting with every living thing that moves?" she admonished her.
"Yeah, yeah, you know you like it... And this cutie here is Hikari-chan! Say hello, Hikari-chan!" she said, slapping the younger brunette in the navy blue navy uniform in the back, hard.
"Ah! Erm, Sergeant Hikari Karibuchi, at your service!" she said to the PCs, bowing deeply to them. "Please treat me well!"
"Hey, hey, Hikari-chan, that's not how it works. You outrank them, so they should be the ones asking you to treat them well!"
"Um, I don't think now's a good time to joke around right now, Krupinski-dono..."
Meanwhile, the girl with the scarf was eyeing the Recruits, unimpressed. "So these are guys Command thinks will turn this war around?" she asked, incredulous.
"And that optimistic lass over there is Kanno-chan."
"That's Pilot Officer Kanno to you nuggets." she huffed.
The stern, white-haired woman spoke up. "Anyways, compared to the other arrivals, your group came in the latest, so time for getting to know you and the Barracks will be kept for after the ceremony. Follow me and the Flying Officer at once up to the Third Floor, where your bunks are. You must all change into your Dress Uniform for the inauguration ceremony, post-haste." she said, her voice as composed and commanding as someone twice her age.
Shadow followed without a word, more focused on the odd... empty feeling he had It was somewhat peculiar: almost like this place was... missing something.
The new PC's bunk (PC Bunk 2) was at the same floor, but on the other end of the building from the PC Bunk 1, so it was unlikely (though not impossible) for the two groups to run into each other by happenstance.
Their bunks looked identical, though.
The PCs of PC Bunk 2 did not yet fully occupy the bunk yet, so there were still several spare beds and empty lockers near the door.
Making a beeline to his locker, Shadow quickly and quietly changed into the dress uniform, making sure not to remove the golden bracelets on his wrists in the process. After he finished, he pulled the Emerald out into the open and bounced it on his palm.
Should I leave it in my locker, or... nah. No point; it's safer in the pocket.
Shadow returned the mystical gemstone to its pocket.
Tukson chuckled at the sight of the space dragon failing to put on pants before placing his small bag of personal supplies on his assigned bed. He then turned away from the others before pulling off his shirt and putting the dress shirt. A few moments later and he had done the same with the dress pants. Once his uniform was on, Tukson sat down and pulled a boom out of his pocket to read until they were summoned.
"Now, unless your Race of Man finishes their growing a lot quicker than I'm after thinking it does, I believe you just told us your organization recruits children as soldiers. I'm hoping you have a very good reason."
As he said this, his gaze hardened, and his brown eyes fixed her in an iron stare.
"Because who else is gonna step up when kid's rights are threatened?" she asked, "Adults? The cowards in the United Nations? Ha!" She laughed. "No. It's up to us. We are the ones freeing slaves from carpet factories in Saudi Arabia and Quatar. We are the ones protecting schools from Taliban and making safe zones in Afganistan. And we were the ones who went into Rwanda when the adults sat there and freaking watched!"
She huffed, exhaling violently to calm herself down. Then she continued, "Even in "modern" and "civilized" countries we're second class citizens at best and cheap labour at worst. Why pay an adult money when you can snatch up some kids and make them do the same for a handful of sweets? That's why the KND was created; by kids, and for kids. We give up out childhood, willingly, so others can have one, and I am proud to serve with them."
Being a truck that has it's canopy up, the PCs inside wouldn't be able to see much of the outside, but as the truck went along, they could hear the roar of jets overhead and the rumble of vehicles rolling here and there. The truck briefly stopped, as the driver needed to identify herself at the entrance, but after that they entered the base.
It was a military base, and yet the level of activity was more like a small town. Soldiers and civilian contractors alike walked, or ran, here and there, off on their own errands. The soldiers were of different races, both the human kind and the kind that meant species other than human. Orcs. Elves. Aliens. The soldiers were also diverse in ways other than species, as well. Many were adult and male, as one would expect of soldiers, but there were also many servicewomen as well. There were adults, teens, and even little kids every once in a while. The only thing they had in common was that they wore modern-looking (to our sensibilities, anyways) military wear. Digitalcamo and all that.
The truck would stop outside a Barracks building with the words Fifth World Foreign Legion painted on one side.
Soon, however, the truck finally reached its destination, and 362 stopped what she was doing to look at her surroundings as best she could.
She was a bit surprised to see children amongst the staff already present, but expertly hid it, merely giving a few waves to whoever paused to look at her.
The upright panel at the back of the truck swung down, and a series of crude metal steps on hinges swung out for use in dismounting. When the PCs hit the ground, they wound be met by four girls waiting just outside of the truck. Two were children, but the other two were older, closer to young adults.
The young lady with the hat and a tan waved lazily at them.
"Heya there. The name's Waltrud Krupinski. Flying Officer, and your newly-assigned CO! But I don't care for all that formal military crap. If you want, you can call me Countess~"
The response of the white-haired woman was to smack Krupinski with the rod she carries around.
"Ouch!"
"Flying Officer, how on Earth will these recruits take you seriously if you keep flirting with every living thing that moves?" she admonished her.
"Yeah, yeah, you know you like it... And this cutie here is Hikari-chan! Say hello, Hikari-chan!" she said, slapping the younger brunette in the navy blue navy uniform in the back, hard.
"Ah! Erm, Sergeant Hikari Karibuchi, at your service!" she said to the PCs, bowing deeply to them. "Please treat me well!"
"Hey, hey, Hikari-chan, that's not how it works. You outrank them, so they should be the ones asking you to treat them well!"
"Um, I don't think now's a good time to joke around right now, Krupinski-dono..."
"Actually, I'm a lieutenant," 362 softly noted, pointing at the tiny rank patch on her shoulder, "But that's in my own military."
Meanwhile, the girl with the scarf was eyeing the Recruits, unimpressed. "So these are guys Command thinks will turn this war around?" she asked, incredulous.
"And that optimistic lass over there is Kanno-chan."
"That's Pilot Officer Kanno to you nuggets." she huffed.
The stern, white-haired woman spoke up. "Anyways, compared to the other arrivals, your group came in the latest, so time for getting to know you and the Barracks will be kept for after the ceremony. Follow me and the Flying Officer at once up to the Third Floor, where your bunks are. You must all change into your Dress Uniform for the inauguration ceremony, post-haste." she said, her voice as composed and commanding as someone twice her age.
The new PC's bunk (PC Bunk 2) was at the same floor, but on the other end of the building from the PC Bunk 1, so it was unlikely (though not impossible) for the two groups to run into each other by happenstance.
362 looked around at the bunk, pleasantly surprised at the accommodations.
Certainly better than what I got in my last deployment with Sector S...
Shaking her head to keep from going down memory lane, she quickly found her bunk and set about getting everything stowed away, long-distant basic training helping her do so. She was further surprised to find that there was already kit in the lockers.
Huh. Spare boots. Neat!
She mulled over the uniforms she'd found, laying them down on the bed next to the two she'd brought with her. One was vaguely similar to the Legion's field uniform, but was patterned in much darker colors, the shirt had buttons, and the collar folded flat. It was worn, and had several patches in worrying areas... but she couldn't help but hope she would get to use it, rather than the one that the Legion had provided for her.
The other was her old Dress uniform. It was a dark grey dress jacket over a dark grey shirt, and a pair of black pants and shoes.
More important was the black beret, with the silver insignia of Sector S; a knife and rifle crossed behind an eye, surrounded by the motto.
We will find you.
She took it, and held it in her hands, feeling the cloth under calloused fingers. There was no way that 362 could get away with wearing the KND dress uniform, but the beret was a hallmark of special forces groups around the world, and the most important link to the now-dissolute Sector she'd belonged to.
And then there was the medals. She glanced at the case of them that she'd brought and grimaced. Should she wear them? Could she wear them, even? KND regulations required that she wear them in formal occasions...
"... Does anyone know what the dress code is in this place?" she asked out loud.
"Because who else is gonna step up when kid's rights are threatened?" she asked, "Adults? The cowards in the United Nations? Ha!" She laughed. "No. It's up to us. We are the ones freeing slaves from carpet factories in Saudi Arabia and Quatar. We are the ones protecting schools from Taliban and making safe zones in Afganistan. And we were the ones who went into Rwanda when the adults sat there and freaking watched!"
She huffed, exhaling violently to calm herself down. Then she continued, "Even in "modern" and "civilized" countries we're second class citizens at best and cheap labour at worst. Why pay an adult money when you can snatch up some kids and make them do the same for a handful of sweets? That's why the KND was created; by kids, and for kids. We give up out childhood, willingly, so others can have one, and I am proud to serve with them."
Being a truck that has it's canopy up, the PCs inside wouldn't be able to see much of the outside, but as the truck went along, they could hear the roar of jets overhead and the rumble of vehicles rolling here and there. The truck briefly stopped, as the driver needed to identify herself at the entrance, but after that they entered the base.
It was a military base, and yet the level of activity was more like a small town. Soldiers and civilian contractors alike walked, or ran, here and there, off on their own errands. The soldiers were of different races, both the human kind and the kind that meant species other than human. Orcs. Elves. Aliens. The soldiers were also diverse in ways other than species, as well. Many were adult and male, as one would expect of soldiers, but there were also many servicewomen as well. There were adults, teens, and even little kids every once in a while. The only thing they had in common was that they wore modern-looking (to our sensibilities, anyways) military wear. Digitalcamo and all that.
The truck would stop outside a Barracks building with the words Fifth World Foreign Legion painted on one side.
The upright panel at the back of the truck swung down, and a series of crude metal steps on hinges swung out for use in dismounting. When the PCs hit the ground, they wound be met by four girls waiting just outside of the truck. Two were children, but the other two were older, closer to young adults.
The young lady with the hat and a tan waved lazily at them.
"Heya there. The name's Waltrud Krupinski. Flying Officer, and your newly-assigned CO! But I don't care for all that formal military crap. If you want, you can call me Countess~"
The response of the white-haired woman was to smack Krupinski with the rod she carries around.
"Ouch!"
"Flying Officer, how on Earth will these recruits take you seriously if you keep flirting with every living thing that moves?" she admonished her.
"Yeah, yeah, you know you like it... And this cutie here is Hikari-chan! Say hello, Hikari-chan!" she said, slapping the younger brunette in the navy blue navy uniform in the back, hard.
"Ah! Erm, Sergeant Hikari Karibuchi, at your service!" she said to the PCs, bowing deeply to them. "Please treat me well!"
"Hey, hey, Hikari-chan, that's not how it works. You outrank them, so they should be the ones asking you to treat them well!"
"Um, I don't think now's a good time to joke around right now, Krupinski-dono..."
Meanwhile, the girl with the scarf was eyeing the Recruits, unimpressed. "So these are guys Command thinks will turn this war around?" she asked, incredulous.
"And that optimistic lass over there is Kanno-chan."
"That's Pilot Officer Kanno to you nuggets." she huffed.
The stern, white-haired woman spoke up. "Anyways, compared to the other arrivals, your group came in the latest, so time for getting to know you and the Barracks will be kept for after the ceremony. Follow me and the Flying Officer at once up to the Third Floor, where your bunks are. You must all change into your Dress Uniform for the inauguration ceremony, post-haste." she said, her voice as composed and commanding as someone twice her age.
The new PC's bunk (PC Bunk 2) was at the same floor, but on the other end of the building from the PC Bunk 1, so it was unlikely (though not impossible) for the two groups to run into each other by happenstance.
Their bunks looked identical, though.
The PCs of PC Bunk 2 did not yet fully occupy the bunk yet, so there were still several spare beds and empty lockers near the door.
Their sleeping arrangements were as follows:
LEFT WALL:
Windows
Aurelion
Shadow
Servo
Nathan
Bahzell
Spare Beds
Door
~~~~~~
RIGHT WALL:
Window
Rachel
Takumi
Iowa
Tukson
Spare Beds
Door
I'm tagging everyone 'cause the below is a more comprehensive look at the contents of everyone's lockers than what I described in earlier posts.
The contents of their lockers (all the uniforms were tailored and/or custom-made in some cases, to be perfect fits. Yes, even for the dragon and hedgehog) were as follows:
1 x Pair of Combat Boots
1 x Kepi (white with black visor)
2 x Dress Uniform (consists of white dress shirt and beige pants)
3 x Field Uniform (consists of jacket and trousers, digital woodland camo)
LEGION[/b]]
5 x PT Uniform (shirt and shorts)
1 x Reflective Belt
4 x Pairs of Long Socks (long as in going up until right below your knee, forest green)
Later, when the two of them landed somewhere and asked for directions, the passer-by that Patricia approached (a young man in military fatigues and a cap), pointed down the street.
"Erm, the garage is right that-a-way. Though, for the high-tech guys like you I think they'll have to bring in the specialists, which might take some time... By the way, you're from the Legion, right?" he asked, seeing her Foreign Legion dress uniform. "Isn't there an inauguration event you should be attending soon or something? If you're havin' problems, maybe you should just tell it to the CO or save it after the ceremony? Only takes a few minutes, from what I remember." he said, shrugging.
Hartmann walked into the room and, picking up the bong, considered it for a moment. She then discreetly kept it... somewhere on her person. She then addressed the PCs around her
"Umm... Trude's getting antsy downstairs, so better finish it up soon, guys." she said, before flopping on Alliera's bed. "And, erm, about Trude... she's a good person! Really, she is! She just has trouble reigning herself in a bit. I've been her best bud for years and, well, if I had a cent for every time she told me to Behave like a proper soldier of Karlsland, I'd could retire for the rest of my life right now. Which is why I always follow her around, whether she likes it or not!"
She jumps off the bed.
"So guys and girls, if you have something ya need to talk about, and find Trudy too intense for your liking, you can always talk to me: Auntie Erica!" She followed that up with a wink and smile.
The upright panel at the back of the truck swung down, and a series of crude metal steps on hinges swung out for use in dismounting. When the PCs hit the ground, they wound be met by four girls waiting just outside of the truck. Two were children, but the other two were older, closer to young adults.
As the truck ground to a halt, Bahzell, rose, keeping his eyes on 362. "It's a mad world you're after living in. We'll finish our discussion later."
As he stepped out, he raised an eyebrow at the... attire of three of their greeters. It was all perfectly normal, mind. Except for the lack of trousers. Especially given that several of the other people he could see were wearing pants, so clearly it wasn't a standard uniform.
"Heya there. The name's Waltrud Krupinski. Flying Officer, and your newly-assigned CO! But I don't care for all that formal military crap. If you want, you can call me Countess~"
The response of the white-haired woman was to smack Krupinski with the rod she carries around.
"Ouch!"
"Flying Officer, how on Earth will these recruits take you seriously if you keep flirting with every living thing that moves?" she admonished her.
As his new commander addressed them, Bahzell slammed a fist to his breastplate in salute. Even if they were quite possibly mad, he had signed up to join them, not the other way around, and he would at least try to treat it as normal.
"That's Pilot Officer Kanno to you nuggets." she huffed.
The stern, white-haired woman spoke up. "Anyways, compared to the other arrivals, your group came in the latest, so time for getting to know you and the Barracks will be kept for after the ceremony. Follow me and the Flying Officer at once up to the Third Floor, where your bunks are. You must all change into your Dress Uniform for the inauguration ceremony, post-haste." she said, her voice as composed and commanding as someone twice her age.
Well, at least some things never changed. He smiled, slightly, as he heard the familiar tone of a woman used to commanding. He pounded another salute, and walked off to the barracks, hoping that whatever their quartermasters had didn't fit him too poorly.
---
Bahzell nodded as he entered the barracks. It was rather similar to the barracks the Order's lay brothers used in the smaller chapter houses, and he immediately felt at home as he made his way to his bed. As he stripped out of his armor and surcoat with the ease of long practice, he inspected the uniforms that were laid out on his bed. Amazingly, it looked like their quartermaster had managed to find clothing that fit even his massive frame, and fit well, at that. He shrugged the one labeled "Dress uniform" on, carefully stowed his armor, sword, and the rest of his uniforms in his locker, and waited for the summons to the parade ground. Though he had to chuckle as Sol attempted to put on pants, only for them to fall through his immaterial lower body.
