Futuristic [DISCONTINUED] Dies Irae: Astral Fulcrum

[Zufaix]

Renee Aloensis
Location: Velika Prime, AICA, Firing Range
Interactions: None
Mentions: ThatWhichShouldBe | Worthlessplebian | Pilgrim59 | koala | LostHaven
Mobius Armaments: N/A
​

The obstacle course came and went. It was standard fare for military options... with the exception of the Zero-G field, Renee struggled witht that portion in particular as did others. Though aside from cursing her own inability to traverse through through zero gravity environments unimpeded, one green haired "Ogre" caught her interest in particular. Destroying the wooden plank served what purpose? As far as she was aware the only "competition" happening was purely thru the other cadets motivation. Major Pakston never denoted it was a race, though it was natural that some would feel the thrill of completing the course the fastest. It was like that even during basics in the Corps, and even more likely in other branches.

Regardless of people's natural tendency towards competition, deliberately sabotaging the course and potentially injuring the others truly served no purpose other than to antagonize the rest of the group. Surely there was another reason behind it? She would have to speak with him about it later, making a scene now would likely only aggravate him further.

---

Only a short break preceded the next course, which Renee moslty used to rehydrate and shower. Perhaps she should have taken it easier on the course? The white haired woman with the giant blade from earlier certianly didnt have any qualms about it. Too late to worry about the ramifications of that now though. Remembering from the syallbus they received earlier, weapons traning should be next.

Major Murise was a far cry from the instructors and officers from her time in the Corps, incredibly energetic and strangely... pleasant to listen too? Most instructors were more akin to Major Pakston in their demeanor so Major Murise was a breath of fresh air. Even if she had read the Thuri-Vee's manual cover to cover it would still likely hold interest. Soon after, the next exercise was revealed.

A killhouse huh?

Renee mused to herself whilst Major Muirse cleared the objective with haste. It was clear she was a veteran, even if she had become "rusty" as the Major herself put it. Fifty-two seconds with that accuracy was certainly nothing to sneeze at, though the following forty-five second mark was what Renee was aiming for. At that point, a new voice had broken through as Major Muirse finished up. Turning to see the new face, the uniform was the first thing Renee noticed. Seemed to be another cadet, though arriving late unfortunately. Renee felt for her, and while the concept of punctuality had all but been drilled into her head by her parents, its not a situation anyone would want to find themselves in. Giving her a solemn nod in understanding, questions started flowing in from the others, though some cadets had already begun running the gauntlet.

Renee watched with great interest, noting each of their methodologies as the cadets worked their way through the killhouse. First up was the white haired woman with the ever-present monotone expression, "L. Venhaus" according to the tag she wore. Belying her previous showcase, her movements were both fleet and efficient. Hardly a single move was wasted as she tore through the building with precision, even going further to demonstrate her split-second decision making skills after switching to melee. An impressive performance needless to say, and the results spoke for themselves being the first to pass Major Pakston's record.

Little time passed until the next cadet rounded the corner, tagged "R. Xirlenkia". His stance low as he entered the building, he proceeded to clear it with nearly as impressive a performance as the previous contender. Machine-like precision and movements. It was clear everyone had some worth to being accepted into this program. Concern did cross Renee's face as Xirlenkia completed the course. His shaking hands... likely not anxiety as he didn't seems so before or during the exercise. Bad memories? Some sort of illness? Renee could only speculate as the man fell back into line.

Next was the pepper haired woman who was helping during the last exercise. Renee didn't manage to catch her tag this time, not that it mattered. Her run through the exercise started well. She was incredibly agile, almost resembling a dancer in her movements similar to Major Muirse. Unlike the steadied and practiced movements of both Venhaus and Xirlenkia, this one had a certain grace. Though as she neared the end of the course her composure seemed to dwindle until she completely halted. It only became clear why that was once the burst of wind shot through the building like a cannon, knocking out the final target along with it. Ah... a sneeze? A powerful one at that.

Typically good at hiding her expressions, Renee couldn't help but chortle at the sight. An aureum powered sneeze was certianly something you didn't see everyday. Renee moved to talk to the woman as she finished, intending to console her, though after just seeing her expression it was clear she didn't want to talk about it. Renee's vision shifted from the girl back to the tracking crystal just in time to see the previously self proclaimed Aeoun donning the rifle and moving into position. His performance was... subpar to say the least. Despite his previous performance it became clear that he had rarely if ever wielded a firearm. Nontheless his form and accuracy had slightly improved as he rushed his way through the course.

Deciding she stood by idly observing long enough, Renee quietly stepped forward into position. Accepting the firearm, she moved up to the doorway took a deep breath and lowered her stance. The signal went off and the timer started, sending a chill through her body as she breached the entrance. Words shot through her thoughts as the first targets appeared down the hallway.

"Do not hesitate."

Bang Bang!

Two shots, two targets down. Another set of words crossed her thoughts as the next set of targets appeared.

"Indecision kills."

Bang Bang Bang!

Three more targets down as she rounded the next corner. Her movements were smooth, no steps out of line, the rifle snapping from target to target with ease. She'd been through this type of exercise what felt like a million times. The movements were drilled into her system. Two more targets appeared from the ceiling.

Bang Bang!

Her vision narrowed as the end of the course neared and she could feel a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. Four more targets appeared, four more shots fired. Her boots stamped into the dirt as she crossed the exit. She glanced over her time in expectation: 00:00:44

She had barely managed to beat the record. If not for her helmet, one would be able to see a pleased smile on her face. But something was wrong... the timer changed.

00:00:45

00:00:46

Her eyes immediatly shot to the target tracker above the timer. 49/50.

BLOOT!

She cursed herself. Her tunnel vision had gotten the better of her once again. Turning on a dime, the dirt kicked up behind her as she sprinted back into the building frantically searching for the last target. Luckily it wasn't far off from the end, just down the hallway and around the final corner in fact, but it was enough to knock her time down to fifty seconds flat with an accuracy of nintey-seven percent.

Falling back into line, her stoic expression belied her disappointment in herself. Her mother's words echoed in her head just as they did earlier.

"You're getting ahead of yourself again."

​

 

[Soviet Panda]

Adric Pakston​

The additional run throughs of the obstacle course had the desirable effect on the majority of the candidates. The first mad dash through to be 'first' left many tired, and the mind numbing repetition of doing the same set of tasks in the same order quickly put most into a tired stupor. Of course there was that incident where Cadet Negyv had been injured thanks to the tom foolery of Cadet Svargi. It was punishment enough that Cadet Svargi had to take Cadet Negyv to the Sick Bay and explain himself to Dr. Loxley. She was the one truly in charge of this school, after all. If she decided his idiocy wouldn't be tolerated, then that would be one less for him to deal with.

There was a late arrival, and he nonchalantly moseyed his way over towards her, stopping in front of her with his hands clasped behind his back. "You missed physical. Five laps before you may enter the kill house, and thirty minutes on the course during free time." With that, he moseyed on back over towards Major Muirse.

Soon enough, however, physical training was finished, and it was time to move over to the firing range for practical training. He lead them at a brisk jog, silent save for the gasping breaths of some of the less in shape Cadets. Once they had reached their location, he had them line up once more and wait patiently for Major Muirse to explain the drill. He grunted non-committedly at Major Muirse stating how there would be a reward for anyone who managed to beat his time. There certainly wouldn't be one, but he doubted anyone would...

Within moments someone had sprinted through the kill house and cleared it in forty-four seconds. He blinked in surprise, then saw the spray and pray tactic used as well as failing to keep track of ammunitions and having to resort to CQC to finish off the last two targets. It was Cadet Venhaus that had managed to clumsily beat his time, and she had the audacity to ask for her weapon back.

"I suppose you did beat my time," he said with a predator's calm and a hunter's smile. "So your reward is to hear my siren song of a voice telling you to drop and give me thirty. That run was sloppy and a disgrace. Anyone would be hard pressed to give a worse showing than what I have just been forced to witness. 70% accuracy is abysmal, especially from someone who thinks they're going to be piloting a Mobius. You also failed to keep an accurate tally of your shots, meaning you just made a very expensive club. You also forgot one important thing that could have saved you time. It can be changed into a bow, that uses it's own separate munitions. So not only are you a terrible shot, you are a moron."

Then came the space Spartan that had done his best to leave the other's in the dust in the obstacle course, and had made a good showing for himself. However, in this kill house, he was worse than Cadet Venhaus in almost every way. "Cadet! Drop and give me 30!" She shouted at the Katestari that had showed such natural talent until that moment. It was beginning to look to more and more Adric that he and Muirse had their work cut out to whip everyone into shape and on the same level of proficiency. Then again, he supposed that's what they deserved when they were scrapping recruits out of Planetary Defense forces, Primitive Worlds, and Noble Families that thought far to highly of themselves.

There was one that asked for more specialized equipment. Major Muirse said that she could have it, if she could put it together. Major Pakston added on to this further as Cadet Kirst assembled her weapon and her timer was running. "The Standard issue of all Mobius Pilots is the Thurigen-V, prized for it's jack-of-all nature. There is no time in the field, especially if one had to eject from their Mobius, to modify their equipment for the situation. That is why these Thurigen-V's are not modified specifically for room clearing."

As it so happened, he ordered all of them to give him 30 push ups regardless of time and accuracy. Even the 92.5% accuracy and 50 second time of Cadet Rakh Xirilenkia did not pass his approval. Checking the time, he notes that he needs to meet with Dr. Loxely soon as well. However, he needed to show these Cadets why he was in charge. "Major Muirse, I think I will take a brief run through the house."

Suiting up in the standard issue Legionnaire armor that molded itself to his body and around his antlers, he takes up a Thurivee with two magazines and prepares for the run. A short burst from a horn signals his start, and the world slows to a crawl. Mana geysering from his back and coursing through his body, Adric perceived the world differently. His muscles strained against the restrictions of physics as he forced himself to move faster, his mind already processing the soft ting of the catch releasing to raise the first target. The thunderclap report of his first shot was almost deafening to him where as moments before it was a familiar popping. The shots clanged into the targets almost as soon as they reached their pinnacle, and Adric could feel the first tears of his muscles as he pushed himself.

Room by room he made his way, knocking down target after target, and making good time. However, he knew he was running out of time, he simply was not able to reach the same speed as the others. And so, after smoothly dropping the magazine spent clearing one room and changing it out for another, he made his own door at what he would say was the best spot for it. If it had been a living thing, the target would have screamed in panic as Adric burst through the wall, reinforcing his muscles as he did so to lessen the risk of injuring himself to greatly and not be able to finish the course. But as it was, it merely obediently turned to present itself to be knocked down by another well placed shot of many.

With the roar of blood in his ears, he finishes the course and the mana jetting from his body subsided. Looking towards the leader board, there is a short delay before it updates once more. Major Adric Pakston. Time, 0:00:43.958. Accuracy, 100%. Nodding in satisfaction, he makes the Thurigen-V safe and allows the Legionnaire armor to fall off him and back into it's box. "Major Muirse, I leave the Cadets in your care. I have an appointment with Dr. Loxely." And with that, he nonchalantly strolls out of the firing range.

Once he was inside the building proper and far enough away from where the Cadets for them to hopefully not notice, he all but crashes into a wall, leaning against it heavily just to keep himself up. Dabbing at his nose with a finger, he grunts as it comes away red. With shaking hands, he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a container of pills that he manages to just open and shake a couple into his hand. Quickly downing them, he puts the pill bottle away and takes a black handkerchief out of another to wipe away the blood coming from his nose. Taking a moment more to gather his strength and let the pills do their thing, he takes a deep breath, straightens out, and continues towards Dr. Loxely's office.

 

[Steve Jobs]

click!

Odessa

Belial/Cadet

location

AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM

outfit

AICA Uniform

interactions

Sarina Kirst RedArmyShogun

mobius armaments

none

Click, Click, Boom!

"Tired me? No. I could do this...all...day,"

Odessa panted as she vaulted over hurdle after hurdle after hurdle that the course laid before her.

As expected, the course's expensive traps were interspersed with tried and true methods of separating the diamonds from the dirt. Climbing, sprinting, dodging, crawling, and mud. She watched the various obstacles claim other cadets and briefly, she wondered if Eko was one of them. The thought of the phantom caked in muck made her cackle.

With the dignity of Odessa Atreides riding on her performance however, she refused to succumb to the sludge.

She did, in fact, succumb to the sludge.

Though she initially started with some sweat and dust, the dirt accumulated rather quickly as she made her way through the crawl space coated her in filth and now the ditch was presenting its own issues. Having seen one man eat shit she ought to have thought better than outdo her peers, but her ego would never forgive her for not trying. Unfortunately, her jump was just a smidge too short and she found herself digging her nails into the edge of the cliff. If she bothered to pay attention to the other cadets helping those who'd fallen, she might have approached them for help, but chose instead to flounder until she could finally heave herself onto solid ground.

It took Haderach knows how long for Odessa to recover and finish the course, but she did. She definitely did. The Caladanian glanced behind her before letting out a sigh of relief. And definitely not last.

Nursing the wound in her pride, she followed the rest of the cadets to the firing range.

---​

Odessa arrived in time to hear Muirse explain their next training course. She acted precisely how she looked, which was to say a perky woman that likely committed a dozen war crimes during her heyday. Gentle in her tone and loving in her treatment of the Thurigen-Vee, she provided a comprehensive explanation on how to use the rifle before materializing the simulation.

She far preferred killhouse to obstacle courses, not only because it showcased her talent as a marksman, but also because there was more room for creativity. Semi-automatic or full auto? Rifle or bow? To use her powers or stay true to the spirit of the exercise? Where other cadets took this as an opportunity to ask questions, Odessa focused on observing the competition.

The girl with the great sword was as proficient as she expected. Forty-four seconds would be difficult to beat but seventy-two percent accuracy was more than tenable. She supposed that it was fitting that someone whose primary weapon focused on power wouldn't care much about precision, but that put all the more pressure on the Caladanian to exceed her scores.

Others followed in her stead and (with the exception of Aeon) boasted fairly impressive times, the most well-rounded being a white-haired girl. Forty-six seconds with a ninety-seven percent accuracy was nothing to laugh at. There was also the woman who sneezed the competition away, but Odessa would spare her the humiliation of acknowledging that feat.

She tucked their performances in the back of her mind as she readied herself for the trial. Odessa felt oddly at peace being separated from the rest of the class. The shooting range was her home and the dummies, toys she could break without consequence. She dismissed the need for armor, instead opting to familiarize herself with the rifle. Though infantry training laid the foundation for her weapon expertise, she found handguns easier to control and more aesthetic compared to the Thurigen-Vee.

She took a deep breath.

Take your time. Line up the shot.

Advice given to her from a rival turned summer fling.

Head shots only.

A challenge given shortly before they parted ways.

Once she kicked the door open, bullets met their targets with deadly accuracy. Forehead, nose, square between the eyes, Odessa was taking no prisoners in her pursuit of perfection. She'd rehearsed it a hundred times before during training, during simulations, and in her melatonin-fueled nightmares.

She moved quickly, her steps sparse and precise to minimize detection by enemy lines. Though the dummies weren't armed, she'd be remiss to treat the affair like anything less than a real mission. With no armor donned, even an untrained soldier could riddle her with bullets.

Peek safely, peek efficiently.

And remember to get head shots! This isn't a duck hunt.

Odessa fired more rounds, her grin widening with each hit. The sound of empty shells hitting the floor was music to her ears, an aural salve for her aching muscles. In her mind's eye the Sorenti were firing back, just barely missing her body as she rolled forward and mowed down several more.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Thud. Thud. Thud.

One bullet per enemy should be enough right? It would have been easy to spray with reckless abandon or go for torso shots, but the goal was precision. With unlimited ammo anyone could massacre a killhouse, but a true gunslinger could kill with a single shot.

Slotting in a new magazine, she finished off the last few targets before emerging with a sigh. 00:00:61.5 with a ninety-nine percentile accuracy. It was a blessing and a curse truly. She fulfilled her challenge, but lagged behind damn near everyone for it. To not even hit one hundred percent was embarrassing!

Her eyes moved towards a magenta haired woman with pointy ears. Like Odessa, she also scored a ninety-nine but somehow beat her by several seconds. Not to mention that he other woman's time was only late due to scavenging for her desired weapon.

It was disgusting, nauseating even to know that the margin between them was so wide.

Before she could make a comment however, Major Pakston had come barreling onto the course. Whether it was envy or an assertion of dominance, he demanded push ups from every person who completed the course so far, Odessa included. She didn't need the lecture nor the extra exercise, but heaven forbid that someone best him in an exercise. He needed to be the big bad Major with a time only gods could beat. Still, Odessa took the opportunity to drop beside Kirst.

"You'd think they'd allow us to mod our weapons before going on a mission,"

she chuckled as she began her pushups.

High Speedy

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[RedArmyShogun]

SARINA R. KIRST
​

~~~~
Status: Active Duty
Location: AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM
Interaction: Steve Jobs (Odessa)
Mobius Armaments: N/A
~~~~

Partially watching the next ones to go, it was a girl with very blonde hair and blue eyes. Her score was impressive, but the Cenerithian had the sinking suspicion she was displeased... Then another blonde was up, this one with purple eyes, she also made an impressive showing. None of their scores were bad and Sarina's was better if her handicap was removed as she wasn't playing on an even field. So far all of the scores, now that she could look back were worthy of notice, even Fi's.

The Major however, well he didn't seem to see it that way and if anything he seemed upset if not vindictive about the whole affair. With a grimace, Sarina found herself thinking back to his earlier words that she could not respond to, as well as the command to do more pushups with all the rest. Donning the armor and doing the course, she clicked her tongue at the score not defaulting for him as it had for her, though his time was impressive she had to admit. Still, it did nothing for the fatigue she felt, nor the commands she must now follow.

It was soon thereafter, that the pointy eared girl found herself next to the purple and blonde, seemed she wished to talk... "Ten, Hmm? Ah. The fact the parts exist means it is meant to be modified and to have subtypes issued. If not, then they just threw away countless amounts of money. Overly standardizing can be a waste of resources." Stopping her pushups for the conversation she continued.

"With my own skills I perform best with slower firing weapons and those add-ons exist. It is foolish to not make use of them... Though I must admit that manual will take me some time to read. Sarina Kirst." She said in way of introduction and went back to doing her pushups.

 

[LazyDaze]

EKO "ECHO" GOBBS

​

Location: Velika Prime, AICA, Firing Range
Interactions: Valky-Nyan , ThatWhichShouldBe



Echo was appalled , stunned, flabbergasted, befuddled, confounded even. Run the course again? Was this man sniffing space dust? Was this in the fine print, or did he just say that part really fast like they do for the side effects of those hair growth commercials. This was cruel and unusual punishment, but then he remembered he wasn't here because he exactly wanted to be. It was essentially indentured servitude. He gave a salute and ran the course again...and again......and again and a-

******​

The cadets were all allowed to rest converse and lick whatever wounds their ego's might have sustained. Some of the wounds were actually physical in nature to Echo's surprise. He didn't fine the course too difficult actually. It was more like a playground. Although he had a relatively easy time with the course what came next was more within his wheelhouse...sort of. He did his best to focus...he really did but well....this new instructor was hot as well, but did she intentionally look at him when she called them pale buckets. He raised his hand to ask if she hated him, but then his other hand seemingly gained autonomy and pulled it down as he thought better of it. (Really...what was wrong with being pale?) Moreover, she was rattling off terminology he had not been privy too before now. You see, Echo had a more...practical education, but he more or less worked with many different guns although his specialty was handguns. Simple, you pull the doothingy and hit the pew pew after the clank boom bam then you use mana to make it vwoosh then you can kablow. Of course, his terminology wasn't that juvenile, but if you handed him a gun he would no how to use it. Too bad for him this appeared to not be a gun. Before they would start, someone arrived late. Someone named Vivien Messer. Echo couldn't help but feel a wash of relief over his body. Arriving this late had to have trumped his awful first impression by a mile. Still, he understood how it felt to be a marshmallow out of water and decided to extend an olive branch as her senior when it came to bad first impressions. "Don't worry, when I first arrived I accidentally told everyone they were sexy. I digress, I'm Echo Gobbs. Good luck, it's more simple than she made it sound." But just as he said that, she was quickly reprimanded by the other instructor which just left Echo to stand there giving a very awkwardly long and misplaced thumbs up. "G-good luck Vivian."

So one by one the cadets took their turns on the course and there were a few impressive shots that seemingly even bested the instructor. Great times, great accuracy, some had both. There were a few lackluster performances but he was certain their strengths probably lied elsewhere. Basically being a hired gun for most of his life, Echo never put much stock into tests like these. How do you perform when bullets and lasers are firing back at you? What do you do when you only have 2 seconds to line up your shot without hitting the VIP package and all the pressure hits you at once. How do you consistently hit your targets when its the only thing of worth you have to offer, and your livelihood depends on every pull of the trigger. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel as if he had to compete with the others...especially since this would probably be his strongest attribute and he didn't want to fall too far behind. When it was finally his turn Echo observed the rifle carefully. "Yep, never used this one," he said with his trademarked eerie smile. All weapons had their own personalities, especially firearms. While Echo did prefer handgun models since they were much easier to handle he often had to use whatever was given to him since he began his decent into the underworld by lying about his skills. But even then he often had to adjust to different variations within the models as well. Echo often found that deep down a gun was just a gun even if it was a distant cousin. Figuring out this aristocrat wouldn't be so difficult. It's weight, model, size, expected recoil, but more than anything he wanted to find its rhythm. Not just the rhythm of the weapon, but of the scene before them...it was how he always done it. To be a good shot you had to relax and listen. Having tense muscles could throw your shot off by an inch when you needed to strike the target, or sometimes when you didn't need to kill the target. Thus when he was out in the field doing nothing illegal of course, Echo would always hum a song that he felt matched the rhythm of whatever situation he was in. It was anything but conventional, but his life pretty much reflected that.

*Bang* he fired his first shot. It was off, but it was quickly corrected with the second shot. Still wasn't as smooth as he would have liked. Every shot carried the weight of assured death and Echo struggled to control the rifle initially. However, with every shot he could hear a faint beat and as the course continued it got stronger until-

"Don't go breaking my heart," Echo whispered as he hit two consecutive shots completely on target. "I couldn't if I tried," he said as he reloaded the gun while sliding under a part of the course only to swiftly pivot while on his hip and hit two more targets behind him in one smooth motion. What could you say, Echo loved the ancient recordings. He would even become so bold to try some of his fancier shots halfway through the course attacking while on the move and the occasional one handed rifle shot. "Nobody told us, Cause nobody showed us.." Going by the book was too stiff for a shape shifter like him, this was when he was at his best, flowing through the course, relaxed. As the end approached, he was leagues more fluid and his accuracy picked up despite some of the innovative shots he attempted. He performed a deep bow before his final shot. A little showmanship never hurt anyone after all. He then quickly opened his right eye, almost winking at the target in his peripheral before landing a final one handed "no look" shot with the rifle.

"I won't go breaking your heart."

85% accuracy 57 seconds.

He glanced at his time and accuracy relatively happy with it. "Room for improvement eh? Guess I'm not as good a shot as I thought. Hope they keep me around..." Echo said with a laugh and a shrug. "And you," Echo said while holding up the rifle. "You're a bit of a trouble maker. We'll have to do it again sometime." He placed the gun down and made his way to the other finished cadets with his hands in his pockets before spotting the chiseled god Aeoun. "Nice run, hard to tell if the people here are man, machine, or run way models? Echo said with a laugh. Echo Gobbs at your service. Did you happen to understand anything the instructor was saying?"

 

[ERode]

Location: AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM
Interactions: Steve Jobs
​

Ah, well that was certainly a non-answer. Rel-Taren stared at Muirse as the blonde horse-woman spoke platitudes in lieu of narrative, before slowly lifting his shoulders up and just as slowly dropping his shoulders down. A shrug. T'was an unsatisfactory answer, but perhaps he had misread her. Her bright voice didn't belie any particular wit, no matter how figurative her speech. A sword was a sword. A Thuri-Vee was a gun. The difference between the two?

As demonstrated by Aeoun's performance: astronomical.

The rest performed well though. Amazingly, even. They exemplified the idiom of 'guns blazing' as they cleared rooms with a sprinter's speed, possessed by a demonic spirit that carved away any notion of fear. The children of the Farbanian Empire were fierce, children forged to the iron pieces that their Empress could unfeelingly place upon a chessboard that spanned starlengths. Centuries of evolution and training had lead them up to this point. To the point of being able to utterly decimate a host of paper soldiers. Why Pakston decided to make a point regarding his ability to kill stationary substitute Sorenti was a funny thing too, and the lizardman let out a low whistle as the Major scampered off immediately afterwards.

"Pity that," he said, walking past a blonde human starting up her own pushups. "Had hoped Pakston would demonstrate how well he could do that exercise too."

And then, just like that, he picked up the gun, stepped into the suit, waited for the building to reset, and strode on in.

...

It was only a matter of pacing, perhaps, that differentiated Rel-Taren from the others. The pause he took in between rooms was a bit longer, and the way he took his shots betrayed a sense of disinterest. It was as if, in the absence of a 'declared' competition, without a particular narrative to invest himself with, an exercise was just that. A mundane, uninteresting, uninvolved exercise. Breathe, aim, shoot, move. Neither the near-perfect scores of his peers nor the blistering speed of his peers served as reason for the lizardman himself to try any harder. At times, he blew out the legs of the targets in the room, making a show of stepping on them before he left. At times, he fumbled with the bow setting of the Thuri-Vee, clearly bemused by the evolution of weapons design that his own kin had missed out on. At times, he fired through the walls, taking down the targets behind with center mass shots that looked just off-center enough to perhaps have been a coincidence.

Time? 87.916 seconds. Perfectly double that of Pakson.

Accuracy? 100%. Haste made waste, and the opposite applied, even with sub-optimal targeting.

Rel-Taren laughed as he left. "Much to learn, there is."

 

[ThatWhichShouldBe]

AEOUN

CADET

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM

INTERACTION:

Echo Gobbs, LazyDaze

MOBIUS ARMAMENTS:

N/A

Another man might resent being given pushups to do, but Aeoun takes to it with gusto and a smile on his face. After all, he had done a very poor showing, after all. In the end, he was here at this academy to learn- What else was he going to do? Be a master in all disciplines on the first day? Those were the stuff of ancient legends, and while Aeoun was many things, he was not a hero of ancient legend yet. The Katasteri completes his pushups to absolute perfection, physical prowess being one of his greater strengths, before he stands up, seemingly completely unburdened by the exercise at all. He's just limbering up when he catches, just out of the corner of his eye, Instructor Adric leaning against a wall for a moment, doing something, before he continues on.

The Katasteri doesn't think much of it, however. An old warrior taking a rest for a moment after exerting themselves, to as to save face before the little ones? A tale as old as time. His own masters had down the same, when they thought Aeoun wasn't looking. No, Aeoun has better things to gawk at than an old warrior's saving face. He instead turns to Echo Gobbs, the gaunt-looking being asking him a question. Aeoun just replies with a shrug of his well-muscled shoulders, before he raises a hand to waggle it horizontally.

"A little? These guns, they are not something I have much experience with, but I can recognize how they are talking about the weapon. It's like a spear; perhaps not always the best, but something that must be learnt to be wielded in any given situation regardless. Though, I imagine we won't be standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a phalanx with these Thuringens."

Aeoun chuckles.

Code by Nano

 

[TheRealAngeloftheStorm]

MARIAN RUI MARIK

CADET

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM

INTERACTION:

ANY

MOBIUS ARMAMENTS:

N/A

The obstacle course was passable. It winded her more than expected; her body was not as trained as her mind, and surly Greion could only fit so much into her timetable with lessons pertaining to war. Not when the demands of the Vranitran political arena tore her away from practical matters.

It was expected that she gave herself over to Imperial service, of course. But Ruian had clearly expected her to come back swiftly, as opposed to being submitted to this program.

The message must’ve been a shock to him. A success beyond his wildest dreams. The premier program of Farbania, and now he had a personal connection to it. He was already spinning his threads, no doubt. Back home. How his daughter had been skilled enough to warrant being plucked from the rest of the rabble. Such was the nature of the game; anything and everything could be used as a resource to move against one’s opponents.

You were a player, or one of their pieces.

Marian blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and inhaled deeply. The rest of the class had gathered, listening to Instructor Muirse’s rundown of the Thuringen. There was a flare-up, competition lighting a fire in her classmates’ bellies. 45 seconds? Marian wasn’t so arrogant as to think that she’d surpass that score. Some of her classmates were coming through with scores that were cutting it close - only that other white-haired woman, face blank, had actually surpassed it.

44 seconds. And this was the woman who decided to treat the obstacle course as a leisurely little walk than what it was supposed to be.

Eccentrics, she thought, fingers curling in a familiar motion, eccentrics everywhere.

They were supposed to be the cream of the crop. And judging by the thunder and fury on Major Pakston’s face as he did his best to imitate a volcano erupting, he was not shy about reminding them that for all that appellation, applied to them, they were still cadets. It reminded her a little - only a little - of Greion. Her father heaped expectation on expectation on her for her performance in the dangerous dance of Vranitran politics, and treated her coldly if she fell short. Greion, when he was truly disappointed, was a smoldering, seething cauldron of anger.

The boisterous braggart had failed miserably, but at least he tried. Soon after was the Xihu’tein, and he stepped out with a time double of the Major. Though judging by his gait, he wasn’t particularly enthused by the competition.

She took a deep breath and stepped up. It was her turn now, picking up the Thuringen in its pistol form. Easier to handle, faster draw, and it was a weapon she was familiar with. Self-defense, just in case. She never left her father’s gaze without being armed. The assault rifle variation was something Marian had half a mind to train, but all thoughts fled her as she took herself to the front. The Legionnaire armor slipped on, and she kept her eyes forward.

It wasn’t a competition. But she would at least give it a try.

Marian could hear the rasping of Greion’s rebreather, so very far away yet so very close. Judging. Waiting.

Her fingers curled.

Begin.

She leapt into action. Targets vanished, the staccato crack of the pistol accentuating their fall. But Marian was already moving, stepping past the initial batch and onto the next.. Everything was as a whirlwind of color and thunder, and she struggled not to lose herself in that experience. She ran herself ragged, moving from room to room, hand snapping out at imaginary enemies and shredding them.

Before she knew it, she’d emerged from the course. Her eyes flicked upwards.

66.7 seconds. 70 percent accuracy.

Marian exhaled, a shudder of pain running through her body. She could hear the sigh of disappointment already, a reprimand rasped through ragged lips.

Perfection was not so easily attained. Not that some of her peers believed in such a thing. Sky-high scores for most of them. The wait had been a blur, so as far as Marian knew, she was one of the ones who scored the lowest. Why, even the Xihu’tein would have beaten the course with a faster time if he had been remotely interested.

All about the journey, Ae- Marian.

She tried not to wince as unfamiliar pains flared up as she dropped down to do her push-ups. All about the journey.

Code by Nano

 

[Pilgrim59]

E. MUIRSE

AICA INSTRUCTOR

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

Cafeteria, AICA, Velika Prime

TAGS:

Soviet Panda RedArmyShogun Worthlessplebian koala @Midrick LazyDaze FiveElemental Steve Jobs ThatWhichShouldBe LostHaven TheRealAngeloftheStorm ERode Valky-Nyan Zufaix

MOBIUS ARMAMENTS:

N/A

The course would come to a conclusion when the cadets have made their run. A few promising candidates for the contest, though the weapons training only served as a small appetizer for the main course that many would no doubt be looking forward to - the Mobius. Some interesting thoughts to consider arising from the cadets concerned, much to Muirse's amusements. She took notes of their performances, particularly the lizardman's. They definitely adhered to her remarks earlier and made a spectacle of lethal accuracy. For a diversed group of cadets with mixed training from different branches of the Imperial Armed Forces, it left much to be desired. While she understood the urgency of getting these youngsters ready for the daunting tasks ahead that would demand more from them than redundant training, it was time for lunch.

As the class came to a close with the cadets dismissed from the firing range to catch their breath, the cafeteria eventually took in the grimy cadets, while others sought refuge in their shared rooms for a quick shower. Given an hour for lunch and respite, the cadets did not lose any time to either make great use of it, or simply dragged themselves out of the way for their next class in the afternoon. Muirse caught the esteemed Head of AICA from across the corridor, just as she was about to wrap up her own notes for the cadets' progress. She noticed Loxley casting a long gaze at the young troopers sashaying across the immaculate floor to procure their meals. But it was not the personnel themselves that were her concern, but something far more troubling behind those shadeless windows. Muirse's fingers swiftly swiped right across her tablet, as she made her way towards Loxley.

"You're looking quite some years away from your feet, Doc."

"Is that so? I must have forgotten to put on some proper makeup today."

"No amount of liners can bury that drain - it's written on your face."

"That obvious, huh?" The Doctor responded dryly with a defeated smile, before attempting to switch the topics. "I would like to go over your reports, Major-"

"By the Stars. Oh no you don't..." Muirse sighed aloud. "It's submitted and done. Even the rooster doesn't howl before its feet are dusted off. You can check it proper after you fashion for yourself a meal, you ken? Now, say your piece of mind before I tuck you into another social call."

"You couldn't possibly mean another soiree with those pretentious officers from Velika?"

"They're pretty handsome. Though their personality ain't so much a long-lasting trait as they claim and leaves much to be desired... or perhaps... disappointed by. All flaccid the way they are, but I do enjoy the free drinks."

An acute giggle escaped the Doctor out of genuine amusement at the mention of their assailants.

"Get some rest, you ken?" Muirse broke off from her joke with a stern look on her face.

"I'll work on it, Major. Just keep me away from those social calls. The Stars forbid I have to listen to another war story from a riceball commander."

Loxley, having lost the initiative in her attempt to divert the Major from her restless state, finally submitted to the instructor's voice of reason.

"Bonnie. In that case, I'll drink in your stead tonight, Doc."

"Much appreciated, Major. Just make sure you get to class on time."

The blonde instructor would part ways with the Doctor, having successfully extracted a smile from the grim Loxley. Grabbing a set of utensils, she would procure for herself a set of today's main course - Alborinese steak with collard greens, and mashed tattie filled with mushroom gravy. Having done so, she would situate herself between the cadets, as if she was a cadet herself.

"Greetings, pale buckets. Excited for the next class?" She asked, eyeing the young cadet across from her, whose brilliant blue eyes have yet to be scathed by the marks of war.

"Aye, ma'am!" The personnel with the name tape 'D. NEGYV' replied with enthusiasm, as they barely caught the instructor's abrupt presence. "I-I'm sorry that I'm... a wee pace of a snail's."

Recalling her scores from earlier, Muirse noticed that Negyv was the last to run the course, complemented by a slightly below-average score of two-minutes and fifty-five seconds, with less than fifty-percentile precision.

"I've yet to read your file. But you don't seem like a main line legionnaire. If I had to take a guess, I'd say either a rear scribe unit or a hospice one."

"That's... spot on, ma'am. Aye, I served with the 136th Reservist as a cleric."

"A mending hand rather than a gunfighter. Not the easiest job, I reckon, having to treat those detached from their healthy duties?"

"It is our calling, ma'am. But for me personally..." Durthai trailed off to borrow her strength from the colorful windows. "... it is a sacred duty to save lives while others take them. I don't think I'm fit fo-"

"Not enough tatties in your stomach earlier today, it seems." Muirse interrupted Durthai, before offering the young girl two spoonful of her portion. "Never say things like that, lest you wish to conjure a foe from me. This is why we train, pale-bucket. No one's wiser than the other until the end has spoken for them. You're still here, so make it worth your while to brush up on your works." She emphasized before munching down on her mashed potatoes.

Durthai's eyes lit up, as the instructor's words shed some light into heart, while their melodic tone eased the cadet into their philosophy of betterment. Durthai smiled softly, tucking her plump lips gently before offering the woman some homemade cookies. Raising her brow slightly, the instructor's face expressed immense glee upon realization of the cadet's gift.

"Is this... for me?" Muirse quickly toned herself down, as she leaned in and took a bite. "STRAZA!" She exclaimed once again. "Did you bake them yourself?"

"Aye, ma'am."

"You're a glowing star, pale-bucket! These are so good!" Muirse's expressions melted as she consumed the scrumptious cookies with her left hand brushed up on her cheeks. "It's not a bad bribe, I'll take it." She noted with a satisfied face, prompting Durthai to smile as well.

"If you enjoy them so, I'll be sure to bake some more later. That is, if I am given the chance to borrow some ingredients from the kitchenery."

Muirse then snatched Durthai's hands with a zealous look on her face. "You have my authority to use the cafeteria however you wish, sweetie. If you cut production, I'll perish." Her eyes then flattened into a mellow but destitute expression.

"I'll try to not disappoint." Durthai replied with a nervous smile.

Code by Nano

 

[koala]

STATUS: ACTIVE DUTY
LOCATION: CAFETERIA ; AICA, VELIKA PRIME, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM
ATTIRE: STANDARD UNIFORM
MENTION: REL-TAREN ; AMROI
INTERACTION: RAKH Worthlessplebian ; NIKA @Midrick

The longer Fionnuala stood out there, the harder it was to pay attention to everyone’s performances. Aside from the killer allergies that everyone else found amusing, morning fatigue was finally beginning to catch up. She’d pushed herself too hard for someone who only got four hours of sleep the night before, and if she didn’t eat soon, she suspected she’d start looking at Rakh and his brother like fresh meat from the street markets.

Though Rakh was not plagued by allergies, even his stoic features were beginning to be whittled down by the sun’s rays. Beads of salty sweat condensed on his forehead prompting him to wipe it off with his wrist. At least with how quick and efficient everyone is at the range, then this class should be over soon, Rakh thinks. Even the Major decided to throw his lot in, which surprised the Dazhoretian.

She couldn’t help but peer at the younger Xirilenkia, Nikadim. Nika. His electric blue hair was a magnet her eyes were drawn to, reminding her of the stormy skies back home. Of lightning dancing in the clouds while rain gave life to the nature below.

The energy around him was loud and demanding. Even the tattoos on his body, multicolored marks painting stories on his arms that she was somewhat curious to hear, were reaching for her attention. Her eyes kept tracing them upwards, noting some gang affiliated symbols that made her take a half step deeper into Rakh’s shadow.

Out of his periphery, the older brother noticed how Fionnuala shuffled deeper under his shade.

Then their eyes met. She’d been studying Nikadim like a piece of art on display and he noticed. Of course, he did. It seemed the brothers noticed anyone that looked at them.

It was following Nika’s eyes that Rakh soon learned why the noble girl stepped back. Rakh smirked, his pearly whites just barely showing through his lips. He finger-gunned his brother with a slight nod. The whole interaction was amusing. For him, anyway. He assumes it wasn’t for Fionnuala.

Fionnuala averted her gaze and mumbled an apology as her cheeks warmed. Thankfully, class was dismissed shortly after. She’d wanted to commend Rel-Taren for his perfect score, but escaping the awkward situation she put herself in was more of a priority then.

**

The trip to the infirmary was a brief one. It took no more than ten minutes to get there and receive some medication for her symptoms, which was perfect because she desperately wanted to join her comrades in the cafeteria. Some of her energy had returned now that she was out of the sun, save for the roaring hunger in her stomach that she was sure Rakh heard.

Rakh had accompanied her like he’d been ordered to, and he wished to break the ice by initiating with a small chat. “Glad to see you’re better already.” He chimed. A heartbeat’s pause before he continued. “So what’s it like on your homeworld? Because I’ve never actually seen a sanguine before. And I’m going to assume they’re native?” He rubbed his thumb across his closed fingers.

Fionnuala looked at him and squinted as she thought, a quiet hum escaping her lips. She didn’t really know how to describe her home without making it sound like it was a place where people went because they wanted to die.

Not literally, but that was how she felt most days.

“Latenia is… cold.” She started to respond. “Our winters are long and our summers are short. Depending on what region you’re in, you may never see the sun. It’s not a very friendly place if you have a green thumb like myself.”

Her peach-tone lips formed a soft pout as she worried for her garden back home. Two years was a long time being away from her plant children. She shook her head.

“What is it like from…” Her voice trailed off as she vaguely recalled the language he and Nikadim spoke earlier. It was unfamiliar to her, but that wasn’t surprising. The Empire was too vast. Learning every language and culture that existed would take at least three of her lifetimes.

“Dazhoret.” He added. His eyes trailed to the corners of his sockets as he attempted to put into words to make the green-thumb understand. Actually… “If Latenia was cold, then Dazhoret would be,” He paused and breathed out of his partially-opened mouth. “Dry. The sunlight barely pierces the smog-clouds from the industrial sector. It’s equally inhospitable to plants, though we do have some of the best engineers. I managed to pick up a few things before we resettled to Velika.”

His eyes softened towards the end, a subtle hint of relief at how they’re not there anymore. He loves, or rather, loved Dazhoret, but he admits the flaws were getting to him even before the raid. He just barely lifted his chin-up when he talked about the engineers, a bit of self-pride swelled in his concrete heart.

“I see…” Fionnuala nodded in partial understanding, though she felt the need to read more about the planet later. It sounded like a place where nature didn’t exist at all, which was awful for someone like her. Latenia, at least, had plants that’d adapted to the extreme weather.

Passion radiated from the slight lift of Rakh’s chin at the mention of engineering. She glanced at his hands–calloused and rough with tiny, healed cuts that she could only see due to their proximity. Her hand hovered next to his so she could compare them.

Undoubtedly an engineer. She thought before tucking her hand away.

As the pair made their way towards the cafeteria, Fionnuala stopped short of a display of photos. All were neatly framed with groups of students and soldiers from previous years. One of them stood out to her the most.

Rakh stopped on a dime, like when a soldier is ordered to halt during a march.

Cainnech rui Esteriel. A boy much younger than Fionnuala and Rakh, though his physical similarities to the woman were undeniable. He was surrounded by what looked to be his squad mates, all of them much older than he was.

Her heart was stuck in her throat as she struggled to swallow. The smile she’d maintained on her face since leaving the gun range twitched, eyes slowly growing wet with sorrow. She touched the picture, noting her twin brother’s radiant expression while trying to recall the last time she saw him so carefree.

He stood a pace back from her. His wood-oak eyes squinted at first, but he quickly realised the connection between the two. His smiling radiance, the honey-amber for eyes, and that black hair, they gave it all away. The blood faded from his cheeks. Siblings. That’s why she was here. Oh, sweet siblings. A shackled gloom settled on his face, he empathised with her. That’s why he was here; to protect his brother and the best way to do that would be right alongside him. But Nika’s foothold in the criminal underworld made that more dangerous and painful for Rakh, they needed a clean slate.

Quickly, Fionnuala blinked away the tears before they fell when she remembered someone else was with her.

“Sorry.” She began walking again, hands clasped behind her back as she seemed to fly with each feathery step. Her long hair was down now, free-flowing like liquid onyx kissed by the moon’s light. “You must be starving.” An assumption. The one starving was definitely her.

“You didn’t really have to accompany me to the medbay, you know? I may have a poor sense of direction but I would’ve made it there perfectly fine.”

“Heh, I am hungry, true.” He continued after her, one hand pocketed in his uniform as he flew at her pace, though his footfalls were still like a rock’s. When asked why he followed her, he simply answered. “I know.” Before he put up one finger. “I did it because point One. I was ordered.” Then he unfolded another finger. “Point Two. I find you interesting.” He was as blunt as a truck’s engine block.

The first point was obvious but the second was so unexpected. Against her own volition, Fionnuala’s heart thumped and her eyes widened slightly. It was a thoughtless comment, she knew, but the boldness of his statement still caught her off guard.

“If by ‘interesting,’ you mean ‘entertaining,’ I’ve heard that many times before.” Fionnuala coughed, as they finally entered the cafeteria.

“Entertaining? Well, in way yes,” He admits, ”but you are interesting in other ways as well.” His heart thumped a few beats quicker when the words left his mouth, but settled back down immediately after.

The cursed flush on her face was back, and she hoped it would just be misinterpreted as a light sunburn from their earlier classes. “Oh…” Fionnuala chewed on her lower lip before letting out a soft laugh. “You’re a surprisingly charming person, Rakh. Much easier to talk to than some others I’ve met so far.”

She wrinkled her nose at the memory of Amroi. “I’ll have to pick your brain and see what’s so interesting about me later, though. For now, food. I feel like I could eat an entire cow.”

“Then let’s go eat that cow then.” His cheeks were pushed up by a smile.

hellscythe

fion.

• aaaaaaaaa

• filler tab!

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[FiveElemental]

MURIS SOLEIL

CADET

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

Firing Range, AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM

INTERACTION:

Soviet Panda Pilgrim59 Zufaix Worthlessplebian ThatWhichShouldBe

MOBIUS ARMAMENTS:

N/A

H.Y.M.N:

TBD
Muris agnowledged the simple answer Instructor Murise gave him with a simple nod, before he returned to silence, simply watching the holographic video display showcasing other cadet's going into the lesson one by one, through the killhouse to present their proficiencies and knowledge. First that went through was Cadet Liane, according to their nametag on their uniform. Begining with a shoulder charge through the phantasmal door, busting it down with her frail frame, and three consecutive shots through the targets, taking full advantage of the fact the targets were not firing back. Each step of her movement that he perceived from the crow's eye point of view were calculating and precise. Even the amount of ammunition she carried on her, was counted and accounted for, not taking any of the Axium shards for bow-mode. This seemed to almost backfire, as she was incredibly low on ammunition as she went through the killhouse, however, she made up for it with melee, ending the simulation with a hasty fourty four seconds on the dot, and a seventy-two percent accuracy. However, Instructor Pakson reprimanded her for being too inaccurate, indicating to him that he prefered accuracy over speed.

Next up was Cadet Rakh, who without any hesitation, took the rifle into his hands and marched for the door, adopting a type of low-stance, the rifle's barrel pointed down, left foot farther back than the right which had a bend at the knee, which allowed for easy stabilization when he entered the room to begin the lesson, as he snapped to the dummy targets. With controlled squeezing of the trigger, he took down multiple targets in an instant. With calm, and controlled sweeps across the room, the moment he saw a target, he fired. Ending with 00:00:50.33 with a ninety-two point five percentile of accuracy, commenting on cars for some reason.

Cadet Aeoun came straight off the firing range, clearly showing inexperience in utilization of the Thurigen-V, or any guns in general it seemed, as his time ended without a count for taking too long. This made him recall his limited time in bootcamp, learning every nook and cranny of the Thurigen-S, and as the rifle mode of the Thurigen-V was a one to one carbon copy of the Thurigen-S, Muris knew that he would be utilizing the rifle rather than the bow more during this lesson.

Cadet Sarina had a certainly unique approach, requesting for the shotgun varient of the Thurigen for the killhouse however it placed a twenty second handicap upon her. But with quick thinking utilization of the heavy shot of the shells, she managed to briefly break the accuracy counter to indicate it being an impossible 112%. However, by the end of her run, the machine final calculations ended with a 99% accuracy.

Waiting patiently to be called upon, as Instructor Murise called nitiated the test by utilizing his heavier body to run into the door, with the excessive kinetic energy, breaking it off it's hinges and utilizing the door as a improvised ram. Recalling where the first target was, he slammed his body into it, increasing the total elimations to one. The next three target was nearby, surrounding him in a triangular shape. Muris aimed down his rifle and swivled it in a sweeping motion, as he pulled back the trigger with controlled, precise shots. The three bullets flew through towards each target, piercing through the flimsy illusory material, the bullets digging itself into the wall after taking down each target. Before swiftly moving throughout the rooms, carefully scanning and taking down each and every target within his peripheral vision, not missing any target once. Whether it be body shots or head. If it kills, it kills.

As the test ended, he latched it back to safety, and pointed the barrel towards the flooring, as accorance with the manual, and returning back to lineup in silence, with a score stated the following; 100% Accuracy, 51.996 Seconds.

--------------------​

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

Cafeteria, AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM

INTERACTION:

Pilgrim59
Soon, with the lesson over. Muris headed for the cafeteria for daily nutrition. Having been stuck on the hoverbus since early morning, he was not allocated time to eat. It was fortunate that he was to receive his daily rations of the day soon, or he would have to as he stood in line. Waiting patiently to receive his portion, keeping am unemotive face. He felt the exhaustion from both lessons taking a toll upon his body. A slightly overcooked, plainly seasoned Alborinese steak, collard green that were slightly too soggy, and mashed up potatoes drowned in gravy with a taste akin to mushroom. Muris found himself a seat and began to eat, in one practiced motion, he sliced through the steak with ease, and placed the small piece in his mouth, chewing on it slowly.

He felt the slight chewy meat grinding against his teeth. Tasting the salt and pepper the steak was seared in, his ears accidentally picking up on a conversation nearby, between Instructor Murise and Cadet Durthai, ending with Durthai gaining active permission from Instructor Murise to utilize the kitchen facilities, as long as she provided a share with her. He wondered for a moment if he could put in a formal request for his personal meals.

He took a bite of the mash and gravy. The creamy, properly mashed up potatoes pairing well with the mushroom gravy, tasting a hint of mace in the roux. He took another bite of his steak, this time with collard greens... it didn't make a particular difference. Muris went about finishing his meal in a efficient, and concious manner.

It was around when his meal was half finished, that he quietly got up from his seat, and approached Instructor Muirse, a question was lingering in his mind.

"Instructor, a question if you will." He asked her in his usual, unemotive, and polite tone. Accidentally shocking her with his sudden presence, before continuing.

"You have allowed the utilization of kitchen facilities for Durthai after an agreeing to a portion of her labor... Will you allow me this work as well?" His words were concise, and to the point, carrying a heavy feeling that not a single word uttered was wasted.

Code by Nano

 

[TheRealAngeloftheStorm]

MARIAN RUI MARIK

CADET

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM

INTERACTION:

ANY

MOBIUS ARMAMENTS:

N/A

With lunch beginning, Marian dove into her shared room to catch a quick shower before heading out to the cafeteria. The action was unashamedly automated; nobility had to be well-dressed, well-groomed. Presentation of oneself was of paramount importance. Most cadets were carefree with how they looked and dressed, and that would’ve garnered them looks of scorn in the courts and ballrooms of Vranitra.

…but this wasn’t Vranitra.

Marian dove out of the shower with barely a minute’s check. The process at home would’ve taken five to ten, with a dedicated team at the ready. Some finangling of her hair into a lazy ponytail and a quick dress-up saw her out the door of her room fairly fast. She’d spied herself in the mirror for the briefest of moments - somewhat unkempt, dressed in baggy military garb rather than tight form-fitting dresses. It was a sight that would’ve sent a number of the nobility laughing into their drinks. The great daughter of their leader, playing the part of a mere soldier!

But they aren’t here.

Hunger, that old thing, roared in her ears. Marian briskly walked to the cafeteria. She wouldn’t dwell on it for too long. Vranitra was so far away now, and yet, every time she had a moment to herself, home would come to mind - the chill of empty corridors, the servants who played their parts, and the man who sat on a throne built on the remains of his enemies. Always watching. Always tugging at invisible strings. Marian wondered how taut her own must be, all the way on the Throneworld.

She blew out a sigh again. If this was going to be a New Thing, then… why not?

The low roar of conversation droned in her ears as she grabbed herself a meal. People were sitting in groups already, or trudging towards tables. They moved like zombies, the lot of them. It brought the white-haired woman to mind - Venhaus, from what she’d caught from her little nametag. On the other hand, they’d just been put through the proverbial wringer. A little slouch and slow gait could be forgiven. Marian looked down at her food. It wasn’t anything special - certainly not on the level that she was accustomed to. But Marian was no stranger to eating military food. And though it looked sad… well, there was nothing wrong with that.

As she sat down at an empty table, she thought about trying out fast food on the off-chance they were ever allowed off-campus. Her father had been strict with what she was allowed to eat, and the ‘filth’ that fast food was completely disallowed.

The burgers looked nice, though, she thought, picking up her cutlery and beginning to eat.

Code by Nano

 

[ERode]

Location: AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM
Interactions: TheRealAngeloftheStorm
​

With exercise complete and lunch to be had, Rel-Taren was one of the many who decided to take the opportunity to freshen up while there was one. It hadn't been too hard to slip into his room and shed his uniform for a quick inspection. No rips or tears, a testament to the durability of it, but he'd have to widen the hole in the trousers that the tailors had cut for his tail. The fabric was tough and didn't crease easily, traits that were beneficial for the increasingly common type of soldier who never understood how to care for clothing without machine assistance, but those traits were obtained in exchange for losing elasticity. The way he'd expect to use it, Rel-Taren would be sporting a rip or two within a week. Perhaps he'd tear it in half completely, if Pakson ever got the idea to threefold the intensity of his physical 'education'.

That would have to be for later though. For now, the lizardman simply buffed up his scales, until white became iridescent under fluorescent lighting. A wire brush did most of the work, removing dirt that got between his scales, while a thin layer of scented oil served well to lend a subtle sheen and a subtler aroma. It had taken him but a few minutes, and before there was any chance of encountering his future roommate, Rel-Taren was out once more, tail swishing from side to side as he strode for the cafeteria. Yup. The trousers weren't going to last. Maybe he'll ask for a skirt instead.

Simpler concerns manifested though, in the helpings of food doled out at the mess hall. As always, the white-scaled savage marveled at the sheer amount of food that these Velikan workers could simply leave on display. In the foreground, vats of vegetables and meats were piled up and scooped up. In the background, the intense smell of sweat and steam was drawn upwards into fans that drew breath like a snoring giant. Such glorious excess on display. Twas a feast, three times a day...if not for the accursed term of 'servings'.

Well, he was accustomed too, to foraging and bartering. Excess, taken for granted, created waste. And Rel-Taren, kind and noble savage that he was, would simply act in a way that would minimize the labor performed by the dishwashing machines, by scooping up leftovers as he passed on by. A scoop of potatoes here, a forkful of greens there, he struck with a predator's swiftness and a herbivore's languidity, until a healthy pile of vegetables rose upon his tray. Minding little of the gazes that he accrued from other cadets, Rel-Taren took the first seat he could and looked at the one before him.

"Ah, the 70%-er." His eyes crinkled, expressing bemusement without (much) malice. "Still sore? Meat'll help your muscles. I'll trade for your greens."

Meat had always been plentiful. But the bounty of the earth had been lost to nuclear fire long ago. What a wonder it was, that other worlds retained their lushness at the expense of his!

 

[TheRealAngeloftheStorm]

MARIAN RUI MARIK

CADET

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM

INTERACTION:

ERode

MOBIUS ARMAMENTS:

N/A

Marian noticed the Xihu’tein approach out of the corner of her eye. She’d paid him no heed initially, simply indulging in what the nobles would derogatorily refer to as ‘commoner slop’. It wasn’t half-bad, but that was years of having a refined palate working against her own desire to enjoy it for what it was. Luxury was not something the IAFF was interested in providing to their soldiers.

Already Marian could name those who could not survive here in her mind’s eye. Acquaintances met under the chandeliers and marble floors of House Marik’s seat of power on Vranitra, Torlun’s Palace. Nobles with more money than sense, sneering at those below them. Sequestered in the rimward periphery, it was inevitable that a bubble would develop, leaving the Vranitran nobility to act the part of kings. Without constant oversight from the Throneworld, they’d deluded themselves into believing their own self-aggrandizing rhetoric.

Then the Halation War began.

Marian wondered how many of those smug, sneering faces were grinding their teeth, being forced to work with the smallfolk, the baseborn, the commoner. All for the good of Farbania and Her Majesty, the Empress. She envisioned Ilania, haughty Ilania, face caked in grime and stripped of those dresses that she loved so much. The indignity of it - fighting personally where she would’ve sent others to die in her place - was a cathartic thought.

It was Rel’Taren’s words that brought her out of her musings. Amethyst orbs flicked upwards to slitted red, then back down to her own food.

"Somewhat." she admitted, letting the implied insult slide. "Though that is a product of my upbringing. I have much farther to go."

When the demands of the political outstripped practical needs, it was inevitable that she’d fall behind compared to her peers. Too important to the demands of the House to truly engage in Greion’s training. Father had to balance perception of the family and what would allow her to flourish during her time in conscription. It was easy to see which one won out. Tragic, really. Hamstrung by the ambitions of greater men.

“I would like at least some of the greens.” Marian acquiesced. She scooped up a few spoonfuls of greens and placed them on Rel’Taren’s plate. “Indulging in one or the other too much will affect what progress I’ve made on myself.”

Thinking back, Renee seemed to have some free time to herself; the ward of House Elithad had gotten 46 seconds on the clock and a 99% accuracy rate. There was another one, before her - Faulkner? Atreides? - that had torn through the course like a storm, also with a 99% accuracy rate. And the one in front of her?

Well. He didn’t much care about it, did he?

Code by Nano

 

[Worthlessplebian]

RAKH XIRILENKIA

CADET

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

Cafeteria, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM

INTERACTION:

koala

MOBIUS ARMAMENTS:

N/A

The older Xirilenkian fell in line for his serving of prepackaged steak, mushroom-gravy dipped mash-taters, and greens. It was the dull ennui of it all that forced Rakh into his self-possessed headspace. Nothing but him and his own thoughts. He didn't even know where his brother had gone, whether he was further up the line or behind it, then again, he did not even try to look so the fault was no-one but his own.

His shoulder slumped as he lumped the utensils and tray along the rim of the serving line. The vents that ate the steamed eminence from the food prep in the back and the weightless feeling of the utensils made Rakh put unsavoury images of the camps they briefly passed through on Dazhoret. With dark, grey clouds that weighed heavier than the ores that were mined, pungent aromas from spent munitions blown down wind into their nostrils, burning out what little hairs they had. And the food was an even greyer, muddier slop than this one. "Small blessings," his lips parted but made no sound. He creased a brow when he remembered that he had another blessing just behind him. He looked over to confirm and unsurprisingly, she was still behind him. Excellent He thought as he presented his trigger finger before him. With a mote of concentration and whispered words, the tip began to iridescently glow, as it cycled through the wavelength spectrum.

The soft glow was smothered by folding into a fist. He turned around to face Fion with his body and sprang out the index and with it a thin, faded beam of crimson, like that of a rifle's aiming laser. The dot landed firmly on Fion's stomach and with little wiggle of his finger, he danced it up and down her midriff like he was painting a picturesque landscape before zipping up to her half-covered neck. And then the moon-tipped, onyx-haired girl's nose became the last target for this hand-held laser marker. His hand flew like a bombing plane, unflinchingly guided to its target by the laser dot.

Then he gently presses her tiny nose down. Before he dragged the tip down, teasingly above her lips then pulling away a bit quicker. Almost lost myself in the moment there. He remarked. And the expected reaction from her came as she sneezed into the crook of her arm. He could've made it so that her allergies weren't trigger, just a little adjustment of the wavelength and voila, no allergens, but where's the fun in that?

The stone-faced Rakh chiseled a wide grin on his face, so satisfied with his playful toying of the noblewoman, yet he rubbed his fingers dry with the question of why was it so? Why did he find her so interesting.

He poked the last potato he needed with his fork. "Fion." He gestured by tilting his head for her to follow, his clay-hair catching up half-second later. He hasn't had the opportunity to trim it since he arrived at the facility. He's sure, he'll have time for that later. Now he'll need to decide where to sit.

 

[koala]

STATUS: ACTIVE DUTY
LOCATION: CAFETERIA ; AICA, VELIKA PRIME, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM
ATTIRE: STANDARD UNIFORM
MENTION: N/A
INTERACTION: RAKH Worthlessplebian ; REL-TAREN ERode ; MARIAN TheRealAngeloftheStorm

Lunch smelled subjectively mouth-watering due to Fionnuala’s hunger, but the sight of it was as disappointing as every other meal she had as a Legionnaire. It was nothing compared to the lavish meals she had back home with freshly hunted venison steaks, cooked so tenderly it felt closer to cream than meat. Even the lunch she had in a small, hidden restaurant on a neighboring planet a year ago was more visually appealing than the helping of dull greens spooned onto her tray.

Food was food, however. It wasn’t like she really needed to eat what was served like the rest of her compatriots anyway. A single ichora pill, created by one of her ancestors and designed to meet a sanguine’s daily nutritional needs, was enough to satisfy the roaring ache in her stomach. That pill, however, made mealtimes short and boring, which was why her people had adapted to eating cooked foods that were enjoyed by the general population.

She peered at Rakh, who’d found a place in line in front of her, and a soft smile dangled on her rosy lips. Her misfortune that morning had evolved into luck, earning her two new friends. Brothers, at that. Their interactions didn’t feel forced and artificial like the many she had to partake in on Latenia.

Cainnech would’ve been proud of her if he were there to witness. He’d always been an advocate of her befriending others, going as far as encouraging her to sneak out of the house during the weekends. Though he was never there to join her adventures, he was there in spirit, rooting silently for her success. He was a stark contrast to their parents, who’d scolded her in the past for talking to Rakh in the first place.

Fionnuala’s stomach churned slightly at the thought of her parents' cold words—their overall distaste in her choice of companionships. At least things were a bit different now. They’d given her more autonomy over her life following Cainnech’s disappearance, even if the last couple years of “freedom” felt heavier than the negligence she’d experienced growing up.

The churning in Fionnuala’s stomach transitioned into a questionably ticklish sensation. She placed a hand over her abdomen, holding her tray with one hand as she sucked in a giggle. It felt like someone was running a heated feather underneath her clothes and along her bare skin—a devil’s trick with the assistance of aureum no doubt.

Her eyes met the perpetrator’s as the warmth trickled up her neck and along the delicate bow of her lip. Lips parting to speak, she paused when the odd feeling targeted her nose. He was teasing her with a lasered finger like she was some type of domesticated feline. The villain.

“Are you trying to make me-” She paused to inhale slowly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of making her sneeze.

“Rakh, what are you-” Fionnuala cut off again. This time her face ducked into the crook of an elbow, one hand still balancing the tray of food as the metallic utensils rattled from her sneeze. Thankfully, it was nowhere near as intense as her earlier spectacle—normal, even, but a noticeable sneeze nonetheless.

Nose wrinkling, Fionnuala sniffed as she gave her friend a look of mock annoyance, though the curve of her mouth gave away her amusement. “I hope you were planning on giving me your food if I ended up dropping everything.”

Her attention followed his gaze when he said her name, a curiously sweet sound with his accent. She responded with her own nod as she followed him, a sly grin growing on her face as she deviously eyed his long hair.

She was her brother’s sister, even if she wasn’t nearly as daring.

Fionnuala muttered something under her breath before gently blowing out some air. From an onlooker’s perspective it looked like she was simply exhaling, but to Rakh, the subtle exhale would be a breeze that messily ruffled his clay locks. Like someone took a blow dryer to wet hair and didn’t bother to properly brush it down.

“Consider this retaliation. But… also, sorry.” She chewed on her lower lip and bit back a laugh, walking past the lion and towards their table of choice.

Finding an empty seat next to Rel-Taren, she gave him a beaming smile. “Hello, again, Rel-Taren. You were amazing on the course today. I’ve never been able to score 100% accuracy with a gun regardless of my time.”

Her amber eyes met the other woman at the table, the aura of nobility radiating like the sun. She’d noticed her during their earlier classes but couldn’t convince herself to speak up. Nobility was the hardest for Fionnuala to socialize with because she always felt like she was being microstudied and ridiculed. Though she hoped this particular person would be different from the rest, considering they would soon be sisters at arms.

“Hello.” A bit of shyness returned to Fionnuala’s voice. “I’m Fionnuala rui Esteriel from Latenia. I hope my friend,” she gestured towards Rakh, “and I aren’t intruding?"

hellscythe

fion.

• aaaaaaaaa

• filler tab!

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[RedArmyShogun]

SARINA R. KIRST
​

~~~~
Status: Active Duty
Location: AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM
Interaction: None, general observations.
Mobius Armaments: N/A
~~~~

With her pushups complete, the rest of the course ran, Sarina found herself amused by some of the results. The 100% of note. Next time she would keep up her overlapping fields of fire and force the machine to score her as it should, her time was nothing to be ashamed of but it still was something of a slight to her that they did so well. Before she could say much more to the blonde beside her, Sarina found themselves being dismissed and the next order of the day being carried out. Time was arranged for them to shower and to take a break to eat.

While she wished to consult if this were the last physical training of the day, Sarina decided until she got the lay of the school and her own schedule that she would refrain from showering till they were dismissed for the evening. It was a waste of water to take a shower before lunch, only to end up taking another in the evening. Baring she had rolled around in dirt or had a strong odor. Though she didn't just leave in the clothes she had on for the field training, in place changing back into her previous clothing after wiping off with a damp rag in the Women's Changing Room by the sinks. With that she was well good and ready to leave for her meal, and so she did.

Though Sarina would take a few minutes to walk about the facility, learning it's halls and rooms in what sparse minutes would allow, she was surprised to already find others either sitting and eating or in the process of getting food, her ears not being just for show, picked up on more than a few bits of conversation as she studied the rest in turn, getting a tray, she frowned slightly but took the food regardless, it would not be the first meal she had that didn't live up to expectations.

First to take her notice was the girl she had seen getting bullied earlier in the day, she was talking to the Major it seemed, a deal of sorts was brokered for access to the kitchen, something that yet another was attempting to do...yet his way of doing it was too far direct and the mannerisms of it too firm. If he got the okay, she would be surprised. Next to take her notice was the lizardman scavenging from every left-over tray, to think that there were people here that did not return the trays was almost as disturbing as his own actions. Though she could understand wanting to save food, to not waste, after all her own planet depended on imports from across the Empire, this all was a bit much.

She thought back to how one could have their fill within reason and those that took food that did not eat would not be given the next meal in her training program and what amounted for schooling. That made sense, this however, hygiene or the lack of it aside, she watched where he went and where he sat, as he tried brokering a deal for yet more food from the one she had marked as a high noble.

Snorting at that and letting out a bemused chuckle, it was soon that Fi and... Rakh wasn't it? The two of them had an interaction which made her wonder if friends were truly all they were... Or at least he was getting too close for comfort to her own standards. Either way the pair of them decided to sit at the same table with Marian and Rel'Taren. Considering joining them all, the Cenerithian decided that she would rather have what peace and quiet she could have for the time being and chose a table roughly between where the Major and the quad were. Looking down at the meal, the greens were a rather sad and over cooked addition to the meal, the mash was standard and the meat was likely something mixed between a number of animal meats or was from something she was all the better off not knowing. The gravy smelled nice at least. Eitherway she would eat what was on her plate, though she was curious if meals were fixed, or some variety was allowed. She would kill for some dark chocolate right about now...

Well... Let's not go that far shall we?

 

[TheRealAngeloftheStorm]

MARIAN RUI MARIK

CADET

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM

INTERACTION:

koala ERode Worthlessplebian

MOBIUS ARMAMENTS:

N/A

Another pair stopped by the table. Recognition flared in her mind; the one who’d run through the course like a demon, with a 95% accuracy rate - only to be told to drop by Major Pakston, shattering the illusion that the old soldier was going to give them an actual reward. The other one was the girl who’d made a spectacular exit from the course. Marian declined to comment on that. Accidents happened. It could be excused.

Regardless of her exit, she was a noble. The honorific rang in her ears. ‘Rui’.

The pendant felt a little heavier. Marian pushed that feeling aside. This was nothing new. She dealt with nobles all the time at home. They hid their scorn behind smiles and knives behind empty platitudes and flattery. She got used to that; this, presumably, would be no different to the standard fare. But the way the girl’s eyes wavered when their eyes met and voice shook - just a tiny bit, but oh so noticeable - this Fionnuala was no threat. At the moment, at least. The memory of that loud, boisterous nobleman during the course glorifying himself came to the forefront of her mind.

“It is of no consequence.” Marian said, fingers coming together in a tent as she offered a polite smile. “This table is quite spacious, after all. I am Marian rui Marik, hailing from Vranitra. A pleasure to meet you both. Please, sit.”

Marian looked out into the rest of the cafeteria. There was Instructor Muirse, conversing with one of the students. There was another one there - the one who constantly asked questions. Clarification. No doubt he was already needling the good instructor about some manner of tool. The other one present, a short slip of a girl… the last one to run the course, and with a score even lower than hers.

She didn’t seem particularly used to running and gunning like the rest of them. Reserve unit? Rear-echelon? It didn’t really matter. The girl would have all the time to improve. Sooner, rather than later.

There was the girl with the pointed ears, milling around and looking for her own spot. The rest of the cadets were sitting in their own little cliques and groups, and she was half-tempted to extend an offer to sit. Present company said otherwise. There were still others missing, no doubt taking their time in the showers or their rooms to calm down after the initial burst of activity.

Marian wiped her mouth clean with a napkin. Her eyes swept across the table, back and forth.

“You were all pulled from the rank-and-file for the purpose of this program. How do you feel about it so far?"

Code by Nano

 

[Worthlessplebian]

RAKH XIRILENKIA

CADET

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

Cafeteria, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM

INTERACTION:

koala TheRealAngeloftheStorm ERode

MOBIUS ARMAMENTS:

N/A

"Perhaps, perhaps." He told the sanguine plainly, exhuming a hint of humour in his voice. "I've never had problem with ration sharing anyway." He spoke matter-of-factly, but was drawing on prior experiences, fingers tip-tapping the rounded-corners of the tray. But that was when his threads of clay unexpectedly flew up, while his eyes turned up to follow along. The sudden, inexplicable breeze that caressed his face like the morning rays of sun on the wave, he turned while still walking to look at the culprit, already apologising. "Don't be." He winked with wide curve on his mouth to show his amusement.

He followed the sneeze-prone noble to the table, putting his tray down and pulling up a chair opposite to her and next to the amethyst-eyed noble. She choose as good a company as anyone else here. The lizardman, Rel-Taren as Rakh remembers and Fion reiterates, and he believes the noble's name, was Marian which she later confirmed. "It was impressive," Rakh added to Fion's praise of the lizardman's aptitude at the course. "I'm Rakh Xirilenkia." Then he introduced himself after Fion gestured towards. He pointed the fork between his fingers at the 70%er. "And yours was not below adequacy as well, by the way." He gently poked into a morsel of his food. "An average soldier's rate is 30 to 50% on a shooting range, that drops down to 15-20% during live fire and combat stress." He ate one to two pieces, before wiping away any mess on his lips with a napkin. "Point is: now's the time to improve, look at your cadets, what they do, how they do it, then try it out for yourself. See what works, what doesn't, then experiment. Better here in safety than figuring out the brake lines were cut and careening yourself into a ditch or worse." He spoke with a stolid tone in his voice, but underlined with sincerity and wishing to advise his fellow cadet. "This may not seem important. Or rather, too obvious. But you'd be surprised how many people don't take it to heart."

He went back to his food while occasionally looking a glance at anything someone else said or if anyone decided to join. He enjoyed the peace and quiet of the table, at least these two nobles weren't cut from the boisterous cloth as many irritatingly seem to be. Then again, he never did harbor much hate for the aristocracy, regarding them with blind indifference at best or tepid apprehension at worst.

When Marian asked a question, Rakh put down his utensils and clasped his hands together. "It's... Acceptable?" He said, edged with confusion. "I was caught off-guard that the training only took thirteen weeks to complete, too fast if you will." His eyes swept across. "You'd have to wonder what would the Empress need with this many pilots."

 

[Steve Jobs]

click!

Odessa

Belial/Cadet

location

AICA Mess Hall

outfit

AICA Uniform

interactions

Sarina Kirst RedArmyShogun , Rel-Taren (mention),

mobius armaments

none

Mise en Place

Odessa put her body, mind, and soul into those pushups, partly to compensate for her middle-of-the-pack performance and partly to release the pent up energy swelling inside of her. It was resentment, jealousy, and excitement all at once. The past two exercises proved that she'd been a big fish in a small pond. Caladan's best would be no match for even the weakest in their line up which meant that she had nothing to be ashamed of.

And yet...

She couldn't shake the lazy stroll that the Lizardman took through the killhouse. As formidable as the other scores were, there was something to be said about a soldier who cared so little about impressing the instructors. It had the same energy as the great sword-bearing woman finishing the obstacle course with as little energy as possible. She almost had to admire the apathy they displayed in the face of competition. Perhaps they were saving their energy for the actual courses or perhaps, they saw no purpose these preliminary tests.

Whatever the case was, Muirse dismissed the class for break and the (very sweaty) blonde could not be happier about it. Where most of the cadets funneled to the cafeteria, Odessa made a beeline for the showers. Though sand and dust were common place on Caladan, the dirt in Velika Prime was made of filthier stuff and as prissy as it sounded, she worked best under clean conditions.

She gave herself twenty-minutes to get washed and dressed before heading over to the mess hall where the food looked edible at best. Before entering the military she'd been a lifelong vegetarian, not for any ethical reasons, but purely because she despised the texture of most meats. Even now, it served no purpose other than replenishing her proteins (which she replaced it with plant-based alternatives at every opportunity).

Once her tray was in hand, Odessa surveyed the room for an open seat. Groups were already forming around their respective tables, the largest of which consisted of Rel-Taren, the sneezing sanguine, and a few others in her squad.

Hm, she pursed her lips. It would be a good opportunity to acquaint herself with more of her cadets and prod at least one other person's mind but three's a crowd and four, even more so. Maybe on a better day.

Instead, she turned towards the redhead she met earlier in the day.

"Sarina Kirst!"

Odessa announced,

"Name's Odessa Atreides. Mind if I sit here?"

The question had been rhetorical of course as the blonde already sat across from the Cenerithian.

"So tell me, have you made any progress reading that manual?"

---​

Lunch Break

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ERode]

Location: AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM
Interactions: TheRealAngeloftheStorm Worthlessplebian koala
​

“Progress? Ah, what you’d call a die-it.” Rel-Taren nodded sagely, even if he had no idea why anyone would willingly starve themselves, and only for the purpose of shedding precious reserves of fat. Truly, it was a choice to die.

He took an extra scoop of Marian’s potatoes instead, adding to the small mound that he had already accrued. And then, silently, he consumed it all. To call it fast was an understatement. All the energy saved in his half-assed run through the kill house and his so-called race with Aeoun was now used to swiftly clean his tray of every scrap of food there was. His tail flicked in Fion’s direction as she sat down, but that was all the response he granted her until the food was cleared. Fastidiously, the lizardman even went as far as to lick the plate clean, his long, rough tongue scraping off the finest particulates of organic matter before he was finally satisfied.

A good meal indeed.

Now it was right to acknowledge those around him with words. “Fionnuala,” he spoke, “Your remark regarding your accuracy. It concerns me somewhat. With a course such as that, and with time that matters not, how is it possible to never obtain 100% accuracy?” There was genuine bewilderment present, though perhaps not so much that his mirth was hidden either. “Could you not place the muzzle against your target and shoot?”

But Rakh was sensible enough there, even if the situation that they were in was not a shooting range either. Such numbers were second place concerns when on the battlefield, after all. A cackling bark sounded, a simple enough response towards Marian’s question.

“Rel-Taren Scale-of-Moon,” he spoke by means of introduction. “Simple enough why the Empress needs so many though. The universe is vast, and the enemy are endless. Even if your dearest Empress desires peace…well, little point in bartering peace between unequals, no? Gotta prove a point first.”

A sharpened claw teased green flakes out between razor teeth.

“With gratifying violence.”

 

[LazyDaze]

EKO "ECHO" GOBBS

​

Location: Cafeteria (11th circle of Hell)
Interactions: RedArmyShogun Steve Jobs ThatWhichShouldBe

Eko was surprised by the well thought out answer from Aeoun. Although he wasn't one to judge a book by its cover due to knowing how awful that feels, he would be lying if he didn't feel as if their was something just a bit....primal when it came to what appeared to be one of the many wonders of the universe. Nevertheless, as it turns out he wasn't just a big handsome brute. He was a big handsome brute who was coherant. Perhaps his flamboyant introduction gave off a different perception. Eko gave a deep chuckle that sounded more like a creepy gurgle in response to Aeoun. "I'd have to agree with you there. Somehow I feel like these tests are more traditional necessities to break recruits in. I doubt that our performances actual mattered that much." Without releasing his grin, Eko shrugged his shoulders before the "lunch bell" rang. Now this would be the true test of the day.

"I guess we did well enough to earn lunch," Eko said before heading toward the cafeteria with a lazy salute. "See you there...or not. It's actually entirely up to you. I just assumed saying the former was a lot cooler.....(I'm rambling) I'm rambling........See you there." Eko said with a thumbs up as if he didn't go on a mini tirade. If there was one thing he was good at, it was denial.

***​

And thus all the beautiful people were gathered in one place. Conversations were quickly striking up. Some even appeared to be...intimate. "Oh my, oh my get a room...well technically you're already in a room so the phrase never made sense...get a room other than the room we are currently in doesn't make much sense." Eko rambled to himself as he scanned the cafeteria. He hadn't talked to too many people thus far, aside from the Katasteri and his brief interaction with the nice blonde lady. Most of the other interactions were just strange looks in his direction. Perhaps he would wind up sitting with him Aeoun. After all, he actually wasn't as flamboyant as he originally thought. Nevertheless, life was about breaking boundaries. Besides, if game shows and reality T.V were any indicator of how to approach real life situations, once tight knit groups were formed, it was always those late to the party to fall behind first. After obtaining his "at least its not prison food" Eko spotted the nice blonde lady. Her name escaped him, "Ostavia, Odella, Olivia?" She had performed fairly well on the two courses thus far. Particularly the latter, stirking down the targets with ice cold efficiency and fundamentally sound gun handling as if she was in control of the entire event. Olette was sitting next to a lady with noticeably red hair and a rather serious face that made Eko's bones shiver. If Eko remembered correctly, she was one of the cadets who altered their weapon. While many would have just went with the flow, she took initiative and still cleared with one of the fastest times and efficiency handicap included. What could have brought those two monsters together? A love for guns perhaps? Suddenly Eko was starting to feel a bit self conscious. Olympia appeared to already be in mid conversation so he was apprehensive on joining their table. Besides, there wasn't a law saying you could not sit by yourself. If such laws were invented it would be a hate crime against introverts everywhere.

"...Hmm, but I'm not actually an introvert am I," Eko mumbled to himself as he looked up to the ceiling deep in thought. Before he knew it, he was already in front of their table having been so lost in thought his legs were on autopilot. "Oops...." Being taken aback by his current predicament, that was all he managed to say before another awkward pause. "I um...Gobbs...Eko Gobbs." Eko said to the red head while trying to hold his smile. How do you introduce yourself again? How do you politely interrupt conversations without interrupting conversations? How do you press reset? "And...Odyssey...Oden...Odessa, yes Odessa, we met earlier right? Don't mind me...I'll just be sitting here with this 'at least it's not prison food' of mine. Sorry to interrupt," Eko said while robotically taking a seat at the table.

Eko mentally held a gun to his brain and pulled the trigger with 100% accuracy in .1 seconds. Was that seriously all his synapses could come up with? Literally anything, anything else could have been said. He cursed the day he was born, he cursed school, and he cursed the fact he didn't have a nose. It was of no relation to his current predicament, but since he was already cursing things it made the list.

 

[RedArmyShogun]

SARINA R. KIRST
​

~~~~
Status: Active Duty
Location: AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM
Interaction: Steve Jobs (Odessa) LazyDaze (Eko)
Mobius Armaments: N/A
~~~~

Looking up from her tray, it seemed company was soon to join her, well, not all that surprising nor bothersome, it would take a foolish one to sit with the feline featured Major, the other option was currently awaiting an answer from her, there was the table of four, that left either empty tables, or filling in some like her own. And it was the blonde from before, who asked if she could have a seat, while sitting down at once. Chuckling at that it was the blonde girl from before that never really had the chance to talk with her.

While Sarina liked her rare private moments, she knew a military force or any focused on survival could not be a one woman show. She wasn't a hermit, nor one to push away others for just being there... Living on the terraced cities of her home world robbed one of such thoughts, it was next to impossible to find solitude minus in ones sleeping quarters or on the surface level portions of the planet, that primal predators and even carnivorous flora made all the more deadly.

"I don't think I'll ask you to leave, but you never know, I might bite... Still, Odessa Atreides, a name for the face. It is unfortunate we could not talk more at the range..." Thinking on her question, she tilted her head and it almost seemed as if her ears twitched, no they very much so did twitch. "No more than the basics, I have the manual I was allowed to take in my locker, I plan to get it when we are done for the day. At 200 pages, it will take me a few hours, spread out over a day or two, unless our afternoon time is generous."

It was then that another figure made his presence known, and that presence would be hard to mistake. A Marshian. He seemed rather self-conscious, when he wasn't amusingly carrying forward on Autopilot. Introducing himself and sitting at the table, his remark however had gotten her attention. "Sarina Kirst." She said at his introduction, though now she was partially guarded, was he a prisoner at some point? Or was the food just that bad? Well, she would assume the later, as she turned to the meal.

"I've had worse, I've also had better, its edible and I don't mind meat, though I've learned with the Imports we got on the home planet to not question what it was, though not as strange as the occasional predator or large prey that would be brought back.... The Greens however, overcooked, but best to not complain to the cooks, least we find ourselves doing the job or our food being prepped without any care at all. At least most of it seems mostly fresh, more than space hauled or processed... Though I hope we'll get some fruit next time with the greens... Maybe some chocolate..." It seemed she had more than a few things to say about the food, or food in general, but made no effort to tell the others to leave or shoo them off.

"You two seem..." A pause, "...less than pleased, or willing to eat the meal than I."

 

[koala]

STATUS: ACTIVE DUTY
LOCATION: CAFETERIA ; AICA, VELIKA PRIME, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM
ATTIRE: STANDARD UNIFORM
MENTION: N/A
INTERACTION: RAKH Worthlessplebian ; REL-TAREN ERode ; MARIAN TheRealAngeloftheStorm

Fionnuala pondered Rel-Taren’s question, unable to tell if he was mocking her lack of skill or not. The feeling of her presence shrinking into nothingness washed over her like a wave of dark, unforgiving water. For a second it was like she was in a different world. Multiple pairs of eyes peered down at her, leering and cruel. Laughter rang in her ears.

Judgment. Patronization. Isolation.

The sound of Rakh’s voice drew her to the present, his heavy, Dazhoretian accent a reminder that she wasn’t on Latenia—she hadn’t been there in two years. As she inhaled and smiled at the man’s explanation, which was thorough yet easy enough for a child to understand, gratitude replaced whatever had grabbed her.

“I suppose in that particular exercise, a perfect score is doable.” Fionnuala nodded, spooning over her mashed potatoes and gravy until it resembled more like mush than food. “Truthfully, I never considered placing the muzzle directly on a practice target. I usually default to close quarter combat or blade fighting if I end up that close.”

At Marian’s question about their participation in the program, there was another pause from Fionnuala. Like Rakh, she was caught off-guard by the length of it all. Three months was an awfully short time to break habits that would harm a pilot, let alone relearn beneficial ones. It made her wonder what her brother’s training was like, being one of the first pilots and all.

She took in consideration of Rel-Taren’s words too. Peace… was peace possible in her lifetime? In any of their lifetimes? War seemed like a tattoo they’d never be able to get rid of. Permanent and sunken into their skin and bones.

“We’ve lost many good pilots.” A faint sadness blanketed her usually light tone. The face of her brother, too old to be a boy and too young to be a man, flashed before her eyes as she remembered when they first parted ways. “I think it makes sense to replace our troops while we’re in this temporary stalemate. You never know when Sorento will strike. It’s best to be prepared, or better yet, strike first if we want to truly end this all. right?”

Though Fionnuala didn’t condone violence, she learned at a young age that it was often the necessary evil to end other evil. If they didn't fight, they and countless others would die.

hellscythe

fion.

• aaaaaaaaa

• filler tab!

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[TheRealAngeloftheStorm]

MARIAN RUI MARIK

CADET

STATUS:

Active Duty

LOCATION:

AICA, Velika Prime, FABELIKA PRAETORI SYSTEM

INTERACTION:

koala ERode Worthlessplebian

MOBIUS ARMAMENTS:

N/A

Marian took the compliment for what it was. The environment was different, she told herself, fingers itching towards the pendants and its comforting points. Not quite the pit of snakes that the Eyrie was, with a thousand eyes and ears watching and listening. But not every word spoken in these halls was an insult, veiled as they tended to be. This Rakh seemed like the sort to say what was on his mind. Though there was a glimmer of judgment in his eyes, it was merely human. To take the measure of someone before you was only natural. To assess. To discern.

“I thank you,” she dipped her head in acknowledgement, “I only wish to improve further. There are many in this class that have shown such skill at arms that I find myself awestruck, to tell the truth. I shall endeavor to observe the others.”

70% was much better than she anticipated. Perhaps the training that her master at arms put her through was sufficient. No - more than sufficient. The old soldier knew how to put her through her paces, and for her to achieve such a result… nay, a thousand thanks would never be enough. Lesser peers have strived for more. Marian would count herself blessed that her instructor was a capable man.

She lapsed into silence, letting the others at the table speak their turn. Only Fionnuala was a peer. Rakh and Rel'Taren were not. No honorifics. But they were company, of a sort. There were others that Marian knew would be displeased at the notion of even working with a commoner. Too stuck in their ways - always looking for the hidden barb, always seeking to put themselves over their lessers, demanding attention that they felt that they deserved as part of their station.

For her, though, it was exhilarating. Liberating. No longer bound, she could be free to speak to others as equals. No fear to dance 'round sensitive men and women in fear of starting a House feud.

The knot in her gut sobered her. It churned, turning that fleeting happiness, that gasp of liberation, into loathing. No matter how one presented it, no matter how they softened the blow... a lie was still a lie.

Marian exhaled. Don't dwell on it. Don't dwell on it.

She focused again, running the threads of the conversation through her head. If you wish for peace, prepare for war. It was a maxim that reverberated through the ages, from the moment it was uttered to this very day as man plied the stars in their search for answers.

“War is rarely so forgiving.” Marian said, setting down her utensils. “The Throneworld has been placed on the backfoot for the past few years. Clearly they mean to deploy us as swiftly as they can. Sorentine Titans tipped the balance of this conflict in their favor. For every Titan destroyed, two more take its place. A Mobius, crafted with such refinement and care, is not so easily replaced.”

It was why industries to the war effort appeared over Vranitra. Why her world, once so verdant and azure, was sickly. The pall of black smoke from factories wafting into the curtain of stars; the waste being dumped into pristine rivers, turning them dark; the little dots of light, appearing one by one in the dark side of the moon.

And why she and her family fled. All those years ago, a memory almost lost in the din of the galaxy.

“We are to be the tip of the Empress’ reforged spear, ready to strike at her enemies.” she continued, tenting her fingers. The motion was smooth. Practiced. It felt odd without gloves. “Three months is not enough. Not nearly enough. It is desperation. But nonetheless,” Marian tilted her head to the side, “both sides have taken matters to the final courtroom of kings. All we can do is play our part.”

There could only be one victor.

Code by Nano