Fantasy Iron Clad [IC] (Closed)

[The Black Knight]

Dome 36 is one out of fifty surviving colonies on Earth. It is the setting of this RP, a mega city in a wasteland of what used to be the southwest United States. Dome 50, in what used to be Europe, is the main headquarters of the Earth Iron Alliance (EIA). The EIA has embassies in every dome across the planet, ensuring that each Dome Government is apprised of all political decisions.

A.M. has been building a machine empire in what used to be Africa, leeching all the resources and expanding its Legion manufacturing plants. While there are still surviving colonies in Africa, due to A.M.’s presence, sending supplies for the creation of protective domes have not been possible. Intelligence is hard to come by in Africa. If there are any survivors, then they must survive the journey across Africa to Europe in order to reach one of the EIA embassies if not EIA headquarters directly. So far, communication has been silent. A.M. has dominated communications in Africa and to attempt a link could comprise the Dome Network.

Iron Wing Academy was created as a pilot for the creation of a military branch that utilizes the supernatural phenomena, sound power. The first ever academy was built in Dome 36 in 3037, and its success has led to the creation of other Iron Wing Academies across the planet. Our story begins in June 3050 where a legendary group of prospective pilots are about to make their imprint on the world.

You are a singer or musician, seeking to save humanity and the world from The Legion. You have always known that there was something special deep inside you. You were different from everyone else and may have grown up bullied and excluded because of it. It was as though everyone could sense it. This feeling has brought you to do something bold. Something you’re not even sure you’ll make it in.

Your character, whether confidently, fearfully, stupidly, or impulsively marched through those audition doors knowing that their life would either be changed forever or be the same. This is the first step. Will you take it?

In Chapter One, we are going to be forming the bands/future squadrons. Once your squadron has a complete band, then your squadron will come up with a team name. The teams will then be allies as well as rivals as they strive to become the best sound specialists in IWA. They will train hard. Characters will be paired up in dormitories and squadrons will share common areas. Once the pilots have been selected and squadrons filled, they will begin training on how to use their sound power. The next chapter will begin with this training and characters being introduced to the first component of their Iron Wing.

 

[The Black Knight]

Iron Wing Academy (IWA) is located on the EIA Dome 36 Air Base also known as Bastion, named after the squadron who gave their lives holding off A.M.’s forces until the first mega dome could be created. It is because of their sacrifice that A.M. was unable to take the other continents before the mega dome technology spread.

IWA 36 is one of fifty other academies on the planet. It is the most famous of the fifty academies for having been the first academy and for having trained the legendary squadron Bastion. The primary school setting will take place here. All squadrons live together on IWA. Their bedrooms are studios with their own private bathroom facilities, but they share the common areas, which includes the living room and kitchen area.

Bastion Air Base has one of the finest mess halls for those recruits wishing to eat with the rest of the military. Recruits, especially those belonging to the Sound Power program, may find integrating into the military culture to be slightly difficult. There are many soldiers, pilots, marines, and sailors who lack sound power and who also believe that Sound Power recruits aren’t that special. It is because of this prejudice that the Sound Power candidates reside separate from other forces. It is the recruits’ job to ignore these naysayers and focus on their training for the world relies on it.

There are certain locations not located on the IWA campus, which can be accessed by a highspeed monorail:

1. Bastion Mess Hall
2. Loadout Facility
3. The Outpost (on-base convenience store)
4. Off-Base (any location off-base)

IWA has the following:

1. Classrooms
2. Training Room
3. Gym
4. Training Simulator
5. Auditorium
6. Dormitories

All IWA cadre live either on-base or off-base. Classes are held from 0600 in the morning (physical fitness) until 1600 (4pm) in the afternoon. After 1600, there is a 24HR guard posted who can handle all emergencies. While at the academy, all students will be issued equipment which includes a blaster rifle, battle uniform, fitness uniform, rucksack, and a survival computer known as a SAVIOR. The Savior will be always worn on the recruit’s wrist to monitor their location and health.

Recruits are required to wear their fitness uniform between the hours of 0600-0700. Class starts at 0900 and ends at 1600. While in class, the uniform is the battle uniform. After 1600, recruits can where their civilian attire.

 

[The Black Knight]

IC Rules

1. Respect the In-Game Chain of Command. Your character has a rank. They may have special powers, but they must still listen to their leadership. If your character proves to be too much of a problem, then your character will get expelled from the academy and their story is over.
2. Obey the GM Interactions. I mean, you don't have to but you may not benefit. You can also choose not to obey them for story purposes. You were warned though!
3. No Meta-Gaming. The knowledge you know IRL is not the knowledge your character knows. Please do not do this. This happens in almost every game. You are not your character.
4. No God-moding. Do not control other player's characters without their consent. Do not use metagame knowledge to try and turn the tides in order to try and avoid a result you didn't want. If you cannot handle the story-created drama, then this may not be the game for you.
5. Romance. It can happen but please follow the RPN rules. A kiss on the cheek and a hug is okay. Anything above that, nope. Don't do it.
6. Picture Sizes. Please control the size of your pictures. If you are posting from your phone and can't size down the art, then don't post it until you're at a computer. Nobody wants a massive picture taking up their webpage and lagging things.
7. No neon colors. Some people are on light mode. Some people are on dark mode. Just avoid neon colors please or just don't even use colors if you can help it.
8. Travel. If your character travels from one location to a completely different location, then they must spend one turn doing so. Your character cannot travel, for example, from the Mess Hall to IWA in one post. I'm sorry; if something is happening at the Mess Hall and you want in on the action, then there are common sense rules to follow: 1) does your character know about it? If they don't, then they shouldn't be trying to go there, and 2) you will need to spend one turn describing the character traveling there.
9. Technology Level. Modern futuristic. Use your imagination. However, we do not have portals, time travel, or space exploration technology. The mechas may be capable of it though. It depends on your sound power level.

Tag

Use this tag at the top of your posts.

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Rank:[/b] Recruit
[b]Position:[/b] (Singer, Guitar, Bass, etc.)
[b]Location:[/b] Where is your character currently?
[b]Tag:[/b] Who are you interacting with directly? Who is your character thinking about or talking about?

 

[The Black Knight]

The audition room was situated in Iron Wing Academy. There were lines of prospective recruits snaking from the doors of the room out into the academy’s entryway. Many a singer and musician tuned their instruments and warmed up their voices. The cocky were shredding and nailing difficult pitches. Sound Auras were flaring in shows of determination or establishing some sort of pecking order. There had to be about a hundred applicants, hoping to be the few and the proud selected to defend Dome 36 and the world.

Vendors were walking along the lines, selling fancy hot dogs, lemonades, and other delicacies. Channel 36 News was interviewing one of the prospects. It was a girl who radiated pop star. She had the different color hair and eyes, and her outfit left little to the imagination. When the reporter’s mic drone floated before her, her amethyst eyes practically glowed with delight from the attention she was getting. She was on global TV!

“Don’t you look stunning? What is your act Miss?” the reporter asked.

Smiling, the purple-haired diva rested her hands upon her curvaceous hips and answered on a sensual and husky voice that had to be staged, “My name is Mauve, and I’m here to sing.”

She added a wink at the floating camera drone.

“Wow, you sound confident!” the reporter exclaimed, finding her enthusiasm infectious.

“I’m gonna blow their socks off.”

Several of the males in line looked away with rosy cheeks, while some grinned immaturely.

“Why do you think you should be accepted? Joining the Iron Wing is about more than being the best singer.”

Mauve smirked. She stretched out her arms as a purple aura rose from the ground and oscillated like the waves of the ocean. “Because I’m brave, beautiful and I’m the most powerful bitch here.”

Several whistles and cheers erupted from the crowd behind her. The reporter chuckled, “Looks like you already have some fans. Well, I hope you get it. We could use someone with your confidence. Good luck!”

Meanwhile, inside the audition room, there were four instructors seated together at one of the dining tables. The chosen audition room had actually been a student café called The Sound Bar. There was a bar and a stage extending down the center of the room. Currently on stage was a prospect who had a bad case of stage fright.

The instructors were silent and staring at the performer with gradually corroding patience. A large, tattooed blond man leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His eyes were near bulging out of their sockets as he struggled to keep his cool.

“What is he going to do? Shit himself,” he grumbled, giving the kid a dirty look which made him tense up even more.

Next to him was a red-haired woman whose eyes were closed. She reached over and grasped the other instructor by his jacket sleeve and attempted to calm him, “Now Wolfy (Wolfgang), you’re only going to scare him more.”

Wolfgang’s head snapped over to the blind wonder, “Hilde” Hildegard Strozzi, “If he’s afraid of me, then how do you think he’ll react to The Legion?”

Seated next to Hilde was another woman whose arms and legs were comfortably crossed, Jet Minogue. “He does have a point,” she agreed.

That was all Wolfgang needed was for someone to agree with him. He slammed his hand upon the table and shouted, “Get the hell outta here! Come back when you’ve found your balls!”

The man to Wolfgang’s left scowled up at him. “Yo, you need to chill.”

All the instructors watched the kid leave in tears. While three of the instructors felt sorry for him, Wolfgang hadn’t given a fuck!

“No; I’m not going to chill. It’s about time we take this selection business serious. This isn’t a fucking daycare. This is the damn military. We’re not recruiting children. We’re recruiting warriors. If they’re not here to slay, then they need to take a fucking hike!”

“Okay, Wolfgang. Calm down,” Hilde pleaded.

The instructor dropped into his chair and growled. “We got all day to find worthy candidates. We don’t have time to listen to some noise—or none at all in that loser’s case. NEXT!”

The Audition lineup was as follows:

1.Terri Muirin Megilagor
2. Nathan Carpenter Haze-
3. Anastasia Stepfield GrieveWriter
4. Evalynn Rakhila Madore II-CinderRadcliff-II
5. Lucy Loman Monday
6. Clair O'Reilly Uasal

From Left to Right: Wolfgang "Wolf" Wagner; Robert Schubert; Jet Minogue; and Hildegard "Hilde" Strozzi.​

 

[Megilagor]

Name: Terri Muirin
Rank: Recruit
Position: Drummer
Location: Ironwing academy audition room
Tag: The judges


There he sat young Terri Muirin, fiddling with his drumsticks when he saw a crying kid leave the audition room and a loud voice from inside calling the next person in line inside, which just happened to be him. So he stood up and went through the door, then towards the drumset sitting there while walking there he said.
“Applicant Terri Muirin, coming in.”
After arriving at the drumset he sat down, tied his hair down, picked his drumsticks and started drumming while thinking only one thing.
’Just me and drums, that's all there is for now. If they stop me from playing ok if they don't that's also ok, at least iv given it my all to get here!’
At first, he drummed fast and aggressive but as time went by he mellowed down on the aggressiveness, sometimes speeding up and others slowing down, as he played the favourite song of his father.
As he played his sound aura manifested, at first like calm ripples on the water, but as he played the ripples slowly turned bigger and more violent, from a small ripple to a decently-sized wave, but all of that slowly disappeared as his performance ended, then he put his drumsticks back to his pocket, and he stood up, looked at the four people gathered there and awaited their verdict while closely looking at their faces to remember them.
’Remember don’t piss off any of them even if I end up higher in the pecking order!’

 

[The Black Knight]

The instructors were silent even as Muirin walked in and introduced himself. One thing that Wolfgang liked was that the kid didn’t waste any time. He got straight to business. Throughout the performance, they all primarily watched and listened.

Under the table, Robert’s foot was tapping. He could feel the drum solo in his chest, and it was making him excited. As Muirin’s sound aura started to manifest, Wolfgang, Robert, and Jet curiously glanced over to the sensor that began measuring the aura’s concentration.

Shit, if he hadn’t manifested it… Wolfgang thought.

The sensor was a small rectangular box on the table. It bore a screen that glowed between the colors of white, yellow, and pink while it analyzed the drummer’s sound aura. As soon as Muirin finished his performance, the sensor finished analyzing and showed the instructors his grade: E.

Jet tipped her head side to side. “Mm, better than nothing. At least his sound aura was able to set off the machine. He has potential.”

Robert smiled. “If he was nothing but a drummer, then I would have been upset.”

Wolfgang sat forward in his chair and yelled to Muirin: “Your grade is E. You can proceed to Iron Wing Processing where you will be issued your equipment and room assignment. Thank you for coming. Now head out! NEXT!”
Megilagor Haze-

 

[GrieveWriter]

Name: Anastasia Stepfield
Rank: Recruit
Position: Bass
Location: Ironwing Academy Audition Room
Tag: The Black Knight (The Judges) Megilagor (Blue-Haired Boy)

There was no need to consider why they were there.

That was the courtesy that Anastasia Stepfield granted every other potential pilot lined up for audtions that day. They could be in it for recognition, fame, bloodlust or simple social coercion. To her, it mattered not one bit.

They would all be fighting the same enemy in the same war regardless of things like reason, and that alone would make them comrades regardless of all else. She cared not how they expressed themselves, whether it be practicing their piece or shivering in fear. She was not the arbiter of their potential, they were just up ahead.

Which is why she felt no small amount of relief that Channel 36 never aimed their cameras at her as she waited for her turn. She would not lay unnecessary blame on the media for their over-excitement, it was their jobs and a good number of applicants seemed more than willing to indulge their questions, but Anna knew that any answers she gave them would be dry and tasteless for their viewers.

It would distract her from her training.

Yes, just like many other applicants, she would not spend her time waiting idly. But unlike many, she wasn't actually picking at her instruments strings. Her aura didn't flare, and she was overshadowed by the wild auras of the others who practiced.

But her intent was not on her instrument, but her harmonization.

If the audition was solely on how well she could utilize her instrument or how well she could play a song, there would be no need for worry. Her time travelling with her weapon had made her practically in sync with it. No pick required, most of the times she didn't even need to keep track of her movements. She could safely label herself a professional at the bass guitar.

But playing an instrument was not the only thing being measured. If anything, it was far in a way one of the less important factors they needed to focus on if they were to function as pilots.

Sound Power, group harmonization, the ability to perform under pressure. These were just a number of the things Anna knew a proper pilot would need if they were to excel in their fight against the Legion, and Anna was training one of those at that very moment. Unlike those prepping for their audition, Anna was getting ready for what she considered one of her lacking points as a potential pilot: Group Cohesion.

Though she'd managed to play with other musicians here and there during her travels, playing with others who had sound power was far and few between. She'd done some practicing that she hoped would make her more pliable for such a task, but nothing beat actual experience.

So as other played, she focused through the myriad of sound, and matched the movements of her fingers with the rhythm of random other applicants as they practiced. It was just to get used to following the rhythms of others, but the real training was keeping pace with specific tunes despite the other instruments. Focusing on partners whilst amongst distractions, a useful skill that she would need to cultivate whether she passed the audition or not.

But as she drew closer to the front of the line, there were less people practicing and more getting hyped or terrified by their turn fast approaching. Anna changed to harmonizing with performers as they did their audition, whether the judges deemed them accepted or not. It was because of this that she took note of one applicant who hadn't even played throughout the entirety of their audition. She was certain he was not the first applicant to be sent crying from the judges, but would only harbor hope for him and the others not selected. Hope that they would find their passion elsewhere.

The Battlefield would treat them far worst than a few harsh words.

It wasn't long after him that the boy in front of Anna walked in, the sound of drums filling her ears soon after. Just like the others, Anna was quick to begin moving her hands to his rhythm finding his shifting tempo good practice on keeping pace with another. The shifting tempos left her almost prepared for his performance to come to an end.

But it did.

The instructors gave their verdict, gave him directions and called for the next applicant.

So as the blue-haired boy was making for the academy, Anastasia was making her way in.

"I am Anastasia Stepfield," she spoke to the judges, the massive bag she had strapped to her back shaking with each step she took "and this is Price."

She hefted the bass guitar in her grasp, one hand reached back towards her bag.

"One day, I expect him to help me protect humanity." she sat the bag behind her and took a seat on it "Let's see if that day is close."

After shifting Price in her grasp, Anna began to play.

A few practice strums before she leapt into her performance, her hands immediately going from string to string. Only at the beginning did she actually look to make sure her hands had immediately gotten into the rhythm of her practiced routine. Once again, she recognized what the audition was truly looking for: Sound Power.

So she closed her eyes, letting the smoky fog emanate off as her as her hands darted along Price's neck and body. As soon as puffs appeared, they were sucked into Price. Soon entire streams of her Aura were being swallowed whole by the instrument, whose neck seemed to distort in her grasp. Even with her eyes closed, she knew it was happening: those black and white swirls forming along Price. She could feel it.

They spun, folding in on themselves over and over with greater frequency as she neared the climax of her song. But she let them keep spinning, growing more and more erratic until she reached the very last note.

Only then, once her music stopped, did those swirls start to fizzle and dull. As the last note faded, Anna stood up. One hand held onto Price as the other picked up her bag, there was nothing left accept to hear the verdict.

 

[The Black Knight]

Wolfgang was sitting up in his chair. His arms were crossed before his muscular chest as he gave the new musician a stern stare.

I am Anastasia Stepfield…and this is Price.

Hmph; how adorable. She named it, he thought.

The other instructors were smiling when shared with them her dream. As she began, they were caught off guard by the sudden tempo change in her chosen piece. It hadn’t been a piece any of them recognized. Jet was leaning forward against the table, watching Ana’s fingers closely. Her brown eyes were shrunk with excitement.

Hilde raised her brows and smiled at Wolfgang and Jet. “Oh wow,” she said softly—she didn’t want to disturb Ana’s concentration.

Robert was concentrating on Ana’s fingers just like Jet was, while Wolfgang said nothing. There had only been a brief moment where he had raised his brow. Then, finally, like smoke rising off her heated performance, came her sound aura. They almost didn’t recognize it as an aura. It was when the sensor came alive and started to flash its colors that all eyes shifted to it.

Jet grinned and said quietly, “I wonder what this one is going to get.”

Ana finished her performance, and the instructors glanced at her before glancing back at the fancy box. The sensor finished analyzing and showed the instructors the grade: C.

Both of Wolfgang’s brows shot up to his hairline, while the other instructors gasped in shock. Ana had been their first C for the day. Robert was in disbelief. He blinked and said, “You mean to tell me that little puff of smoke was…”

Wolfgang ignored him as a smirk cocked on his face. “Your grade is C. You’re the first C of the day. Congratulations, but don’t get cocky. Expectations are going to be crushing for you. You can proceed to Iron Wing Processing where you will be issued your equipment and room assignment. Thank you for coming. Dismissed. NEXT!”
GrieveWriter II-CinderRadcliff-II

 

[II-CinderRadcliff-II]

Evalynn walked past Anastasia on her way up to audition, a slight smile sent their way after having heard their performance. She had been keenly listening to all of the previous contestants whilst she checked and double checked that her accordion was all set to perform, all of the dust from within thoroughly cleaned out and any troublesome keys and buttons properly lubricated and adjusted. This was the final step required to join the fight against the machines, and she didn't want anything to screw this opportunity up. As she walked on stage she tightened her headband slightly and readjusted her necklace, sitting down upon the stool and putting both hands on either side of the accordion. Without any pause between her walking on stage and sitting down, she briefly spoke.

"Evalynn Madore, pleasure to perform for you."

As Evalynn fell silent for a few seconds, the sound of tapping heels struck the floor of the stage. Her heels striking the stage to be exact. Each strike was paced and following a specific rhythm, acting as the build-up for what was to follow. As she began to play the harmonic melody on the accordion her attention fell solely on her instrument and her performance, loosing herself to the music as her aura quickly made itself apparent. It stitched itself into the patters of her clothes and onto the accordion as her fingers played and shifted around, the blank space that the worn down manufacturer label used to be saw her aura sew itself a name for the instructors to see. Double-Tap... As the energy within the accordion built up shimmering silver feathers started to appear around her, slowly floating down around her as if time had slowed to a crawl. Her precise performance seemed to improve as she continued to play, though there was only so much room for improvement with how well she had been practicing for this moment - however brief of a time her efforts would afford. She found herself singing aloud whilst playing, her voice holding the passion and spirit she had developed for music with it as the atmosphere in the room slowly changed. Her emotions began to surge as she thought back to where her desire to become a pilot originated, having been created by falsely imbued optimism nurtured by naivety. Perhaps she wouldn't have chosen to be here if her heart wasn't stuffed full of hope, but this was no time to question her own motives or regret past actions. She couldn't afford to be wrong after coming so far.

As her performance began to draw to a close, the feathers lingering in the air began to swirl around her, the resonating threads of shimmering silver stitched into her clothes and instrument unraveling as the song was reaching its climax. As the final stroke of the accordions keys came to a close her aura dissolved into the air, falling around her like the silent snowfall of a windless night before fading into obscurity. Her fingers lingered over the buttons and keys as she anticipated the judges response, a blank expression presenting itself to avoid showing preemptive joy or sorrow.

The Black Knight

 

[The Black Knight]

The next act came in, and to see that it was an accordion made Wolfgang snicker. Robert raised a hand to the side of his face as he looked off to the side to hide his amusement. Hilde’s brows were raised and ears alert, wondering why she heard Wolfgang laugh. Jet, as professional as she tried to be, even closed her eyes as she thought, Oh god…

There was always one “special” case. It was bound to come, and Wolfgang was convinced that it finally arrived. He couldn’t stop laughing. He grasped the edge of the table in support as he leaned over, crying with laughter. The poor performer hadn’t even done anything yet.

Robert peeked at Wolfgang, finding it embarrassing that he didn’t feel any shame in his behavior.

Evalynn Madore, pleasure to perform for you.

Wolfgang only had the strength to fan her to proceed before he covered his mouth with both hands to keep from interrupting her performance. Hilde wanted to ask what was happening, but when Evalynn started to play, she realized what it was. An accordion wasn’t a common instrument. She hadn’t expected to hear one during audition, and honestly…the song seemed a little mediocre.

Wolfgang bent his arms at the elbows and started stupidly tipping side-to-side in his seat, causing Robert’s cheeks to burn even more. He was so embarrassing! That poor performer. He stopped when Evalynn started to sing. They hadn’t expected the odd girl to sing. It hadn’t matched her performance at all.

Jet was giving her a stern look, and her eyes every now and then flicked to the sensor. They had noticed that the strange girl had an aura. The feathers were rather pretty, and they hoped that wasn’t all her aura was. All eyes were on the sensor toward the end of their performance. They were curious to see what score she would get.

The sensor finished analyzing and showed the instructors the grade: E.

“Ha! I knew it!” Wolfgang exclaimed.

Robert frowned at him, but he didn’t want to call him out in front of the performer.

Wolfgang sighed as though reluctant to even allow the girl in—mainly because he wasn’t a fan of the accordion. It hadn’t been her fault, and he wasn’t allowed to refuse a candidate for having an instrument he didn’t care for. She had a sound aura and that was enough for her to qualify.

“Your grade is E. You can proceed to Iron Wing Processing where you will be issued your equipment and room assignment. Thank you for coming. Get out. NEXT!”

Robert waited for Evalynn to leave before he turned to Wolfgang and scolded, “Bruh, you need to ease up. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you got to let the recruit know that.”

Wolfgang didn’t even grace Robert with his eyes. He only smirked as he continued to arrogantly look toward the stage. “This isn’t the time or the place, Robert. We gotta keep going, and if I hurt their feelings, then good riddance. They’re going to get hell during training any way.”

Hilde then interjected, resting a gentle hand on Wolfgang’s arm. “Maybe just try not to laugh. Everyone coming here is doing their best.”

Wolfgang glanced out of the corners of his eyes at Hilde and harrumphed. “Yeah sure. Whatever. No promises if we get a kazoo or recorder next.”

II-CinderRadcliff-II Monday

 

[Monday]

Name: Lucy Loman
Rank: Recruit
Position: Violinist
Location: Ironwing Academy Audition Room
Tag: The Black Knight

This is fine.

I'll be fine.

Everything is fine.

At least, that's what Lucy tried to tell herself amidst the cacophony of warm-ups, rehearsals and premature performances that threatened to drown out even her thoughts, not to mention her attempt at scales. The sheer number of people who'd showed up to audition had really caught her off guard. Was such a life threatening occupation really so enticing to so many people? Then again, she supposed, there were some particular perks... Generally, she tried not to judge people before getting to know them, but that pop star's interview had really left a bad taste in her mouth. While her confidence was most likely warranted, everything about her little display was... well, it was tacky. There was no other word for it. And it was a waste. Why not use her moment in the spotlight to provide everyone some encouragement? That's what she would do.

That said, Lucy was glad the reporters didn't come near her. It gave her more time to get her thoughts in order. Feeling self-conscious, though in the midst of this crowd her style of dress was normal and even forgettable, she reached up and tapped the black bar stuck through her right ear, a more recent nervous habit. Maybe she'd taken it a little too personally when Jonah said her pearl studs made her look exactly like his kindergarten teacher, but she was stuck with it now, and, truth be told, she didn't exactly hate it. Still... was she really much better than "Mauve", pretending to be some edgy girl and throwing herself into this business just to resolve a premature midlife crisis? Defending mankind was serious business, and it deserved serious dedication.

Why am I still here? What am I even doing? Not for the first time, Lucy considered turning around then and there and going back home. But, since she was here, she may as well make the most of it. She didn't want to be the sort of person who would run from an audition. As it was, the stakes were pretty low. If she didn't make the cut, she'd go back to searching for a job while making music with the guys in her spare time. Her parents would continue to be baffled and disappointed, but probably also relieved. There were surely many here who far outclassed her in raw talent, and, though she was no judge of such things, sound power, that other intangible quality that no amount of practice could manufacture. It was far from certain she would get in. Auditions were nothing new to her, and neither was rejection. So why was she so nervous?

With a sigh, Lucy put her violin back in its case, having warmed up as much as she reasonably could while hardly hearing herself. Her palms were clammy, her heart raced, and her stomach fluttered. Did she really care that much about the outcome? Why should she be so invested this hare-brained impulse of hers? Was it the thrill of following through on an idea that was truly her own, just to see what came of it? Or was she just trying to prove to herself that her whole life hadn't been wasted? That she had some measure of talent that could be useful to others? That she had the grit to face something difficult?

One thing was for sure: she wasn't doing this for her parents. She knew that, at least. While her mother and father could never be accused of forcing any particular destiny on their children, there was no denying how happy Dad had seemed when his oldest decided to follow in his footsteps. And, no matter how many times she'd tried to explain it, he could never comprehend her roadblock, and his suggestions never helped. It wasn't something a genius would understand. For better or worse, she had to find her own path.

At any rate, she wouldn't know what she was capable of until she tried. Until her turn came, worrying wouldn't help. She'd practiced her piece thousands of times, and it was inspired by pieces she'd practiced thousands of times. She was prepared. She was ready. As she inched closer and closer to the audition room, she listened to the sounds drifting from inside as way to distract herself. First came the crashing of drums, then the deep thrum of a bass guitar, then... laughter, even as the lively notes of an accordion spun a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. Lucy swallowed. That didn't bode well.

"NEXT!"

When the summons finally came, she jumped. Crap! That's me! She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked into the room. C'mon, Luc. Get it together. You can do this. Once the noise died down behind her, she felt a little more at ease. Interestingly, the panel of judges looked more like music people than military people, but the blond guy on the left, in particular, was no less intimidating for it. She decided not to look at him if at all possible. In the exact center of the room she stopped, took out her instrument, tucked it beneath her chin, and poised the bow over the strings. "My name is Lucy Loman, and my instrument is an electric violin. I'm going to play a contemporary remix of Vivaldi's Four Seasons." Short and simple. Her music would speak for itself.

Lucy breathed in. One... two... three... Then, with a sudden burst of sound, she began to play. As soon as her bow touched the strings, her body fell into a familiar routine, her fingers dancing over the fingerboard, her bow gliding with precision and grace. Thin metallic tendrils, like fibers shaved from the bow, curled away from her instrument, poured onto the floor, and wound their way around the room in swirls and curlicues, spreading out in radial symmetry- first four, then eight, then twelve, and so on. They waved, shimmered and trembled with the cadence of her music. While Lucy concentrated on her violin, barely noticing them out of her peripheral vision, a new energy coursed through her, as though the music itself had the power to set her blood tingling and stir her imagination with images of howling blizzards and piled thunderclouds rolling across open plains- all things she'd never seen, but whose memory was preserved in the melodies they'd inspired so many centuries ago.

When the song came to a close, Lucy lowered her instrument, bowed politely, and packed up her things again. She'd played well. Perhaps not perfectly, perhaps not like a prodigy would, but well. Whether her aura passed muster or not, at least she'd given it her best. Plus, she'd enjoyed it. That had to count for something.

 

[The Black Knight]

Lucy walked in and Wolfgang’s nostrils instantly flared as he inhaled a loud and audible breath. He tipped his head back, eyes slowly closing as his chest inflated larger and larger until his lungs couldn’t swell any further.

“Aaaah~,” the blonde instructor exhaled, the corners of his mouth arching almost wickedly as he stared at the violinist. He could practically smell her anxiety—try as she might to hide it from him. “This better be good.”

He grinned wolfishly as though ready to eat her alive.

As Lucy began, the instructors wore stoic expressions. It felt as though she were playing a classical piece they all had heard thousands of times back to them. Robert was hoping to hear that one moment of innovation that never came.

Jet was wondering how many times were they going to hear that same piece by someone else later? Her sound aura manifested to Wolfgang’s annoyance. This was another performance he didn’t care for. Two in a row. He leaned back, glancing at the sensor. You better tell the fucking truth, he mentally cursed it.

At the conclusion of her performance, the machine finished analyzing and displayed the grade: D.

Wrinkling his nose some, he didn’t like how her sound aura was close to a C. At least she didn’t get it on her first try with that performance. He exhaled a breath and crossed his arms. “Congratulations. You’re in, but I swear to God if you play something like that again, then I’ll recommend your dismissal. We need to work on your innovation and confidence,” he grumbled.

Robert raised his hand and grinned. “I’ll handle that.” He then continued for Wolfgang, “Ms. Loman, your grade is D. You can proceed to Iron Wing Processing where you will be issued your equipment and room assignment. Thank you for coming! Next performance!”

Monday GasMaskie

 

[GasMaskie]

Name: Lorenzo Amante
Rank: Recruit
Position: Pianist
Location: Ironwing Academy Audition Room
Tag: The Black Knight Monday

Just how long had it been since the last performance? Try as he might, the young man simply couldn't recall the last time he was afforded the opportunity to perform. Though, in these circumstances, his own proficiencies mattered little in the judges' eyes or ears. From what little he could recall, anyways, there simply wasn't a way to train one's sound power before the audition.

He didn't feel nervous at all - rather, he felt nothing. This was merely a formality. And there was little on the line at this point anyways - the illustrious Amante family that produced world-class musicians was naught but a single young man who had managed to survive by fortune's whims. Perhaps if he had any love for the family, he might have been more motivated. The flames of vengeance and a thirst for rebuilding the pedestal that the surname stood on - those were absent in the young man.

The recruit entered the room with a keyboard under his arm just as he heard the summons. A cold gaze briefly fell on the violinist as he wordlessly began to set up his instrument's stand. The keyboard wasn't something that held sentimental value for the young man, nor would have it been his first choice for an audition. It was simply portable enough for this format. He took his time setting up, just enough for the violinist to pack up her things and leave the room.

He brought a dead, fish-like gaze towards the judges as he cleared his throat. "Lorenzo Amante. Sergei Prokovjev's Dance of the Knights." And with that terse introduction, the young man's fingers began to dance upon the monochrome keys.

The piece itself was naturally dark and foreboding to begin with. But the coldness in the prodigy's playing only seemed to add to the heaviness of each note. To his vigilant judges, his intentions likely became clear as the piece progressed. There was no innovation in his rendition nor an attempt for such. To those who knew of his family, it almost seemed like a cruel parody of their adherence to tradition. Lorenzo, the very last physical trace of their lineage, after finally being able to perform for the first time in years, simply wasn't trying.

As the tempo of the piece shifted, his eyes closed. This whole audition was a farce - he had nothing on the line. He was more than confident in his own proficiency with the piano, the only thing this audition measured was something he had no control over. By the final cadence, certain thoughts swirled in his mind.

The faster this farce ends, the sooner I can move forward.

It was only by the end of the piece that his eyes opened, greeting the judges once more with another dead gaze. He had performed for them in so much as what was required for an accurate reading. He cared little about their opinions, rather - he simply wanted to waste as little time as possible. As he folded the stand back up and brought the keyboard under his arm, he bowed for the panel before glancing over at the machine. Regardless of the result, he'd simply salute them and exit the room.

Hurry up and send me out to that battlefield.

 

[The Black Knight]

All eyes were on the pianist that quietly entered while Lucy was leaving. Wolfgang frowned. He already didn’t like the recruit’s demeanor. It was like watching a bloated rain cloud passing through the Sound Bar. He glanced to his left and right at the instructors, wondering if he had been the only one to sense it. Their expressions were neutral.

Even when he spoke, his voice sounded soulless. What the fuck?

Sitting through his performance was unbearable and Wolfgang couldn’t believe how it started with the accordion player and became worse and worse. This was the worst performance so far that the sensor didn’t even react. All the instructors held onto their patience, allowing Lorenzo to finish. It was when Lorenzo packed up so soon that Wolfgang scooted back in his chair, lifted his right leg and brought the heel of his boot slamming down on top of the table, startling Hilde especially and the other instructors.

“Get that piano back out and play something else before I send your dreary-ass home!” Wolfgang growled.

For once, the other instructors didn’t oppose him. They all remained quiet, wondering if this performer really wanted to be here. If the kid hadn’t looked like he had a rough day, then Wolfgang would have just sent him home. Nothing registered on the sensor, and so he was honestly under no obligation to allow him to play again. They were supposed to be allowed only one shot.

“What did this kid say his name was?” Wolfgang quietly asked the other instructors.

“He said his last name was Amante,” Hilde informed.

“I guess that explains why he’s so fucking drab. Holy shit.”

Robert sighed and leaned upon the table, watching the boy with hopeful eyes. Didn’t he come to IWA for a reason? Did he not want to be here? Come on dude, he mentally cheered.

The pianist chose not to continue, and Wolfgang scoffed, “What a stuck-up punk. Did he really think he was going to get by with that performance and behavior?” Dropping his boot, he shouted after him as he walked out, “IRON WING DOESN’T WANT QUITTERS! YOU CAN’T QUIT ON THE BATTLEFIELD! FUCKING NEXT!”

This was when the performances started to make him angry. Entitled children were the worst.

GasMaskie Haze-

 

[Haze-]

Name: Nathan Carpenter
Rank: Recruit
Position: Singer (Mixed)
Location: Ironwing Academy Audition Room
Tag: The Black Knight


There was a sterile, hollow quiet filling the room. The muted thudding lacked that trademark echo sighing, bouncing around the walls— filled in only by that of manic mutters, something you’d expect to hear pacing the halls of a nuthouse at the darker hours of the night, and quick feet tapping away at the floor. Over and over again. Footfalls fighting to keep a rhythm, out of their self-imposed tempo, laboring over every noise and how it came out; he didn’t quite hear what he himself was singing, humming or tutting– he sort of watched the other dude across the mirror open his mouth every now and then. It was in a language he spoke, a voice that rose and fell in a melodic pitch, notes and tones he was more than acquainted to, yet still, nothing he could really make out of the sweaty person staring back at him.

It went on like that for longer that he could handle. A slip of the tongue, a deadly voice crack here and there, but above all the most strenuous thing was dusting off his memoir for once, remembering how painstakingly hard it was to hit the high notes when his voice was, as most of his teachers lovingly called it, at rock bottom. He’d worked his way to the higher notes back in high school, not to that idealistic soprano capable voice everyone spoke about, but he was at a comfortable, flexible range. Nowadays he was barely the phantom of that kid hitting those high notes. Even still, he pushed himself, as brutally uncomfortable as it was to hear this alien singing voice after so many years, he carried through shame and inward jeers— as if to punish himself for it, bring himself to book, rekindle some of that discipline.

He wanted to be enveloped by that flame, he needed to be taken over by the fire. Even if it was just this once. Nathan wanted to prove himself that he was no deadbeat, that he could make things right, just this once. Maybe then he’d stop getting nasty looks from family members and alike.

Even with this resolve, he couldn’t ignite the fire. So much as he fanned the fading embers, no matter how much he glided through those ‘eeee’s and ‘ohhhh’s or rolled his tongue at the mirror, only a faint sparkle or two. And at his fatigue, he scowled, almost crying with anger, he let out a furious screech through clenched teeth as he gripped hard on the sink. The man in the mirror shook in his anger, and as the sink made an ominous creak, he threw his hands back, stepped away from it and held his breath.

1. 2. 3 seconds of petty anger, and then he loosened up, allowed himself a breather. Even if that small break consisted of him restlessly pacing the corners of the restroom.

Lucky him the locale was closed by this time, and luckier him, Lisa didn’t sleep in through mornings, so she would allow him this little practice until it was finally time for the auditions. Under a condition, though, he couldn’t bitch out at last second like he used to back in the day. Nate didn’t quite know if it was angelic of her or just plain evil.
Much later, 30 god awful minutes of trial and error later, Nathan stepped out of the restroom, defeated. A fine sheet of sweat exacerbating the already lustrous sheen of his hair and a not so faint sheet of sweat damping his clothes, posture awful, eyes lost in a stupor— all in all, the usual.


She was waiting for him at the other end of the shaded room, behind the counter dusting everything off, humming a mellow tune that was carried by the lazy spin of fans hanging above and a flickering light hum-buzzing along. Melissa took her eyes off the expanse of blonde-brown wood to the ring of the door closing behind Nate, making him flinch a little, he glanced up to beam at him a smile, failing not to snicker at the sight. Nathan only had the strength to grunt at her and look down, disappointed — “Sooo… No luck, I guess?” — She held onto the words for emphasis, gestured with the duster at him.

He took a seat on the other side of the counter, throwing the whole of his weight at the plastic chair, he tried to stare off into the distance. Wonder about the weather, how good of a season it was to plant tulips, or how the place would look starlit black by the time eventide rolled around. But he simply could not hold onto that serene wonder over nonsense of his. After all, it was judgement day. Time of reckoning. Hallowed be thy name.

Nathan managed to grumble a reply — “Yeah… Not happening. You know? Maybe I should just—” — And before he could snake his way out of the situation, he was met by a sharp pain picking at the lower end of his leg, Melissa punted him on her way around the counter, made him hiss — “Nope. We’re not doing this again.”

“First of all, ow. Second, do I not have a say in this? Thought I was the one auditioning…”

Melissa struck him once more, behind him this time around, earning an even bigger yip from Nathan— and Achilles bent forward in pain as the shock roared up from his talon – “You do, actually. But don’t forget that you told me to keep you on edge so you wouldn’t quit out” – She shrugged, inching in to sit beside him hands stuffed in her pockets – “You asked for help, I’m just delivering. Call it tough love.” – She stretched her legs and slumped down on her seat; Nathan gave her that trademark look of his. Quiet, half-concerned-half-thankful.

“Whatever would I do without you?” – Even as the cynic in him reared his ugly head, he meant that. They’d been best friends since pre-school, or at least that’s what his insecurities screamed out to him, to keep him from a disappointment— after years of knowing each other, he still doubted what a wimp like him was to her. Even if when she painted it crystal clear to him. They’d been in a relationship since pre-school, more than just a decade, much longer than most used-to-be married couples he knew. She was the only one he could open up to, the only one that really looked out for him.

“You told me you needed this, didn’t you? It won’t end up that badly if you keep that attitude.” – She nodded to herself – “The world is the energy you give it.” – Melissa wisely stated, matter of fact, stretching out the corners of her mouth into a plastic, overexaggerated smile with her hands. Somehow, even if she had more of this ‘positive energy’ she spoke about, the both of them still had a matching gloom in their eyes at times—

“Schomethn lak tshat.” – Melissa spoke blurred words through her big smile, made Nathan flinch a little.

“I… uhh… don’t think ‘fake it till you make it’ applies to this situation. But I do like the energy you’re putting out to the world.” – He made grand gestures, carrying out some of the words for emphasis. She sighed and gave him a light shove, getting a scoff out of him. After that he wound down, took a deep breath and extended his hand before his eyes, trying to awaken that seamless focus he reached out to a couple of minutes ago in the restroom. Humming a soft, mellow tune. Something basic. And still, all he got was a small spark dancing on the palm of his hand. He frowned, cursed himself deep inside.

She stared at him for a while, knowing what volumes those eyes spoke, he was like an open book at this point. Melissa shook him out of that nasty trance with a nudge — “Hey— It’s like a forty-minute walk from here, you’re gonna be late, genius.” – She flicked him in the nose to snap him awake, pulled him in by the neck tie for an easy kiss on the forehead – “’Christ woman! Why are you so aggressive??” – He could only manage to pass a hand over his forehead, with a stupid smile plastered all over his face. It was things like this that proved it to him, not because she was backing him up, he knew for a fact they both were each other’s support pillars, rather because she was willing to kiss him on his sweaty forehead. If that wasn’t true love, then he didn’t know what was.

“Tough love. Now be off. Go make some noise, I might hear it all the way from here.”

Nathan stared dumbfounded for more than a second, smiling at her stern look – “Roger roger…”


The place was as he envisioned it on his way there. The heat of bodies moving through almost cramped spaces, separately to their own spot yet much the same converging together to the same destination, colonizing the stage and leaving either with a smile or a frown. Hundreds of tunes and rehearsals told loudly through too many instruments, competing with the endless chitter chatter told through too many loud voices, all at the same time.

He stood there catatonic, only looking forward and not knowing what to do with his hands — “This is just way too much, man…” — He fidgeted with his necktie, pulling it up as he finally swallowed that latch at the back of his throat. He felt alien amidst the crowd, stood out like a sore thumb with his pretty suit and the toy mic he bought on the way just to have something hold onto while he was singing, even if he was surrounded by musicians. People like him that he could somewhat relate to. That was years ago, he couldn’t even hold a candle to his self from the past.

Was he worthy of standing here amongst these people?

The mind became a battleground for invisible, chemical forces to wage a war of emotion and dreary thought. But he bit the bullet and stood there in line, one feet landing after the other once the line slowly started moving. Nate was running through possible song choices in his head. Old, old, old ass rock songs that no one listened to at this day and age. The first things that came to mind was the opening to Enter Sandman, the galloping of Run to the Hills, maybe even some Queen to really put his voice to the test— songs that would either ‘blow their socks off,’ as one contestant had put it, or just tell them that he was one of the only people inside Dome 36 that still owned a copy of guitar hero. Passed down from generation to generation, mind you.

As he was pacing through his mental records, absentmindedly getting lost in the piano key heard faintly ahead of him, he heard a crash, a loud yell that woke him up. He stared up to be met not with the back of a random person, but with a closed door staring back at him, a door that opened up as a contestant walked out keyboard in hand — “Shit…” — Hallowed be thy name…

He took careful steps onto the stage, a plain black plastic microphone in hand, eyes in a dazzle as he struggled to look at the judges in the eye. Nathan stood there in the spotlight; he didn’t really have much of anything to set up — “I— Eh….” — He felt that sweaty palms, heart racing sensation he’d grown so used to kick in at the wrong place, wrong time – fidgeting with the mic. The same hollow, sterile, sullen quiet from before. He felt it in the recumbent neon lights catching on the stage, he felt it ringing a disorienting murmur behind his back. In that 5-second-long silence, Nathan then heard himself take a deep breath. Letting it loose in one big huff, he slicked his hair back and gave it his all to glare dead into their eyes. To the one that screamed ‘leader of the pack’ more specifically, with strong yet unresolved eyes.

“My name is Nathan Carpenter. I’m here to sing.” — He half-heartedly held up the mic to his face, glancing every now and then with remorse writ large on his eyes. It looked real enough, at least — “Thank you for having me…” — He muttered that last, going to take a seat in the tiny stool propped in the middle of the stage.

He started, once again, on a deep breath that resounded loudly in his ears, a foot tapping away at the stage as he made memory. When he was a kid there was this one song that got caught burning at the back of his mind. It spoke of a long, infernal battle in a faraway fantasy land— brothers in ironclad clashing steel in fields of fire, for a kindred purpose, with a distant mourn for the fallen soldiers. He thought back to the singer hugging the words, proclaimed them, carried them out with emotion, like he were there on that make-believe battlefield the song painted.

It was nerdy, it was corny, but it was laughingly fitting for him at this point. Besides, he’d never met anyone who had a problem with Dragonforce.

It was rock out or go home, then.

“On a cold winter morning…” — A low soothe, susurrus-soft— would come off damn near muted in a not so quiet stage, unlike this one— you could tell he’d make up for one hell of a love ballad right as he hung on that last note. And still, that euphony came out strong enough to boom lightly on the eardrums, as though it spoke with authority, with full control on range and tone. Basic, elementary stuff for him. Not enough to get a fire started.

“…In the time before the light… In flames of—”— Nathan took one big breath, throwing off sparks and rising embers just behind him as he rocked slightly in the stool along with his feet tapping, marking a mental tempo — “—Death’s eternal reign, we ride towards the fight.” – The authoritarian voice loosened up on that soothing range, going for a belting, severe projection that rang a bit louder. Building up to that voice he so dearly remembered — “When the darkness has fallen down, and the times are tough all right— The sound of evil, laughter falls around the world tonight.” — Snappier, faster, louder— still holding a powerful grip on the range, notes on peak perfection. A fierce orange light building up along with this deep sizzling, burning bright beneath his shirt as flames erupted in a flash around him.

He sneaked in a smile; eyes closed as he began feeling the warmth enveloping him. Drumming at his chest, climbing up his throat a tremor, he was surprised to hear his own singing voice after so long — “Fighting hard—Fighting on for the steel, through the wastelands evermore! The scattered souls will feel the hell, bodies wasted on the shores. On—!” — In-between breaths, that mid baritone voice he was holding onto damn near dropped to a heavier bass, the fire started rising from his arms, a line of bright flames that ran through the tip of his fingers and all the way to the shoulders — “—The blackest plains, in Hell’s domain, we watch them as they go! In fire and pain, now once again, we know!”

He held onto that high note a bit longer than he should’ve, ending a quick howl as the fire fanned larger, as though fed by the soulful screams, feet tapping a faster rhythm. The howl died down to a softer end, returning to a hybrid of that love ballad voice —

“So now we fly ever free, we’re free before the thunderstorm.

On towards the wilderness, our quest carries on.

Far beyond the sundown.

Far beyond the moonlight.

Deep inside,

Of all our hearts and all our souls!”​

Again, between bated breath, his tone dropped an octave. And as a ring of fire roared upward, reaching for the ceiling, throat burning after carrying out some of the notes in his own way — he screamed the chorus with all of his might. Fanning the flames even higher. He skimmed past the guitar solo and everything before that, it was only him and his voice, so he at the very least had that freedom.

He was breathing harshly, made some air guitars for a second or so to cue in the guitar solo in their minds, the flames died down to a smoldering firepit, inching across the floor and floating around his skin.

Nathan took one big breath. He wasn’t done yet

“Now here we stand with their blood on our hands…

We fought so hard; now can we understand…?

I'll break the seal of this curse if I possibly can…

For freedom

of every

MAN!”​

With that last yell, the flames grew in a flash, like a curtain of fire rising wildly around him.

He took one last breath.

“So far away— We wait for the day!

For the lives all so wasted and gone!

We feel the pain—

Of a lifetime, lost in a thousand days!

Through the Fire and the Flames, we carry on!!”​

Nathan howled the last in one big, thundering scream as the pilar of flames finally crashed with the ceiling. Not caring for that lightning zapping away at his throat, he’d have time to deal with a sore throat later.

“WOOO!!” — He shook his head with revitalized spirits, droplets of sweat thrown to the side as his hair flailed wildly. He looked up to the fires fading away with an idiot smile, arms limp by his sides — “Ah, shit…” — That is when he realized, he wasn’t in his bedroom screaming his lungs out, he was supposedly being judged. Nathan quickly straightened up to look back at the judges.

 

[The Black Knight]

The next contestant came in, and he had seemed nervous like that violin girl who had performed earlier. A long smile stretched on Wolfgang’s maw. He enjoyed seeing all the rabbits. They were afraid now, but he would soon show them what real fear was. An audition room was nothing like the battlefield. Wolfgang rested his elbows upon the tabletop, interlaced his fingers and rested his smiling mouth against his hides as though to restrain the chuckle that threatened to escape.

Robert saw the Nathan had a microphone and immediately expected Wolfgang to eat him alive, but it seemed the other instructor wasn’t entirely cruel.

On a cold winter morning…

Jet was first to expel an embarrassed sigh before she dropped her face into her hand. Wolfgang’s lips only pressed together harder as his entire being seemed to tense. His blond brows then shot upwards when he saw the sudden sparks leap from the young man.

Robert was staring curiously. Even Jet had lifted her eyes to stare at the man that was causing her emotional suffering.

Hilde smiled, pressing a finger against the side of her cheek as she tilted her head as though focusing on Nathan’s voice. He hadn’t sounded like a karaoke singer who would have sung the song exactly as the original singer would have. He seemed to make it his own with that 80s love ballad sound.

“Hmm,” she thoughtfully hummed.

Jet saw the air guitars and snickered, while Wolfgang sat back in his chair and finally released his mirth. He started applauding as he found the audition hilarious. The kid was practically out of breath.

Robert glanced passed Wolfgang at the sensor. Nathan’s aura was flaring wildly, and he wondered what sort of concentration it was at. Fire was going everywhere that Robert snagged Wolfgang’s shoulder and shook him.

“We should tell him to stop. He’s overdoing it,” Robert tried to yell over the singing.

Wolfgang only grinned at him and replied, “Nah, let him go!”

Hilde brushed her hair down. The sound aura was stirring up quite the breeze.

In the next minute, Nathan was finished, and Wolfgang slapped his hands upon the table in his laughter, “Holy shit! Ha, ha, ha!”

Jet narrowed her eyes at Nathan and grumbled something, while Robert looked relieved that the performance was over.

The sensor finished analyzing and read: D.

Wolfgang tilted his head left and right. “Mm, all right. I expected a little higher but that’s about right.”

“Thank God it’s over,” Jet softly muttered.

“All right; congrats kid. Your grade is D. You can proceed to Iron Wing Processing before you burn this fucking place down. You’ll be issued your equipment and room assignment. Thank you for coming. NEXT!”

Haze- Uasal

 

[Uasal]

Name: Clair O'Reilly
Rank: Recruit
Position: Lead Guitar
Location: Auditions
Tag: The Black Knight

Among the large and bustling crowd, one could find Clair laying back against a pillar just outside the audition hall. Her Guitar had been cleaned and polished to perfection and she had replaced the strings and tuning keys a few days ago to ensure against any hiccups and to give her enough time to really break them in. All in all, outside of actually performing today, Clair had taken care of everything ahead of time. Well of course there would be the registration process should she succeed but what were the odds of that happening? If it did, it could be handled then and there but for now, all she had left to do was play her heart out and hope for the best. And, that was what she aimed to do. Unfortunately for Clair though, her nerves were having a much greater effect on her than she had originally anticipated or dared to show.

Oh yes, although she did a good job at hiding it Clair was a nervous wreck and her easy-going personality was ill-prepared to deal with it. That was until she heard another guitarist begin practising their choice of pieces. As the older gentleman began to play through some covers Clair found her nerves slowly easing and by the time he was on his third Clair had completely calmed herself and was bobbing her head along subtly to the music. With her nerves calmed and with her guitar in hand Clair began to grin to herself, taking a deep breath before moving to a stand with her guitar in hand "What's the worse that could happen? I either make it or I don't. This isn't like me, I should just go in there and show them what I've got!". Pumping herself up with a quiet and self-serving pep talk, Clair readied herself and made one final check of her guitar before entering the audition hall with a smile.

Taking her place at the centre of the stage Clair hooked her electric guitar up to the amp and then turned her attention to the panel. Perhaps it was her nerves resurfacing or something of the sort but her eyes immediately darted to a rather large and grossly ornate guitar that seemed to be unsure of whether or not it was a sword, shield or axe. Darting her eyes back and forth between her own Heartshadow and the guitar in question Clair did her best to stifle a chuckle before looking to the man sat aside it with a grin "Compensating?". Striking her guitar strings Clairmade sure the amp was functioning before continuing with a soft smile "Sorry, I didn't mean to be so rude. I'm just nervous is all. My name is Clair O'Reilly and today I'll be playing for you an improvisation. In other words, I'm going to make it up right here and now. I figure you've been dealing with covers all day so, even if my performance isn't up to the Iron Wing standard the least I can do is give you a brief break right. Anyway. Please enjoy, I'll be giving this my all!"

Starting off rather suddenly Clair wasted no time getting into her performance, in her opinion she had already wasted enough of the judge's time. Playing around with different notes half-heartedly until she found a rhythm she liked wasn't going to cut it and would only further delay the next audition. So Clair immediately dove into the first rhythm that came to mind and began to build on it until she had cemented a grove she could play around. Within just a minute the young guitarist had created a piece of her very own and was beginning to become absorbed in the Funky Blues she had let loose.

Tapping her left foot along in time to the piece, a web of chains slowly began to creep outward from below her. Growing to encompass more and more of the stage as each second passed and the woman got more and more into the piece herself. After another minute had passed (1:50) Clair's aura began to shift and morph upward until she herself was encompassed in a ball of chains along with any of the judges that had happened to find themselves tapping or bobbing along to the rhythm. With her eyes shut and having completely succumbed to the piece, she was playing Clair was oblivious to the goings-on around her and when she finally brought her piece to an end the chain balls would snap and shatter against the ground. "Thank you for your time, I hope you enjoyed it."

Unplugging her guitar Clair awaited her result with a subtle smile, her eyes shifting from judge to judge as they deliberated. Once given her result she did as she was told and left through the appropriate door.​

 

[The Black Knight]

The next performer caught Wolfgang’s gleaming eye. He saw the guitar in her hand, which was his realm. Robert looked at him and laughed softly, “Oh, ho, ho…”

“Oh, ho, ho, indeed,” Wolfgang responded with a grin that could have ate someone alive.

He watched Clair get set up, and her eyes glancing at his guitar before she quipped, Compensating.

All three instructors gasped. Jet and Robert had fingers clapped against their mouths as they stared at Wolfgang.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rude. I’m just nervous is all. My name is…

“Denied,” Wolfgang interrupted sternly.

Robert flailed his arms before the pissed instructor’s face and said sheepishly to Clair, “Go on! Don’t mind him.”

Wolfgang crossed his arms before his chest, scowling as he listened to Clair’s performance. Robert being a lover of rhythm and a good beat was tapping his foot to her performance. Jet rested her cheek in her hand. The song had actually taken her somewhere else. Somewhere away from the long day. Despite the chains that were reaching out from the floor, she felt relaxed listening to Clair’s tune. Hilde was swaying.

The sensor reacted as usual. Wolfgang waited for her performance to be over before he remarked, “Your performance nearly put me to sleep.”

The sensor finished analyzing and the grade read: C.

“HMPH!?” Wolfgang reacted in shock, his eyes bulging from his skull.

“What? No way!” Robert exclaimed.

“Wow,” Jet said softly. She didn’t expect some chill tune to generate that much sound power.

Wolfgang closed his eyes and bared his teeth in a low growl. Jet slapped the table and decided to say it for him, “Good job girl. You got a C. You can head over to Iron Wing Processing to get your shit and room assignment. Congratulations and see ya around!”

Robert was laughing at Wolfgang and jabbing him in the arm with his elbow. “I bet that pisses you off. She’s coming for your ass.”

Wolfgang snarled at Robert, “She’s nowhere near my level!”

AUDITIONS CONCLUDED. CONGRATULATIONS!​

Uasal

 

[The Black Knight]

A five-foot-one girl with blonde hair down to her bottom entered the audition room carrying a rectangular suitcase. She set the heavy case down and proceeded to open it. She set aside two keyboards before removing the stand. Unfolding it, she screwed what needed to be screwed to keep it stable before securing the two keyboards on it. Once she was set up, she proceeded to turn on the keyboard and check her settings. Afterward, she looked at the instructors, one who was pretending to have fallen asleep (Wolfgang). She wore a neutral expression as she introduced herself on a soft voice, “My name is Aurielle. I hope you enjoy it.”

Her small, pale hand immediately went to the keys to begin setting the ambience, while her other hand engaged her pre-recordings.

Robert sat forward, his foot already tapping to the beat her synthesizer was pulsing with. He hadn’t expected a girl who appeared so gentle and fragile to be dropping beats like that. Even Wolfgang had opened his eyes, though he continued to lean back in his chair with his arms crossed as though he were ready to doze off again.

Hilde turned to Jet and asked, “Is this the same girl?”

Jet nodded and smirked. “Yep.”

They hadn’t seen any signs of a sound aura yet, but she suspected her performance was just warming up. Robert could feel his heart beginning to race as the music began to rise in climax. As soon as the beat dropped, a bright, magenta aura began pulsing in a ring from her, extending out to the instructors’ table. It pulsed like a sound bar, converging and extending in rhythm to the song.

Aurielle was bobbing her head to the beat as her hands moved along the keys. She even executed a twirl, her long hair splaying like a cape before she returned to the keyboards. Jet couldn’t help but laugh at the small act. It was fun sometimes to see the performers getting into their music.

Wolfgang was watching out of the corners of his eyes the sensor flashing brightly. The small girl was radiating with a ton of sound energy—an amount neither of them expected. As she concluded her performance, Aurielle stepped back from her keyboards and bowed before the instructors.

The sensor finished analyzing and displayed the grade: C.

“No surprise there,” Wolfgang admitted. Her sound aura had to be a C. He couldn’t imagine it being anything lower. The other instructors weren’t surprised either. She was small, but she wasn’t anyone to underestimate. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Your grade is C. You can proceed to Iron Wing Processing where you’ll be issued your equipment and room assignment. Thank you for coming. NEXT!”

A young man entered the room next with blue hair and some strange horns on his head. Wolfgang immediately frowned upon seeing them and informed, “Hey, you know you’re gonna hafta’ unscrew those right? If you’re selected, they could interfere with training!”

The young man glanced over at Wolfgang while his blue bass rested over his shoulder. The silent performer gave him a thumb up and lowered his bass.

“Is there something wrong with your mouth?” Wolfgang sternly scolded.

The bassist grasped his mask and lowered it down to his chin. “No Sir,” he calmly replied as he tuned his bass. “My name is Linnaeus.”

Wolfgang waved him on. “Start then.”

Linnaeus started casually, but then proceeded to show off his picking skills. The overall performance was relaxing and Jet was studying his fingers. She liked being able to see a musician play without any distractions. As his fingers continued to walk up and down the neck of his guitar, a blue and white aura began to swirl like ribbons around it. The ribbons began thicker. Several of them swirled around his guitar like a tornado, expanding and nearly hiding his hands until his song dropped in dynamic.

His sound aura display hadn’t as been as amazing as the last performance but that simple display had been enough for the sensor to receive a strong reading. Linnaeus finished his jam and lowered his bass to the floor as he awaited judgment.

The instructors were surprised to see that the sensor read: C. Again. Twice in a row!

“Is this thing broken?” Wolfgang asked irritably.

Robert rose from his chair and walked over to inspect the device. He ran through a calibration and confirmed it was working. “No. It’s not broken. His sound aura is just that strong.”

Wolfgang scratched his head some. Maybe they had been expecting too much of a show for a C ranked sound aura. The performance had never really determined the strength of one’s aura.

“All right; your grade is C. You can proceed to Iron Wing Processing where you’ll be issued your equipment and room assignment. Get out. NEXT!”


The next performance was a young man with short, red hair who wasn’t shy about outright meeting the instructors. He walked with a pep in his step, one hand holding up the side of his pants as he approached Robert with an extended hand.

“How you doin’; how you doin’; how you do? My name is Rory,” he introduced himself on an accent that sounded like Old New York.

Robert shook his hand; and Wolfgang didn’t, but that didn’t stop Rory from continuing down. When he took Hilde’s hand, he grinned at her even though she couldn’t see it and said, “Definitely howdy-do to you.”

He then took Jet’s hand who looked off to the side as though to hide the amused smirk on her face.

“All right; germ spreader. I don’t see an instrument so I assume you’re here to sing,” Wolfgang said.

Rory centered himself on stage and removed the microphone from the stand. “I do more than sing. My name is Ruh-ruh-Rory G!”

“Oh shit!” Robert exclaimed in excitement. He was wondering when they were going to get a beatboxer. Bringing the mic to his mouth, Rory started spitting.

Rory cupped the microphone as he continued to spit, bobbing to the beat. He then proceeded to improvise:

Two trailer park girls go round the outside,
Round the outside,
Round the outside!

He spat the following beat.

Two trailer park girls go round the outside,
Round the outside,
Round the outside!

Guess who’s back?
Back again.
Rory’s back.
Tell a friend.
Guess who’s back?
Guess who’s back?
Guess who’s back?
Guess who’s back?
Guess who’s back?
Guess who’s back?
Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh-huh GOD DAMN! https://youtu.be/gnsqvz9iIlA?t=58

Rory raised the mic like a trumpet and started playing the opening. Flames were lashing from his mouth like the tongue of a dragon and leaving his eyes on wisps as he continued to box.

Everything you say to me~!
Brings me one step closer to the edge!
I’m about to break!

Rory then proceeded to scream: GO FIX YOURSELF~!

Wolfgang felt a chill hearing Rory scream. Rock was his domain, and hearing that Rory was more than a beatboxer and rapper seemed to make both Robert and Wolfgang smile. Rory bowed, ending his performance for he knew he could go on forever. Smoke was leaving his mouth and eyes. Jet had been the only one paying attention to the sensor throughout the performance and her brows rose in surprise to see it read: D.

“You received the grade D. You can proceed to Iron Wing Processing where you will be issued your equipment and room assignment. Thank you for coming. NEXT!”


Mauve, the diva from earlier, stalked into the audition room with a sashay in her step. When she faced the judges, it was like watching a model turn as she cocked out her hip and rested her hands upon them. “My name is Mauve, and I’m here to sing for you lovely people,” she said.

“People?” Wolfgang muttered under his breath.

“Go on ahead,” Jet encouraged.

Mauve removed the mic and tossed her head, causing her purple hair to swish behind her. She didn’t hesitate in flexing her aura. The purple twister from before expanding out in a ring around her and stirring up a breeze in the audition room.

“How is everyone tonight?” she asked. “Are you ready to get blown away?”

Mauve dipped, bending at the knees as the beat dropped. She began to sing. Wolfgang’s hand slowly crept up his face, grasping it as he stared at her in horror. He hadn’t been much of a pop person for this reason, while Robert and Jet seemed to be eating it up.

“YEAH!” Robert exclaimed.

Jet swayed in her chair and waved her arms above her head as Mauve started to pop her hips and step to the imagined music. Even though there wasn’t any music, they all knew how the song went and she remained in tempo. She started stepping lower and lower until she was crouched and twerking her ass.

Wolfgang looked away with a pained groan, while Robert threw his arms in the air and yelled, “OOOOOH~!”

Jet couldn’t stop laughing—mainly at Wolfgang for she knew he was suffering.

Mauve stepped her way back to her five-nine height, swinging her arm as she cat walked to the back of the stage and finished her song. Another model whirl and she dropped the microphone upon the stage, causing it to squeal.

“Hey! That’s government property!” Wolfgang scolded. Before he scratched his head and growled, “Christ, what was that?”

He glanced at the sensor and was a little surprised it read E, but not too surprised. She was all show and had a lot to work on.

“You got an E, Princess. You can head over to Iron Wing Processing to get your equipment and room assignment.”

Mauve’s mouth dropped. “An E? Your machine must be broken.”

“The only thing broken are my eyes. Get out of here. Next performance!”

Mauve scowled at Wolfgang and hmphed before storming out of the audition room.


The next performer to enter the audition room resembled a ghost. However, her gothic attire caused Wolfgang to sit up straight in his chair. She wasn’t just a guitarist like himself, but she seemed to play the type of music he fancied. Her guitar resembled a weapon like his. She carried it like one with the axe-blade on it held in a safe direction.

Robert quickly left his chair to race across the stage to retrieve the microphone Mauve had dropped. He returned it to the stand for the girl before returning to his seat. The girl leaned toward the mic and spoke her name on charcoal black lips, “My name’s Edel, and this is my guitar, Reaper.”

After getting her guitar plugged in, Edel retrieved her pick and wasted no time in getting straight to work. She began banging her head as what appeared to be white wisps started rising from the floor. The wisps resembled ghosts flying above her head before vanishing into thin air.

Wolfgang slapped the table and held up a pair of horns. “Yes! I’ve been waiting all day for this!”

Robert smirked at him, knowing it was true. No performer could ever go wrong playing metal in front of Wolfgang. They could have had zero sound aura and Wolfgang would have still gotten excited. The instructor was watching Edel’s fingers closely and couldn’t stop grinning. He wished he could have grabbed his guitar and joined her. The spirits were just rising around her, and they understood why her guitar was called Reaper.

Wolfgang was banging his head and Jet was watching with wide eyes. She was waiting for smoke to leave the girl’s fingers. She made shredding look so effortless. The sensor was flashing brightly, and she thought, “Looks like we got another one.”

When Edel finished her performance, the sensor read: C and Wolfgang punched a fist into the air. “Hell yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!”

Robert rolled his eyes.

“Woo! You pumped me up and gave me life! I feel like I can sit through this shit a little longer. Your grade is C. You can proceed to Iron Wing Processing to be issued your equipment and room assignment. Fuck yeah! NEXT!”


A drum set was prepared for the next performer. A five-foot-five girl walked in wearing a short, black dress with a black corset. Combat boots were laced up her shins and she carried with her, her own drum sticks that were a bluish-black. She first walked up to the microphone and introduced herself with a youthful smile, “My name’s Talia, and I’m going to play the drums for you today.”

Wolfgang immediately turned to Robert and whispered in excitement, “I bet she’s another one. Another metalhead.”

Robert couldn’t help but grin. It was a breath of fresh air seeing Wolfgang in a better mood. Jet smirked over at the male instructors. “The girls are killing it today.”

Both Robert and Wolfgang gave her a scowl, but even they had to admit it was true. They were getting a ton of female pilots with sound aura lately.

Talia took her time checking over the drum set, adjusting her chair, and checking the bass pedal. She then removed from a bag neither of the instructors had seen on her back at first. It had been a small gym bag with rope straps. She opened it and removed a second bass pedal that made Wolfgang scream, “YEEEEE~S! I FUCKING TOLD YOU!”

“Sssh!” Robert shushed him. “Chill out!”

Wolfgang collapsed back in his chair with his hands hiding his face. He was laughing into them.

Talia paused, looking up like a startled hare with oblivious wide eyes.

“You’re good girl. Don’t mind him. Proceed!” Jet shouted.

Talia bounced a little on her stool, getting a feel and venting some excitement. Twirling her drumstick, she proceeded playing.

It was Wolfgang’s dream come true. Three metal performances so far. The other drummer he remembered was just as experienced, but Talia seemed to have an edge. Robert was lightly drumming the table as Talia went to town on the drum set. Water began to pool on top of the drum, splashing whenever she struck it with a different color. As she continued to play, water spilled from on top of the drums and spilled on the floor in a liquid rainbow. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and indigo; all sorts of colors leapt at the strike of her sticks. She banged her head and bounced a little in her seat. There was no drum or symbol outside her reach. Wolfgang even witnessed her throwing her stick at a symbol to reach it only to catch it after.

“OH!” Robert cheered.

Wolfgang clapped and laughed.

“Look at that little girl go!” Jet yelled.

“She sounds amazing,” Hilde said with a smile.

As Talia finished her performance, Wolfgang glanced at the sensor and it indicated: D.

“Psh, whatever,” he grumbled. “You received a D. You can proceed to Iron Wing Processing to receive your equipment and room assignment. Get out and great job. NEXT!”

An armored tank-like vehicle with passenger seating like a bus picked up all the new recruits who had passed the audition and transported them across a flight line to a lone station. There were lines of new recruits with carts loaded with their uniforms, a blaster rifle, and other survival equipment such as the SAVIOR for when and if they ever left the dome. Since they were only recruits and hadn’t received any real rank yet, they were more than likely to be trained on all the equipment first.

The armored bus hissed as it braked in front of the processing station. The doors opened at the front and middle, allowing recruits to hop out and file into what felt like an assembly line. There were uniformed personnel asking for their information, having them fill out paperwork, giving them an empty cart, telling them to proceed to the next station. Next station. Next station. Next station. At some point they signed a liability waiver, health insurance, and then were injected with various vaccines with inoculation guns. Their arms might ache the next day or later in the day. After having their carts filled, the last thing they were issued was a map of the base and a keycard that would allow them to access their rooms. They weren't issued any dog tags yet. Those had to be earned.

Room Assignments:

Squadron One
All members of Squadron One share the same common areas: kitchen and living room; but not the same bedrooms and hygiene facilities. Each member has their own room with a private bathroom.

POD A (Alpha)
1. Nathan – A1
2. Clair – A2
3. Ana – A3
4. Terri – A4
5. Lucy – A5
6. Eva – A6

The room is shaped like a hexagon with each of the recruits’ rooms surrounding the common areas.

GM Note: At this time, sandbox has begun. There is no posting order. Your characters are free to interact, roam about, and get familiar with whatever. All training will take place in a separate thread created and initiated by the GM. Your rivals are in POD B (Bravo). Be sure to use the tag and communicate with those you intend to interact with. You can never communicate too much.

Tagging: Haze- Uasal Megilagor II-CinderRadcliff-II GrieveWriter Monday

 

[Uasal]

Name: Clair O'Reilly
Rank: Recruit
Position: Lead Guitar
Location: Pod A Living Room
Tag: Those also in the living room

Exiting the torture chamber that had been the processing station(s) Clair pushed her cart to the side and moved to sit atop it with a loud sigh. Rubbing at her arm Clair hissed to herself and shot her eyes to the sky "Son of a bitch! Nobody said anything about needle guns!". After a few seconds of moaning and groaning to herself aside the exit, Clair moved a hand to her pocket and produced a lollipop which she quickly unwrapped and shoved in her mouth. Pushing herself back up and onto her feet thereafter, the new recruit returned to her carts handlebar and proceeded slowly through the base, taking her time and in no rush despite many others blasting past her at great speed. In fact, even when others produced groans audibly in an attempt to have her speed up, the woman only offered them a smile in return.

Alas, she made it to the pod in the end and very easily considering her pacing allowed for easy use of the map she had been given. Opening the door with a swipe of her new Access Card, Clair quietly pushed her cart on through and once inside made sure to shut the door behind her. The room was far larger than she had expected, it had a common room with a kitchen and living room that seemed rather comfortable to hang around in. But what surprised her, even more, was her own room had a bathroom and boasted quite the floor space. In all honesty, she had expected to be bunking in some small shack with about fifty others, this was like a hotel more so than the military bases she had envisioned. Sliding her cart into her room the young woman went about emptying it and storing away everything from her documentation to her new blaster and clothing. The whole thing took her around ten minutes and no sooner had she finished did she flop atop her bed with a sigh of relief. With her lollipop having fully dissolved by now Clair was chewing on its stick as she flip onto her back to stare at the ceiling, she could hear others starting to arrive at the pod but she decided it best to give them some time to settle before introducing herself, so in the meantime she continued to stare at the ceiling, chewing her stick and folding her hands behind her head. This was it, she had made it to the academy!

Looking back at her performance Clair couldn't help but laugh to herself. When the blonde judge had called out denied she had felt her heart sink, but looking back in hindsight the thought of the whole situation was hilarious. "Compensating? Haha. I wonder who that guy is anyway. Clearly, he couldn't handle a joke! Pahaha! I bet he's a real metal junkie! Still, I'd love to see what he can do with that guitar of his..."

"Then there was that other dude. He seemed pretty cool. Not as cool as the chick beside him but... cool. I bet the last one was a classical artist. She was so refined. Ahh, they were all so unique! I wonder who they were!" Turning on her side Clair reached for her phone and went straight to her contacts. After a long conversation with her mother and father, she finally hung up and decided it was time to see who had arrived. Pushing herself up and off the bed and having tossed the stick she had been chewing on in the bin Clair made her way back to the Living room to introduce herself.​

 

[GrieveWriter]

Name: Anastasia Stepfield
Rank: Recruit
Position: Bass
Location: Ironwing Academy Pod A Living Room
Tag: Uasal (Clair O' Reilly)

She had passed.

The entire ride in the armored vehicle flew by for Anastasia, as her thoughts kept her mind from taking notice of any passage of time. Passing the audition was step one in her journey to defending humanity, so there was no place for celebrations... for her at least. Some of the other recruits seemed relieved while others were practically radiating with anticipation for what came next, but Ana kept her thoughts centered on how exactly her schedule would be formatted going forward.

She knew that the Academy could be trusted to figure how best to cultivate her abilities, but what of any free time? She needed to know where her own training regimes could fit in, and where planning with her team would be.

Ah yes, teammates.

Her eyes roamed over the recruits in the armored vehicle, wondering which ones she would be partnered with. She had no idea how the academy was grouping them, and so had to keep her mind open to whatever musical capabilities she would have to work with. Soon the Armored vehicle deposited them into Iron Wing processing, which mainly consisted of everyone lining up so they could be given what looked like standard issue gear.

With Price safely tucked away in her massive travel bag, Ana's hands were free to feel and fondle whichever piece of equipment was handed to her next. The numbing of the vaccines made her end her preliminary touches early, merely going along with the rest of the line until she was given her keycard and map.

She was finally released from processing, cross-referencing of the keycard itself and the map indicating which pod she was assigned to. It was there that she'd finally meet the rest of her squad.

But she wasn't rushing.

She had to memorize the appearance of her gear after all.

Though mindful of her surroundings, Ana's gaze was busy taking in every detail about the gear and supplies loaded into her cart. Every mark, curve and item visible to her was taken in piece by piece. She didn't go through the full process of identifying things that she usually did, she'd have to stop and tke everything out of her cart for that. It seemed far better to do such a thing in the comfort of the pod.

Speaking of which...

She reached her designated pod and entered easily with use of the keycard. It seemed her room and those of all her fellow squadmates linked up in a large central room with kicthen amenities mixed with a sort of lounge.

She couldn't spot anyone, so wasted no time in taking to one of the couches so she could begin her examination. The Uniforms came first, since she figured she could look them over the fastest. She could see how well they fit later, so quickly gave them a once over before getting to the rest of her gear.

Namely, the rucksack and the SAVIOR computer.

She wouldn't check all of the SAVIOR's capabilities just yet, first identifying all the stuff in the rucksack and taking note of what she'd have in certain emergencies. She did make sure to keep the computer secured to her wrist before moving to the blaster rifle. While she didn't doubt there'd be many lessons on proper weapon maintenance and handling, she did want a good feel of it.

Tracing its lines with her fingers, getting accustomed to its weight. She got absorbed in her examination, tuning much else out as she let every touch and feel sink into her.

Alas, it was as she neared the end of her examination that she noted one of her squadmates emerged from a room. It would seem they'd arrived some time before her.

It was a girl with blonde hair peaking out from under a hooded jacket. Anastasia couldn't put an instrument to her face, so figured her audition probably happened long before her after her. She would save knowing her instrument for later and get the process of introductions out of the way.

Lowering the blaster rifle onto her lap, she leaned back in the couch so she could tilt her head back towards the girl.

"Anastasia Stepfield." she raised a finger to point to herself before leaning forward again so she could resume feeling up the weapon "It would seem I'll be playing as your bassist."

She rubbed a thumb along the side of the rifle, then loaded it back into the cart. She'd practically emptied the entire thing in order to follow through with her preliminary examination, Uniforms neatly laid on one couch, the undone rucksack on a counter in the kitchen area.

"Apologies for leaving items around," she moved to the kitchen area and began placing the Rucksack's contents back inside again "I get rather intimate when doing inventory."

 

[Uasal]

Name: Clair O'Reilly
Rank: Recruit
Position: Lead Guitar
Location: Pod A Living Room
Tag: GrieveWriter

Exiting the room Clair came face to face with a woman even taller than herself, something she wasn't often met with. With long black hair and quite an athletically toned body, Clair could easily tell the woman was more than fit for military life even as a civilian. In fact, from the way she dressed to the blemishes on her caramel-like sunkissed skin the woman was clearly far more travelled than Clair and in all honesty. She seemed a total badass! Quite a contrasting image compared to Clair.

Taking in the changes to the room as Anastasia introduced herself, Clair made her way toward the living area and took a seat opposite the woman, using the table to do so. Items had been spread out on almost every surface in the room at this stage and surprisingly enough only the small coffee table seemed free despite it being, well a table. With a soft smile, Clair nodded when Anastasia offered forward an apology, waving a hand dismissively as she moved to produce another lollipop from her pocket. "Nice to meet you, My name's Clair O'Reilly and I suppose I'm our team's 'Guitarist'. Though whether I'm the lead depends on how many other guitarists happen to show up I suppose". Chuckling to herself Clair offered the lollipop to Anastasia, taking another one out for herself thereafter. Wrestling with the packaging Clair eventually managed to get the sucker into her mouth, stuffing the wrapper into her pocket. "Also as for the mess. Don't worry about it. This is as much your home as it is mine right. Though..."

Tilting her head to the side Clair's eyes moved to the woman's hands and followed them as they practically molested the weapon she held in her lap. With an awkward smile and chuckle, Clair continued "I would appreciate it if you could find something other than a live weapon to fondle inside the pod.". Returning her gaze to meet Anastasia's, Clair shook her head and laughed softly to herself "Sorry, I just can't help but think it might go off. I don't mean to bug you.".

Turning her attention to the bass laying next to the cart, Clair's eyes lit up and her voice naturally seemed all the more excited "Is that your bass? Custom made?" Whistling to herself Clair commented "It's pretty slick. What kind of genres are you into?" Returning her gaze to Anastasia's for the final time Clair waited patiently for a response. swishing her lollipop from side to side in her mouth while her hands kept her upright on the table from behind, legs crossed.​

 

[Monday]

Name: Lucy Loman
Rank: Recruit
Position: Violinist
Location: Ironwing Academy Pod A5
Tags: GrieveWriter Uasal

Lucy left the audition room in a daze and mechanically followed the instructions she'd been given, struggling to process what had just happened. I got in, but... She'd gotten in, because her sound aura was apparently decent, but the judges had hated her performance. Even now, she'd treated the audition as an exhibition of skill, and chosen a piece she was intimately familiar with in order to play it safe. As it turned out, she'd been accepted on the basis of something she couldn't control, and all the skill she'd built up over the years had still been proven worthless. The irony would have been almost laughable, if Lucy were in any mood to appreciate humor. Talk about a punch in the gut. Part of her- the petulant part, probably- wanted to believe they had judged her unfairly, but who was she to argue with professionals? If she couldn't take constructive criticism, she wouldn't last a day. Vivaldi was, after all, an incredibly generic choice, especially for a violin demonstration.

All through the entrance process, she tried her best not to think, aided by popping in her earbuds during the bus ride and cranking up her metal playlist, and by the mind-numbing pace of events once she disembarked. Listening to anything composed after 1940 still felt like a guilty pleasure, as did playing with the band... which made her guilty all over again, because how could she feel that way about spending time with her friends? It was strange how so much noise could be so soothing. Like a swirling storm in which she was the eye, it allowed her to externalize her emotions, affording her some reprieve as they were swallowed by the vortex of sound. Still, at the first opportunity, she ducked into a bathroom, locked herself in a stall, and cried. It was pathetic of her, she knew, but far better to get it out of her system now than to risk breaking down later in front of her teammates or, worse, an instructor- especially that scary blond guy. Now that would be a nightmare.

Once she had cried it out, she washed her face carefully and met glassy eyes staring out of her pale face in the mirror. In terms of talent, she didn't deserve to be here. They needed her because of her sound aura. That was a fact she would have to accept. Doing something worthwhile wasn't limited to the gifted, right? It was hard to accept being ordinary, but everyone had something to contribute. What would be the point of life, otherwise? She would do her best, if she could do nothing else. When she was finally done with the processing station, she made a beeline for her pod using the map. On the way, she refreshed her memory of the schedule and of military time, making sure she'd memorized all the hours from 13:00 onward. It would be pretty embarrassing if she ever got her times mixed up, not to mention a serious inconvenience and possibly a danger to her team.

Inside the common area, two recruits were already making themselves at home in the living room and kitchen- the slightly intimidating bass guitarist who'd been ahead of her in line, and who apparently knew her way around a rifle, and a blonde girl she didn't recognize. Pushing her cart, she breezed through with a nod and a smile. "Hey, I'm Lucy. Pleasure to be working with you. I'm gonna go get unpacked." Though she felt a twinge of guilt for not staying to socialize, she couldn't trust herself to keep her composure right now. Once inside, she took stock of her surroundings, set the rifle in what looked like a reasonably safe place, too nervous to do anything more with it, stashed away her survival equipment, unpacked her clothes and toiletries, and tried on her uniform to be sure it fit. It did, but she didn't look or feel like a soldier. What had she expected, though? To instantly feel like a badass? Instead, her reflection in the mirror just looked... small.

After changing back into her civvies and folding up her uniform, she sat down on the bed and, deciding to stop procrastinating, sent a simple text both to her parents and to her group chat with the guys: "I got in." Within a few seconds, her phone rang, requesting a video call. Please, not now, Lucy groaned internally, but found her thumb tapping the green button as a smile forced its way onto her face. Immediately, a chorus of male voices cheering at the top of their lungs filled the room, and she frantically reduced the volume. "Guys! I'm on speaker!" she laughed. As the noise died down a cluster of five faces came into view against the backdrop of Jedediah's basement, the band's usual rehearsal spot. At first, the group had consisted of two brothers, Jed and James, who'd owned a video streaming channel called "JJ's Music". Then they invited three of their friends to join... all of whom had names starting with J. No matter how many times they changed their minds about an official band name, the "JJ's" designation had stuck around in some fashion (5J, Jx5, J squared plus one, etc.). It was, to be honest, completely corny, but who was she to ruin their fun by saying so?

"Way to go, Luuuc!"

"That-a-girl! We knew you'd make it!"

"I bet you totally impressed the judges!"

"Ahaha... ha..." she laughed nervously. "Not exactly, but I made it, so..."

"What's the matter, Lucy?" asked James, the most perceptive out of the five. "Your eyes are red."

"Nothing! I mean... not much... I guess they kinda hated my audition, but..."

"WHAT?!" they all asked in unison.

"What'd you play?" asked Jonah.

"Um... my Vivaldi remix..."

"Vivaldi?!" he exclaimed.

"What? Everyone likes Vivaldi," said Jason.

"I don't like Vivaldi," said Jerome.

"Shh!" James elbowed him. "Don't say that in front of Luc!"

"Guys, seriously?" Jed, who was holding the phone, glared at them over his shoulder before turning back to the camera. "You mean you didn't play that solo you did at the park on Saturday?"

"That?! I haven't practiced that nearly enough!"

"Dude, what do you mean?" said Jonah. "You totally killed it! I didn't know a violin could shred like that!" The others made various noises of agreement.

Lucy felt her cheeks warm at the memory. "Jonah spied on my private practice session, and then you all forced me to perform it against my will!"

"We didn't force you," said Jed.

"More like badgered," said Jonah.

"Begged," said Jason.

"Pleaded," said James.

"Strongly urged," said Jerome.

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Well, whatever you did, it wasn't ready. No offense, but you guys only think it sounds good because you're not violinists." Or professionals, for that matter.

"C'mon, Luc, don't sell yourself short," said Jonah. "I keep telling you you need to have more confidence in yourself."

Confidence. There it was again. "Heh. Maybe you're right," she said, though someone without talent could only be entitled to so much confidence. "Well, I should get going. Training starts early tomorrow, and I still have to unpack and introduce myself to my teammates." That was a lie, but it was taking all her energy to stay upbeat, and she didn't want them to worry on her account.

"Aww, man," said Jonah.

"Alright. Keep us updated," said Jed.

"Yes! Regale us with your Legion-slaying adventures, and we shall turn them into a ballad for the ages!" said Jason.

"In that case, I'll make sure my deeds are... um... ballad-worthy. Talk to you guys later!"

"Give 'em hell, Luc!" A fist bump briefly obscured the camera, only to be swatted away by Jed, who ended the call. Lucy let out a long breath, blowing her bangs out of her face, and flopped backwards onto the bed. Really, she didn't deserve such good friends. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint them. Once she mustered up the energy to check her text messages, she saw that her parents had responded with the expected awkward pleasantries: congratulations, get to bed on time, make sure you eat. She responded in kind, then tossed her phone away and heaved another sigh, letting her forearm fall across her eyes. Innovation and confidence, huh? One thing she'd liked about classical music was that there was one way to do it. A clear path to success. Practice what she was told, when she was told, for how long she was told, and she'd be fine. That approach had worked... until it hadn't. She'd hardly been on the wrong side of an authority figure... until now.

All in all, she was tired. Tired of everything. Tired of disappointing people, and tired of disappointing herself. All at once, she sprang to her feet and unpacked her violin again. They wanted her to innovate? Fine. She would innovate, even if it meant staying up all night to invent a new repertoire, starting with that embarrassing experimental solo. At least it wasn't Vivaldi. Anything was better than Vivaldi, even if it made their ears bleed. Lucy Loman may have been many things- timid, untalented, uncreative- but she was not a quitter, and she seldom made the same mistake twice. Time to become a shredding machine. Lucy began to play, loudly and aggressively, grinding out moody chords, keening wails and heavy growls with plenty of distortion. Completely absorbed, she forgot that there were people in the other room who might be disturbed by all the racket she was making.

It's okay, Vivaldi. I still love you.

 

[II-CinderRadcliff-II]

Evalynn R. Madore - Recruit

Between the reaction she saw from the judges and the almost suffocating amount of bureaucracy, Evalynn wasn't feeling the most enthused about the situation at hand - despite having mentally prepared for the worst to come. Failing the audition might have been more of a mercy than she had anticipated. However she felt about it, she could at least expect things to get harder quickly. The needles and vaccinations flew by faster than everything else had, and with her cart in hand and free reign to explore the building while on her way to the pod she was assigned. As she passed by one of the windows the unfamiliarity of everything around her made itself apparent again, homesickness already kicking in as the comfort of her parents cabin and the warmth of her companion pulled on her heart strings. Her face remained as cold as stone however, as some of the other recruits rushed by her. Her emotions were a burden she only let her absent companion share with her. Her mind began to wander elsewhere soon enough, though gazing at all of the different facilities and the other pods didn't help ease her mind.

By the time she had reached her pod Evalynn was just finishing up on memorizing the map of the building, grabbing the key card from the paperwork at the top of the cart and swiping with it. As the door swung open she spotted two people chatting away in the connected lounge, putting on a smile to avoid drawing concern. Without much hesitation she pushed her cart along to her room, closing the door behind her before immediately unpacking. The SAVIOR rifle was stashed inside of a drawer underneath of the mattress, the survival gear neatly put away into the closet with her clothes, with the various bits of paperwork organized and put into a tidy binder that she promptly hid. Prying eyes weren't allowed access without a good reason. The only things she hadn't put away yet were her accordion, key card, and a few books and some art supplies. Without a second thought she slipped the key card into her pockets, gently setting the accordion down onto her bed afterwards - leaving only the art supplies after she swiftly organized and shelved the books she had brought. Her body paused for a moment as she looked around the room, trying to see her future self become acclimated to the strange new beginning. Though the anxiety of how the judges would view her was already gnawing at her composure. After a little bit of idle gazing towards the window she walked to the cart and pulled out the rest of her stuff, setting it all atop of the desk in her room and getting set up. Pencils and erasers were put into one drawer, paint supplies into another, various essay length papers were hidden carefully beneath multiple sketch books full of various drawings. The two primary things upon her desk was her sticker-laden laptop and a thick book on diplomacy, with speakers on either side alongside a mouse and stylus to the right side of her setup. She preemptively popped any cramps in her hands before getting to work, picking up the stylus and using her art to express her emotions.

Line after line the focus of the drawing became apparent: A lifeless husk drained and left to shrivel into dust, split between the fine lines of reality and imagination. In the background formed a witch casting a spell, which seemed to drain the husk of most of its life - waving around a wand like an orchestra director with a snicker on their face. The snicker that Wolfgang had shown during her audition, though she only vaguely remembered it. As more of the illustration came together the witch was shown to have various trinkets and trophies. Some where medals of accomplishment from their fellow witches, others were parts from other victims of varying importance or significance. The most damning piece that implied that the witch was symbolic of Wolfgang was the pristine banjo among the dust and cobwebs, unaffected by the grotesque conditions the witch thrived in. As the fantasy aspect of the artwork was nearly finished, what the piece visualized as reality quickly made itself disturbingly relevant. Cities burning outside the window of an office, with a shadowy figure wasting away at work to dismantle the mess of papers upon their desk. Behind the man in the skies were various jets and flying mechs alike, blowing each other to smithereens as crowds of fleeing people are gunned down by the invading force. It was only after the entirety of her art was completed that it became clear what it was supposed to represent: Her impressions of the first day and the homesickness she was experiencing. With a sigh Evalynn felt most of her pent up emotions from today falling off of her shoulders, having her latest work of art carry that burden for her. Having saved and filed it away where no one could stumble upon it, she closed the massive file full of nearly a thousand works and powered down her laptop - giving herself a genuine smile in the mirror before walking towards the door.

Upon the door swinging back open she found that both Clair and Ana were chatting away, finding herself a seat in the living room as her lips parted ways.
"Hello, I'm Evalynn. What instruments do either of you perform with?"

Uasal GrieveWriter​

 

[GrieveWriter]

Name: Anastasia Stepfield
Rank: Recruit
Position: Bass
Location: Ironwing Academy Pod A Living Room
Tag: Uasal (Clair O' Reilly) Monday (Lucy Loman) II-CinderRadcliff-II (Evalynn)


Item after item were slid back into the rucksack, but Ana's mind was on drinking in Clair's introduction. Her full name was Clair O' Reilly, and she would be performing with her guitar. Ana was certain she hadn't gotten to hear her performance, so wasn't able to come up with any theories on how they'd mesh. She'd played with guitar players before. Several had even taught her the slap-tap methods of simulating other instruments using nothing but alternative movements with Price.

But her travels had also told her that guitarists tended to cultivate extremely varied methods of producing their desired sound.

As she pulled the ends of the rucksack closed, Ana determined that she needed to hear Clair play. She needed to hear all of them play solo before she could finalize her opinions on potential group cohesion. But that would either happen organically or by virtue of the Academy's training.

Either way, not something to press on at the moment.

Instead, she finished tying the rucksack closed again and turned to return it to the cart. What she found as she looked back was Clair offering her a lollipop. While sweets weren't a particular preference, Ana had no reason to refuse. Slinging the rucksack over one shoulder, she approached Clair before leaning down so she could more easily pluck the treat from her fingers.

More importantly, it offered a perfect chance for her to get close and commit Clair's features to memory. She would like to be able to identify her teammates easily among the crowd but didn't want to take the risk of them having people with similar features in their class. Either way, she paused only slightly to give Clair a once over again before stepping back and unwrapping the lollipop with her teeth.

She returned the rucksack to her cart as she sucked the treat in-between her lips.

Clair hadn't seemed too bothered by Ana leaving her items all over their shared rest area, although Ana did pause in her tasting of the lollipop once Clair voiced her concern over handling of the rifle.

Ana gave a small hum at that, watching as another one of their squadmates passed by. She introduced herself as Lucy before quickly making a break for her room to unpack, but Ana was fairly certain that girl was the violinist she'd heard back at auditions.

Guitar, Bass, and Violin.

Almost immediately after came the accordion girl, the one who went after Ana. She gave even less of a greeting, offering a brief smile as she also dissappeared into her room.

Ana tilted her head a bit, but gave both of them a brief wave as they made for their rooms. Turning her attention back to Clair, Ana approached the couch with her uniforms.

"Concerned with my handling of a weapon, hm?" she nodded several times before squatting beside the couch so she could fold both of her uniforms up "Understood, I'll be sure to earn your faith on that front in due time."

Both uniforms were now folded in separate piles, each tucked under one arm as Ana approached her cart. It was then that Clair seemed to notice Price and immediately grow interested in him. Ana set her uniforms into her cart before angling it towards what she was sure was her room. There were a few more items set aside that she took less time returning, walking from here to there as Clair questioned her.

"Price has had many alterations over the course of our partnership." Anastasia folded some her documents before sliding them into her jacket "Try as I might, it was impossible to make him able to perform the wide variety of genres I had hoped, he would have to be able to transform and rebuild himself in order to get where I wanted."

She raised a finger before slipping her jacket off her shoulders, "I got close, mind you, I can take him apart and reassemble with different pieces as long as tools are used. But to be able to shift genres in say, a battlefield?"

Ana shook her head and placed her jacket on the handles of her cart before approaching Price, "That being said, Its less about what genre I'm into and more about which genres I've managed to train in."

Picking up Price, she held him up and ran her fingers along his frame as her eyes shifted towards Clair, "EDM, Country, Punk, Rock, black metal, Jazz. With the amount of pieces and external hardware I've hooked up to him and removed over the past few years its safe to say my range is fairly varied."

"Which is why-"

Ana stopped suddenly, head snapping towards Lucy's room as the sounds of aggressive violin seeped out. It was loud, moody and all around gave the impression that someone was having a fairly bad time. After several seconds of listening, Ana's hands began to move along Price. Not actually playing, but doing the same practice tempo alignment that she'd done whilst aiting at the auditions.

Syncing her movements with the wails and chords, Ana turned her attention back to Clair.

"Which is why I'm far more interested in what you guys specialize in." she finished, hands still moving in time with Lucy's playing despite producing no sound of their own "As varied as my range is, there's always a chance that I'll have to focus on training for a new style or cultivating a less used one."

Her movements stopped once Accordion Girl left her room, apparently finished with getting her affairs in order. After taking a seat, she introduced herself as Evalynn and prompted both Ana and Clair to tell what they performed with. Since Ana was already holding Price, she simply nodded to him before thinking.

"This is Price," she nodded towards him before setting him next to her cart and thinking "though I may also use picks, piping, talkboxes, synths, bows or other amenities given the specific tone sought."