Fantasy March To The Beat (WW1 Fantasy RP): In Character (Open!)

[Nova Squid]

IC - CS - OOC
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The year is 1918.

For four years the Great War has raged across Europe. It has showed no signs of stopping.

Millions' blood has spilled across many fronts. Soldiers- be they tall, short, four or two legged- die in the mud in the face of overwhelming defenses. The front is a deadlock, with no advance or retreat.

Yet there is no end. Agricultural developments, boosted by magic, have averted the starvation at home. The demands for armistice have quieted. A return to brutality has asserted itself.

The Entente and Central Powers scrabble at one another's throats like furious wolves, seeking new technologies, strategies, magics to gain the upper hand. Nothing has worked yet, but the atmosphere is heavy. It seems like something may happen soon. Something big.

Only God can know what will happen next.

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March To The Beat is my attempt to make a unique fantasy roleplay around these parts. Far from the usual fare of swords and castles, players will find themselves serving on the front lines of the Great War. With a wide variety of fantasy races and magic, inter-meshed with clanking machines, burning oil, and a healthy helping of smokeless powder, this is an adventure like no other.
The roleplay takes place in an alternate version of the First World War, in an Earth in which various sentient races- and forces of magic- have existed since ancient times. It's mid-1918, and the war seems nowhere near stopping; with new developments in agricultural magic, starvation at home has seemingly been averted, leaving no sign of stopping to the carnage. New military developments occur each month; both the Central and Entente Powers scrabble to find new ways to gain an advantage over each other.
It's left to the players to make a difference in the fight. Players will fight for the Entente Powers (that is, the British, French, and American armies- sorry Russia and Italy, but you really aren't on the Western Front) in bloody infantry engagements through muddy fields, town streets, back woods, and various other killing grounds.

Rules
1. Don't be a Mary Sue. Your character must have some flaws. A perfect boring omnipotent god tends to ruin the fun for other people. If you make a masterful sniper wizard elf god who has killed ten thousand German soldiers with his bare hands, who can cast world-exploding fireballs and stop time, and who has never lost a fight, I will run you over with a Renault FT. Note: Remember that this is 1918, and other players and NPCs will hold values present in 1918. Making an openly LGBT character, for example, is a bad idea given that revealing it would result in a court-martial. Don't say I didn't warn you.

2. Understand that combat is lethal. You are not an unkillable god no matter what race you are, and facing down 20 enemy soldiers on an open field will generally result in you dying. Short-range combat is especially deadly. In general, combat works on common sense; you cannot dodge a bullet aimed squarely for you, nor sense an artillery shell that was just fired 10 kilometers away.

3. Don't be rude. It's fine to hold grudges and fight in IC if it comes to that, but in OOC you will strictly treat others civilly. Don't spark arguments in the OOC page over something that happened IC. If you really feel something was unfair, take it up with me. Note: Treat other players like you're at a DnD table with them. It's fine to make your character have a deep prejudice against Orcs, even if racism is a touchy subject today, but (for example) trying to sexually assault another character is right out.

4. While you should generally run one character at a time, you can generate another character if your current one is killed in action. It's not necessarily banned, but try not to just copypaste your last character with a new name.

5. Make your posts detailed and well-written. Provide information on what your character feels like, their various actions, the environment around them. One-sentence posts are not allowed whatsoever. This is a handy resource for various body language, by the way; I'd recommend you use it. Note: At least passing grammar is a must. I understand if you're not a good writer or English is not your first language, but uncapitalized sentences, no punctuation, and other very basic mistakes hurt the quality of the roleplay. Remember that you can always go back and edit your post; try to shore up any grammatical mistakes that may have slipped by you.

6. There will be certain liberties with the WW1 setting for the purpose of gameplay, but limits will be drawn. In general, guns and equipment will stay to what was in the war; very rare and/or one-off weapons (like a good half of what's in Battlefield 1) will not be allowed unless you have a very good reason to possess one.

7. State your location and character in a header of sorts in every RP post. When you are interacting with another character, @ them so that they get a heads up.​

 

[Nova Squid]

Reserving this post, to satisfy my paranoia just in case.

 

[Nova Squid]

- Amiens, France -
- 20 March 1918 -
- Pvt. Alexander Stewart, 92nd Mixed Infantry, British Army -

A chilly, brisk wind swept through the streets of Amiens, scattering dropped newspapers as the air snaked through boulevards and side streets. It was nine fifteen in the morning, and some children still lay asleep in warm beds, unaware of the world outside.
Certainly, Amiens had seen more than its share of the outside world; bomb craters, broken windows, and other grisly reminders of the war ever so close to the city, close enough that if one strained their ears they might catch sporadic artillery bombardments' shattering bangs dozens of kilometers away.
To any citizen that may have walked down the street at the time, the leering threat of the German Army was a constant presence in the mind. The ranks of soldiers ambling through the streets- French, British, and even some American- did little to assay their fears.
It was in this environment of uncertainty, fear, and unusual March chilliness that Private Stewart of the 92nd Mixed Infantry found himself that morning of the 20th, walking down the street with his rifle slung over his back and his helmet slightly tilted to the right. The infantry of the 92nd- a "mixed" regiment of multiple races- had been deployed to Amiens as a stopping point for most of the day, a slight breath of relief for the troops as it was, before they were to be further marshalled to the front lines.
Stewart adjusted his helmet to a straighter position over his short brown hair with a grimace. He hadn't at all slept well; part of it was the worry that accompanied any soldier going to the front for the first time, but then again that damn Orc from the machine gunners' company hadn't let up with his thunderous snoring the entire night. Pulling his uniform coat closer to him as a breeze swept past and chilled his skin, Stewart spied a small tavern along the boulevard. He pulled up in front of the streetside establishment and craned his neck up to read the sign.

"Le Porcelet, eh?" he said to himself. "Better than nowhere."

Checking his pockets for what francs he had traded for with an alley urchin the night before (a good move, in retrospect), Stewart pushed open the thick wooden door of the tavern and entered.

 

[Ribbit]

-Amiens, France-
-20 March, 1918-
-Pvt. Nicollas Wright, American army-

He had finally arrived at Amiens after a long trip. Not that he didn't like ships, but they were nowhere as close to what planes were to him, he just loved the thrilling feeling and adrenaline that knowing one simple failure would lead to a very fiery and boom-y death, but there he was, doing flips and twirls in the air.
He adjusted the handkerchief on his neck as he entered, where he was greeted by a woman who led him to the barracks where he awaited further orders.
In the barracks he met quite interesting people, a few Ace pilots, who's stories he payed close attention to, almost writing every detail of their triumphs.

 

[Nova Squid]

-Amiens, France-
-20 March 1918-
-Airfield Liberte-

"...Turns out, Boelcke had quite a bit of sense for a Kraut; 'fore he died, of course." continued Sergeant Byron to the handkerchief-wearing rookie in front of him. "Always attack with the sun behind you. Always have either altitude or speed on your side, or else don't attack. And most importantly, know what your machine'll be able to hold up to- know when to fold it, to stop doing something stupid in the name of heroism or glory." Byron chuckled. The five-victory ace had seen more than enough rookies go spiraling into a muddy field to know that.

"We here at Liberte have had the good luck to be outfitted with nice, up-to-date SPAD fighters... but the Hun tends to pull their deadliest aircraft out right when you least expect it." he finished.

As if on cue, the large wooden door dividing the main barracks creaked, the handle turning. The atmosphere inside the room silenced in an instant as the door opened, and a single figure walked in.

The minotaur barely even fit through the doorframe, powerfully built and imposing. An officer's cap lay perched between two gleaming horns, and the shoulder patches on the beast-man's uniform denoted their rank as a colonel.

In an instant, the room sprang to action. There was a loud shuffling of various items dropping onto beds, floorboards, and piles of extra clothes as airmen in various states of casual and military dress stood up and faced the colonel, arms snapping to heads in salutes practiced since basic training.

Ribbit

-Le Porcelet, Amiens, France-
-20 March 1918-
-Pvt. Alexander Stewart, 92nd Mixed Infantry, British Army-

Stewart passed the francs over the counter. The waitress- a pretty girl, one he'd woo if it wasn't for the fact that she didn't speak a lick of English and he'd likely never see her again after he left Amiens- nodded as he gestured to a certain appetizing-enough breakfast item.
She vanished behind the bar into what Stewart presumed a kitchen, and he leaned on the counter, eyes winking as he tried to stay awake. The clock ticked, and after what Stewart counted as just around four minutes, the waitress returned with his meal. He nodded, smiled, and turned away with his prize in hand, finding an empty table to sit in among the jolly cacophony of clinking glasses and murmuring speech.
Slumping down into a corner table, his Lee-Enfield gently clacking on his back as he reclined, Stewart took a bite out of the warm bagel, and immediately perked up a bit. It reminded him of warm bread. The smell would always wake him up first when he was still a schoolboy. Continuing to eat his food, Stewart innocuously eavesdropped on nearby conversations.

"Oy, it's on!" boomed a laughing voice from further back along the tables in the wall. Stewart leaned out from his chair slightly to observe the goings-on, joining a curious crowd of turned heads (be they French, English, or anyone else in the establishment). On one table, an orc and a werewolf- both wearing the typical American kit, and with patches denoting them as part of some infantry regiment- were positioned before a large amount of glasses both empty and full. Both were wavering as they stood in their seats and it dawned on Stewart they they were drunk as all hell. A smile crept onto his face as he watched the event play out.

"Ya- ya think so?" replied the werewolf to the orc. "I can- urp- I can out-drink you any day."

"Bring it." replied the orc. Yet more full glasses slowly became empty, until finally the wolf dropped his glass and his head slammed onto the table, blackout drunk. Francs were passed among the crowd watching, and both cheers and boos of disappointment sounded among the apparent betters.
With a low chortle, the orc pilfered a handy sum of American dollars from the other soldier's pocket; likely enough for a whole month's pay by Stewart's reckoning. That brought him to realize; he hadn't even eaten half of the bagel, having been so engrossed in the strange little entertainment event that had transpired. Leaning back in his seat as he brought the food to his mouth, Stewart thought on his current situation. It indeed didn't seem as bad as before, now.

(Author's Note: Invoking my right to use NPCs at any time! Also, random events. Hell, I could write a whole novel of this. As always, people who have approved characters but have not used them in roleplay yet can "drop in" on any running situation assuming that it makes sense for them to be there.)

 

[Daunting_Doggo]

Amiens, France
20 March 1918
Pvt Hieremias Αθραυστος,5th Trainee Heavy Infantry Regiment.
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If you were for some reason on the road in the countryside towards the main Amiens camp, then you would have the pleasure( or displeasure) of seeing a Minotaur in traditional light blue french uniform pants and hat with the coat hanging from his shoulder while pulling on a cart. If you were attentive you could see that the cart contents were a heavy suit of armor and ammo belts with a 2-3 foot machine gun on it with a halberd head on it. You could see the sweat on the Minotaur's brow, it reminisced you of those old stories of old greek hoplites marching miles to war.
The Minotaur pulls within the camp and then he looks around the camp, after a few seconds he walks behind a french lad and drops the harnesses of the cart and lets himself breathe heavily through his nostrils as a fighting bull would, unexpectedly he politely asks the boy;
"Excuse me, if it's isn't a problem could you show me the barracks to the heavy infantry regiment?" he said while putting his hand over his head and smiling, giving instead of the expected mad bull personality more of a gentle giant feel.

Nova Squid

 

[Nova Squid]

-Outskirts of Amiens, France-
-20 March 1918-
-Forward Base Fraternite-

The figure turned, neck craning up at the Greek heavy trooper. A blue-shirted poilu in typical gear, bereft of a helmet and possessing mud-specked red hair, he gave off the impression of youth, yet the creases in his face showed experience that matched the corporal's patches on his arm. When he spoke, his words were quick.

"Down by the dugout where the two FTs are parked." said the man, his arm sweeping to a nearby assortment of tents by which two Renault light tanks sat side-by-side. A call came from further down the adjacent tents, causing the soldier to whip his head thataway, and he hurried off.

 

[Ribbit]

-Amiens, France-
-20 March 1918-
-Airfield Liberte-
-Pvt.Nicollas Wright, American Army-

Nicollas was taken out of his trance a few moments after the pilot stopped speaking, his head turned instinctively where everyone else was looking.
His eyes widened in surprise as he saw the colonel and quickly got up, his hand going to his forehead instinctively.
Nova Squid

 

[Nova Squid]

-Amiens, France-
-20 March 1918-
-Airfield Liberte-

The colonel's eyes swept the room. His initially impassive stare broke into a friendlier one, a slight grin creeping up the sides of his worn features. Folding his hands behind his imposing torso, the minotaur spoke.

"Gentlemen, I don't believe some of us have been introduced. I am Colonel Hamilton, commander of Liberte airfield." he began. The grin vanished and the colonel steeled himself.

"Some of you are hardened veterans, and some of you are rookies. But one event in your circumstances ties you together here. You have been transferred to Amiens for a reason." Hamilton cleared his throat, slightly adjusting his stance.

"It is common knowledge by now that the capitulation of Russia has led to the Huns no longer needing to commit any troops to a battle in the East. It is now believed by our intelligence that they are massing all they have for a massive assault. I do not exaggerate when I say that this could mean the difference between victory and defeat." The reaction among the room was varied. Some looked impassive, some frightened, and some had cock-sure grins. Sergeant Byron's face was an unreadable mask.

"Amiens is the lynchpin of our plan. This is the one place they will seek to take at any costs, for control of this location- and the rail lines, airbases, and other strategic networks connected to it- is critical for the winning belligerent in this conflict. If the Germans take Amiens, they can drive the British to the Channel, force the French back to Paris, and make any continued American contribution to this war worthless. That should be enough to convince all of you why we must hold this city." The minotaur slightly bowed his head, but his eyes remained burning with a fierce resolve.

"In the coming days, our fight in the air will be critical. Every German fighter we send down in flames is one that is not strafing our men. Every bomber we scrap is one that doesn't annihilate an entire railyard. Every kill we make is ten of ours saved." There was a slight pause before Hamilton spoke again.

"Yet the fight will be brutal. The Germans mean business when they prepare at a level like this. Expect their best fighters and fliers to be out in force. If you do not exert your best effort, you may not survive." The rookies in the room were chilled by this statement, but most tried their best to conceal the sentiment.

"That is all for now, gentlemen. You are free to roam around Amiens for the time being; make the most of it, however, as you'll be back here at 10 P.M. sharp. Tomorrow morning, we begin flying missions. Is that clear?" Hamilton didn't have to wait more than a second before a resounding bellow of "Sir, yes, sir!" came from the pilots in the bunks. He nodded in approval.

"Dismissed."

Ribbit

 

[Raku]

Carson Garret
American Army 21st Recruit Battalion
3/20/1918 - Le Porcelet - Amiens, France


Carson always wanted to visit France, but this wasn't how and what he expected. When he thought of France, he thought of beautiful countrysides, busy streets that somehow possessed grace, and the culture. What he didn't think he'd see was bomb craters, ruined homes, and the distant thunder of artillery. However, here he was, dressed in military garb with a Model 12 slung over his shoulder in a rundown tavern watching a couple Americans, a werewolf and an orc, try to out-drink each other. Of course, Carson was rooting for his fellow wolf, even though he wasn't in wolf form. He knew that the werewolf had no chance against the orc and wouldn't put money on it. The orc was much bigger, his body could handle the alcohol. Once the wolf had blacked out, Carson made his way away from the crowd and towards the bar. He had sat down next to a presumably British rifleman guessing by his equipment. Carson assumed that at some point they'd be fighting together, so might as well get introductions out of the way. He decided it was best to do it subtly, try to start a conversation, while they can. "Unfortunately, typical Americans. In our free time we're trying to get as drunk as possible. I think it's a little saddening, do you?" he turned to talk to the man next to him.
​

Nova Squid

 

[Nova Squid]

- Le Porcelet, Amiens, France -
- 20 March 1918 -
- Pvt. Alexander Stewart, 92nd Mixed Infantry, British Army -

Stewart half-turned in his seat to regard the new arrival. A man- no, a werewolf, judging by the all too toothy grin and the glinting, non-human pupils- and an American, as well. He hadn't even noticed the soldier, owing to the hubbub over the recent spectacle.

"Well. I certainly don't fault 'em; we're going up to the front in just a day, after all." Stewart responded, taking another bite out of his bagel, which by now was down to just a small chunk perched between his fingers.

"Go ahead, take a seat." he said, gesturing to the other side of the booth. "Beats talking to nobody, at least."

Raku

 

[Raku]

Carson Garret
American Army 21st Recruit Battalion
3/20/1918 - Le Porcelet - Amiens, France

Carson did have to agree with the man on that. The stress of the fact that they'd be facing death the next day would be a heavy toll on someone. Carson just didn't like that that alcohol was an American's go-to. Well, one to their own. After taking another bite out of his bagel, the man offered Carson a seat. He nodded in agreement to what he said. He took the seat, took the shotgun of his shoulder, and let his gun rest on the seat. "That is true. So, you must be a rifleman, and judging by the rifle not looking like any American model, a British one at that." he said with his golden eyes resting on the man across from him.
​

Nova Squid

 

[Nova Squid]

Carson Garret
American Army 21st Recruit Battalion
3/20/1918 - Le Porcelet - Amiens, France

Carson did have to agree with the man on that. The stress of the fact that they'd be facing death the next day would be a heavy toll on someone. Carson just didn't like that that alcohol was an American's go-to. Well, one to their own. After taking another bite out of his bagel, the man offered Carson a seat. He nodded in agreement to what he said. He took the seat, took the shotgun of his shoulder, and let his gun rest on the seat. "That is true. So, you must be a rifleman, and judging by the rifle not looking like any American model, a British one at that." he said with his golden eyes resting on the man across from him.
​

Nova Squid

- Le Porcelet, Amiens, France -
- 20 March 1918 -
- Pvt. Alexander Stewart, 92nd Mixed Infantry, British Army -

"Well, if the flag didn't convince you, the Lee-Enfield certainly will." Stewart chuckled, adjusting the strap that held the rifle slung over his back. "92nd Mixed Infantry, Army of the British Empire. Name's Stewart- Alexander Stewart." Stewart finished off the last of the bagel. "And who'd you be?"

 

[Raku]

Carson Garret
American Army 21st Recruit Battalion
3/20/1918 - Le Porcelet - Amiens, France

Carson hadn't even taken notice to the soldier's flag patch until he brought it up, but either way Carson was right. He introduced himself as Alexander Stewart, 92nd Mixed Infantry of the British Empire. Alex then asked who the werewolf he was conversing with was. "Carson Garret, American 21st Recruit Battalion" Carson introduced himself. Carson then looked to the entry of the tavern as he could just hear another artillery shell go off. It was probably farther than Carson thought, but it still made him a little uneasy that the enemy was that close. His eyes returned to Alexander. "They sound much closer than they probably are, but that's probably just because of my hearing" he said as he pointed to his ears. Now all Carson could think about was how loud it was going to be on the front for him.
​

Nova Squid

 

[Nova Squid]

- Le Porcelet, Amiens, France -
- 20 March 1918 -
- Pvt. Alexander Stewart, 92nd Mixed Infantry, British Army -

"Well, pleasure to meet someone who isn't drinking themselves into a stupor over the thought of facing some bullets." Stewart replied. "They say that the artillery out there makes your eardrums bleed. I'd reckon you'd better scrounge up some earplugs at the very least if you don't want to lose your hearing temporarily every time a shell lands nearby." Throughout this, the distant, rythmic booms of shells sounded. The British rifleman's ears perked up and he turned a bit toward the wall from which the sounds emanated from in the distance.

"You hear that? Two distinct sets. They must be shelling each other's trenches at the same time, or trying some counter-battery fire. Most of it's just to keep their heads down, the rumor mill says."

Raku

 

[Azantis_Valerii]

- Amiens, France -
- 20 March 1918 -
- Cpt. Charles Charisme, 23rd French Assault Grenadier Company, French Army -

Charles Arrived into Amiens with his company by the break of the day, they arrived in 5 ton trucks but had to unload when they reached the outskirts due to heavy german artillery fire, then from there they had to walk into the city using shallow makeshift trenches by the side of the road, made to help the troops that arrive into the city avoid the heavy Hun shelling.

So far, it wasn't looking good for his men, there were around 350 french assault grenadiers under his command, and somehow he was supposed to find a way to fit them into that whole mess.

As they got closer to the city the bombing came to a halt. And he finally saw a group of english soldiers just waiting for something to the side of a small rail road, so Charles told his men to wait and find cover in case the Huns started to shell the city again. He then went to talk to one of the soldiers:

-Soldier- Said Charles with an autoritary voice and his hands behind his back to show power -Who is your commanding officer here?-

The english soldier then turned and when he saw Charles with a French Officer uniform he immediatelly stood in attention and replied -Sir! Our commanding officer is over there- he said pointing to a man without a helmet smoking a cigar close to a little car while looking at some papers.

Charles then aproached him and toned down a little bit since he noticed that the man was in fact a English Major.

-May I ask you something?- Said Charles, keeping his hand on his back but not sounding so autoritative anymore.
The English officer looked at him did a quick body check and looked unamused - Yeah? Go ahead. - He said, turning back to his papers.

-Where can I leave my men for the night? I need a place to store their guns and provisions as well- Said charles, while turning around to show the officer his men hidding in some crates and behind some cars.

-Well - Said the officer with a half smile -I think they've found our 5 star hotel already eh?- he laughed and so did some of the other soldiers as well.

-Go to Le Porcelet probably you will get some help with the boys down there, some of them have been around here for a while now. - Said a man who looked like he was an NCO and was standing besides some of the other men sitting on the rails.

-Hm... Ok, Merci- Said Charles, doing a salute and then walking away, some soldiers even laughed when he left, "maybe the british aren't so disciplined afterall?" he said to himself.

Then Charles signaled to his company to get moving again and they started getting into the city itself.

Some minutes of walking amongst the debris of the city later, they finally found this "Le Porcelet" place the english NCO said they should go, and Charles signaled to the company to move ahead and find cover in the debris, and when he said that, something ripped throught the air and blew up not too far from there, that could only mean one thing: the Huns started shelling the city again.

As some of the shells feel and blew up around them, the french soldiers ran in various directions while their NCOs and Lieutenants shoulted orders over the sound of some shells falling while Charles and his second in command stormed inside the "Le porcelete". Inside they found some astonished english and american troops just having a drink and talking about stuff as if the shells were nothing.

As he got in, some heads turned and some even stood in attention as they noticed that Charles was a French officer, and then he dismissed them - At ease soldiers -.

Charles then aproached the place where 2 other soldiers where talking and asked them with a more pleasant tone, a smile and a honest/friendly posture - Hello, can any of you give me an information? I need to know where is the nearest Base or logistical center around here... -.

Nova Squid
Raku

 

[Raku]

Carson Garret
American Army 21st Recruit Battalion
3/20/1918 - Le Porcelet - Amiens, France

Alex seemed like a respectable man. The pleasure of speaking to someone who was dead drunk was a pleasure shared by both of them. He nodded to the comments he had to make. Carson was indeed planning to find earplugs. The discharges of his shotgun in boot camp would be nothing in comparison to one of those artillery shells. Next, Alexander went on to say something about the meaning of the shelling. He said it was just to keep heads down on both sides. Now, Carson hadn't really paid attention to that information in camp, he just listened to what would keep him alive and kicking.

"Yeah, I c-" he was saying before being cut off by a thunderous boom nearby, in fact, multiple. Out of reflex, his hand shot to his Model 12 as he nearly stood up out of his seat. His eyes wide open as he stared at the door, prepared for someone to come in shouting "They're attacking!". No, what came in was a Frenchman, looked to be an officer as some of the people in the tavern stood in attention. He then made his way to the table Alex and Carson were at and asked about the nearest base. Carson calmed down as quick as he could before scratching the back of his head and looked at Alexander. "Isn't it Liberte?" he asked Alex in reference to the airfield not too far away.
​

Nova Squid Azantis_Valerii

 

[Nova Squid]

- Le Porcelet, Amiens, France -
- 20 March 1918 -
- Pvt. Alexander Stewart, 92nd Mixed Infantry, British Army -

"That's the airfield, isn't it?" Stewart replied to Carson. Looking up from his seat at the French officer standing before the table, he thought for a moment.

"If you ask me they've done a terrible job at centralizing this. The Americans have their barracks near Liberte, and the airfield itself. We have our outpost farther back at the road to Amiens. And if I'm not mistaken, you French have a camp of your own a few miles further back- the one with the heavy trooper's supplies and whatnot. If you're looking for a place to get orders, or just to shelter your men, I'd say thataway." Stewart replied. He considered adding "lucky bastards, away from the shelling", but decided it wasn't the best idea to speak like that to an officer, French or not.

Azantis_Valerii

 

[Azantis_Valerii]

- Le Porcelet, Amiens, France -
- 20 March 1918 -
- Cpt. Charles Charisme, 23rd French Assault Grenadier Company, French Army -

Charles looked around as they responded, and noticed that some of the other soldiers where turning heads to look at him. Some even laughing sligthy. "Bloody hell" he thought "Am I already full of mud or something? Jesus Christ" But then he looked over the table where both soldiers where talking and saw another soldier pull a little paper and started impersonating someone as he looked at the piece of paper looking retardely, one of them then laughed a bit and looked in Charles direction but then Charles locked eye contact for a second with a very angry face he managed to flash for a bit and the soldier then gulped and told his friend to put the paper away.

They were obviously mocking Charles, apparently the only french officer who didn't underwent training and he really hadn't a tad bit of battle experience besides that shot he took in his belly.

Charles then looked back at the soldiers talking on the table and said "Liberte? An Airfield?", he looked confused, obviously the guys back in the HQ would've told him where to go, but the didn't, in fact, the only order Charles had was to "get your men to the frontline in Amiens and get ready to attack". Charles then struck a powerful pose and looked deep into the British soldier's eyes and landing his hand on the table as to express power over the "table territory"; "Do any of you mind guiding me and my men over there?" He then switched eye contact to the american soldier "I haven't heard of any airfield here," Then broke eye contact and looked into his pockets "and the map doesn't show any airfield in the near..." said Charles, pulling a map out of his pocket, and opening it, "See? I can't see any airfi-" He said, before being cut by his 1st lieutenant who spoke into his ears "Sir... That map is 3 years old..." he said, pointing at a little number on the corner:

_{Amiens 1915}

Charles was trully ashamed, no correct orders, the map they gave him was 3 years old and he had absolutelly no clue where the neared HQ was... What kind of officer he was? OOOOHH yeah right, he was no officer, he was a drafted man with the ability to make others like him more, but that didn't matter, he had a whole company to take out of this shitfest and the shells kept falling outside. The longer he waited inside, more men would lose their lives, he had to take them outta there.

"Ok listen" He said with a urgent voice while he punched the table lightly and pointed to both the soldiers sitting at the table, with an autoritative posture and a hard facial expression. "If you don't have any mission, I need you both to take me to this airfield you are talking about, and I need it now! Allons-y!" And he turned his back and went to the door, standing besides it looking outside, the shells were still falling, and his men where hidding in holes in the ground like rats hidding from cats. He looked at the men still sitting at the table and struck an urgent pose, as if he was saying "CMON!"

Raku Nova Squid

 

[Daunting_Doggo]

"Down by the dugout where the two FTs are parked." said the man, his arm sweeping to a nearby assortment of tents by which two Renault light tanks sat side-by-side. A call came from further down the adjacent tents, causing the soldier to whip his head thataway, and he hurried off.

Amiens, France
20 March 1918
Pvt Hieremias Αθραυστος,5th Trainee Heavy Infantry Regiment
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Clearly, a bit surprised by the level of professionalism displayed by the relatively young person in front of him, clearly shown by Hieremias opening his eyes and then he went back to his normal look after realizing that this war brought quite a few young people into this war due to many reasons, someone has to fill the body bags right?
After shaking his head to get rid of the useless thought, and how useless it was indeed. He was already in the middle of the fray too late to think about the philosophical outcomes of this situations, maybe someone will in the future.
He then nodded towards the young soldier before he hurried in a way to thank him, he once again lifted the cart carrying his equipment and proceeded to walk towards the area that he was instructed to go, but then his concentration was broken a bit by the sound of a shell landing, not that the fact of a shell landing was surprising, the fact that it was relatively close to a base it was rather weird.
He decided he would head towards the closest pub due to the fact that most people hang around there and it would be the easiest way of getting information without too much trouble.
He saw group of people talking and once he was close enough he dropped his cart and walked behind a guy looking into a map, he then took out a dirty cloth from his pants and wiped away some of his sweat, while asking the people on the table;
"Excuse me gents, can you guys tell me why there's shelling this close to the base? Wasn't there meant to be an airfield near us? I would ask an officer but then he would most likely execute me for questioning the layout of the base" as he started laughing and then stopped abruptly as he saw who he was towering over, he looked like an officer, with the perfectly made hair and all, so Hieremias started coughing to hide the laugh and proceeded to salute the man;
"Sir, Pvt Hieremias Αθραυστος, 5th Trainee Heavy Infantry Regiment, at your service." as he was mentally slapping himself for what he just did.


Nova Squid Raku Azantis_Valerii

 

[Raku]

Carson Garret
American Army 21st Recruit Battalion
3/20/1918 - Le Porcelet - Amiens, France

The French officer clearly wasn't filled in enough on the situation. Hell, he didn't even know about the airfield. Carson could see past the man and saw some soldiers behind, obviously mocking him. Whoever sent his guy must have been trying to make a fool out of him by not telling him where the nearest base was. After looking at both of them, asking if either of them could take him and his men to the airfield, the officer pulled a map out of his pocket. Shortly after, his companion told him the map was three years old. This guy was having a terrible day so far. First he wasn't given any information, now he's left with an outdated map. It didn't help that the shelling was coming close, just hitting outside. He needed help, bad. Then, with a much more authoritative tone, the officer practically ordered them to take him and his men to Liberte. As he was talking, a minotaur had shown up asking why the artillery was hitting so close. The Frenchman didn't take much notice as he went to the door, waiting for Carson and Alex. Carson slung the shotgun over his shoulder as he looked at the minotaur, introducing himself as Hieremias, and shook his head. "Hell if I know. Maybe the front broke" he told Hieremias. He then walked to the door and waved for Alex to follow. "Alright, let's go sir. We'll take you to the airfield" he told the officer. Now he had caught a glimpse of the outside. This was going to hurt his ears like hell.
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Azantis_Valerii Nova Squid Daunting_Doggo

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[Azantis_Valerii]

- Le Porcelet, Amiens, France -
- 20 March 1918 -
- Cpt. Charles Charisme, 23rd French Assault Grenadier Company, French Army -

The situation was dire for Charles. His company was being shelled and apparently his superior officers sent him on a path to certain death with an outdated map and no info on the place itself.

As the american soldier got besides him at the door, Charles turned to the soldier and placed his hand in his right shoulder, as to try to create rapport with him and looked deep into his eyes, and with a soft voice he said "Listen, we will need to make a run for it, my men are at the ready to go running, they are stormtroopers afterall, so you will just run and I will follow you, once my men see me, they will come running, so just go, and don't stop or the shells will get us" Then he turned to the minotaur, not too far from there and with a serious facial expression and autoritative voice he pointed at him "And you, listen here, keep your comments to yourself otherwise the execution squad will finally need to use that new AT cannon they have down the armory, do you understand?".
He then turned to his lieutenant and said while resting his hand at the top of the lieutenant helmet "Listen Philip, go out there and give them the signal to start a charge run on my command, once they see me, they are to run for it behind me as if they were trying to charge a german bunker, ok? Spread formation on the street" Double tapped his helmet and then the Lieutenant just noded and stormed outside to his men, and while the door was open Charles could see a shell falling just on the end of the street to his right, the barrage was getting dagerously close now, and they couldn't wait any longer.

He then turned to the soldier that was standing there and said in a joking manner "I hope the airfield isn't that way otherwise we might as well call the airforce to grab our limbs while the are high up in the sky eh?".

Raku Nova Squid Daunting_Doggo

 

[Nova Squid]

- Le Porcelet, Amiens, France -
- 20 March 1918 -
- Pvt. Alexander Stewart, 92nd Mixed Infantry, British Army -

Pulling himself out of his seat, Stewart hurried to follow Garret and the motley collection of French infantry. The group assembled outside the pub, and Stewart- plus whatever British and American troops had chosen to pull themselves out of the pub and come outside- broke into a light run as the rather comical mob of infantry hurried down the street, German shells dropping closer and closer. As he sprinted, he scoped out the French officer that had taken de facto command; he seemed quick-thinking and friendly enough, but then again he had just threatened to have a heavy trooper (a minotaur? Strange, Stewart considered, given that they were mostly a Greek phenomenon) blown to chunks with a field gun.

Another shell landed near the group as they hurried down the boulevard toward the general direction of Liberte airfield- wherever it was, given that the only map they seemingly had was three years out of date. This one had been danger close; while nobody had apparently fallen, Stewart found himself coughing as dust and pulverized brick clouded his vision, coming from a newly-dug crater in the side of a general store. His helmet nearly fell off, and Stewart was forced to put a hand up to catch it.

As they continued their exhausting pace down a snaking path of side streets, pushing civilians and terrified onlookers aside, a few casualties began to mount. First was a shell landing down the street; a nasty three-inch triangular chunk of shrapnel buried itself in the neck of a French grenadier, who slumped over in an instant. The next and final two were a couple of unfortunate poilus, who were simply buried by the partial collapse of a housing block's wall along with a multitude of civilians.

Yet the shelling began to slow down and grow steadily farther as the group neared Liberte airfield; seemingly the German artillerymen were concentrating the bombardment on the storefront districts of Amiens, and certainly weren't aware of the sprinting mob of Entente soldiers they had nearly pounded flat.

The low brick buildings of Liberte and the dirt runways soon made themselves apparent on the western outskirts of Amiens. The exhausting pace of the escape had taken their toll on the soldiers, and some were out of breath. It wasn't much of a problem, however, given that they were out of the immediate problem.

Now just stood the real issue- regrouping, recuperating, and then the march orders.

Raku Daunting_Doggo Azantis_Valerii

Note: Anyone with "Recruit" or "Trainee" in their regimental name can drop them and also edit their previous posts to reflect this; after all, everyone here DID pass basic, didn't they?

 

[Daunting_Doggo]

Now just stood the real issue- regrouping, recuperating, and then the march orders.

Amiens, France
20 March 1918
Pvt Hieremias Αθραυστος,5th Heavy Infantry Regiment
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Hieremias happy to be alive sighed as soon as the officer and the accompanying infantry left, he then lifted his cart and went outside looking at the group of infantry running and he then looked at his equipment and realized there's no way in hell that's ever going to happen. He then realized what the young lad told him;

"Down by the dugout where the two FTs are parked."

Two FTs are parked over there huh?He then proceeded to put on his armor and sling his machine gun over his shoulder while gesturing the barkeeper by putting his hands together trying to put out the message to keep care of it, after getting confirmation from the barkeep he rushes to the heavy infantry HQ and enters in.
He sees an empty barracks just with a squad of five playing poker while screaming at each other due to someone cheating or something, not that it mattered.Seeing the seriousness of the situation Hieremias tries to address the men politely so to make them get a move on;
"Hey lads we are neede-" as the men interrupt him by standing up and starting a fist fight, Hieremias clearly not wanting to deal with this sighed and then took out his machine gun and shot a bullet through the roof making a hole revealing some light, the men alarmed by the gunfire.
When they looked they didn't see the usual polite Hieremias they just saw an angry 8 foot tall Centaur with a machine gun saying;
"Equipment, Mount the two cars outside, now."
The men accordingly put on their equipment and mounted the cars either from being afraid or understanding the scale of the situation to the point where a big on heavy trooper terms Minotaur came to alarm them.
"Drive to the airfield, έτοιμο." the drivers of both cars,even though considering the fact they didn't know greek still stepped on the gas avoiding the shells, or more likely ignoring them to the best of their abilities and then once they arrived Hieremias once again stepped out of the car saluted the officer but this time he was covered in armor and there were 5 other men like him behind him;
"Private Hieremias Αθραυστος,5th Heavy Infantry Regiment, I believe we have met before? At your service sir."

Raku Nova Squid Azantis_Valerii

 

[Raku]

Carson Garret
American Army 21st Recruit Battalion
3/20/1918 - Le Porcelet - Amiens, France

Great was all Carson could think as the officer told him he will be leading the run back to the airfield. He saw that the shells were landing closer, and closer, nearly right on them. They needed to move, just as the officer said. He looked back at the officer with his golden eyes and nodded. "Will do, sir" he said as he pulled his Model off his shoulder and held it in his hands as he readied for the run. Once Alex had joined them, he went. Sprinting, he bolted down the street. The shells seemed to chase them down the road as they ran. His heart was racing so fast. A shell landed dangerously close to the group. It caused Carson to stumble and bring a hand up to his ear from the pain of the loud boom. Noticing that he was lagging behind a little as he got up, he decided it was time to shift. He shifted into his wolf form and quickly took the lead again as they pulled back towards the airfield. Others were dying around them as they kept going. Eventually, the airfield came into view, thankfully. Carson, now in wolf form, was probably unrecognizable by the group he was with. He looked for Alex and the officer he was with and found them after some searching. He stopped by Alexander and caught his breath for a moment. "Well that was something" he said with a slight chuckle.
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Nova Squid Azantis_Valerii Daunting_Doggo