AND THE ANZAC LEGENDS DIDN'T MENTION...

[agogemod]

AND THEN SOMEONE YELLED OUT "CONTACT!";

and the bloke behind me swore

THE SILENT WAR

The news of the day of the retreat spreads like wildfire through the Trenches. Leading up to the final date, all soldiers on the ground are instructed to limit their gunfire, to make it look like the usual traditions for warfare, which have determined much of human history up until this point: no one really goes to war in winter. Everyone is to maintain a verbal and physical presence, but the time to confuse the Turks has really become paramount. At times, whole sections are ordered to be perfectly quiet until the last possible second and then spring out before the Turks can get too close.

Which is just how it is supposed to be. In fact, for COST recruits, there's a real sense that this might just go according to plan.

Around this time, the Rear Guard signup starts. COST recruits are met with some surprise by Captain Lewis; he will blink in surprise at a group so new wanting to volunteer so readily, but he's glad and gives everyone who joins a big warm handshake.

Each day gets closer and the mood of the soldiers becomes more jubilant and tenser; the erratic sense of relief that they might be leaving what has become the graveyard of so many friends and, often times, family, combines with the frustration of not being able to do anything but wait. This leads to more than a few fights breaking out, often over nothing important. Just the edge of temporary relief.

Then, before dawn on Jan 7th, the evacuation begins in earnest. It's possible to see it from the top of some sections: a bustling populace until it trickles down to the ghost of the Trenches, where there is nothing left but the rear guard. It's a smooth, efficient evacuation.

The Rear Guard

This is a skeleton army, just enough to make it seem no one has left. Everyone is encouraged to come up with ways to make it seem like there are more men than there actually are.

The local soldiers have come up with a particularly sneaky one - a rope is wrapped around the trigger of a rifle, just loose enough not to pull it, and from the end of it hangs a bucket. Another container slowly drips water into the bucket until it fills and drops, pulling the rope around the trigger and firing the gun. Soldiers are tasked with emptying the water, refilling the cannister, or checking the gun if it looks like it has jammed.

Outside of that, if someone has a sneaky idea to keep up the ruse - even if it's lighting small fires or singing loudly in a chorus to give the notion of people still around - it's all encouraged.

THE THUNDER OF GUNS

Everything is going well. It's not even that worrying when a thick mist comes up, heavy and difficult to see through. But, for those with powers, it prickles oddly on bare skin, followed by a pressure that builds in the back of the mind. It seems to dull any extra powers or senses; magic and its ilk are still usable, but require more concentration to reach now.

In the stillness of the night, however, there is no breeze to move the fog on and it settles like oil through the trench.

It's 1am when the first shell drops. It falls to the east of the recruits' position at Lone Pine. It's a shell that comes down and splits apart the night air in an explosion of shrapnel, dirt and heat. Then a second, then a third, now starting from both sides.

All the soldiers' clamour out of the way and Captain Lewis can be heard shouting over the din: "Into the Tunnels!"

But not everyone can make it. The shells are coming steadily now and one step in the wrong direction is the difference between life and death in such a small space. It's chaos - some soldiers are killed outright. Others get buried under the debris and dirt. Others catch shrapnel that, if not fatal, is enough to throw them and make it hard to get up. But COST's mission is the same as it always is: save as many of these men's lives as possible.

There are four direct entries into the tunnels, all about four or five meters apart, and they're all interconnected within the tunnels themselves.

One by one, however, shells fall and destroy the entrances to the tunnels.

WARTIME ARCHEOLOGY

It takes another three hours for the bombardment to stop and, once the tunnel entrances collapse, it becomes very dark in there. Might be time to fish out a match and strike up a torch.

While Officers previously told soldiers to keep out of the tunnels and otherwise left them ignored, these tunnels are huge. Not like the ones in other sections of the coast; here, they seem to go far into No Man's Land. They're crudely constructed and only some sections are reenforced with heavy beams of wood. But once journeying into them, there are all sorts of things to be found. There are old gas lamps that can be used to light your way or hung on a secure nook or cranny. The stone has been worn smooth in some sections, and other parts have been carved with graffiti of the soldiers who cut them out.

Some locations go down a few steps, while others go up and small holes seem to have been dug through the roof of the tunnels.

It's definitely best to get away from the front of the tunnels, where the bombing is still going on. There are wounded to be seen to and secured from bleeding out, people to find to make sure everyone is still alive. Maybe you want to go farther into the interweaving tunnels to see what else can be recovered. Or maybe you're being stubbornly sensible and looking for a way to dig your way out again, once the bombs stop firing.

Either way, it's a long, exhausting wait in the dark as the ground shakes, showering dust and rocks over everyone.

INTO THE DAWN

The sun has risen when the firing stops - and it's time to search for a way out of here.

Stepping into the light reveals utter destruction. The concentrated bombing has done its work; everything is strewn or buried in dirt and rubble. Machine guns are overturned and parts of the Trench have collapsed; going over the top would be disastrous, given that the Turks have no idea what is happening and will pick off anyone who sticks their head up.

There also isn't...anyone else around. All that's left is this one segment of the rear guard, just 500 men and the COST soldiers. It isn't possible to discern if the other groups have been evacuated or killed at this point.

It's time to consolidate, count their losses, see who is alive and who isn't, and salvage what supplies are left after some digging clean up is done. Work out who needs to stand watch. For now, Captain Lewis' orders are to use the tunnels as a new base of operations.

SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

They appear first as a shimmer of off-light, no more than a haze against the resettling mist. A faint shape against the grey - the long lines of a dog's face, almost Jackal-like, in a clean black uniform that gives more to the appearance of shadows - moves closer, but not too close. They could almost be a trick of the light, out of the corner of your eye. Almost intangible.

They're not moving closer, however, choosing to hang back in the rubble of the Trenches. The ANZAC soldiers don't seem to notice them at all.

Ten minutes after they're first spotted, Commander Grothia issues a priority message:

Contact. Regency soldiers. Do not engage.

If a shot does get fired that way, whether it's from Turkish or ANZAC soldiers unknowingly or from COST operatives: it's quick but, as the bullet seems to come into contact with them, the air around them shimmers blue, like it's hitting a field of light. This effect seems to be stronger when they're standing close together and, as of now, they remain unhurt.

Moving closer to them increases that feeling of mind fog on powered characters; for the unmagical, a sense of unease prickles up. It's a feeling not unlike the beginnings of the time-step, the hum of sensation that marks a transfer through time. Veteran recruits will easily recognize the buzz that dances through their bones before it stills as they move away; rookies might recall it from their initial arrival from BASE.

READ THE OOC INFOPAGE.

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Comments

eren yeager | attack on titan

[trample]

a. why does he wear the mask

[ It's when the mist comes rolling up that he does what anyone with some sense would do - he pulls out his gas mask. The reaction, he figures, should be more than a sensible one - it should be the most sane action to take after spending so long training for and living in the shit. But he doesn't see many following in his footsteps.

Their loss.

His is placed over his face and strapped on tightly as he can manage. He's not letting a single whiff of that stuff get to him. And he's certainly not letting it get to anyone else if he can prevent it. So once he spots a fellow COST member, he's quick to hover over them and speak in muffled words through his own mask. He must seem rather imposing. ]

This is easier done with help. Allow me.

b. you're a big guy

[ At least outside in the trenches you weren't forced to bow your head. You had the option to peek over the ridge and get your head blasted off - which wasn't much of a choice, but it was something. The same can't be said now for the tunnels in which they were all stuck in. Eren, for what it's worth, was used to slouching over out of habit. It made him look shorter than he really was.

Still. He's quite obviously bothered by the dankness of it all. Which is obvious through his mask if only by his gritty tone of voice. ]

You got a light? Can't see too well through all this.

c. congratulations, you got yourself caught

That can't be good.

[ Glaring through the fog at the distant figures, who at this distance were little more than shadows, he tries to shake off the eerie feeling crawling down his back. There's something about them that rubs him the wrong way, and he's fingering his rifle as tenderly as he can while he considers the avenues he could take from here.

He turns to the nearest by soldier. ]

Optics. You got any? I need to take a closer look at... [ He waves. ] That.

d. wildcard

( try me. if you want anything specific, just let me know here or bondrewd. )

c

[tommygunned]

What, you don't think eyeballing 'em is a breach of the "do not engage" clause?

[It's sarcasm. About 300% sarcasm. Lup hauls herself up from the rock she's been sitting on and digs around in her back for binoculars. There, right. Okay. She's only lost a few marbles, not the shit that matters. She waggles them towards the other guy.]

Major heebie-jeebies. You feel it?

b; dank memes bro

[millimeter]

[Prompto is not wearing his mask, because he doesn't want to cut himself on that edge. It's impossible to see in the dark, but the look on his face is strained, too tense, and he's clutching his rifle.]

Think so. Hang on—

[He takes a step back, trying to give himself more room in the little space they have, and digs through a pocket one-handed. It takes him a moment, but he finally pulls out a pack of matches and a couple cigarettes he managed to weasel his way out of smoking.

Finally, there's a wavering light as he strikes a match to life, gun wedged under one arm so he has both hands free.]

a

[bloodings]

[ It's a sensible reaction for a human(oid), sure, but it's not one Mordred thinks of. Or needs. Eren does nothing but startle her when he suddenly appears while she's struggling with the mist, and nearly gets a punch in the face for his trouble.

Then he speaks, and she realizes who it is... so she just pushes him away instead. ]

A mask won't help me. [ She can't say she's not affected by it — because honestly, she might be one of the most affected here. Just staying corporeal (and conscious) is a struggle right now. But breathing it in isn't the issue. It's the fact it's all around her, weighing her down, making everything suddenly take twice as much mana as before. ] ... You look rather foolish like that, though.

[ Yeah, thanks Mordred, he's trying to stay alive. ]

a

[dipolar]

(he wishes he had his gas mask, but it's long since been trampled down into the mud. the frenzies knocked it askew,brushed away by the soldiers making quick retreats from the trenches. so hei's faced with a very upsetting predicament and that's being bare-faced when the fog rolls in.

eren addresses him and hei has to turn shoulder with a quick jerk to face him, caught in a moment of deliberation. should he have used his ability to eliminate the potential poison? it's too late now.)

Allow—? (something of a foolish question, but he's been searching distractedly through muck and deeper puddles of water and the bodies of deader men.) No, no, that's exactly what I'm looking for. If you see one lying around, grab it for me.

c

[ryuji]

[Ryuji's done absolutely everything he could possibly do to avoid these guys. The fog is crippling to someone like him, who has magic inside him, and the haze to which is mind is already in just feels heavier, denser, like he knows he wouldn't be able to summon his persona, even if he tried. Which meant that this was the Regency.

Grothia's command was to disengage. It made sense. They could sap magic away from people with whatever this mist was doing. They could utilize the BCEs like they were meant to originally be fashioned. And as he sees Eren taking aim, it's by chance that he happens to be there, to hear his request for support----







And pulls on him, harshly, activating the app as the world around them begins to melt away into psychedelic reds, warped null space. Battlefields are, by conceit, a horrible fucking place to be. A battlefield in the Metaverse? Even worse, somehow.]

Shit, dude. Don't go attackin' them, you don't know what they're capable of!

Merlin Sawall | Chronicles of Amber | OTA

[purpleandgray]

1. OMINOUS PROLOGUE

Illusion spells are easy and quick to execute. Merlin hangs several of them while he finds a quiet nook of the trenches to hole up with his back against the muddy walls, smoking too many cigarettes to mask the foul stench of rot. When there are no eyes on him, he presses a trigger on those spells, one at a time, causing erratic gunfire and muzzle flashes to appear on the top of the trenches. As if there were a whole group of soldiers firing. No one will notice a few lacking bullets in a war. But just to keep it reasonable, he sets a few actual guns on the top of the walls and occasionally fires a shot.

The waiting game doesn't seem to bother him all that much. He's learned to switch off his emergency mode and just review his situation along the years of his strange life, being trapped for months at a time has given him an ability to just wait and see what's to come. Give him five minutes to plan and he's pretty golden, give him an hour and his prospects go up exponentially, give him a day and there's very little he can't do with it.

"So, first thing you're going to do when we get out of here?" he asks from whoever happens to sit beside him at the nightfall. "I'd give my kingdom for a cup of coffee right about now." He'd give it for a lot less, to be honest.

2. FORESHADOWING FOG

Merlin is one of those people who seem unusually alarmed by the mist. He abandons completely the near careless attitude that he had tried for a size earlier. That man is gone, replaced by a someone who seems to have eyes on his back, alert, finger on the trigger and staring quietly into the rising mists.

For those with some extrasensory perception, he isn't just a new man by the change of his attitude, but there is a looming sense of power around him. It might feel like something broken, chaotic, hovering around him. A word of warning: this abyss does stare back if gazed upon too deeply.

"What do you make of the change in weather?" he asks from anyone willing to engage him in conversation.

3. IT'S TIME FOR THE ACTION SPECIAL

And just like that, the waiting game and trepidation comes to an end just as viciously as expected. Merlin is definitely not among the first to enter the tunnels. He remains back to see as many soldiers into the safety as possible.

The tunnel isn't as forgiving, though. A shell drops near the mouth of the tunnel that he's at, shrapnel and loose rocks and dust filling his prospects for a few disorienting moments. His ears are ringing from the explosion that luckily didn't hit him but got to a lot of the other soldiers. Some of them go down immediately, twisted bodies broken on the ground, but quite a few fall with less lethal injuries, broken bones, bleeding eyes. Merlin grabs a few shoulders and hauls these poor sods towards the tunnels, ignoring cries of pain as he pushes the soldiers through the entrance and shoves them further before he goes back for more.

The mouth of the tunnel seems to start coming down not much after he moves away from it. It seems to have taken a partial hit from the shell. Merlin dashes to the construct to jams his riffle into the top, pushing against it with his considerable strength. He could hold it up rather easily with a few Logrus tendrils but that wouldn't be discreet at all. Eventually he'll have to let it crumble, but for now it's still open and he yells to someone he thinks he recognises to be with the COST: "Get them inside now!"

He helps a limping man past him and into the tunnels. "Keep going. Make room. Go!"

4. HERE COMES THE SEQUEL

The calm after the storm seems unnatural. After the mad rush into the tunnels and the time spent covering under the falling dust and rocks in the rainfall of bombs, there's nothing reassuring about the quiet. Absolutely nothing.

Merlin spent the time in the tunnels to hang as many spells as possible. He didn't go looting or exploring. Instead he curled into a corner and prepared a handful of spells. He expected more fighting, which is why all his spells are geared towards shielding and causing discreet damage. But to his disappointment he didn't hang a single spell that would have had to do with investigating. A definite failure to assess the situation on his end.

He pushes through the increasing sensation of mind fog and marvels at the presence of the time-step. Cursing himself inwardly at his lack of foresight, he is already readying himself to engage the Regency soldiers - it calls him like an old addiction - when the command to stand back arrives. Merlin gives a small sigh and instead pushes forward to the front. Perhaps he should be helping the soldiers to climb out of the tunnels or help take count of the remaining resources, but instead Merlin is keeping a steady eye on the Regency.

Feel free to tell him to get back to work or start a conversation. He's unlikely to do that himself.

[ ooc: If you want something else with Merle, let me know, I'm happy to write starters. C: piipa ]

1

[tommygunned]

"Oh, man, you're crazy."

See, she can do this too. It's actually kind of a relief to find somebody who isn't face-first in despair or gallows humor--not that gallows humor is bad but, look, there's regular funny even in the pits of hell. Sex jokes are funny everywhere. So are poop jokes. Maturity hobbles the unhappy.

So, as she flops down onto a sandbag and yawns widely, she shakes her head.

"Long shower. Long shower. Hours of shower, gonna use up all the water on a small planet, and it'll be hot water. You remember what clean's like? I don't."

2

[neutronium]

"Nothing good for those we're supposed to be protecting, I suspect." Hux frowns slightly, taking a long drag on his cigarette, blowing out the smoke, watching it curl into the sky. He's long stopped trying to pretend that he was smoking, instead just resorting to smoking them--it has helped him avoid hungry, and the miss of his caf (even for him, the rations have left something to be desired).

He glances over at the other man, and the frown deepens just slightly; the fog is bothering him, but not because he has powers, but he's been around Ren and Snoke long enough to know what hey feel like when they feel off. There are so many that seem...on edge, now, including this man. It's like a buzzing that settles in the back of his teeth, the hint of ozone and tension trying to cling to his skin.

Staring into the abyss has never scared him, after all. He just dares it to stare back.

"I doubt that is much we can do about it, but prepare for some negative eventuality."

2

[courtintrigue]

As if war was not a perfectly reasonable cause for one to be on edge already, this fog creeps in. The mist prickles along her skin like magic, a feeling she would quite enjoy if not for two important facts. The first is that she feels as though her mana is draining more quickly, effortless spells now requiring more focus. That would be bad enough, but the second fact is that time and time again, in Jerusalem and then France and now here, Earth has proven to have no magic.

That it suddenly feels as though it does -- and in such a way that impairs -- unsettles her. Infuriates her.

Though the man who asks the question is not a familiar face, she can sense something different about him. Being near him feels a bit like standing beside someone casting a particularly powerful spell, but whether that is real or some further trick of the mist is uncertain. It is her way to appraise everyone she meets, but he earns a closer scrutiny than most, her golden eyes studious.

"I like it not."

3

[handsomefoil]

Henry follows up as a man he may or may not recognize (the mud and grime really doesn't help) from COST, grabbing the injured man and ushering him and the others in as quickly as he can. It's hard not to get distracted by the ringing in his ears, the possibility of more shells raining down on their heads, but adrenaline plays a great part in his efforts.

Whoever Merlin didn't grab the first time around, he does, and he has to thank his maker for keeping him all in one piece through the past few weeks. As the last of them are pushed through the crumbling entrance, he sets one of the men down to sit and whips his head around to watch the rubble and rocks gradually block out the light.

"Shit," he wheezes out, leaning a shoulder against the wall for a moment. The ceiling is low and everything feels cramped, trapped, suffocating and currently too warm despite the weather. "Think we... got as many as we could..."

LATE AS USUAL - 1

[dorzalta]

"Just as we discussed, tala. One body, and you return."

"As you command, Lady Mother."

She's in the process of allowing her spiderling to crawl down her arm, settle on her lap for a brief moment, and then scurry down into the muddy grounds of the trenches. The porcelain-skinned Day-One is quick, near a ghost, as she scurries up the opposite side and disappears at the top.

No increase in gunfire. It's a good sign, yes?

With a quiet sigh, she lights a cigarette and takes a surprisingly long draw on it. No coughing. The epitome of calm, the Dragon Queen is, as she considers the guns they'd perched above.

"Seems a rather hefty price for one cup of coffee." Did you see her just lick her lips, Merlin? "I would enjoy a cup. My goal is to take a bath. I want the water steaming hot. And maybe have an orange, if we can find one."

lup | the adventure zone

[tommygunned]

i. gotta get back ( foreshadowing )

[Fighting doesn't frighten her. Fighting's a breath of fresh air. The unknown doesn't frighten her. A tenuous future, that's just life. Enemies don't frighten her. She's fought worse.]

[This, though? The buzzing, prickling feeling that jolts her fingertips as mist descends? Oh, this--this is freaking her out a little bit.]

Hey, do you--

[She tries to light a fireball. It fizzles, spits, and dies. Her lips tighten.]

Do you feel that?

ii. gotta get free ( shelling )

[Shells again.]

[This time she springs into action so fast it's like she heard them before they started falling. It's burnt into her bones now, autonomic. She'll jump like this in her dreams. But for now it's for the best, because she's able to grab a couple of soldiers and push them to relative safety before everything goes entirely to shit.]

[It doesn't take long, though. And it's exhausting. Not long before she's drained, but she has to keep going just like everybody does--and when she sees someone else flagging, she grabs them by the elbow and pulls them along in her wake.]

No giving up! [Practically a scream, but somehow managing to at least pretend good nature in the midst of this hell.] That guy, help me move him, huh? Come on!

iii. be like them ( tunnels )

[Later, Lup will call this a string of bad luck and laugh about it like it happened to somebody else. Because that's what you do. Shit happens that you can't cope with, so you pretend it never did, at least until you can get through to the other side. And this is one of those situations she never, ever wanted to be in again.]

[She can't tell if the dark is worse or better than being able to see. There was a light, yeah, she found a lamp, but a particularly bad barrage knocked it out of her hand to break on the ground--and then dark. Just dark, because her magic still isn't working right. No point wasting matches, is what she thought, better save them for an emergency. Except then she can't find her way out. Or anywhere. Keeps getting turned around, running into walls, and it's so--]

[It's so fucking dark. And part of her knows: You're never going to get out of here. This is where you end.]

[After a while, directions just aren't anymore. She paws at the wall, taking a few stumbling steps forward at a time before she has to stop to suck in a ragged, panicked breath. The second she finds something warm and alive, she grabs onto it with both hands. Doesn't matter what, doesn't matter who. She needs to not be alone.]

iv. lean back & breathe ( wildcard )

[Want something else? Hit me via PM or at passiones or just tag me. Live your dreams.]

🌂 taako

[tommygunned]

[To say she touched base with her brother in the tunnels would be an astonishing line of bullshit. Once she found him, she clung to him, and he clung back. There was never a question of anything else. They stayed together down there, they came up for air together, they're together when they get the message from Commander Grothia.]

[This, now. This Lup is pretty sure she can manage. She's exhausted, frazzled, shattered, really, but having a problem to solve makes all the difference. She can keep going just a little while longer.]

Taako.

[Her voice comes soft, just soft enough for him to hear; she bumps his shoulder with hers, gently bonks their temples together.]

We should figure out a game plan for these fuckos. Yeah?

Mamoru Hijikata ✛ uddup ✛ ota

[prizeneck]

i. The badonkadonk guard

[Cpt. Lewis' had given him a once over when he stood up to volunteer for the guard, but he made no questions about the gas mask that still lingered on his face. Never mind the body odor, he hasn't blown cover yet and that's what mattered. Not like anyone here had been smelling of roses, anyway.

Still, he had been curious about a particular thing, and he subtly makes his way to one of them, silently tasking himself in refilling the container in these rifles that fired automatically.

He had studied about them, way when he still could read without braille or tech. A small mention in a history book, another later on back in Arizona in a lecture about tactics and strategies. He almost expected to find the inventors of this mechanism, but he knew it would be risky to seek them actively when the soldiers in the 7th Battalion didn't even know what they were up to until they followed orders to set the things across the trenches. Shame. It would have given him a little glimpse of whatever went on in these guys' heads. Thinkers in the midst of battlefields were always commendable.

But then again, that's curiosity that makes him a bit of a particular character in this setting. He's used to be an odd one out, comfortable at observing the drip mechanism work on his own.]

ii. Gone with the blastwave + NETWORK

[He wakes up.

The first thing he does is fasten the straps of the mask tighter behind his head, the second is setting the rifle on his shoulder, hand mechanically reaching for the blade of the bayonet and locking it in place, on the muzzle - finally - he steps out of the nook he had been sleeping in, out and into the mist.

The quiet unsettles him. Not magical by any means, Mamoru still has his ears metaphorically perked up. In his thirty-or-so years of life, he had spent twenty of them watching a calm stretch so thin it was bound to break [duels, fights, wars].

The projection in his vision seems to glitch. The wire-frame grid shifts, making him frown, set his feet better on the ground. And some reason, something, makes him look up.

He tenses with the sudden appearance of lines coming from the sky, arches high and wide, red streaking over the blackness of his sight towards the wire-frame that showed him his surroundings, the projection giving him probable trajectories of the bombs dropping.

Running and grabbing the nearest soldiers out of the way of a streak of red that tells him the second, third and fourth bombs will land in the vicinity. He knows he can't do anything about the first drop - it's too late.

Still, on the move, he only has time to send a message one second before the first bomb hits, heat flaring and the ground shaking beneath his feet, his voice rough like the shrapnel hitting whatever surface they may reach.]

@SWORDARTONLINE TO: @ALL
COVER

iii. What a nice and tight tunnel we're in

[Rushing into the tunnel for the last time with someone on his shoulder, he drops them on the floor as gently as he can, after the crumbling down of the entrance. Instead of trying to peer through, he's crouching in front of them, quietly looking over for injuries, listening for any stutter in the breath. If that person seems okay, he stands up, heads over to where the tunnel leads, needing no light because the sound of his footsteps echoing is enough to delineate the way through the soundwave projections, the back of his hand running through the wall on his right - old habits.

You could say he's securing the short of a perimeter he's allowed, or that he's checking for other soldiers in the vicinity. Maybe he finds you there. Maybe he scares the living shit out of you, as he's a sudden man in a gas mask in the darkness. He doesn't stray very far from the group of soldiers behind him catching their breath, but he needs to get a little away from the rubble.

He had still heard screams outside, locked out.]

iv. This is no time for your Harry Potter bullshit

[The soldiers are fairly discrete, but Mamoru can see [lulz] them a little better because the masks they're wearing don't really blend in with their surroundings - too sharp, too menacing. They're observing, cautious, but dangerous, and Mamoru can't help but stand his feet a little wider apart, fingers tightening around the rifle and he's already picturing swipes and gun fire and--

"Do not. engage." He heard the order, and it stalls him, teeth gritting. These guys are a whole new level, and the will the engage the fuck out of them is rolling out of his set shoulders in waves.

What will you do? Stop him? Egg him on?]

v. Are we there yet? Are we there yet?

[For all your wildcarding needs! If you have any other ideas go forth and conquer or hmu at mikefoxtrot]

@HOTDOG (ii)

[whitehair]

[ the message comes through a second before the ground shakes beneath his feet; one second, everything is normal - the next, absolute fucking chaos as everyone makes a rush for it, the narrowness of the crumbling trenches not helping things out at all. even hardened soldiers aren't above trying to save their own skin when it down to it.

tch, heine frowns tightly, pushing himself over to one side of the wall, the dirt and the rocks showering down upon them. it's hard to gauge where the shells are coming from in this thick mist, but the sounds are pretty unmistakable. the hard part is when the shrapnel explodes everywhere -- a piece of it grazes past his upper shoulder, and Heine ducks down, pushing the other soldiers ahead, into the tunnels. ]

yeah, no shit.

[ flat and unimpressed, raspy at the edges from the smoke in the air. ]

midnighter | ota.

[thingpuncher]

a. THE TRENCHES | try to show me that you know me.

Midnighter things finally, a fight.

It's not the fight he was hoping for. He's quickly learning that, whatever that is, it's not coming. He's a superhero, antihero, whatever they're calling it this week. Not a soldier. Soldiers are drops in an ocean of men. He wasn't made to be part of a tide.

Midnighter finds a place to change, and dresses in his uniform. Not the one COST gave him. His uniform. He can't be Bruno Shaw anymore.

Midnighter operates in darkness. Luckily, everything's a dark and rainy mess. Pulling men out of gunfire, dragging twitching bodies to safety. Midnighter sprints through the panic and the mess, heedless of his own safety, the trenchcoat flapping behind him in the firefight, as the shells drop, as the terror unfurls. Anyone watching his location (completely public on his BCE) will find him moving up and down the line with surprising speed, in and out of the tunnels again and again.

Maybe the next person he pulls out of the mud and fire is you. A strong, leathered hand on a forearm, tugging you into darkness. "Let's get you out of here." The voice is dark and grim, but utterly confident.

c. THE TUNNELS | try to have a softer inside.

Hours later, Midnighter is in the tunnels, shirtless and covered in blood. He's superhuman, but only so much. Someone paying close attention may notice that the pants he's wearing are the COST issued ANZAC uniform. He's trying to be Bruno Shaw again.

Someone shot a lot of holes into Bruno Shaw.

Some, he's popping out like zits, others, he's picking out with bare fingers. Another, he sucks out of his own arm. The entire time, he seems heedless of any pain, unreactive. He's as bothered by the lead in his arms and torso and legs as one would be a bug bite.

He looks up when he catches someone watching. "This isn't a free show."

c. THE NETWORK | shut up boy and be a soldier.

>>@TRENTCOAT
@ALL

[ATTACHMENT: 0111011101101000.img]
[ATTACHMENT: 0110000101110100.img]
[ATTACHMENT: 0011111100111111.img]

are u seeing this shit
it keeps GOING

the tunnels;

[whitehair]

That's a lot of bullets - someone must have really gone to town on him. Or several someones, the details of it don't really matter much, does it?

The tunnels are a bustle of movement from people tending to the injured, securing perimetres, trying to get the cave-in cleared off the entrance... it's chaos. Heine is just trying to keep out of the way. Some people might call that slacking off, but fuck them. Heine is only really looking in the direction because he's just kind of zoning out, sitting crouched opposite Midnighter with his arms resting on his knees. His hair is plastered flat down one side of his head, matted with blood from where a shrapnel piece (or a sharp rock, whichever) took out his ear, but that's all sorted out fine and dandy now. His uniform is full of holes too, but no wound that you can visibly see.

Heine shrugs, turning his gaze up to the other's face. "What, so you'll let people watch if they pay you?"

76 | come on over

[mylawn]

i. thunder

[76 has spent all of their time in the trenches watching and waiting for a moment like this. Despite the boredom of the day-to-day, he’s always known push would come to shove sooner rather than later, and he’s ready for it. He’s awake when the first shell hits, because of course he is, and he springs into action like it’s second nature. Like he’s been planning for this in his own head ever since they arrived. Time to put it all to good use.

This is, in many ways, what he’s built for.

It’s not exactly the Crisis, but it’s familiar enough. 76 becomes laser-focused, relying on his own (not insubstantial) strength to outright drag people into the tunnels, if he has to. Then, he makes return trips—as many as it takes.]

Move.

[If you’re able to, that is. He’s not necessarily going to be friendly about it, and though he’s already got one injured soldier slung over his shoulder with surprising ease, he won’t hesitate to make it two if anyone else looks unable to keep up.]

ii. tunnels

[He’s not necessarily a claustrophobic individual, but it’s difficult not to feel some degree of it. To say he doesn’t trust the architectural integrity might be an understatement, and when the entrances cave in, you might see him visibly flinch. There’s no time, however, to falter in the face of their new cramped, underground quarters, and it becomes quickly apparent that the safest place to go is deeper.

So he swallows it down, hauling supplies, wounded soldiers, trying to carve out the semblance of safety as the walls and ceiling shake. Upon realizing the extent of the tunnels, he takes it upon himself to slink off and explore—perhaps looking for a way out, or anything recoverable. It’s not long before he’s stopped by a half-collapsed route, and decides that the chance of something interesting on the other side is high enough that it’s worth digging out.

It’s difficult to tell whether the blood on his uniform belongs to him or someone else—he doesn’t seem bothered by it either way, barking an order, instead.]

Give me a hand with this.

[Super soldier or not, he’s only one man, after all. When he’s not delving deep into the network of tunnels, he can easily be found on the edges of the group, watching the scene intently as if he expects some other shoe (or perhaps the ceiling) to drop.

Go ahead. Approach.]

iii. something wicked

[76 would be a fairly poor excuse for a super soldier if he didn’t recognize an enemy presence. It comes with an unsettling feeling, the sensation of being watched, and it doesn’t take him long to spot the figures in the rubble. He can make an educated guess about them, sure, but then Grothia’s message confirms it.

Seeing the enemy for the first time leaves him a little breathless, and he spends a few long hours keeping watch, making sure they don’t get the idea to move in on them. He’s not sure what kind of stand COST would be able to make if they did.

He’s silent unless approached, and even then only says one thing:]

Orders are not to engage.

[You know, just in case you didn’t get the memo, or perhaps thought it was a good idea to engage anyway. 76’s attention is on the shadows in the distance, but from the gravity in his voice it’s obvious that he’s here not only to watch, but to cut off any reckless individuals at the pass.]

iv. dawn - network

FROM: @DIEDHARD
TO: @ALL

Status report. Anyone in need of assistance?

v. wildcard

[I’ll do whatever you want. Hit me up on plurk at whitticus.]

ii

[cutlery]

[ 76 isn't the only one who has some doubts about how structurally sound their hiding spot was. As soon as they had been pushed back and into the tunnels, Sebastian had cynically assumed it was clever tactics on the part of the people they were fighting, since it would be the most efficient way to kill them off. He's certain the ground will cave in any moment, but at least rather than fear, he only feels a mild annoyance. He has nothing to be afraid of, after all. Being buried alive wasn't any real danger to him (or so he assumed without knowing that he wasn't quite as immortal as normal), and it also wouldn't exactly be the first time.

But. He'll make the most of this anyways.

He's exploring the tunnels half out of curiosity and half in hoping to find an alternate way out should things turn sour when he runs across someone else doing the same. He gives a brief nod of greeting, but as his help is requested, he doesn't hesitate to offer it. He walks forward and looks over the rubble, but will grab an opposite side of a piece of it if 76 already has a chunk in hand, or he'll start to clear away pieces on his own. Either way, it at least seems like he'll be helpful, since he's strong enough to move the pieces without any problem. ]

Did something interesting catch your eye back there?

Armitage Hux | Star Wars |

[neutronium]

Thunder of Guns

Hux was an engineer; at his very core, he always tried to see the structure of things around him, whether it be objects or people. So when the bombs started to drop, and they were ushered into the tunnels, Hux quickly started to assess which ones were weaker, more susceptible to fall, faster.

It was knowledge that would save lives; which Hux was doing with COST members, directing them away from the weakest--but with those other soldiers, well...if they were trapped in the weaker structures as they fell, what a pity that would be?

Hux ignores how the ground shakes under his feet, how it makes him feel like the loss of the Starkiller, the loss of one of the few things he had ever truly loved. Instead he stands there, feigning his franticness, trying to herd people to life (or death).

That's when the bomb hits (it was going to, eventually--always inevitability), taking out the entrance closest to him. Letting out a sharp curse, Hux covered his face with his arms as he was thrown back against the wall of the tunnel. For a moment everything was dust and darkness, but once his adjusted once more, he realized he was trapped between some fallen beams, his left ankle pinned. It didn't feel broken (thankfully), but Hux couldn't seem to twist it free, and with the angle he was at, he couldn't twist off his stomach to get his hands to help free himself.

Damn.

"Some assistance, please?"

[ooc: feel free to question Hux, or help him.]

Something Wicked

Hux suspects who they are before the message is even received; once his suspicions are confirmed, though, there is a little thrill that slides down his spine, stiffens it. He's exhausted, and he knows he doesn't look his best--this would be the worst time to make a push for an alliance. To move any closer, as well, would raise suspicions towards him--which he can't afford, right now. Not this early on.

So instead he studied them, as he knew he was being studied as well. His fingers itched to be where they were, to have clean clothing...to be dressed smartly, as proper rulers should be--

--but no. Instead he was here, playing pretend. There was a slight twitch to his lips, frowning.

"Have you ever seen them before?" He glanced over at the nearest COST member, curious.

thunder of guns

[prizeneck]

A man with a mask, breathing heavily, steps firmly into view.

Hux, I am your f-- no, just kidding. But it is a man wearing a gas mask, and he is breathing heavily, but only because he was running and the mask does make the sound echo just a little bit. His voice is clear, though, and not at all distorted, just muted by the leather and worn fabric. He crouches and takes a good look at the trapped ankle, assessing it before doing anything. "Don't move. Can you feel your toes?"

[horsepowered]

A) The Mist
It cannot be natural mist. That much Chiron knows, knows because natural phenomena should not send a shiver up his spine as it does. It lingers, tingling, before he feels the back of his head weigh down and--

--and manifesting his corporeal form is harder. Chiron tenses when he realizes that, and that he is automatically spending mana in order to maintain himself.

Worriedly, he starts to walk faster, eyes on the look out for any of his fellow operatives that he knows to be magic users. This cannot be unique to him.

The frown deepens on Chiron's face as he moves, murmuring to himself. "This is a herald of something worse."

B)Tunnel
[It is easier to be in spirit mode now. The mana spent trying to manifest in that mist aside, there is no need to side-step rubble in spirit mode. There is only moving from place to place with appreciable speed and a quicker way to gauge which tunnels are closed off versus which have collapsed.

None of this prevents Chiron from asking in a clear voice, temporarily taking form again:]

If there's anyone injured here, yell.

[Regular soldiers will probably see the whole thing as a strange product of delirium in retrospect anyway.]

C) Enemy sighting

"There has to be a purpose to dressing that out of time and place."

Chiron's words are a whisper as he observes the Regency soldiers in place. There's no sense to such uniforms without it. His voice comes from behind, trying to keep the most amount of distance possible between himself and the Regency.

Whatever abilities they have, his mind feels heavier for it. That's alarming, far too alarming.

mist

[bloodings]

Mordred's struggling, too — probably more than he is, given the cost of simple upkeep for a Saber class. When she sees Chiron, it's obvious by the look in his eyes that he feels it too, and she's quick to move closer to him.

"It's like Assassin's mist." She'd only felt it once, but it's not the sort of thing you forget (in fact, it's the only thing she remembers about that encounter). The strange tingling. The sense that an attack could come at any moment. And yet, it's too different to be exactly the same, and she adds, "I don't think there's another Servant here, though."

Which might be even worse. Back then, she'd dispelled that fog easily enough with her sword, but she knows that won't work here. Even if she had the mana to spare, or her weapon with her, this feels much, much heavier than that pseudo London smog. Pensively, she looks over at Chiron.

"The Regency. It's gotta be." Her instincts are practically screaming it at her.

heine rammsteiner | OTA

[whitehair]

i. THE TRENCHES > (it's not like you killed someone)

[ the split second before the shells explode, things slow down. the first explosion happens in the distance, but the sound still rings in his ears too loud and too sharp. Heine swears under his breath as the bodies around him start moving, pushing past him in the direction of the tunnels. He digs his heels into the earth beneath, bracing himself against the wall of the trenches as he turns his head upwards to squint at the sky - the mist is too thick, dispersing sound oddly, and in among the chaos there's no way to predict where the next one will land.

as far as it goes, his luck didn't mean shit all, because the next one lands less than five paces from where he is now.

you know, people usually think that just because he can't die, it must mean that it doesn't hurt. they are fucking wrong, because it hurts like a fucking bitch to have half your gut blow out and spill onto the ground. Heine coughs from where he's laying on the dirt, bits of other dead bodies all around him. The acrid smoke of the wreckage is completely different to the one he's used to. ]

ii. THE TUNNELS > (such an inspiration for the ways)

[ it's pitch black in here as he finally makes his way in by one of the entrances that hadn't caved in yet - good timing too, because as he drags a couple more latecomers in and stumble in after them, it crumbles in a rubble of stones and dirt behind them. dead of night, still a few hours to go before the dawn, there's not even a sliver of light to see by. ]

Doesn't anyone in this fucking place carry a light?

[ not that anyone can hear his muttering - there's too much other noise going on. ]

iii. THE WAITING GAME > (still you pray, you never stray)

[ it's grown silent outside, or maybe it's all the weight of the stones around them that's muffling the sound; for all Heine knew, it could be raining fucking pigs out there. Well, whatever happens, he's gonna be ready. Heine's managed to get his hands on some cleaning equipment from a passing soldier and he sits crosslegged on a fairly unoccupied corner or a corridor, and clean out his gun. it's just your run of the mill Mauser, nothing interesting except it's bright bone-white, albeit stained with dirt and blood. which is probably why he's cleaning this shit out.

he disassembles it with practised motion that tells whoever's watching that it's more than just a weapon that's been handed out upon enlisting, and starts to carefully clean it. his expression is one of careful concentration considering how many tiny pieces he has to clean and put back together, but the corners of his mouth are turned down into a deep frown that's got nothing to do with it.

if he catches you looking, Heine is just going to stare daggers. ]

What're you looking at?

iv. WILDCARD

[ anything else you wanna play? hit me up via pm or at sdat ]

WILDCARD

[chariotry]

[ The bombing continues late into the night and early into the morning. Currently, the soldiers are biding their time, praying that the tunnels won't suddenly collapse. In the worst case scenario, the members of COST will have no choice but to use their powers, and in that event Achilles wonders if it might be best to just save their own.

Currently, they're stuck waiting for now. Achilles and Mordred have returned from their trip scouting and have usurped Heine's occupied space. He's one of the few soldiers sitting by a lantern with no one else around.

Maybe Heine has been sitting here, having to listen to Achilles and Mordred bicker back and forth before silence inevitably drags on. ]

There's gotta be a way to pass the time. I'm dying of boredom.

[ The surrounding walls shake, another tremor from a shell dropping directly above their heads, causing rock and dirt to rain over their heads. Achilles pops his helmet off and looks between Mordred and Heine like he's conflicted.

It's too late, though. They both got shit in their hair now. ]

Achilles | Fate/

[chariotry]

CLOSED TO NOCTIS

[ It's late when he hears the telltale noise of a shell soaring through the air. Everyone who'd been sleeping begin snapping awake when the first explosion racks a small area of the camp. Immediately, there's shouting and disarray as soldiers who are much too young and untrained begin to panic and run for cover. The orders of the captain are drowned out by the commotion and unfortunately won't be heard by the soldiers who aren't nearby.

Achilles is up on his feet the moment the order is given, but he makes for a sprint in the opposite direction of the tunnels. COST's goal is to preserve history and time, but Achilles has his own agenda this time. He's bonded with these men in the past few weeks and has gotten attached; he can't let them perish if he can help it.

And he's not the only one with the same idea. He isn't surprised when he finds Noctis ushering a few young soldiers into the direction of the tunnels. Achilles silently follows, picking up a straggler and throwing them over his shoulder. For a Servant who hasn't gotten any source of mana for the past few weeks, it probably isn't the right move, but Achilles will always take the opportunity to show-off and save the day. For now, he'll bear the fatigue weighing down on his physical body and grin through it. ]

Keep running. I got this one.

CLOSED TO PROMPTO

[ His new Master has sent him off to fetch his friend, Prompto, since the narrow tunnels can't be easily navigated to begin with. Achilles obliges, moving to a dark area so he can de-materialize his physical body and travel through the walls in his spiritual form.

Noctis must have had the other's coordinates, so he easily passes through rock and finds him somewhere in the maze of tunnels, holding a lantern up against the stone wall. It will almost seem like a ghost is emerging from the rock before his very eyes, the way Achilles begins to materialize back into his physical form.

He'll hold his hand up to shield the light from his eyes, annoyed. ]

Hey, give me that. Are you Prompto? [ He'll try to grab for the lantern so he can hold it up to his face. Freckles, blond hair, skinny face. That's what he's looking for. ]

OTA - OH IT'S PORN

[ Once they Servants are back with the other soldiers and have found a lantern, Achilles can finally read what's inside the little worn book he's found.

He reads aloud: ]

I’ll push your shit in and stuff your face--
Aurelius, you cocksucker; Furius, you little bitch ...?

CLOSED TO THE GHOST TEAM (SIEGFRIED, MORDRED, CHIRON)

[chariotry]

closed to ryuji

[bloodings]

[ The mist has shifted from 'annoyance' to 'problem' to 'serious problem' over the past few hours. No amount of food can help her mana supplies — it was barely enough before, and now she's using twice as much to even exist. (Staying corporeal takes even more, of course, but if she goes into spirit form, she's worried she won't come back. At least this way, she has something to cling to.)

Mordred's propped herself up at the entrance to one of the tunnels, like a guard of some sort. By now, she's seen the Regency soldiers in the distance; if they come, she'll fight them until the end. In life, she'd always insisted on being at the front of the army — just like King Arthur would — and this is no different. Her father would find a way to get through this.

Right now, though, it's just a whole lot of waiting, and trying to ignore the fact she's not sure she can stand anymore. She closes her eyes for a second that could easily be a minute, and the next time she opens them, she catches sight of a familiar face. ]

I knew you'd make it. [ The exhaustion is clear in her voice, but she gives him a weak smile. ] Ganbatty, right?

[ryuji]

[When the shells began to drop, Ryuji found himself in the open. It wasn't something he planned on doing, but a bag of medical supplies was way too damn important to give up on; but like everything the teenager does, it's almost met with an unprecedented sense of bad timing. The only thing that he can think of as sound deafeningly blares into his eardrum is to activate the BCE, and head into the Metaverse. He can't imagine anyone has watched him do it- but he can never be so sure. He had ultimately been hesitant to use it, unsure of what horrors awaited in this pocket dimension; and with good reason.

The thought struck him that he could use this space to evacuate soldiers out from the trenches unnoticed. If anything weird showed up, he could use his medical status to ensure them that it was a hallucination, and that they needed to get checked out once the dust cleared. But as he looked around the field, the misery and despair that had built around the battlefield had warped this place into something more terrifying than even he could deal with. Shadows everywhere. Unsafe conditions for even a skilled persona user like Ryuji to deal with. A machine gun that shot the heads of humans as bullets, demons that dropped explosives from the skies, vehicles that had legs carved out of bodies. He couldn't fight them all, so he hid in the tunnels.

He didn't expect the fog, either. Whatever this was, whatever it was doing, was making the shadows crazier. He didn't make it a policy to stick around much to see what was going on- but several of them seemed to ooze with a black tar that evolved them into other aberrations and monstrosities that he had never seen before. It gave him chills. And as the haze got closer and closer, he could swear he felt his lungs burn, his magic being drawn to the surface of his skin, and his pact with his persona becoming a weaker link by the second.

He hides, nestled in the safety of the tunnels below. It takes a while for him to stop hearing the shelling, and as he ventures to the exit, the curiosity of the state of the real world takes control and he deactivates the app. And what he sees nearly breaks his fucking heart. Mordred, leaning, looking like she's about to collapse at any second.

Hell no, this isn't how it's supposed to be. He hears the phrase, and his eyebrows furrow, lips part.

Japanese people don't like admittin' when they're pushed beyond their limit. So when you see someone strugglin', you say "Ganbatte!"

Fuck this.]

Saber! [Takes all of a second to get to her, realizing... this is a suicide mission, isn't it? She's going to go down like a hero.

He can't let that happen. Too many good fucking people have died or gone missing in his war. Ryuji tries to become something she can lean to, gain a little more ground- and shit, SHIT, that's the Regency--- they can't stay.]

C'mon, we're gettin' the fuck outta here.

Jaina Solo | Star Wars Legends

[twojedisticks]

The Rear Guard
At most points in this mission, Jaina wishes she’d been allowed to take to the skies. The role of the clunky little deathtraps available to Earth at the time was difficult to account for, so she’d been asked to focus on figuring out how to apply her engineering talents -- and for the first time, she feels as though they are paying off. It feels a little like the days when she and her young Jedi friends would go up against fully grown and trained enemies, defeating a galactic criminal syndicate with tricks.

But instead of rigging a very sci-fi trap that Hone Alone would have been proud of, the woman -- excuse me, “young man,” -- is busy tending to drip guns. Fetching water because what else would the older soldiers want from a young man, but when she can, Jaina wrenches a jammed gun out of someone’s hands so she can fiddle with it for herself. There’s work to be done, blast it, and she wants to do it.

If it’s not that? One might find Jaina mounting a head on a stick.

Well, we aren’t escalating that quickly. It’s a papier mache head, a trick that can only work thanks to the low-quality optics available to men in the trenches. Each time one of the rear guard soldiers makes fun of it, her smile gets a little testier, and she finally responds to one by saying, “You can always step out of the trench. See if it looks a little more realistic from up there.” And get shot.

--

The Thunder of Guns – A (written for Hei but if this is your jam who am I to deny you)
Even a Jedi has to sleep sometime. Physiological control is a thing, sure, but Jaina is a woman who pushes herself, and when you have a skeleton crew trying to act like there’s still a hornet’s nest of soldiers occupying the area, it is very difficult to tell someone to rest. So when the time comes, it seems the body has finally given up, and she can be found at her post with her rifle clutched close as her head dips.

It shouldn’t have been a problem. Normally there’s an alarm. Her astromech could wake her up when her fighter came under threat. A danger sense might normally jerk her awake, as though from a nightmare. But she isn’t in a dream state, and the Force is not so giving with COST. The only alarm is the flash of heat and shrapnel as the first shell falls on the trenches, followed quickly by the order to retreat.

It’s time. A hero knows what to do. But are you a hero?

The Thunder of Guns – B
Once Jaina is back into the swing of action, she pulls out the stops. There’s a job to do, and it happens to line up perfectly with the duties she has as a Jedi. It’s her job to take things on so other don’t have to, right? And COST wants to minimize the loss of life. Perfect.

The only trouble is she can’t be a one-person act anymore. She can’t exercise the Force and do that much to get soldiers to safety. But…

Hoping she’s pegged a fellow COST operative, she slaps them on the soldier to get their attention, and shouts over the din of war, “Do whatever it is you do. I’ll cover.”

rearguard;

[millimeter]

Prompto likes machines. Doesn't really like to think about why—if there even is a why and it isn't him reading too far into things—but he likes them and spends a fair share of time helping soldiers set up and maintain the drip rifles. He's working on a jammed gun, reaching to pull back the bolt, when it's snatched right out of his hands.

"Hey," he protests, turning in a mix of surprise, irritation, and alarm. "What the hell?"

It's mitigated by the fact that Jaina is really short. He pauses when he recognizes her—not by name or anything, just as someone else working on the rifles—and confusion settles over his face.

Rey | Star Wars

[garbagepilot]

[one]

[The dangerous thing about optimism is that you forget, in your excitement, that things can rarely go well for long. Rey has learned the hard way that getting your hopes up, letting yourself start to think things are about to go better, it usually leads to things getting much worse.

You make some friends, trust them with the ship you rebuilt yourself for six months, and they steal it out from under you the second you let yourself trust them not to do just that.

You start to think a war is ending, that you're going to get the majority of people out safely, and then bombs start to rain down from the sky. Explosions tear up the ground and all those people you think you've saved start to die off, screaming and terrified, in huge groups.

Once, she felt a person die. It was a gentle kind of thing, no fear or pain, just an acceptance that it was time to move on. Peace.

Now, even dampened by the fog, her connection to the Force is strong enough that she feels the lives of the soldiers who fall being snuffed out, little lights extinguished in agony, and it's almost more than she can stand. The pain and the fear, the feeling of hopelessness, it threatens to eat her up in one terrifying second before she shoves that all down, forces herself to run, hunkers down by one of the tunnel entrances and uses the Force to knock away the bombs she can see. She can't call up a constant bubble of safety like she did on the beach, but when she hears a whistle of one of the shells about to hit the ground she can find it, fling it away into the forest.

And she's too drained to hide every single time her hand moves with the action, but the soldiers are a little too focused on running past her into the tunnel to safety to notice a small soldier standing by like a beacon waving them in where they won't be at risk of being blown to pieces.

Eventually the flood of soldiers escaping slows to a trickle, the slower men make it, but she can see that it isn't everyone. There are wounded, men who can't walk, who are pinned under bodies of men they were playing cards with and drinking with not even an hour ago.

Someone yells for everyone to get into the tunnels, but Rey doesn't listen. She doesn't like people much on a good day but there's no way she can just leave someone to die in pain and afraid when all it takes is her going back.

So she does, stepping back out onto the makeshift battlefield in a beeline to the first person she can reach.]

[two]

[It becomes something of a desperate pattern. She goes out, she finds someone that might still be able to make it, helps them up or just carries them back to the mouth of the tunnels and hands them over to the few, few stragglers who are brave enough to stay to help. They won't leave the safety of the caves, tell her every time she's one stupid kid, one says something colorful about the size of the parts he thinks she has thanks to the fact that her disguise is still capable of fooling some people, and they look genuinely grateful for her.

The look of awe on their faces each time she makes it back is too familiar, a little uncomfortable, but she just keeps going. Any suggestion she stop is met with a glare before she turns right back out to go again, and if someone tries physically to stop her she'll fight them off. They have a job to do here, they're supposed to limit casualties, and she just can't find it in herself to abandon anyone.

Eventually, though, she comes across a problem. As she's dragging a soldier back a hand comes up out of the rubble, grasps her ankle, and a weak voice begs her for help. He won't let go and she can't kick them off without risking dropping her soldier, so she does the next best thing and casts around for any member of COST that stands out.]

Hey! Come help me!

[Do it or face her wrath later.]

[three]

[It feels like hours later that find her in the tunnels waiting out the night with everyone else, but she makes herself stop and resist the urge to try to use the Force to dig them out. They'll get there, she won't help anyone if she kills herself from pushing too hard to use powers she still doesn't entirely understand.

More than that, she'd managed to find a crate that hadn't been scrounged around in yet, come out of the exploration with a little pile of mechanical parts that one of the soldiers had taken one look at and declared a radio. It had sparked something of a rush of hope and interest, whispers of how nice it'd be to hear music again, and that's how she finds herself bent over the parts and fitting them together properly, trying to find the right connections and fighting against a lack of tools... right until the soldiers start to help with that. They've been exploring too, start to bring her tools, and before long she's half through the parts that are still in good condition, the ruined ones put off to the side for now, and it's- soothing, having something to do.

She gets caught up in it, lower lip caught between her teeth as she works on a particularly stubborn electrical board.]

[four - gotta have that network option]

FROM: @PERSONALSTAFF
TO: @ALL

I guess guys in black wearing creepy masks is something that every world has in common. Anyone found out anything helpful about them yet?

[five]
(Wildcard!! If there's something with the Regency soldiers or another thing that strikes your fancy, toss it at me or hit me up at blahblahren)

[horsepowered]

[In other circumstances, Chiron would be helping get those injured from the battlefield and to the tunnels. However, the presence of the magic-numbing mist has set every part of him off and made him much more cautious about spending energy that he might require later.

He is staying close to one of the tunnel entrances (there's a tarp over it, Chiron can keep his contact with the stuff to a minimum) when he hears someone yelling for help.

Chiron can see what's going on. Mist be damned, he starts to head over, moving swiftly in order to get himself back to cover as quickly as possible. Once he's within an acceptable visibility range, he waves a hand over his head in Rey's direction, rather than call out.]

siegfried // fate // ota

[gerechtigkeit]

[i. they told me death was a party (foreshadowing)

It settles like a threat on the back of his neck, Siegfried feeling his entire body go on alert before he even realizes what the mist around them is doing. Already starting to feel his mana deplete faster, he's trying to find anyone else from COST that may know what he's feeling. He passes by a dozen or so faces he knows are ones that belong here, pushing along the rear guard to move by as calmly as he can, until he finally sees someone he knows.]

You've felt it, haven't you?

[The way things hang in the air, how things have become suddenly a lot more difficult to work with. This isn't natural in the slightest.

ii. but really, parties aren't my thing (tunnels)

The sound of the shells erupting has him up in an instant, shoving any soldiers he sees nearby into the tunnels. There's constant shouting, a mess of noises as he hauls others past him, the raining ammunition causing echoes along no man's land. A shell lands too close and shrapnel cuts right across Siegfried's forehead, opening a large gash that bleeds openly and freely down his face. It stings, but he ignores it in favor of pushing any other soldier he sees (or at least, can see with one eye open) towards the entrances.

Someone needs to stop him because he's bleeding from a wound on his forehead and is still trying to help others.

iii. so i'll listen to the beat if i ever hear it (dawn)

It feels like days before they can make it out again, though Siegfried's sure it's been less. In the tunnels he'd spent a good chunk of it in spirit form, exploring what he could and trying to save his mana as much as possible. While some of the adventure had been an interesting thing in discovering poetry, other parts of it were spent in the dark, seeing soldiers huddle and try to keep each other in good spirits while the sound of artillery still shook the outside.

So when the shells stop, and someone manages to scramble out and make the way easier for others, he lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He doesn't think he's been this thankful with seeing the sun in a long time.]

...we made it.

[iv. sorry, it just isn't my time (closed to lup)

This... this isn't what he'd expected. Just outside of the tunnels, Siegfried receives the alert from Grothia about the Regency, and finds himself having to lean against one of the trench walls more than he wants to admit. This is bad. This is really bad. His mana is nowhere near where it should be, and with this mist still hanging, it's draining him further than most. His immortality already demands a bunch, but the fact that he's a Saber class makes it even worse. If the Regency decides to strike at this point, he won't be able to protect others like he usually does. Like he should. He may even die, if what he remembers hearing about them is correct.

...hah, how long has it been since he'd actually been concerned about dying? Before his fight with Karna, he can't remember. But in this moment he realizes that the threat of fading away without a Master is a very real possibility, and it's not one he wants to face. He just isn't sure who to ask, or even how. To do so would be a selfish gesture, wouldn't it? But he needs to live.

Siegfried pushes himself up off the wall, and takes a few steps. Which actually is a terrible idea, because he nearly ends up colliding into another person, footing easily lost in the process and him practically landing on his rear as a result (thanks, rank E luck). It's even worse when he notices who it is.]

...Lup? [That's her name, right? He shakes his head.] Sorry, I didn't mean to run into you.

[But wow does he look a lot worse than the last time she saw him. This is embarrassing.]

iii

[horsepowered]

[Chiron's entire reaction to this...adventure, shall it be said, is to try and take it in stride. It was to be expected in a way, needed to avoid bombing and being forced into an uneviable position, but the mist and the need to stick to spirit form had made it harder than he liked.

There was no harm in mana conservation. But there was harm in needing to prioritize it over the safety and health of others, especially when it was possible to minimize loss of life. It was something that had eaten at him since the need to run into the tunnels began, and it remains something that gnaws at him as the sun rises.

Quietly, from Siegfried's side, Chiron offers a soft:]

By some blessing of fortune, yes.

meliorn | shadowhunters

[verumdicit]

a. The Thunder of Guns; i
[ He's not sure what happens to trigger the mist, but Meliorn feels like he's going to crawl out of his skin. It's subtle at first, like his uniform doesn't quite fit (the fabric has been driving him crazy this entire excursion anyway) or his helmet is itchy. It gets worse as the moments drag on. Whatever it is, he doesn't like it, and he's never been one to ignore feelings like this. Seelie aren't as instinctual and primal as werewolves, but that doesn't mean they don't listen to their gut. Right now, Meliorn's gut is telling him that something's very, very unusual.

He's by a fire when he pieces it together, and instead of his usual (if strange) habit of looking like he's in a near meditative state he's all lines and rigidity, back squared perfectly, not hunched but looming. He knows what the mist is suddenly and all at once. ]

The mist. It dulls. [ His eyes narrow, staring into the flames. ] It's wrong. Something's coming.


b. The Thunder of Guns; ii
[ It happens all at once, and some strange part of Meliorn is almost glad for more action--more action means less waiting, less of how things Aren't Right festering. They're being bombed--bombed? That's the right word, he thinks, but doesn't have time to dwell for a single second, instead ducking for cover. Shrapnel falls, people scatter, voices scream, and Meliorn snaps into action.

The person he grabs has metal in his leg and is unable to walk. Meliorn's certain he can smell the blood from him until he realizes his shoulder has been cut as well--red bleeds through, not green, courtesy of COST. The pain is easy to ignore when adrenaline shifts through your body--and he grabs the soldier, can't be more than 20--and lifts. He's not a particularly buff man, nor is he tall, but it looks almost effortless as he dashes for the tunnels. ]

I think there was someone else behind me. [ He calls it over his shoulder, his first priority getting the wounded soldier out. ]


c. Wartime Archeology;
[ His haul is a little better than others, he thinks, even if it tastes awful. Sitting in the cramped tunnels with only a single lamp to illuminate him and the others around, Meliorn has a pair of dog tags that certainly aren't his wrapped around his wrist. If others keep trophies, he may as well, too, despite the fact that the tags belong to an ally. He'll dispense of them properly later--more important are the three boxes of hard tack he has tucked neatly in front of him.

He's disappointed it tastes awful, truth be told. The first thing he's going to do when he's out of the tunnels is try to find some sort of vegetable to eat, and the second is going to be alcohol that doesn't make him gag.

He exhales slowly, taking the box he'd opened previously and silently passing it around. Let them think it's a generous action instead of the fact that he can't stand to eat anything that's this displeasing to his palette. ]


d. Into the Dawn;
[ They're out, and not a moment too soon. They scrape and shuffle and bang around, looking for light and an entrance and Meliorn hardly realizes that at some point he'd grabbed onto someone's shoulder and squeezed. It's the dark--his kind are used to lush forests, everything aglow with ethereal quality. Not dark. Not the abyss. It gets to him, after a time, and he doesn't realize just how much until he sees the entrance and all but bowls over the person in front of him, gasping for air in a rather inelegant display. He doesn't care.

He's finally outside. ]


e. Closed to Hux;
[ Meliorn had been distracted before he saw them, focusing on light--light, the sun's rays and what little warmth it has to offer is infinitely better than the darkness where demons dwell--until he gets the alert.

The first thing he does is find Armitage. There are a myriad of reasons as to why: he's a capable fellow, he craves some form of leadership, and he's smarter than most of the people in the trenches. Every single one of them boils down to one simple fact: by now, Armitage might have an idea or two as to how to even approach something like this, and Meliorn, at his core, is a soldier. He just prefers to choose who he follows when it's not his Queen. ]

They're responsible for the mist before the shells, I'm sure of it.

[ It's what he says as greeting, standing straight, hands clasped in front of him. ]

It felt like lead weighting the senses.

a.

[purpleandgray]

[ Merlin likes the mist less and less as it persists. He spent several hours just gazing into it with the sign of Logrus and get absolutely nowhere in figuring out the fog's origin or purpose. He had to give away the sign a while ago due to the dampening effect of it, but not before he glimpsed the true visage of this man who is now talking about the mist as if he knows what he's saying. His confidence combined with the curious illusions set upon him make Merlin wonder if he actually has some insight on the peculiar phenomenon that seems to linger but actively do nothing more.

He glances at the man from the corner of his eye, quietly considering him for a moment before he ventures a question: ] Something is coming? Why do you say that?