( ooc. i [action] tag by default, but will match prose styles! )
I. [ We could all use a little luck, here. No matter the intent behind the words, it only serves to remind her that Kel luck was notably poor.
( A. ) In Lone Pine, she settles in for the next step. The whiplash stop-go beat of the battlefield isn't new to her; in fact, she seems noticeably attuned to the encampment's pace and falls into an even step with the ANZAC troops. Far swifter than some might think appropriate for a new recruit?
As everyone regroups it's as though someone lit a fire and held her feet to it. She moves like a woman aflame, darting through the encampment with a map, a compass and a pair of binoculars. She nearly collides with others, COST and ANZAC alike, never fumbling -- her expression grim and focused on the task at hand. There are routes to map, and there is no fieldgrid for her to functionally access -- only the maps, her math, and her battlefield skills. Well, not just her battlefield skills, but no COST member would naturally know that. ]
I need your back, turn around.
[ She circles with her fingers, urging whomever she's found to turn about and present the flat of their shoulders.
( B. ) Later on, she can be found going over her cartography and route-planning with some of the soldiers. Seems she has a talent for battlefield strategy? And she gestures, to anyone who steps by, a sharp motion beckoning them to come over as she spreads her maps out alongside the fire: ] Listen up, and pass this along: this swath of land here isn't the least of difficult terrain, but it offers cover on one side. We escort the injured in this formation -- it's a variation of the Hawk's Longmarch...
[ What the hell is she on about. ]
II. [ ( A. ) She runs almost endlessly - back and forth along the routes she'd charted for some of the wounded, keeping an eye on them. Urging them to move along. Muttering something about the lack of access to a "fieldgrid", a lamentation about "formations". Maybe some members of COST were roped into her plans, and she checks on them alike. There's no delineating one group from the other, not right now. ] Mind where you place your feet.
[ ( B. ) Foot placement isn't the least concerning thing she calls for. All at once, there is a Regency soldier arriving low and silent for a brutal hit, and the next minute -- she's there, dropping her weight onto the masked one with all the grace of an assassin... if not for the way her legs work unevenly, and her head snaps back as she collides with a low-hanging branch - dragging it, herself and the Regency soldier down the embankment and momentarily out of view. For a moment, all is quiet. And then: ] -- whenever you're ready to join me!
[ She seems to be calling to you, in particular. ]
III. [ ( A. ) ( The command from COST's leadership is both a relief and a sour thing, to her. ) The Regency lays siege to the beach, and Cheris unleashes hell upon them in return. She seems heedless of her own safety, as though she's ready to burn herself to ashes to fulfill her orders and defend the ANZAC soldiers as they retreat. In one moment, she moves in perfect synchronicity with another soldiers -- and then the moment is gone, leaving her blindly staggering in her shoes, at the mercy of whatever Regency soldier is bearing down on her position. YIKES.
( B. ) ( She nearly misses the last call, she's that intent on making sure everyone else boards before her. Double-yikes. )
( C. ) Aboard the ship, she can be found nursing what wounds she sustained with the stoicism of a career soldier -- and attending the funerals of those who did not survive their injuries. Silent, reflective, murmuring their names and ranks and ages like like a litany. ]
IV. [ Obligatory wildcard!! HMU at forzare with questions. ]
kel cheris / machineries of empire / new recruit
( ooc. i [action] tag by default, but will match prose styles! )
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forzare with questions. ]
I.
[ We could all use a little luck, here. No matter the intent behind the words, it only serves to remind her that Kel luck was notably poor.
( A. ) In Lone Pine, she settles in for the next step. The whiplash stop-go beat of the battlefield isn't new to her; in fact, she seems noticeably attuned to the encampment's pace and falls into an even step with the ANZAC troops. Far swifter than some might think appropriate for a new recruit?
As everyone regroups it's as though someone lit a fire and held her feet to it. She moves like a woman aflame, darting through the encampment with a map, a compass and a pair of binoculars. She nearly collides with others, COST and ANZAC alike, never fumbling -- her expression grim and focused on the task at hand. There are routes to map, and there is no fieldgrid for her to functionally access -- only the maps, her math, and her battlefield skills. Well, not just her battlefield skills, but no COST member would naturally know that. ]
I need your back, turn around.
[ She circles with her fingers, urging whomever she's found to turn about and present the flat of their shoulders.
( B. ) Later on, she can be found going over her cartography and route-planning with some of the soldiers. Seems she has a talent for battlefield strategy? And she gestures, to anyone who steps by, a sharp motion beckoning them to come over as she spreads her maps out alongside the fire: ] Listen up, and pass this along: this swath of land here isn't the least of difficult terrain, but it offers cover on one side. We escort the injured in this formation -- it's a variation of the Hawk's Longmarch...
[ What the hell is she on about. ]
II.
[ ( A. ) She runs almost endlessly - back and forth along the routes she'd charted for some of the wounded, keeping an eye on them. Urging them to move along. Muttering something about the lack of access to a "fieldgrid", a lamentation about "formations". Maybe some members of COST were roped into her plans, and she checks on them alike. There's no delineating one group from the other, not right now. ] Mind where you place your feet.
[ ( B. ) Foot placement isn't the least concerning thing she calls for. All at once, there is a Regency soldier arriving low and silent for a brutal hit, and the next minute -- she's there, dropping her weight onto the masked one with all the grace of an assassin... if not for the way her legs work unevenly, and her head snaps back as she collides with a low-hanging branch - dragging it, herself and the Regency soldier down the embankment and momentarily out of view. For a moment, all is quiet. And then: ] -- whenever you're ready to join me!
[ She seems to be calling to you, in particular. ]
III.
[ ( A. ) ( The command from COST's leadership is both a relief and a sour thing, to her. ) The Regency lays siege to the beach, and Cheris unleashes hell upon them in return. She seems heedless of her own safety, as though she's ready to burn herself to ashes to fulfill her orders and defend the ANZAC soldiers as they retreat. In one moment, she moves in perfect synchronicity with another soldiers -- and then the moment is gone, leaving her blindly staggering in her shoes, at the mercy of whatever Regency soldier is bearing down on her position. YIKES.
( B. ) ( She nearly misses the last call, she's that intent on making sure everyone else boards before her. Double-yikes. )
( C. ) Aboard the ship, she can be found nursing what wounds she sustained with the stoicism of a career soldier -- and attending the funerals of those who did not survive their injuries. Silent, reflective, murmuring their names and ranks and ages like like a litany. ]
IV.
[ Obligatory wildcard!! HMU at