NationStates Jolt Archive

Sergeant Delont stalked past his new recruits muttering to himself angrily, in the general manner of all sergeants since the time of Troy
"What a miserable collection of limpwristed panty waists. All right you maggots! You will fall in immediatly. Count your lucky stars ladies, you have recieved the opportunity to train with the finest army in the world, under the finest Drill Sergeant you will ever meet in this lifetime. My name is Sgt. James Delont, you will address me as Sergeant, or in extenuating circumstances as Instructing Sergeant Delont. It is my job to turn this miserable barrel of monkey spunk into a respectable combat unit. And what a job it'll be, in all my time as a military man I've never seen a gaggle of civilians as poorly trained as you, you there! Name and rank!" he screamed in the face of an unprepared private
"PFC Robert Kane sir!" the private replied, Delont eyeballed him close up
"You think you're good enough for the Jitanese third Infantry Kane?" he asked, glaring at Kane
"Sir yes sir!" Kane replied
"I am not a sir, I work for a living dammit, you will address officers only as sir, now, three laps around the perimeter of the facility MOVE!" he shouted grabbing the young man out of line, Delont gave him a boot to the rear for encouragement
"Anyone else anxious to do some running?" he asked viciously, no one moved "I didn't think so, at this point it is my duty to inform you that at any time you feel that the training is too much, if you miss whatever ditch born mouthbreathers you came from, you take a leisurely jaunt down the lane, and you never, ever get a second chance." he said pointing down the long dreary looking line of asphalt to their right.
" Wimmin, In my training unit, it had to happen to me didn't it. You, name!" he yelled, the startled looking young woman in the front rank replied
" Coryn Corax si..sergeant." she said, recovering from the brief lapse.
"Corax eh?" Delont took a datapad out of his pocket, "I read here you scored highest on the appy test, so tell me Private, who led the battle of Koron?" he asked suddenly, turning to look her in the eye. Corax stumbled
"No good private, you're here to learn to think under pressure though, so I won't fault you for that. Let me explain the predicament you find yourselves in, you belong for the course of your training, to the Jitanese Empire, your days will be consumed with physical and mental training, you will train in hand to hand combat and general soldiering, after you have passed my strictest training requirements you will be trained in the specifics of your chosen field, specialized infantry to marine corps. In between of sleeping eating and training you will learn the complex workings of your equipment. if any one of you genetically defficient cave dwellers has a problem with that, you tell me right now get it?
"Yes Sergeant!" came the chorused reply...

OOC: linky http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=413195

OOC:

Heard that quote bwfore, my Warrant Officer....

"Do not adress me as sir, I work for a living!"

TAGged anyway, keep it up :D

OCC: Nice almost reminds me of the drill sergeants for the standard branch of Phananix's army and marines. Then again the rest of the drill sergeants for the military tend to be augments that can no longer fight due to some horid wound they suffered

Pte. Kane began his run, the kick only catching a glancing blow. Since he wasn't entirely sure where the perimeter was, he decided to run the furthest distance possible. A logical start would be to follow the fence, so he did, running at the pace he had learned to run long distances at.

Right, well that's mistake number one, he thought as he ran. Their ranking heirarchy is split, not like ours. He mentally renamed the instructor 'Sarge'.

Kane enjoyed running, he had done so since he was in secondary school. He had been on the school running team for his last three years for his distance running abilities. The 'punishment' would be no harder than what he had submitted himself to every day for the past four years. He stopped thinking, and concentrated on his running.
***

Pte. Alex Sylvero was in the back rank, and managed to stop himself smiling. Only just arrived and already Robby had gotten on the wrong side of the drill sergeant. Typical. The comments about the female recruits had surprised him as well.

OOC: Jitano, you might want to post a link in the sign-up thread.

Delont wached his new recruits march, if it could be called that, towards their barracks, a squat one story structure in the centre of the base
"You have five minutes to outfit and reform. Move!" he shouted as they entered the building, the quiet dignity of marching was broken in the rush to claim a bunk and change into suitable training clothes, Delont smiled evilly, recruits didn't know how much time that really was. To add to the general confusion inside the barracks Delont strolled inside and began making helpful suggestions, very loudly.
" Tuck in that shirt tail Lorenzo. Valori...Val, on the move boy, I am not ganno wait for you to wake up after you knock yourself on the ceiling. Kane, you have a two minute allotment of extra time to get into gear, seeing as how you were out for a stroll" he said strolling past the giant
Delont led them out to the training ground, a small space inside the compound with large steel sheet metal posted on the sides, a few punching bags and a wide variety of weights.
" Have a seat girls. This is the training arena, you will learn the sanctioned hand to hand combat of the Empire, if I catch you doing some thing else, or "improvising" I will personally see to it that you have a painful and humiliating training accident, do you get me?" he asked, strolling back and forth in front of the seated troops
"Yes sergeant!" the shouted in unison
"Good, because I would hate to have to send any of you home without the use of certain appendages, Sylvero does this amuse you?" he asked turning and bending slightly at the waist to look him in the face
"No sergeant!" he shouted
"Then why are you giggling like a little school girl?" Delont asked quietly, Sylvero swallowed "Get up Sylvero, on your feet, now, I am going to demonstrate to you people the martial art of Teras Kasi which is the only hand to hand fighting you will be practicing in my sight. Now about this time, Some bright young recruit, real officer material, sticks up a hand and asks why we need to train in hand to hand, after all, you put on a powered armour suit, and any barehanded punk who comes up to you, is gonna get ripped right apart, well, we teach you this so you can sneak up on someone and rip them up without a suit, Sylvero, if you can, strike me in the face." Delont said, a certain consternation passed over Sylvero's face, either he would be striking a superior officer, or he would be taken down hard.
He balled a fist and let it loose, a half a second later, he was on the ground wondering were he was and whose boot was on his head.
" So you see, by bringing your arm around and sweeping his feet, you can effectivly immobilize the target, isn't that right Sylvero?"
"Gef off myf face." came the reply.
"Right, everybody up, we're gonna do some drills, watch me and do what I do." Delont said, and began moving through the initial motions of Teras Kasi like an intricate dance.

Ouch. That bloody hurt, thought Sylvero, picking himself up. "Kotar!" he swore under his breath. Bloody sergeant. I was not giggling like a schoolgirl, I was mildly amused by what Robby was doing. Dumb kotar, that was his fault.

He glanced at Robby Kane, who was trying, and mostly failing, to get the basics of the style down. Without a hint of a smile on his face, Sylvero grinned inwardly. If ever Robby got into a fight, he wouldn't bother with any martial art, he would just flatten them.

He began attempting to mimic the Sarge's actions, it was not really that hard, but he had learned a couple of martial arts when he was young, so he already had the balence and fluidity in his movements.

As they went through the actions, Kane slowly edged over to Sylvero. "Bloody tough bastard, isn't he?" he muttered.

Sylvero routinely ignored him, trying to avoid attracting the attentions of the sergeant again. So far this fighting style seemed remarkably easy. I bet it doesn't stay like this. We haven't started the actual fighting moves yet,

Carl Manuel was trying his best to follow the steps of his new sergeant, and was making himself look ridiculous in the process.
Why the hell do we have to do all these stupid dancing about? He though to himself as he made yet another mistake, causing some sniggers from his fellow recruits, all of which where silenced by a mean glare in the right direction.
Cant we just watch that Sylvero guy get hammered again?

This was nothing like his conscript training in Van Demans Land. It had been nothing but dawn rises, hour long jogs, combat training in the mud and rain, and fitness training, ending several hours before they where due to wake up the next day.
But that was designed to teach the youths of his nation self discipline and get them fit before they entered the work force, "And it could never hurt to have a fully trained population at our disposal" was often quoted by several polititions.

But this seemed different, he could tell already that staying towards the back of the jogs and hiding within the ranks of his comrades wasnt going to be enough to avoid the ever watchful and punishing eye of the sergeant.
He silently laughed at the thought of anyone quiting this "intensive" training as he looked at the sergeant dancing like a ballerina in the middle of the barracks floor.

This dancing and watching people geting axed is fine, he thought to himself, but when do we get to use the weapons?

Delont grinned at the recruits trying to follow his moves, it was the same every year, until you got a "virtuoso" who needed a serious punishing before he understood the reality of the style.
"All right, stop dammit, this is as embarassing for me as it is for you. In all likelyhood, you'll never use what I just taught you. You may use martial arts, but not that. Now some of you might be wondering what exactly Teras Kasi is, well, I suppose I could show you." he said, walking towards one of the pieces of sheet metal. He stood in front of it in a ready position.
"The art is as ancient as the Empire itself, and just about as mean when you get in to it. Now, what Teras Kasi means...Is Steel Hands." he said grinning, as he whirled on the metal and slammed his fist into it, producing a large and ragged dent in the metal. A few recruits gasped, expecting at least some swelling to begin, but there was nothing.
"Every regular soldier in the empire can do that, and guess what children, soon enough, you'll be able to do it too." he grinned malevolently at them, "Now, step to the wall!" he shouted, the recruits hurried to the nearest section of sheet metal, "Strike!" each recruit punched, all hoping for the same results as the Sergeant, one or two had a small dent in front of them, most had a flap of skin and some blood decorating theirs
"Ah, good, a little colour will do this place some good. Strike!" followed by another chorus of groans and moving sheet metal.
One of the recruits stepped back and raised a questioning hand
"Sir, aside from the broken bones and blood, this is really neat, but when are we gonna start training with actual weapons?" he asked, Delont glared at him
"The bones will heal faster than you think. We have the best army doctors around in this establishment. But we are already training to use weapons son, if you can't think of your own body as a weapon, then you should reevaluate your chosen occupation. Now step to the wall! Strike!"

Sylvero watched in amusement as Kane punched the metal as hard as he could. The metal stubbornly remained in its previous shape. Kane's hand, however, was a different story. The big Indoan was cursing and holding his hand. The idiot's probably busted a finger, thought Alex.

He turned to his own metal sheet, curled his left hand into a fist and pistoned his arm out, connecting with the metal. The metal was slightly dented, and his knuckles ached, but that was it. That's got nothing to do with what we're supposed to have just learnt. I learnt that when I was nine, only I've never hit metal before.

He repeated the action with his right fist on command, making a slightly bigger dent, but still nothing particularly impressive. The others were generally having the same results as Robby Kane, no dent and a lot of pain.

As he worked, Sylvero's thoughts turned to other matters. Damn Sarge. Next opportunity I have, and there'll be one, since I don't think he likes me. Anyway, next time, I'll be ready, I'll use my own styles, and hopefully I'll blink when he tries something. Hah, that would surprise him: somebody dodging him.

A thin, bony hand thumped into the steel. Rather impressively, considering the creature to whom the hand belonged, the steel dented inward a reasonably considerable distance.

"I dented! I dented!"

The diminutive, pale-green creature danced a dance of joy, chanting "I dented!" rather happily until he noticed the dark green substance that was pattering onto the floor of the training room.

"Hmmm....."

Long, pointy nose to the ground the goblin slipped his heavy "coinnected ring-fings" (more commonly known as brass knuckles) into a pocket without looking at examined the liquid. He sniffed around a bit while the "Sarge-Boss Pursunn" was berating someone, curious to discover the source of this strange dark green substance that looked so luck Goblin blood - ridiculous of course, since he was the only goblin present.

"Hummm, hmmm, peckiular...."

One long figure dipped into one of the semi-spherical drops of liquid that had hit the floor and brought it up to taste.

"Humms.....alcylolic....tastie....taztes kinda loik moi own blud."

As he mused upon this interesting dilemma, imagination already spurring off into ideas of his being heralded as the Great Detective who had solved the Mystery of the Strange Dark Geen Liquid That Tastes and Looks Strangely Like Lowdbang Kerplode's Blood and being given big prizes, he felt a liquid trickling down his arm. Bright blue eyes glanced down and discovered....more of the Strange Dark Green Liquid That Tastes and Looks Strangely Like Lowdbang Kerplode's Blood seeping over his pale green skin.

"Hmmm....dis iz being most perciuliar."

Kersplode examined the Strange Dark Geen Liquid That Tastes and Looks Strangely Like Lowdbang Kerplode's Blood curiously, tracing it up his arm to his fingers. There was a long pause, in which doubtless something either deeply meaningful or horribly scary and painful would normally have occurred, such as a Kersplode's solving the mysteries of life, or a giant black alien descending upon the hapless greenskin, except that Goblins have no sense of good dramatic moments or well-directed theatre.

The pause continued, taking its own good time and possibly taking a stroll in the park and a cup of coffee, maybe stopping to flirt with the waitress.

Then, the pause was broken.

"Ahhhhhh! Oi'm bleedin! My wrist is being broked!"

Similar things tumbling out of Kersplode's mouth as he regarded the rather mangled fingers attached to his hand - it would appear that Da Power, that strange force that is generated by Goblin paranoia and other emotion, had given him the strength (when combined with the brass knuckles) to punch a sizeable dent into the steel, but had decided (as Goblin things are prone to do) that there were plenty of Goblins to go around, and there protection from the punching for Kersplode was not really necessary.

for better rp results put em in the international incidents forum

[[OOC: That depends upon whether you define "better" as quantity or quality. Personally, I find that the Nationstates forum tends to have more interesting threads and posts, although II might have more people with it the posts seem more concerned with number crunching than being entertaining and enjoyable to read.]]

Ondrea Di Lorenzi didn't believe what was happening. After marching to the hell-hole to get yelled at by some drill sergent with a huge ego, she never expected to be trying to put her fist through metal, but with a few hits her knuckles were raw and bloody. The skin was peeling and she knew she'd need her hands when she showed what she could do in the sniper regimin.

She turned over to Sylvero, who was watching Kane intently. "We gotta do something about this guy, back in Hockey Canada, if we had people like him he'd be sent to Anadyr (like Siberia)." It was painful, but she kept hitting until a dent with a few scratches of blood showed.

Sighing as she looked at her knuckles, all bloody and peeling, she looked to Sarge with a look that could kill. As their eyes met, she knew she was staring down probably the most intimidating man in the empire. She smirked as she thought to herself. Look Sarge, give me a sniper rifle and I'll pick you off from 3 clicks away. Think about doing what you did to Sylvero to me and you'll regret it one day.

As she went back to punching the metal, it seemed like a miracle. She was filled with rage that the ******* Sarge could do that to someone like Sylvero that she punched the metal hard thinking it was Sarge's face. A huge dent was made with a loud thud. She stared in amazement as the other recruits stared in shock. The dent was slightly smaller than the one Sarge made but was big altogether.

"Well then. That was interesting." She said with a sigh.

Sarge just turned around and walked away. You're lucky it wasn't your face. Because I'd do it in a heartbeat. For anyone who you mistreated, they'd support me.

Paul Gilchrist punched the sheet metal again. And again. And once more. With each hit he made his hands became sorer, and the dent became larger. Of course it was still only a few centimetres wide and considerably smaller than the Sarge's, but he felt proud of his dent-making abilities all the same.

He was looking forward to using proper weapons, and not his puny hands. He knew how to work rifles, and was looking forward to being one of the only people here who knew how to work a rifle. He could get an 1" grouping at 50m, you know....

"I know what you mean," muttered Sylvero, without looking at Di Lorenzi. "I'm gonna get my own back on the kotar. I made a mistake that time, next time I'll be ready."

He glanced at the large dent in her sheet of metal, grinning. "I would ask how you did that, but I think I know." He punched his own sheet again, making another dent. Despite the number of times he had hit the metal, his knuckles were only bruised, there was no sign of blood and he felt no pain, just a dull ache.

"My name's Alex by the way, Robby Kane and I came here together." He smiled wryly, "I'm starting to think I should have stayed at home and joined the IAF." He started to put out his hand, then thought better of it considering the shape Di Lorenzi's hands were in.

He looked up as Kane howled in pain, having just punched the metal again. Does the big lump never learn? That's another finger busted. He shook his head as Kane cursed again.

"Robby." The Indoan looked up from his hand, "Remember what I showed you when we were twelve?" Kane nodded. "Try that, but don't use that hand."

Kane adopted the same stance as Sylvero, and punched the metal again, using his uninjured hand. It didn't dent, but neither did he cry out in pain. He repeated the action, and the metal dented slightly.

"Well, I'll be damned." He glanced ruefully at his injured hand, "Thanks, Syl." He went back to punching the metal, gradually improving with each hit. He would have some problems from now on though, since, in Sylvero's assessment, Kane had broken two fingers on his right hand.

Delont looked them over quickly, not bad progress for once
"All right people, come over and have a squat in front of your dear sergeant, now, I realize that maybe some of you are a little disappointed in yourselves, that you can't make a dent, but it takes time, and that pain will go away eventually. Other, the ones with attitude, are thinking something else." He said, Delont had Views on attitude.
"Your thinking that this is a waste of time, and that you sergeant has rocks in his head and a complete lack of social graces." Delonts face stiffened "Well get over yourselves kids, you want some one to treat you like a human being,or otherwise, you earn it, you thinking about tossing orders to the wind and mutinying? That is one of the burns, and you will suffer for it. Since we'll be doing most of our training here I'll post this here." He said taking a small piece of paper out of his pocket

The Burns
1) Striking a superior officer
2) Disobeying orders
3) Disobeying orders under combat conditions (Treasonous)
4) Going AWOL
5) Misappropriating Military property

These offences have the penalty of immediate cashiering, any person who is cashiered will be Blacklisted not be eligible for ANY position within Jitanese society.

A few long drinks from his Secret Stash had dulled the pain in Kersplode's wrist well enough to continue with the exercises (if rather half-heartedly), and to bring him attentively to the Seargent. Well, attentively for a Goblin...which basically translates as "extremely impatiently" up until the mention of "pain", at which point most Goblins start paying very close attention. Kersplode was one of the "most".

After the Sergeant's comments a thin green arm rose slowly over Kersplode's head.

"Sarge-Boss-Pursun...wot duzz "mizz-appyo-prope-eryiatinginging" meen?"

The Goblin looked expectantly at the Sergeant, golden eyes curious. Goblin vocabulary is not the most extensive in the universe. Despite the alcohol drunk cunningly (successfully) and secretly (not quite so successfully, although probably out of sight of the Sergeant - Goblins are good at avoiding being noticed by authority figures), Lowdbang was showing absolutely no sign of drunkeness, but then Goblins rarely do - it takes a great deal of drink to make a Goblin drunk, although it might well make them extremely hyper.

Delont rolled his eyes, the goblin was going to end up a problem
"It's thieving Banger, taking what ain't yours"

The greenskin nodded slowly, comprehension dawning slowly and quite without the attraction of sunrise.

"Roight-cha-are Sarge-Bozz. No nabbin' Jitaynose stuff."

He rummaged around in his clothing for a bit before retrieving a notebook and a pencil. A few laborious moments later the "burn list" was meticulously written down with the typically casual Goblin approach to spelling (phonetic), grammar (you don't want to know) and punctuation (placement optional), with the last item replaced with "steelin Jitaynose millytairy stuff".

An embarrassed pause before the hand rose nervously into the air again.

"Iz AWOL da same az back inna Combine? Alcylolic Wobblin' Ova Land? 'cos that'd be being guud..."

The two Indoans made mental notes, glancing at each other. Same as back home, they both thought. Kane was nursing his fingers, gingerly feeling them to try and discover if they were indeed broken, or just severely bruised.

Sylvero began thinking, a thought having tripped a wire in his brain. He raised a hand.
"Sarge, about the first one. Earlier you asked me to try and hit you. If I had succeeded, would that rule still have applied? I ask because I was under orders to try, and if I deliberately failed, that would've meant disobeying an order," he asked.

Got him there , Carl thought to himself as he heard the latest question being thrown at the officer.
So far he was starting to think that the recruits here with him seemed pretty stuck up, Theyve barely even looked at me, he thought glumly.
However he did get a cheap laugh from the goblins previous self inflicted injury, and now his continuing stupidy.

He was amazed at the creature, such things would have been placed in the zoos of Van Demans Land, or atleast experimented on until it was sure they wouldnt eat the rest of the creatures there. Judging by this particular goblin, it was hard to tell wether or not he could actually eat the creatures, but he would certainely try.

Carl raised his hand cautioesly "Sarge? What if the orders that we are given are for something stupid, or for something that would get us imprisioned?
And what if in a combat situation, an officer makes a really stupid order, that will certainely get the men killed? Is our duty to our comrades or our officers?"

Delont shook his head
"No son, for the first thing, you never would've hit me, that's the point, and for the second, I'm not an officer, the rule is a little...bendy concerning the enlisted, sometimes a private needs sorting out, and so he takes a few lumps from his sergeant and goes back in line. And furthermore your duty is with your orders, you can appeal an order, or refuse on moral grounds, but that would require a hearing and justification as to why you can't follow the order. All you can do is pray that you don't get a beetle-headed officer. So next someone will ask me if they can refuse sergeants orders, well, if ou do it can still be held accountable before a courtmartial, but there will have to be an officer as witness. Enough of this Judge advocate crap, on the move troopers! up and in class rooms now! Move!"

This gig just got better and better. Smashing your hand against a steel wall, before trying to write with the hand you just wrecked. Great.

Now, Paul knew a bit of military tactics. He had done basic Team Fire Maneuvers in the ATC with blanks, but nothing on a scale bigger than eight people. This could be fun...

Coryn, as usual, keeps her head down during this discussion.
She pushes a stray lock of her hair back behind her ear and wonders how many times Delont had been through the same banter with his new recrutes.

She whinces with pain as she prods one of her bruised nuckles, but is satisfied that her years on the farm and dealing with large herd animals, had hardened her hands sufficiently to warrant little concern.
Punching a large bovine to get it's attention, isn't much softer than a metal sheet after all......

Her thoughts are interupted by the sudden order from Delont and without further thought Coryn breaks into a jog, making her way to the her designated class room.

Oh, so I never would've hit you? We'll see about that next time. And there'd better be a next time, thought Sylvero. It wasn't that he wanted to punch the sergeant's face in, which he did, it was the arrogance that Sylvero could never hit him. I'm an expert in two martial arts you've never even heard of, and I'm precog, it'd be easy.

Kane was looking around at the other recruits, trying to remember names to put to faces. His gaze kept returning to one particular recruit, the young woman with the long blueish black hair. What was her name, again? Corax, wasn't it? I wonder what her first name is? He tried to stop looking at her, realising he was staring, but only half-succeeded.

At the Sarge's order, the two Indoans followed the rest of the recruits towards the classrooms.

Cal McRae grumbled annoyedly as he rubbed his knuckles. They hurt like sin, but then he was used to that. That was new. It was a known fact that when one hit something hard with a closed fist...then one was hitting something hard with one's fist. There were nerves in the hand, and when you hit something, the hand freaking hurt.

What he wasn't used to was punching steel. Oh, sure, he'd put a GREAT BIG mother-loving dent in the damn thing with his first shot. We was a pretty big, relatively muscular guy...and a Revenian from Revenia. From Armel, actually. 'n like all but one of the Revenian worlds, Armel had around two times the gravity of Earth.

He wasn't human, he just looked like it. In fact, his muscles were considerably denser and more...efficient...than the muscles of your average human. That had the fun side-effect of meaning that he required more nutrition than a human, but...given the choice between eating more than a human or not existing...

Anyways, he was also Fhellant'im. Three rings were branded into his left fore-arm, below the snowflake of Dayne White's White Company. But he rapidly changed his course of thought. He wasn't ready to think about that.

Back to the Fhellant'im. He'd been a practitioner since he was around ten...and it had been a long time since. One didn't advance through the circles rapidly, but the reason he was still a Journeyman is because he wasn't interested in advancing beyond that point.

He wasn't ready to become a superb individual warrior. He didn't -care.-

Anyways, he'd enlisted as a Fleet Marine, been tapped as a candidate for OCS, then been recruited by Dayne White straight out of OCS...

Then something cut through his thoughts, "...of this Judge Advocate crap, on the move..."

His body reacted without any input necessary from one Cal McRae. Which worked out well, because Cal McRae was at the moment divided. Recruit Calderan McRae was obeying orders, but the corner of his mind that was the domain of Second Lieutenant Calderan McRae, Patrol Leader, White Company was noting with approval the methods of Sgt. Delont.

It wasn't Revenian, but hell, it would have scared him shitless had it been. The "not Revenian" judgement had started with the "striking a superior officer" clause. That was about as non-Revenian as you got. There was no rule against striking a superior officer in the AFESSR. There -was- a regulation against murder of any sort...

Now, that didn't mean you could go about beating up the drill sergeant. That would be stupid. Cal had known that for as long as he could remember, as his father had done a number of tours as a drill instructor while Cal was growing up.

Anybody who wanted to take on Sergeant Major Ewan McRae, Revenian Fleet Marines Marauder Recon, was most certainly welcome to attempt to do so. The Sgt. Major would likely enjoy it.

Cal sighed, then for the first time noted that his knuckles were bleeding. Stupid goddamn steel...sheet...metal...crap. Stupid goddamn INEFFICIENT goddamn Jitanese martial arts...

Steel Fist. Cute...but STUPID. Cal stopped himself. No, the fault did not lie in the art. It was Cal's own fault for not restraining himself to a greater extent than he had. He'd known he could hurt himself severely...

He could have done a lot more damage to that wall than he did...but he could have broken something just as easily. He'd put more force into the punch than he should have, and now he would suffer the consequences. His knuckles bled in silence.

Perhaps not the lesson that Sergeant Delont had intended for that particular exercise -- that lesson had probably been "I am considerably more of a bad-ass than you, so don't fuck with me..." Yet in the end, restraint was a far more valuable lesson...not simply because Sergeant Delont probably -wasn't- considerably more of a bad-ass than Cal McRae.

Yet even if Worth-less-than-Scum Not-recruit McRae hadn't considered what he'd do if Sgt. Delont confronted him, Second Lieutenant Cal McRae, graduate, Dysaryn Stark School of Combat (Infantry specialization, honors graduate,) had. 'n 2nd Lt. Cal McRae would make Not-Recruit McRae do whatever was necessary to insure that the Sgt. maintained the proper aura of a Drill Instructor.

That is, a somehow superior form of life to which a Recruit could hope, but never actually become, an equal to.

Then the parade-ground voice of 2nd Lieutenant Calderan McRae boomed out of nowhere. "QUIT YOUR DAYDREAMING! I AM ASHAMED TO BE YOUR ALTERNATE PERSONALITY!"

Yipe. Cal fell into the precise quick-step of a Fleet Marine on parade...or a cadet at the OSSC hauling his (or her) Ossiferly Candidate Young Gentlemanly ass to class with the goal of getting there exactly seven minutes before class started.

On his way, he pondered the other individuals that he had noticed. The goblin was not funny. Not at all. Didn't matter if he had heard the sound of metal on metal. That just meant the goblin was -smarter- than any of the other poor idiot recruits who'd been mangling their hands on a steel wall so that Sarge could prove a point.

Then there was Mr. Sylvano. He deserved an instant tag of trouble. Someone to be watched, and if necessary, dealt with. Cal was a firm believer in a unit discipling itself. If an individuals problem was dealt with In The Barracks, then it did not have to be dealt with by an officer.

Officers were the agents of God. They had better things to do than deal with a stupid recruit who couldn't control himself. Cal knew this, for the very instant Cal stepped out of this camp, he would become 2nd Lt. Calderan McRae again...

Now, however...he was a recruit. It felt good. No big picture, just focus. Focus.

The other Indoan looked like less of a problem...he hoped.

The looks of sympathy on the faces of the other recruits worried him...but not much. He was perfectly willing to be hated by these people...and maybe they'd get stupid and try and take him out, and then either they'd do so...or they wouldn't. Then maybe they'd get afraid.

'n having two people to fear and hate meant you had to watch your back. 'n that was never a bad thing to learn. Never.

That girl...what was her name...Cor something. Coryn. Yeah. Last syllable of last name was ax...Thorax? No...oh, yeah. Unimaginative. Corax. Coryn Corax. Too cute to be coincidence.

She was a big girl. Muscular. Hard muscle, not soft muscle. Likely rural. Not un-attractive. So much depended on her personality...somebody to keep an eye on.

His ponderings went on in this vein until he reached the proper classroom.

Delont led them into a large tempshak building, rickety and designed to fold up in minutes, much like most of the other buildings in the camp. He picked up a small round device on the table, and activated it, when the recruits came in and sat down he handed it to the first one.
"Run this over your knuckles, it'll reduce the swelling and lessen the pain, pass it on after you're done. If you have broken knuckles, you will reprot to the medical officer in the rear of the class." He motioned to the tall skinny fellow in the back of the room, who dutifully raised his hand and waved lazily.
"All right children, this is your class room, you will study military tactics, squad positions, and technology here until your eyes bleed. now, activate the terminal in front of you, just wave your hand over the top of the desk." He added for the benefit of the foreign students, All the younger Jitanese kids were already working away on the first logged assignment, holosgrams hovering over the desk.
"Use the file directory to find your assignment, there you will find the complete technical readouts of the InfArm powered suits you will be wearing, study it, learn it, love it. Later in the training you will be assigned one of these suits, but not until you have mastered their use, powered armour is a tricky thing, you can use it to move baby chicks around without a problem, but even the slightest twitch of a muscle, and you wil crush that innocent little chick like a paper cup. You will learn the onboard weapons systems, you will learn the basics of operating the onboard repulsors, visual modes, comlinks, control systems. commit this to memory because it will save your life." he said, walking through the class room.
"Banger, you will go through the assignment with Private Sylvero. Scoot goblin!" he said, pointing at Sylvero, who grimaced, he realized he'd probably earned a little enimity from Sylvero, but if it came to that, Sylvero would take his lumps like anyone else. He stopped at the back of the room, surveying the class, not bad for the first day he thought to himself...

Ondrea Di Lorenzi looked up at Sarge as he spoke to the class. Her brown hair overshadowed the black patch over her right eye, smiling knowing he'd get what was coming to him. She was sitting upright on the ground, next to Sylvero and McRae. Smirking as she raised her hand.

"Just a question Sarge. How do you master the suits without wearing them? Just a little curious for those who have an IQ over 110."

Grinning as she stared down the Sarge flawlessly, holding back a laugh. She wondered how someone that stupid could think they could teach a class, yet become a drill sargent for the "best" army of an empire. Yawning as she continued to wait for an answer, speaking up again.

"Well? or can you count past 110? probably not even 10."

Moving in front of Sylvero, she obviously got the attention of most of the class. Knowing she had an attitude, she'd stick up for any friend for any reason, good or bad.

"The strong silent type eh? Well I like long walks on the beach and sunsets."

Coryn leans back in her chair, her arms folded in front of her as she studies the holographic suit in front of her.
Mentally checking the diagrams and components and matching them against her own body. Some of it was familiar, much like the lifting suits they used to help with the more laborious farm work.

She uncrosses her arms and placing her hands on her waist stretches her back, then with elbows on the desk in front of her she leans forward to see the hologram in more detail as she tries to familiarise herself with the more unusual aspects of the design.

The sound of 'the girl', the short one with the brown hair, pushes it's way into her concentration.
I wish she's damn well shut her mouth and just learn what she has to to keep her alive....

Sighing she realises she has lost track of where she is, so allows herself to look around at the others.

As usual trouble seemed to have glued itself together and Coryn wasn't suprised to see 'the girl' with the Indoan Sylvero.

Banger the green one, was as usual stood looking a little confused, but she liked him. For some reason she felt he of all would be the most loyal.
If he had the right help to get through all of this, he'd make a damned good trouper, I may have to give him a hand and rescue him from the fools he's getting stuck with.

Then there was that McRae fellow, always argueing away to himself.
She shrugs, takes all sorts I spose .

That lock of stray hair falls into her face again.
She mentally growls One day I'll have this whole lot cut off, sod family tradition.....
Whipping off it's fastening, she deftly loosens the long plaite, allowing her hair to fall loose, she scratches her head for a moment, then gathering it up again begins to re-tie it out of the way, turning back to her work as she does.

As she turns another's glance catches her and she finds herself staring straight into the eyes of the other Indoan.
Instead of looking away, as Kane may have expected her to do, she continues to match his stare until she has finished her plaite and taken the hair tie out of her mouth.
"Kane isn't it? I'm Corax, hows the hand?"

Ondrea Di Lorenzi looked up at Sarge as he spoke to the class. Her brown hair overshadowed the black patch over her right eye, smiling knowing he'd get what was coming to him. She was sitting upright on the ground, next to Sylvero and McRae. Smirking as she raised her hand.

"Just a question Sarge. How do you master the suits without wearing them? Just a little curious for those who have an IQ over 110."

Grinning as she stared down the Sarge flawlessly, holding back a laugh. She wondered how someone that stupid could think they could teach a class, yet become a drill sargent for the "best" army of an empire. Yawning as she continued to wait for an answer, speaking up again.

"Well? or can you count past 110? probably not even 10."

Moving in front of Sylvero, she obviously got the attention of most of the class. Knowing she had an attitude, she'd stick up for any friend for any reason, good or bad.

"The strong silent type eh? Well I like long walks on the beach and sunsets."

" You're under the serious misconception that I give a damn whether you pass or fail this training. Step outside now." Delont waited for the rest of the class to go back to their work, then walked to the exit, stopped to talk to the doctor
"We're gonna need you for a forearm fracture in just a second." he said, almost inaudibly, the Doc nodded and followed Delont outside
"Young lady, you are in need of a serious attitude adjustment. You suffer from a variety of misconcpetions, the first is that you can speak without permission, no trainee has that right yet, second, that I m not allowed to hurt you, and third, that I won't hit a girl, well you're dead wrong." He said as he rolled up his sleeves, the girls face was a mixture of annoyance and anger
"Now I had thought that Sylvero would be the first to snap, but I guess I'm not always right." He said stepping into a combat posture, Lorenzi followed suit, what happened next was purely legal. Delont dropped a fist at her eye, which she blocked fairly easily, but missed the shin connecting with her other side, she doubled over and coughed weakly, Delont waited for her to straighten, she followed with a yell and an attempted strike to the face, Delont caught her fist easily and tightened his grip, Lorenzi sturggled weakly, finally Delont brought her closer and brought his forearm up behind hers, the bone cracked audibly, poking slightly into the skin, Delont let her fall, the doctor immediatly set to work about her, Delont settled onto his haunches,
"Now, you can consider that to be your first and only warning, the next time you speak without permission to me or another instructor or officer, you will be kicked out of this camp." he rose to his feet again and went back inside...

When Sylvero heard the order to the goblin he cursed to himself. The Sarge really doesn't like me, does he? And I didn't even do anything! he thought. Well, if he thinks I'll give up, he's dead wrong.

He was grateful for the interruption by Di Lorenzi, although he did feel guilty at what he knew would follow. Sure enough, she was ordered outside. Sylvero could guess that what ever happened out there would not be pleasant for her, and he made a mental note to thank her next time he saw her, but recommend not to stand up for him again.

He was also becoming aware that most of the other recruits either disliked him, or thought of him as a troublemaker. Why? What did I do? I smiled at something Robby told me, got caned, then asked a sensible question. How does that make me a troublemaker? his mind raged.

"Alright, whatever your name is, let's get on with this," he told the goblin.
**
Kane found himself struck dumb for a second, then recovered his voice.
"Yeah, Robby Kane. The hand hurts, but nothing major. It's no problem." He paused, wondering whether or not to make the next comment, and how to make it.
"I saw how you looked at Alex. He's not a bad guy, y'know, he's just not had a good start. Reserve judgment until you know him better, okay?" he asked Corax, not willing to let her misjudge his best friend.

Kane found himself struck dumb for a second, then recovered his voice.
"Yeah, Robby Kane. The hand hurts, but nothing major. It's no problem." He paused, wondering whether or not to make the next comment, and how to make it.
"I saw how you looked at Alex. He's not a bad guy, y'know, he's just not had a good start. Reserve judgment until you know him better, okay?" he asked Corax, not willing to let her misjudge his best friend.

Still looking Kane in the eye she finishes dealing with her hair and flicks it back over her shoulder.
"My first name is Coryn, Coryn Corvax. Most call me Raven because of my hair and the link with the name."

She looks over at Sylvero, then back at him.
"If your friend is going to keep his nose clean, he's going to have to watch who he chooses as a friend. Sarge has singled him out and he's do better keeping his head down for a while, I haven't formed any judgement of him...yet..."

Her attention is drawn for a moment back to the holographic diagrams.
"You any good at explaining weapons systems?"
She angles the hologram so that he can see what she's talking about.
"The rest of the suit is already familier and I have used something like that at home for lifting, but this lot?"

Di Lorenzi returned to the room about 30 minutes after Sarge was done talking with her. The arm in the sling didn't really look like it was a friendly chat, but it was one that suggested a warning to people. She abruptly got to her seat, Sylvero on her right, the goblin on her left. Looking at the suit which looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, she began to study it just before looking around the room to catch the eyes of others.

Sitting back silently, she brushed the hair away from her face, keeping the bit that covered the black patch over her eye. Turning to Sylvero, asking

"Are you good at this kind of stuff? It's kind of confusing."

"Raven, huh? It fits. Wait, what link with the name?" asked Kane, missing that completely. Prob'ly something with her language. 'Course I won't understand it.

"Alex'll do his best to stay unnoticed. Hell, we both thought that if anyone got into trouble it would be me. He usually ends up preventing me from getting into fights. He'll do the same for his new friend."

Kane looked at the hologram again and grinned. "I could describe my brother's pulse rifle to you in exquisite detail, but this stuff? I'll have a go." He fiddled with the hologram, bringing up one of the weapons. "Assault rifle, looks like some sort of energy weapon, probably a laser. That means a high ammo count, which is good, but reduced penetration on decent armour, which is bad. I hope they have something heavier for hitting armour."

****

"Hey, thanks for distracting the Sarge from me, but I don't want you getting in trouble on my account. He hates me, I hate him, it works out. I'll just keep my head down," Sylvero said to Di Lorenzi. He glanced at the sling. "How's the arm?" There was no need to ask what had happened.

He looked at the hologram again.
"This? As I was just tryin' to explain to Banger, it's a powered combat infantry suit. It's a little different from the ones we use back home, but I can work it out. From what I can tell, it'll significantly increase your physical strength, several times over, the visor offers a lot of useful features and there's a comm built in. This bit here allows you to fly up to fifty metres high, and move pretty quickly. I can't see anything about on board weapons, but the hand held weapons are there." He spoke in a low voice, explaining it as best as he could, while trying not to sound like he knew it all.

"Raven, huh? It fits. Wait, what link with the name?" asked Kane, missing that completely. Prob'ly something with her language. 'Course I won't understand it.

"Alex'll do his best to stay unnoticed. Hell, we both thought that if anyone got into trouble it would be me. He usually ends up preventing me from getting into fights. He'll do the same for his new friend."

Kane looked at the hologram again and grinned. "I could describe my brother's pulse rifle to you in exquisite detail, but this stuff? I'll have a go." He fiddled with the hologram, bringing up one of the weapons. "Assault rifle, looks like some sort of energy weapon, probably a laser. That means a high ammo count, which is good, but reduced penetration on decent armour, which is bad. I hope they have something heavier for hitting armour."


Raven smiles, her eyes twinkle and her nose curls up slightly as she does so.
"Corvax is one of the names for the Raven species, all of my family have been given the names of various Corvids along the line. My Father is known as Rook, Grandmother was Maggie, even more shortened from Magpie and my Grandfather Black crow."
She shrugs.
"Just a family thing I guess, given to the ones who inherit the black hair."

She glances over at Sylvero huddled together with Di Lorenzi.
I hope he does keep his head down, that one is gonna get us all in a fix if she doesn't cool that hot head of hers.

Then turning her attention back to the hologram she listens to what Kane is telling her, pointing out parts she is interested in and asking questions as she goes.
When they have looked at the basics and she has assured him that she is starting to grasp the descriptions and uses, she leans back again and stretches.
"I'm not used to all this sitting around, I get stiff".
She turns to him and fixes him with her green eyes again.
"So what were you before you came here then and what do I call you? Robby? Bob? Kane?"

It took Cal only a few minutes to once-over the files. Thick stuff. Servos apparently could "augment" strength by some obscene amount that made no sense -- at that scale, anything a soldier could provide to lifting was immaterial.

Whatever. Not his place to care.

The question was...what sort of system did it use to determine movement. action-enhancement, intention-enhancement, direct-link...not likely on that last one...there would have been some mention of surgery.

Cal had the full range of Fleet Marine officer implants, probably the most pertinent of which was the direct neural jack under the flap of synthskin on his neck. No backup jack -- if you combat-lossed your jack, having a back-up wasn't going to help. Because you'd be dead.

What worried him was the description of the weapon as a "blaster rifle." He'd never fired a hand-held energy weapon in his life. He'd trained with the CR-17 "Ranger" 10mm Variable Grav-Driver, which was, for all of its niftiness, a projectile weapon.

Since the CR-17 was capable of firing both hypersonic "armor-piercing" projectiles as well as subsonic tranquilizer darts, he was used to both flat and not-flat trajectory shoulder weapons...but he still didn't like the idea of energy weapons.

He sighed...he'd be able to run the damn thing well enough. He was used to having to keep careful control of his movements. As for the "watch your strength" bit...well...his muscles were used to having lug around a frame twice as heavy as the one they currently had to move around. Learning to operate on low-gee worlds was an essential part of almost any governmental or non-governmental training program in Revenia.

So he spent some time considering the actions of Di Lorenzi...which were ill-advised and hasty indeed. Yet not merely so ill-advised and hasty as the actions of Sgt. Delont. There were better ways to make a point than the purely physical...

So that made a stupid action that netted a stupid reaction for a doubly stupid incident. Cal could picture how the encounter must have played out...and the only reason he could see that the Sgt. would have found it necessary to injure Di Lorenzi to the extent that he did was that the Sgt. had bitten off a bit more than he could chew.

If Sgt. Delont wasn't capable of completely controlling a fight with somebody damn near half his weight...he shouldn't have allowed the fight to occur in the first place.

The only other possibility was that Delont wasn't acting. That he really was a sick sadistic bastard. In which case Cal McRae would be making a severe change in the way he was going to play this.

He understood the reasoning behind the game DIs played. The more you sweat the less you bleed. But breaking somebodies arm to prove a point completely threw that concept on the ground, beat it bloody, then pissed on its corpse.

Yeah, there was reason to hate your DI. There was precedent for DIs being assholes. It was the way it went. 'n yeah, some DIs had to rough up their charges a bit to prove their points. But breaking a charge's arm...

That was complete and utter bullshit.

If you were trying to turn out soldiers, it was generally a bad idea to fuck with their combat effectiveness like that...but that was philosophical.

Deep down, Cal was just pissed. One did not strike one's own soldiers except in self-defense. There was no way in hell that Sgt. Delont's actions had been in self-defense. In Delont's place, Cal would have extensively and publicly humiliated Di Lorenzi. He would have had Di Lorenzi up the entire night digging holes or running around a track or hanging upside down, secured to a bar by manacles about her ankles, then having to reach up and touch her toes to a rhythm.

He would have probably done all of these things. Beating somebody up and breaking their bones was preschool shit. It was un-fucking-professional.

Cal had compared Sgt. Delont to his father. He now retracted that statement. Delont was not worth a wart on Sergeant Major Ewan MacRae's ass.

'n the great of it was that he had a hunch that Sgt. Delont hadn't even "taken off his hat." Hadn't been a fair fight. Not man to woman, but Sgt. to woman. If Di Lorenzi hadn't lost, she'd be gone. Striking a superior officer.

Now, of course, there was no way he could prove that...

But it didn't matter. Just another notation on his private list of things that he hoped he'd never get the chance to settle with Instructing Sergeant James Delont.

He frowned and toyed with the hologram, pretending to look as if he was doing something when in fact all he was doing was growing restless. What he really wanted right now was a nice long run cross-country or a session of full-contact hand-to-hand. Something to work out the kinks in his muscles.

He'd also be able to vent, 'n that was a good thing. He hated not being calm...but outrage at Delont's actions, stemming both from their crudeness and unprofessionalism and the violation of the Revenian Code of Honor which resembled Chivalry to no small extent had combined with anger at himself for not having headed off the confrontation.

He hadn't done a damn thing, 'n that pissed him off. Oh, there probably wasn't anything he could have done...but he hadn't even tried. He'd just sat there like a wide-eyed idiot as Di Lorenzi went off to be brutalized...

'n he couldn't lose himself in the specs because they were specs. Nice to look at and great for showing off to civilians...but knowing how many treads there were on your boot wasn't gonna help you in combat.

He turned his head slightly to glance at Delont for an instant, then settled back on the hologram. Wonder if Delont had ever seen combat. Ever killed somebody. 'n if Delont had, Cal wondered if it had been at range where all that happened was that a figure dropped out of your sights...or so he'd been told.

Cal had yet to fire a lethal shot in anger at anything other than a stubborn lock. Moving in the wake of Special Unit and checking side rooms generally prevented one from making used of aimed fire. Cal'd been a green-blooded rookie then...but come away with his first kill.

He'd taken the terrorist in the back of the neck with his bayonet. Briefing said that this cell was noted for its use of explosive vests, so he hadn't dared shoot. Instead he'd closed rapidly with all the speed that his power armor gave him and put ten inches of steel straight through the guy's neck.

Second time he'd been jumped while reconning a suspected pirate ship. The guy had had a cutting bar, swinging at the head from the side. He'd punched his right hand out in a sweeping underhanded arc, smacking the guy in the gut with his rifle stock. The follow-through had crushed the pirate's trachea.

The third time had been the worst. The Company had been working with Revenian Customs. Scanners picked something up. SOP was that you don't act without armored backup, 'n Cal was fine with that. Only the instant the guy's little present was revealed, he pulled a knife and jumped at the nearest official...one Cal McRae.

He'd been watch supervisor...which meant that his duties consisted of public relations. He hadn't gone armed visibly, carrying only a knife in the boot and a pistol in a shoulder holster...which he'd had no time to go for.

He'd gotten a hand on the guy's wrist...the hand holding the knife. The guy had struck down, cutting into Cal's arm. No force so little penetration and it hadn't gotten the arteries on the inner arm...but it had hurt.

Hurt enough to cause Cal's grip to slacken long enough for the guy to get free. Long enough for him to recover and come at Cal again. He'd thrust the knife 'n Cal had reacted, grabbing the wrist with his other hand, forcing it to the side...then bringing his foot up and kicking out. The result of a heavy combat boot hitting the guy in the neck had been predictable. He hadn't been prepared for the blood though.

Apparently the guy had been on some sort of combat drug that enhanced blood flow to the brain. Enough that the kick had caused his carotid artery to burst...spectacularly.

Now, while Cal was away in La-La land, he'd taken on a blank, faraway look...that had gotten more and more grim...haunted. That attack wasn't the primary reason he'd taken an extended leave of absence from the White Company...but it was one of them.

Raven directed Kane's attention towards Mcrae, she'd noticed the way he was sitting and how edgie he was.

"It seems I'm not the only restless one needing some fresh air and excercise"

She placed her knuckles into the small of her back and pushed the kinks out as she arched herself backwards, trying to relieve the stiffness in her back as she did so.

Lowdbang managed a passable salute.

"Yezz Sarge-Boss-Pursun! Scootin' loike a furzt scootin' ting, Boss"

His small form leapt up and moved rapidly to the table where Sylvero stood and atempted to get to work on learning the suit's mechanics. Needless to say, he was not particularly successful despite his obvious enthusiasm and eagerness, something that took a definate turn for the worse at the rather large non-Greenskin's comment. "Banger"'s admittedly quite ugly features took on a hurt expression - he was quite incapable of understanding what he'd done wrong. Goblins are rather like that.

"Lowdbang. Kersplode. 'parranterly Oi'm called Banger in 'ere tho."

After a few minutes of examination, the Sylvero-Di Lorenzo conversation ocurred, during which Kersplode (Goblins are very proud of their surnames, since they are not actually born with one - the family name is not used except in formal events, and a surname is issued by a ranking government official in recognition of some important action or event performed by the Goblin in question. As only about a tenth of the Nebula Goblins achieve this it is something those with a surname are very proud of) worked hard at being small and unobtrusive, despite occassionally mutterings things things very quietly such as:
"'S not 'puwurrerred infanterising armur...'s Powa Arma. 'sides, day prolly nod mayde in moi soize."

Di Lorenzi smiled as the goblin spoke, understanding it all, she replied.

"Never know, if these suits can fill sarge and his large enough ego, you'll fit in it perfectly."

A small grin from the corner of her mouth emerged as her eye caught Sylvero's thinking "Well, I've been screwed over in my life before. Looking for a few people to make this through with, give sarge what he deserves but without breaking any rules. Beating him at his own game seems like something funny and awkward at the same time. The Hockey Canadian Communist system marines are WAY better than this."

Though no one could really tell what she was thinking, the look on her face told all.

Cal's head swivelled unneringly to bring Di Lorenzi into his line of sight. (Bu-wah-hah-hah for not defining where Cal is sitting. And it shall REMAIN undefined, so that I can EXPLOIT it as a PLOT CONVENIENCE.)

His voice was low, and he didn't whisper. Whispers carried too far.

"Suggest you constrain any comments concerning the Sgt. to paper. I'd be willing to bet money that he either has this place bugger or the acoustics are specifically designed to carry sound to the instructor's ears. 'n the Sgt. seems like the kinda of guy who'd work you over and leave lasting damage for looking at him wrong.

Hate him, that's fine. We're supposed to hate him. But don't provoke him. He'll take every chance he can get to piss us, any of us, off. Make us angry. Make us do something stupid. Then work our asses off for it. At least that's the theory.

With this guy, I don't know. From what I've observed he's more likely to beat you up."

He stopped there...he would have gone on, but he'd already gone on long enough.

"McRae, by the by. Calderan McRae. Call me Cal."

He chuckled to himself, "and I'm -supposed- to be on vacation."

Delont smiled grimly and stood up from his desk, walking slowly over to McRae, he could see the boy stiffen, the Revenian code of honour was impressive, but from his standpoint, a commoner from common means, it didn't mean shit. He squated beside the boy and whispered in his ear
" You don't get to be an elite sniper by using bugs boy, my ears work just fine. Now I realize that maybe I've offended you, but that's just too bad isn't it. That soldier over there, sitting with her arm in the sling, because I guess the doc was too busy to use a bone knitter, has absoutly no respect for authority. I broke her arm because it's usually an easy injury to heal, and I don't usually like making a display of troopers, it's unmilitary and shouts out 'I don't have the regard for my troops that I should have'. You can infer what you'd like, but keep the comments to yourself. If your complex code of honour demands that you and I go out and settle this, fine, but just remember, I've seen a lot more than you, I know more about warfare. Ison boy, Do you really think the Empire would put some prick in to train it's troops?" he asked incredulously " Not a chance boy, so you think what you want, and remember, between non-officers, it's strictly legal." he said and stood, looking over the specs his troopers where checking out.
"All right apes, get up and hit the chow line, Lorenzi, Come here for a moment." He turned and looked at the flag on the wall for a second, then turned back to her
" Go over to the Sick tent, have the head doc dunk your arm in some healing solvent, that'll fix the arm, and then you go to chow." he said and walked away.


EDIT:
OOC: Healing solvent is like Bacta from Star Wars, except rather than being Organic it's Synthetic. And also, the reference to Ison would be like someone who was Christian saying 'Jesus!'

"Call me Robby. Some people call me Kane, but that's my brother, not me," Kane told Raven. "I just have one request: Don't ever call me Robert." He grimaced at the name, his dislike for his proper name clear.

"Before I came here I was in university, studying the History of Warfare on my planet. Finished as a Class A with Honours." He smiled, proud of himself. "According to my professor, I'm now an expert on military tactics, strategies and doctrines." He snorted. "Most of it didn't make sense."

He glanced at McRae. "I could use a break as well. I hate staying still."

He stretched carefully, moving each limb in turn to avoid knocking things over, his large, muscular frame cramped in the seat.

****

"I'm very sorry, Lowdbang Kersplode. I couldn't remember your name, and I was slightly annoyed at the Sarge. I won't forget your name again, I promise," Sylvero said apologetically to the goblin.

He struggled not to laugh when Di Lorenzi commented on the Sarge's ego, and told the goblin. "Hey, I'm sure they can come up with something to fit you. Back home, we have three different species, all different shapes and sizes, to fit with armour."

When McRae looked over and spoke to them, Sylvero felt a little surprise. McRae was one of those he had thought disliked him. Maybe he still does, and he's just talking to Ondrea, he thought. He agreed with what McRae said though, the Sarge probably could hear everything they said.

Kysanuillion vys-T'sudarian kei-Rose vian’l-Onarrá had enjoyed the flight over, spending time running through basic practice routines aboard his Warcraft before being deposited in Jitano.

In comparison, he had certainly not enjoyed the punching-of-sheet-sheets exercise, but had quickly come up with a typically Onarrán way around it. With each punch his hand had slowed millimetres from the metal, hitting it with enough force to make the necessary noise, but not sufficient to cause serious injury to his relatively fragile bone structure. Then, when the sergeant was looking elsewhere a short movement and carefully measured kick from a compressed leg had made the necessary dent, precisely indicative of what would be expected. A series of punches later had bruised and grazed knuckles to the appropriate degree for someone who was enthusiastic to show his prowess, but intelligent enough not to keep on thudding at a sheet of solid steel for a lengthy period of time.

The relatively young Onarrán had taken in the “burn list” impassively, acknowledging certain similarities between the equivalent within the Directed Democratic Warhost – although in his nation’s military an officer or gentleman was fully entitled to challenge any other, although there was no requirement to accept if one’s rank was greater than the challenger’s. Refusing a challenge happened only rarely, as the complicated honour system of the Flower Lords was a key ingredient of the Directed Democratic legal and military process. Refusing a challenge from a better or equal could carry severe penalties under certain conditions, although challenges were only rarely issued to those who were unable to fulfil them personally.

Kysanuillion kei-Rose had listened carefully, if quietly, to the questions posed by other members of the regiment, and had been interested to see what transpired between the sergeant and those of the training company who he had mentally marked as likely to be “discipline” by the sergeant. His lips had twitched into a faint, grim smile for a matter of seconds at the sergeant’s comment that Sylvero would never have been able to hit him. Entirely possible, given that Kysanuillion knew very little about his companions in training, but since the sergeant was busy teaching them his own skills in combat “never” seemed to be a slightly foolish term to use. The Scion of Rose was almost hoping to be singled out for a one-on-one with the sergeant, but knew that he would not be able to do as he wished – the rules of the training stated that Jitanese martial arts were the only ones permitted, and his honour system would not allow that to be broken unless the sergeant broke his own – or broke through Kysanuillion’s system-set limits. All the same, the sergeant’s martial arts against the Rosean House’s techniques, and the those of the Directed Democratic Empire would be interesting…the Onarrán methods of using feints within feints within feints that would actually turn out to be the true strike were…interesting to watch on others. DMS. Deception, misdirection and speed or stealth. The speed and stealth referred to was, in the Onarrán language, the same word that meant a combination of the two, but it was harder to translate into the common language.

The small healing device had proved convenient, and had intrigued the (relatively) young Onarrán nobleman by its design – quite unlike the Bionet functions used by the Directed Democracy. The classroom part of the initial training for the first day had been…interesting, with Kysanuillion kei-Rose managing to make a small fool of himself – fortunately unnoticed by the vast majority. He had seated himself calmly and said easily “visionnet activate”. Nothing had happened. While nothing even vaguely important, it was a slip into the Onarrán way of doing things that he was trying to ignore whilst here – not embarrassing in that he had made more of a fool of himself than those who had known how the system worked, because it did not make him so, but rather making him feel self-conscious in his own mind. He was used to the ‘net systems operating around him and within his own mind, and it unnerved him when they were not present – he still had his implants, of course, but they were not active at present as they would interfere with the training.

The holograms had been interesting in their own way – very similar to the holonet datafiles used by his own people, and at the same time very different. For a start the lack of direct neural communion with the devices made them seem somehow less real, harder to use, but it was a problem that was soon overcome – along with private chiding not to be so reliant upon his own technology. The suits of power armour details on the hologram had also been intriguing, the technical readouts an object of fascination. They were certainly sturdier than the hunting rigs used by the Flower Houses for reconnaissance and ground combat, although they lacked the myriad of shields and cloaks so popular among the soldiers of the Directed Democracy. They seemed vaguely…unseemly…to Kysanuillion, too…bulky and indelicate compared to the hunting rigs he was used to. A slight shrug – the Jitanese worked with a different approach to war than his people did, and their technology reflected the more direct approach to conflict. All the same, he had memorised a fair amount of information easily as it had proved interesting and he was now feeling fairly confident about the rest of the course – if a bit concerned over the drill sergeant’s methods of enforcing discipline. He rose for food gracefully, he did everything gracefully…Onarráns are good at graceful…and insinuated himself into the queue for “chow” without difficulty.

"Call me Robby. Some people call me Kane, but that's my brother, not me," Kane told Raven. "I just have one request: Don't ever call me Robert." He grimaced at the name, his dislike for his proper name clear.

"Before I came here I was in university, studying the History of Warfare on my planet. Finished as a Class A with Honours." He smiled, proud of himself. "According to my professor, I'm now an expert on military tactics, strategies and doctrines." He snorted. "Most of it didn't make sense."

He glanced at McRae. "I could use a break as well. I hate staying still."

He stretched carefully, moving each limb in turn to avoid knocking things over, his large, muscular frame cramped in the seat.


Raven grinned a wicked grin, her green eyes flashing as she raised an eyebrow.
"So, Robert it is then?"
Laughing at Robby's instant reaction, she Holds the flat of her hand out towards him and feigns a flinch.
"No? Oh I'll just have to call you Robby then....just please don't beat me...."

She listens and smiles with interest as he shows his pride in his academic achievements and is genuinly pleased that he is proud. Not many she knew were even interested in learning anything more than farming technics and animal husbandry, so it was good to speak to some one who looked at a broader picture.
For a moment she thought that she should share her accademic achievements with him, but hers were better than his, so decided to leave him to his pride and pleasure.

The call for a meal break was a welcome relief for, or so it appeared, both of them. Raven almost pushed everyone else out of the way to get out of the classroom, not because she was hungry, but because she needed to move and get some fresh air into her lungs.

She was half way down the stairs before she even turned to see if Robby was following and called back to him.
"Come on then ROBERT, if we can grab some food quickly we'll have time to stretch those legs of yours before we have to chain ourselves to a desk again"

Seeing the look on his face hearing his 'name' being used she turned and taking the stairs four at a time disapeared to the mess hall before he could catch up with her.

The break was indeed welcome to Robby Kane, he was both hungry and eager for the chance to move properly. Raven had dashed off ahead of him, and he followed at a more leisurely pace, at least until she turned and called back to him.

Kane growled at the use of his full name, and began to chase after the running Raven. I wish I'd never mentioned it. I should just have said my name was Robby, he cursed himself.

"Oh, she is so gonna get it when I catch her." He practically threw himself down the stairs, mimicking Raven and taking them four at a time. He flew past Alex and Lowdbang, and called out as they flashed by.

"Syl, if you see her before I do, hit her for me." Before Alex could respond, Kane was long gone, haring after the woman like a cat after a particularly swift mouse.

Sylvero smiled, at least one of us is having fun, he thought. He knew Robby was just kidding, and anyway, Alex would never hit anyone without a very good reason.

By the time Robby had caught up with her she was standing at the counter with two trays having them loaded up with food. She turned to him with a look of sweet innocence on her face, only the glint in her green eyes showing that she was pretending.

"Got the usual stuff for you, grey, slightly darker grey and a browny grey, followed by slightly pail yellowish grey for afters."

Grimacing she pushes a tray into his hands.

"Not very appetising, but I spose we'll have to get used to it?"

Kersplode had waved away Sylvero's apology carelessly - Goblins are good at carelessness and forgetfulness, and, indeed, a great many things ending in "-ness" and had laughed at the comment about suit construction.

"Maybee day'll be fitteded, bud oi ait'nt gonna be layin' down ani betz."

The small Goblin waved at Robby as he ran past, grimy hand moving enthuisiastically from side to side - although being far from the most stupid Goblin around, he was certainly not the brightest star in the sky. At present he was walking beside his new, much larger friend whose name he couldn't quite pronounce properly - the closest so far was something like "Sieverrio", and had settled for "Alexes" instead, because it involved less work with strange syllables.

As they headed down to the food line, the small green creature was chanting quietly and happily away...

"Gunno go get sum fuuuud, 'cuz we loike fuuuuud, 'cuz it'z tasti fuuuud"

...all thoughts of difficult holo-simulations fading from his small little mind at the prospect of food - although it seemed unlikely that they would have his favorite - Brown, with a side serving of Brown, with mixed Brown in Brown gravy, with crisps - although at home he couldn't normally afford many crisps. Crisps were, aside from alcohol, the main export of the Combined Goblin Collective. No one was entirely sure how they did it, in a collection of systems where cyanide and deadly nightshade were considered useful flavourings, it was rather surprising to find edible, and very, very tasty, crisps.

The Bosses who had sent him off to this training course had allowed him to bring a selection of stuff with him at their expense. In a typically goblin manner, he had brought a rather large number of crisps, alcohol, strange shiny things that no-one had yet worked out the courage to ask about, various lengths of string, and a tub of what he had described as "Da Best Brown Inna Yuniverse". Included with this lot was a box of flavourings that had been hastily confiscated when it was revealed they contained a large number of poisons, including as cyanide, arsenic and chlorine in liquid form. One plus side of Goblin tastes in food is that they are almost impossible to poison, a downside is that it is rather hard for a visitor to survive in the Goblin Lands without extensive surgery/implants, or their own food supply.

Food was served. Kersplode looked at the tray which contained more food than one would think possible for someone his size to consume in a whole day - let alone a single sitting. A long, green nose was sniffing over the selection of "grey".

"Hummz, iz not smellin' az guud az Brown - no arseniyick, still, is nub luukin' too bad. Wutt do youz guyz tink?"

*Raven looked at the Goblins tray and grimaced, she realised that he would need a heck of a lot more than the rest of them, but THAT much?
She stuck her finger into her food and tasted it.*

"Errrrrr........probably not as good as your own brown, but I think you'll manage."

*She looked around the busy mess hall and managed to catch sight of a long table just emptying.*

"Come on you lot, if we get over there quick we might just have enough space to sit."

The Goblin's portion was about the same as the others - but judging by his small frame, and small height, and that the cook had given him a more generous portion (probably as the sight of someone who looked like they wanted to eat army food was a rare sight indeed). His green head bobbed happily at Raven's comment.

"Nuttin'z az guud as Brown, except Crisps - Skorcherz Crisps iz da best on Hotwurld, Oi'll let ya troi a few uv mine."

There was a short pause, as the Goblin's brain frantically tried to work out how many he had brought with him.

"Yub, dat soundz guud. An' dat taybul shudd be ukee. Elevun-HUT an all dat."

So saying, he scurried over to the indicated table, ignoring a few strange glances. Cunnin'un Goblins are not very perception.

Robby glared at Raven as he approached her, only the faintest hint of mirth in his brown eyes revealing his true emotion. He made a point of not actually speaking to her, but took the tray and moved towards a table.

He sat down, and inspected the contents of the tray. He quickly decided that to call it food was to do a great injustice to everything edible ever.

"Grey. Yugh," he declared, disgusted.

He stabbed his fork into it and gingerly raised it up to his face, inspecting it again before hesitantly putting it in his mouth. After swallowing the mouthful, he grimaced.

"Tastes as good as it looks," he told Raven pseudo-reassuringly.

****

"Arsenic?" exclaimed Sylvero. "Why the hell would you want poison in it? It's probably toxic enough already," he told Kersplode.

He poked his own 'grey' with a fork unenthusiastically, then decided that either way, it would be better to eat sooner rather than later. If it disagreed with his metabolism, he could always request to have stuff shipped in. Not that the request would necessarily be agreed to.

"I think it looks horrible, but since there's no alternative." He closed his eyes and put his fork in his mouth.
"Tastes like plastic crossed with solvent," he said distastefully.

Robby glared at Raven as he approached her, only the faintest hint of mirth in his brown eyes revealing his true emotion. He made a point of not actually speaking to her, but took the tray and moved towards a table.

He sat down, and inspected the contents of the tray. He quickly decided that to call it food was to do a great injustice to everything edible ever.

"Grey. Yugh," he declared, disgusted.

He stabbed his fork into it and gingerly raised it up to his face, inspecting it again before hesitantly putting it in his mouth. After swallowing the mouthful, he grimaced.

"Tastes as good as it looks," he told Raven pseudo-reassuringly.

Raven sighs and taking a large forkfull sticks it in her mouth and chews and chews and chews. Finally she manages to swallow it and takes a long drink of water to wash it down then grimaces.*

Great.....even the water tastes grey......
I spose I've been spoiled living in a farming community, we manage to get food before it's been tampered with.

*She moves her fork around in the food trying to at least find some hint of what it once was, then looks over at the others*



"Arsenic?" exclaimed Sylvero. "Why the hell would you want poison in it? It's probably toxic enough already," he told Kersplode.

He poked his own 'grey' with a fork unenthusiastically, then decided that either way, it would be better to eat sooner rather than later. If it disagreed with his metabolism, he could always request to have stuff shipped in. Not that the request would necessarily be agreed to.

"I think it looks horrible, but since there's no alternative." He closed his eyes and put his fork in his mouth.
"Tastes like plastic crossed with solvent," he said distastefully.

"Even arsenic would be pleasant after this Sylvero, but you're right, if we're gonna do this we're gonna need to eat and learn to enjoy it"

*She raises her fork towards Robby in a mock salute*

"Here goes, bet I can finnish before you can!"

*With that she digs in and starts shovelling the grey in as quickly as she can*

(Presume that Cal was with the others when they got their food and is sitting at the same table...)

Cal peered at the food and prodded it with his fork. It...jiggled.

He sighed... 'n for the first time in his life he longed for Fleet Marines emergency rations. Then he spread the crap around on his plate, took a sample in his fork, and pulled a small device from his boot. He flicked the device a bit, and a pair of wires flopped out of the front. The wires went into the...stuff.

He frowned. To maintain any sort of high level of activity, he'd have to eat an incredibly large amount of this gray stuff...which he wasn't about to do. He shook his head.

"'s Synthetic. Nutrient goo. Which is alright...but it's -crappy- nutrient goo. That is, it is more goo and less nutrient. Great way to make people lose weight. Undoubtedly part of a very strict diet control program that is intended to keep an individual at the very edge of their endurance at all times."

He shook his head, and pulled a ration bar from his pocket. Stripping the usual black plastic wrapper with the silver daggerstar and the "AFESSR SURVIVAL RATION" label, he bit into the small, dense, soft, chewy, oddly colored bar.

It didn't taste good...it didn't taste bad. Frankly, it didn't taste much at all. But it would keep him alive. 'n he had a whole case...a thousand bars. They weren't very big, 'n they contained all the essential nutrients in the quantities necessary to keep him alive, active, and energetic...if not happy.

He replaced the little device into the pocket in his boot. One of the clauses in the documents that brought him here was that he would not be required to wear Jitanese uniform, as he was a serving (Reserve. Very.) member of the AFESSR, and a serving member of the White Company.

So he wore the gray form-fitting jumpsuit that served the AFESSR and the White Company as "all-purpose training and non-combat gear." The hole where he normally wore his rank insignia was still visible on the collar...

This setup also gave him the advantage of being able to carry the necessary gear, including the little analytic comp in the boot.

Raven looked up from shoveling her food into her mouth trying not to choke and finish before Robby, she glanced at Cal, then glanced at the others, shrugged and continued the race.

Robby had reluctantly taken Raven up on her challenge, but quickly realised that the sooner he ate it, the sooner he could leave and find something else to clear the taste, or lack thereof, from his throat.

He crammed the grey goo, his mind expanding Sylvero's assessment to 'molten plastic', into his mouth, swallowing it as quickly as possible. Even though Raven had stopped momentarily, she was still beating him. As she finished, he placed his fork down and grimaced, forcing his current mouthful down his throat.

He bowed his head in acceptance of his defeat, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge the plastic taste. He downed a glass of water towards the same aim, then congratulated Raven on her victory. She could have a point though, he mused to himself, Make a competition of it, and it becomes marginally tolerable.

"Syl, did you bring anything edible with you?" he asked Alex hopefully.

Sylvero assumed a mildly astonished expression. "What, and deny you this wonderful gourmet eating?" he asked with mock sincerity. He grinned at the expression on Kane's face. "I might have done. You'll have to wait and see," he continued cryptically.

Nodding back at Robby, Raven acknowledges her victory, but he can see by the look on her face that it wasn't exactly the sweetest of wins.
She leans back in her chair, rubs her stomach and throws her fork down clattering it onto the tray.

"Good grief that was disgusting and to think we have that to look forward to for the next year!"

She burps and pardons herself.

Raven's ears prick as she over hears Robby and Sylvero's conversation.

She leans on the table and turns to look at Sylvero, with her most beautiful of smiles. She looks into his eyes and flashes her vivid green eyes at him.

"Did you bring something nice and interesting and tasty to eat my dear?"

Delont viewed his troopers sternly for a moment as they ate, a little longer in the army and most of those pesky tastebuds would die off nicely. his comlink buzzed on his hip
"Bronson, look after our bonny troops here for a minute." he said, nodding at his instructing corporal, Bronson nodded back. An unimpressive man, Bronson was regarded as a buffer between troops and sergeants, someone you could talk to without fear of repercussions from the brass.
"Hey corp? What's the deal with the Sergeant? Is he like a total hardass or something?" one recruit asked from the front
"Sarge Delont? Not as such, no, you just caught him on a bad day, oh, and Lombardi, that was a stupid thing to say. No, Sarge is just irritable mostly, the one you want to look out for is Tavish." Bronson said, leaning against the drink dispenser "You see, Delont is at least man enough to take lumps with his men, But sergeant Tavish, he'll shirk, and pout and whip you until you're bleeding, and laugh while he's doing it. You run afoul of Delont, he'll give you lumps and forget it happened, Tavish, he'll give you lumps for three months, then find, or make some reason to cashier your ass. delont at least has combat, he's been in the middle of shit and coming out smelling like a rose, Cal, you're wondering how he heard you in the class room? Tin ear, blaster shot grazed the side of his head a few years back, burst his ear drum. He crawled back through enemy lines without any hearing to a med station three miles back. You can put your faith into Delont, just don't piss him off." Bronson said, smiling maliciously, a few moments later Delont came back in
"All right, times a wasting, seems you all get to start learning marksmanship, or at least how to hit the broadside of a barn with a grenade."

Still gazing ever hopefully into Sylvano's eyes, Raven sighs when she hears The Sarge's command.

"Barns I can do.......grenades are another matter.......Perhaps if I had something really really tasty to boost my confidence and energy?......"

She nudges Robby.

"Isn't that right Robby? We need something nice so we can keep our strength up."

Kersplode looked at Sylvero in surprise, brightly coloured eyebrow arching up almost to the spiky hairline in defiance of natural law dictated by one of his small, and very shiny, forehead piercings (Goblins tend to have a lot of small things like needles stuck through their skin, both because it looks shiny and becaause they might come in useful...the pain of the piercing is instantly compensated for by the shininess, in any Goblin's mind).

"Youz nub can eet arseneyick? Da Bosses sedd dat moit be so, bud I nub beleeve dem on dat. Arseneyick is a tayayaystee flayvorin' dat iz grate in fuud, bud meenz dat youze can nub be tryin' moi Brown."

A short pause

"Soilvent? Reely? Wow!"

So saying, the short creature climbed up onto the bench, tray before him, and started shovelling the Grey into his wide mouth with an amazing speed and, staggeringly, apparent signs of great enjoyment.

"Mmf! Diff iff guud!"

Ignoring the startled looks from various recruits - both his new friends and others - the Goblin packed away a full sized meal into a very skinny, and very short green body. Despite starting later than Raven, Kersplode nonetheless managed to finish well before her, although probably without the others noticing due to the...interesting...flavour of the food and removed a small cannister from his rather baggy uniform.

There was a faint "pop" as he removed what looked to be a cork (but probably best not to investigate too closely) and the smell of strong alcohol wafted over the table. Strong alcohol with some rather strange flavourings. Quite disturbingly, even the fumes were enough to make the sensitive tissue within human nostrils feel like they were burning gently. Of all the amazing things that Goblins can do - such as even managing to survive - none is more remarkable than their skills at the production of alcohol, which occassionally even defies the laws of physics.

Kersplode sloshed the liquid about a bit, listening carefully. Apparent unsatisfied the cork was wedged back in and the cannister vigorously shaken. The cork was removed and the drink sloshed about again. A short, satisfied nod and the small green creature took a few large swallows from the container before re-sealing it and sticking it back in a pocket.

After Delont's comment on what they were going to be doing, Kersplode's long, pointy and beringed ears shot almost vertically upward, and an expression of rapture appeared on his narrow face.

"Grenaydes? Explozians? Boomz an' dakkaz?"

Sylvero stared right back at Raven, his lively grey eyes betraying nothing, completely neutral. "Like I said, you'll just have to wait and see. If I have, I haven't got it with me," he told them.

Robby's disappointment at his friend's failure to supply anything was tempered by the announcement that they would be starting marksmanship, which he logically assumed meant weapons training.

"Good. Weapons training. Now I get to show you simpletons what I can do," he declared.

Sylvero snorted. "Simple? If I remember correctly, I was the one who studied a far more complicated subject at uni, and I can fly virtually anything you can give me. And I'm simple? What does that make you?" he asked Robby curiously.

Robby glared at him, then smiled at Raven. "A barn is an easy target, especially with an energy weapon," he assured her. "You'll pick it up easy. Hell, even Syl can do it, so you'll have no trouble."

Sylvero responded with a particularly rude Indoan gesture, then blinked as his nostrils were assailed by alcohol.

"What the hell's in that?" he asked the goblin. He coughed at the various unpleasant chemicals. "We can't eat arsenic, it kills us. And by the smell of it, so will that. Do you goblins only eat stuff that kills us?" His nose was tingling, an unpleasant feeling that he suspected was not at all healthy.

Defying Sylvaro to look away first, Raven continued to stare.
She quite liked the fact that it didn't phase him, not many liked being looked straight in the eyes, it unnerved them.
When it was obvious that she wasn't going to weedle even the snallest morsla of whatever the Indoans thought of as a special treat, she leaned back in her chair, but still looked him in the eyes.

Her shoulders stiffen a little when Sylvaro spits out his sarcastic comments at Robby.
He might be his friend but I don't like the way he puts him down like that

She pats Robby on the leg to get his attention.
"He's a bit of a spoil sport your friend is Robby, it was probably part of his superior training, I've heard that about these fly boys."

Only then did she turn away from Sylvaro and completely away at that, her back to him she focussed her attention back onto Robby.
"So you're gonna be my buddy and help me not kill or get killed by my own weapon?"

As she's talking her attention strays to the goblin.....
"What is that you've got? I'll have a taste if it's not got anything thats lethal in it?"

Sylvero held Raven's stare, calmly looking deep into the green of her eyes, sitting casually and apparently putting no effort into the contest.

Robby caught Raven's barely noticeable reaction from the corner of his eye. She notices Syl putting me down, but not when I return the gesture. Interesting... he thought.

"Well, I don't know about superior training. From what I know, it's no harder than learning to drive an airspeeder. Besides, if Syl gets his hands on a rifle, he'll probably shoot himself in the foot," he told Raven, making sure Sylvero heard the comment.

The two Indoans had always been playfully demeaning each other since they had first become friends, and each could give as good as they got. Both knew it never meant anything, but they both forgot that others didn't know them that well, and could easily interpret their friendly humoured jibes as insults.

"Sure, I'll keep you alive. I'll be doing the same for him anyway," Robby said to Raven, indicating Sylvero with a nod.

Raven huffs.
"Looks like he's gonna need it", she said loud enough for both to hear, "Mind you, I reckon there'll be some job on an old cargo freighter for him after this with his superior flying ability.

Robby decided that in this case, he had to come to his friend's defence.
"No, he is pretty damn good, I'll give him that," he told Raven. "When he's through this, he can join the air force, he already passed all the entry tests."

It was Sylvero's dream to become a combat fighter pilot for the Indoan Air Force, flying the sleek, dart-shaped Kestrel fighter, the best the IAF had to offer. The ultimate conclusion to his ambition was a place with the Eagle Squadron, the IAF's most elite fighter unit. A number of knowledgable observers had said he stood a good chance of acheiving his aim.

However, right now, on the advice of Robby Kane, he was stuck here in this infantry training camp.

Alex smiled at his friend's praise, and returned the favour. "Yeah, and Robby'll make one hell of a Ranger after this, maybe even better than his brother."

The Rangers were the Indoan Army's elite standard infantry. There were commando units that were even more demanding, but they never had anything to do. The Rangers were the troops that were stationed on board every single Indoan Combat Naval Vessel, so they got to see the galaxy as a bonus.

"Well, I suppose we'd better go learn how to avoid shooting ourselves in the foot," announced Alex as he stood and began heading in the trail of other recruits, out the mess hall. Robby stood and followed Alex.

Raven stands and follows the rest of the group.

Good, thats got those two sorted in my head. Both insult each other and then back each other up when one is threatened....Deffinately worth while sticking near to......

OOC: not much room to fit my char in right now, but don't think I forgot about this

Delont led the recruits out to the ranges, just outside the actual perimeter of the base, target dummies were situated at the far end, in the front there was a small hut, Delont stepped inside for a moment, then reemerged carrying an XM-8 blaster rifle
"And now for the part you've all been waiting for, this is the XM-8 Assault blaster, it can fire to a range of 650 metres before initial breakdown of the bolt, it has a magazine of 600 bolt capacity, which is fired in about a minute, so be careful with your ammo, Corporal Bronson and I will hand out weapons, you will take you places on the firing line, five troopers at a time, and fire when ordered, you will be graded on accuracy and bolt count. The optical zoom on the weapon is ten times visual magnification, which means that at this range it will look like about 65 metres to the target. For those of you who think you're already a hot hand on a scope, don't use it. You may be wondering why use a scope at all? In battle the scope will be inherently useless, no one should have the time to use it, well, you had damned well better be able to sight the weapon, and this helps with that. As an example of the weapons capability I will now fire." He said hefting the weapon, he brought the scope to his eye, and set for minimum magnification, then fired one bolt into the Durasteel dummy, it shot through the bullseye an slammed into the sand hill behind, then he switched the weapon to fully automatic, placed it on his hip and fired the contents of the magazine, the weapon sliced the dummy in two and began making glass holes on the hill.
"Be careful with the weapon, if it can do that down there, imagine wht it can do here. Sylvero, Corax, Kane, McRae, and Lorenzi, step to the line and wait for your weapon."

Raven looked at Robby with 'help me I'm gonna die' written all over her face.

"I didn't understand a word of any of that", she whispered to him.

Biting her lip, she takes her place in the line in between Robbie and Sylvaro, hoping that they really did know what they were doing.

When asked about his drink, the Goblin had explained (well, it was possible to understand from his monologue about the wonders of alcohol) that his drink would not be safe to drink. That somehow - no one, including the Goblins who make it, know how - the drink in his little cylinder contained various non-poisonous flavourings, and then one hundred and ten percent alcohol. Apparently it had been tested by various non-Nebula races and nations, and baffled their instruments and scientists.

The greenskin glanced up at Sylvero.

"Whatt'd ya wanna be shootin' yasewf inna futt fer? Yezz'd wanna be shootin' sumwere lezz paneful. Silly non-greenz."

Then they had reached the shooting ranges, and Kersplode had started chanting "dakkadakkadakka-kaboom!" again, paying attention to the Sergeant's instructions and then happilly forgetting it all, mesmerised by the shiny prettiness of the firearms.

"Ooooh, lotz, and lotz of dakka. Lotz of dakka indeeediness!"

Cal stepped up to the line with a grumble of annoyance. He -hated- energy weapons with a passion. Breakdown of the bolt. Wonderful. The way these things usually worked, they reached maximum range and then pa-woosh. Bolt was -gone.-

650 meters was kindof a long shot, even with a scope...from the shoulder. Yet Delont had fired from the shoulder...and apparently fired on automatic. Which made sense -- no recoil. No shot spread. Perfect straight line. Meant that the only undue motion imparted in a shot was from the body of the shooter.

He exhaled slowly and calmed himself. This shot would have been easy with a CR-17, thanks to the integral laser rangefinder that gave a rough estimation of where a shot would land.

What he'd seen when the sergeant fired made no sense, though. Penetration with an energy weapon? The hell? The payload should have been expended entirely on the first object it hit, not continued on to hit stuff behind the target. Shouldn't have happened...but it had.

What the hell kind of fucked up place was this?

Of course, the shot itself was easy. Flat trajectory meant that all you had to do was get the rifle on target. But...

Cal shook his head and added a few notations to the journal he was keeping in his datbanks. Maybe they were dual-stage projectiles or something. Maybe Delont had actually fired a two-round burst. There had to be some logical explanation, because an energy bolt that acted like a bullet was too much for his brain to comprehend.

Maybe he should ask...

"Hey, Sarge? Question. How did the bolt punch through the target like that? Far as I know the way most "energy bolt weapons" work is by shrouding some sort of energy in some sort of field then shooting it at something. Then when the packet hits that something, the field breaches and the energy is released. Seems to me that all that energy should then be spent on whatever it hits, not punch through and hit whatever is behind the thing it hits.

What I saw is an energy bolt acting like a bullet, but everything I've ever learned says that that is impossible. So am I seeing things or is there a rational explanation?"

Di Lorenzi walked up to the rifle awaiting her, catching the look of Raven, she smiled and walked over to her. Her arm now healed in somewhat miracle time, she whispered

"Just don't try to make me look too bad."

Walking back in the line getting ready to fire, she winked her left eye (seeing how there as no right one and was covered by a black patch). The scope set at minimum, she peered through quicker than most people and fired a shot that hit between the dummy's eyes and a bullseye on the head target. She shot four more through that same hole making it wider each time. After those five shots, she set it to automatic and let it rip from her waist. Shooting a face with the shots that looked rather comical.

o o

o
o
o
o
o

o o o
o o
o o
o o

After the face, she shot the neck until the head rolled off with all the shots fired into it. After a few second of random firing, she stopped to pause before hitting the dummy's crotch a couple of times before it fell back.

"Now if I can do it with a gun like this, I can't wait for the sniper levels."

For the first time in camp, the young sniper grinned as she shoved the rifle into the hands of Corporal Bronson.

Raven watched the display not showing any emotion on her face.
Cockiness will get you nowhere but home in a pine box my dear....

At the mention of six hundred rounds, the two Indoans looked at each other in surprise. Their projectile rifles had fifty round magazines, and their energy weapons generally had two hundred shot power packs.

They both picked up the rifles, instictively checked the charge, and looked for the fire selector. They switched it to the burst setting, knowing full well the need to conserve ammo.

Robby quickly pointed out exactly how to use the rifle to Raven, then turned his attention to the target. After glancing through the scope for less than a fraction of a second, he fired three bursts, all of which hit the dummy in the centre mass. Sylvero spent a couple of seconds sighting in, but his fire was just as accurate. As they suspected, there was no kick at all from the energy weapon.

They continued to fire rapid bursts at the head and centre mass of the targets, concentrating on accurate shooting rather than showing off like some of the others, until the magazines were empty. In true infantry style, Robby had counted off his shots, and had known exactly when the clip was empty. Sylvero had not counted, and got the 'dead man's click', but only once.

They turned away from the range and returned the weapons to the Corporal, before waiting with the others. Only then did they comment on the weapon.

"I prefer my brother's pulse rifle," voiced Robby.

"I think I would too. I'd certainly prefer an Indoan energy weapon. You get fewer shots, but twice the range and more power," agreed Sylvero.

Cal stepped up to the line with a grumble of annoyance. He -hated- energy weapons with a passion. Breakdown of the bolt. Wonderful. The way these things usually worked, they reached maximum range and then pa-woosh. Bolt was -gone.-

650 meters was kindof a long shot, even with a scope...from the shoulder. Yet Delont had fired from the shoulder...and apparently fired on automatic. Which made sense -- no recoil. No shot spread. Perfect straight line. Meant that the only undue motion imparted in a shot was from the body of the shooter.

He exhaled slowly and calmed himself. This shot would have been easy with a CR-17, thanks to the integral laser rangefinder that gave a rough estimation of where a shot would land.

What he'd seen when the sergeant fired made no sense, though. Penetration with an energy weapon? The hell? The payload should have been expended entirely on the first object it hit, not continued on to hit stuff behind the target. Shouldn't have happened...but it had.

What the hell kind of fucked up place was this?

Of course, the shot itself was easy. Flat trajectory meant that all you had to do was get the rifle on target. But...

Cal shook his head and added a few notations to the journal he was keeping in his datbanks. Maybe they were dual-stage projectiles or something. Maybe Delont had actually fired a two-round burst. There had to be some logical explanation, because an energy bolt that acted like a bullet was too much for his brain to comprehend.

Maybe he should ask...

"Hey, Sarge? Question. How did the bolt punch through the target like that? Far as I know the way most "energy bolt weapons" work is by shrouding some sort of energy in some sort of field then shooting it at something. Then when the packet hits that something, the field breaches and the energy is released. Seems to me that all that energy should then be spent on whatever it hits, not punch through and hit whatever is behind the thing it hits.

What I saw is an energy bolt acting like a bullet, but everything I've ever learned says that that is impossible. So am I seeing things or is there a rational explanation?"

"That's because it's not an energy bolt, it's plasma, the bolt is charged plasma, which is why the weapon uses two "magazines" one in the rear, which houses the necessary gases that are combined with the energy in the more obvious magazine to form the bolt itself. The gases are superheated by the Energy in the power pack and then discharged through the barrel, which houses additional components that further stabilize the bolt. The bolt is powerful enough to shoot through your target, but it's also stable enough to continue on for a time until the plasma dissipates."

Sighing Raven realises that she is now the only one who has not shown what they can do with the weapon. She accepts the blaster from Corporal Bronson and asks several questions about how to use it, then turns slightly and gives Robby a weak smile.

Come on girl, you knew you'd have to do this at some time or another, it everyone else can do it, you can....

Raising the blaster to her shoulder she tilts her head at an angle, then pauses and gets further reassurances from the Corporal that it is set for a single shot.

She takes a deap breath and concentrates on the target.
Her first shot takes her by suprise she was expecting some sort of recoil and had compensated, sending the plasma ball way off target and sizzling it's way through the sand trap.

Her face red, she refuses to look at anyone, but feels everyone look at her and hears the odd mumbled comment.
Steadying herself she tries again, this time her shot snips past the target just a whisper away from it.

She closes her eyes for a moment, the stress of doing this, something completely new to her, but very important makes her hands shake with tension.
Taking a deap breath she runs through what others had said, then remembers what they had been told about the scope.
In battle the scope will be inherently useless, no one should have the time to use it
She holds the weapon up to her eye line and looking along it, points and fires.

To her relief, the shot hits the target, nowhere particularly useful, but it hits.
Raven lets out a sigh of relief, dropping the blaster to her side.
She turns and hands it back to Corporal Bronson then looks for the Sarge and steps over to him holding her head high.

"Sarge, it is obvious, from the handling of this weapon, that I need a great deal of practice and further tuition. With your permission and if anyone is available to teach me, I would like to use my rest periods to do that training, so that I am not letting my class mates down."

Kysanuillion had not been impressed by the food. "Grey" was another example of just why his race considered themselves to superior to the humans. Nutrient goo he could understand, but the flavour was quite another. He had pushed the substance around with his fork for a little while, watching the substance shift in a manner similar to concrete. Eventually he had resorted to removing a Jakanthryss Capsule from his pill box. A twist of the wrist and the contents had spilled out onto the Grey. Some energetic movements with a fork and the flavouring/nutrient contents were spread throughout the Grey, managing to make it palatable.

The Onarrán had followed Delont and listened to the weapons instruction. Bolt Rifles. He blinks his unusual eyes and watched the others practice their shooting, slender fingers itching to try and use the human technology while he mentally wished for a Hunting Rig. An H-Rig would have proved useful, if only to see Delont's face as Shimmercloak activated. He shrugged slender shoulders and waited patiently for his turn.

He blinked.

"Uh...with all due respect, Sergeant, what you just described pretty much violates everything I've ever learned about plasma in my entire life. Seems to me that Plasma doesn't have much mass. In fact, it seems to me that what plasma is is a super-hot gas. Also seem to recall that generally plasma weapons do their damage by burning through stuff. With me so far?"

He raised an eyebrow, then continued.

"Well, it seems to follow then, that as it is a gas, when it hits something and the container that forms it into a projectile is breached, then the plasma would rush out and expend itself ENTIRELY on whatever it hit. So I say that you are bullshitting me, Sergeant. Plasma can't hit something, then continue on through it to hit something else. A bullet can, though...

See, Sergeant, what I see here is plasma acting like a solid. How does that work?"

The Indoans listened very carefully to what Cal was saying. Both had gotten good marks in their physics classes, and knew exactly what Cal was pushing at.

"He's right," whispered Sylvero to Robby. "Any form of energy or plasma weapon cannot penetrate an object and hit a second object."

Robby nodded his agreement, "Yeah. They just dissipate on contact with the target."

"Cal's right, Sarge. How I see it, the only way this could work is if you magnetised a metal rod, and fired it with the laser. The laser loses all its energy on the first target, and the metal rod passes through it to hit the second. Plasma would just convert the metal rod to plasma too, so that definitely doesn't work," Sylvero said to Delont.

As Alex supported Cal's arguments, Robby spoke to Raven. "I'll help you. Trust me, you'll pick it up quick. We'll have you hitting centre mass from the hip within no time."

Raven squeezes Robby's arm.

"Thank you, as you can see I'm going to need all the help I can get"

Ondrea Di Lorenzi comes up from behind, hearing the conversation by accident.

"You need help with the weapons, go to Robby. But you want help with accuracy, just come to me."

Di Lorenzi smiles as she hands Raven her rifle.

"You try, it might impress Sarge; if possible."

Raven looks at Lorenzi and then at the rifle she's handed her.
With a trite smile she hands it back.

"Thanks for the offer, but I will never be a sniper, I'm more of a close cambatant. I'll stick with those I trust IF and WHEN Sarge gives the go ahead for me to train and practice in my own time."

Di Lorenzi smiles

"No problem, guess you'd perfer to look at this generation's Hitler in the face before killing him rather than seeing his forehead with a bloody dot in it"

Ravens eyes narrow slightly not sure whether that was a slight dig or not.

"I have always preferred to look my enemies in the eyes before I act."

He blinked.

"Uh...with all due respect, Sergeant, what you just described pretty much violates everything I've ever learned about plasma in my entire life. Seems to me that Plasma doesn't have much mass. In fact, it seems to me that what plasma is is a super-hot gas. Also seem to recall that generally plasma weapons do their damage by burning through stuff. With me so far?"

He raised an eyebrow, then continued.

"Well, it seems to follow then, that as it is a gas, when it hits something and the container that forms it into a projectile is breached, then the plasma would rush out and expend itself ENTIRELY on whatever it hit. So I say that you are bullshitting me, Sergeant. Plasma can't hit something, then continue on through it to hit something else. A bullet can, though...

See, Sergeant, what I see here is plasma acting like a solid. How does that work?"

" Well from the way I've learned it, A squeeze of a trigger emits volatile blaster gas into a conversion chamber, where it is excited by energy from the weapon's power source. The agitated gas is then funneled through the actuating blaster module, where it is processed into an intense particle beam. A prismatic crystal focuses the beam, and passes it through a refinement chamber which "galvens" the beam into its final bolt. The bolt itself is able to maintain it's cohesion through a target like that because that target is thin enough to have a very little effect on the bolt itself, you'll notice however, that when it encountered the sand hill on the other side it was stopped instantly, usually just after effective range is passed the bolt goes a little wild, off the target, and then dissipates about a hundred metres past the target." Ison Delont thought Since when do I get all the phycisists in my class/

Robby coughed lightly, interposing himself between the two women. "Excuse me, is there any need for an argument? Raven, I'll have you operating that weapon like a pro in no time. You," He looked at Di Lorenzi, "Quit acting like you're better'n everyone else, even if it's true. It's not conducive to team spirit. An expert markswoman you may be, but I bet you don't know shit about bringing down buildings."

Robby was well aware that even with all the technology in the equipment, demolitions was still the most complicated job for an infantry soldier to have. He was also wondering who Hitler was, and why that was relevant. Indoans had absolutely no knowledge of Earth history, having never been to the planet.

Alex listened to the answer given by Delont, and wondered. Does this guy know nothing of physics?

"Sarge, the thickness of the target has absolutely no relevance. A blast from any form of energy or plasma weapon will expend all its energy on the first thing it comes into contact with. It may burn a hole through it, but it's not going to hit anything behind it."

Robby coughed lightly, interposing himself between the two women. "Excuse me, is there any need for an argument? Raven, I'll have you operating that weapon like a pro in no time. You," He looked at Di Lorenzi, "Quit acting like you're better'n everyone else, even if it's true. It's not conducive to team spirit. An expert markswoman you may be, but I bet you don't know shit about bringing down buildings."
Robby was well aware that even with all the technology in the equipment, demolitions was still the most complicated job for an infantry soldier to have. He was also wondering who Hitler was, and why that was relevant. Indoans had absolutely no knowledge of Earth history, having never been to the planet.


"Or hand to hand combat, what happens when you precious weapons run out of power then? If you're in the infantry, there'll be precious little time for you to sit your pretty little backside up on a roof top somewhere."

Raven turned away, she was shaking with anger, but was managing to control herself.

" Thanks Robby, just teach me how to point the damn thing in the right direction and shoot things, in the end it doesn't matter if I hit dead centre, just that they are dead."

Delont rolled his eyes
"Dammit, do I look like a friggin Blaster mechanic Sylvero? Or do I look like your godsdamned sergeant? Now turn around and continue firing until You're relieved" These kids, it's just questions questions questions Delont thought.
"All right that's enough, next line step the the firing line and relieve your mates, from now on the beings in line with you will be your firing team, Squad leaders will be assigned later on."

Raven was relieved to be able to hand the weapon back, even with Robby's patient help she was still not too happy with using it.
But the relief was short lived as she heard what the sarge had said.

from now on the beings in line with you will be your firing team, Squad leaders will be assigned later on."

Robby and Sylvero were fine, they acted as one when the pressure was on, but Di Lorenzi and that big fellah Cal?
Ah well, he I can put up with and I have dealt with worse than her before........

"kei-Rose"

Kysanuillion kei-Rose stepped up to the firing point and held the rifle carefully, looking over the weapon with curiosity before bringing it up to his shoulder and firing twice. Both shots missed impressively, and the Onarrán nodded calmly, shifting the weapon and his shoulder to compensate for the weapons peculiarities.

He looked down the down the sight, aimed carefully and fired a burst into the head of one of the dummies. Lacking the talent at firing processes possessed by soe of the others his shots were less accurate, but he was a very fast learner - Onarrán H-Rigs worked on a different principle to most human infantry.

The time taken between the first errant shot and finishing his short burst was approxomately two seconds.

The tall and slender elflike being passed the rifle back to the corporal before walking over to where the other non-Jitanese were standing, deciding that it was past time he introduced himself.

"Afternoon. I'm Kysanuillion kei-Rose...I believe you five are...Cal, Raven, Robby, Alex and...Lorenzi?"

Raven smiles at Kei-Rose, her green eyes twinkling.
"Pleased to meet you Kei-Rose, I'm glad that not everyone her is an expert marksman."

She shoots a glance at Lorenzi, then turns her attention back to him.
"It's a shame our units have been chosen, with your 'skills' and mine combined we may have a chance of hitting something smaller than the side of a wharehouse!"

Raven turns her smile to Robby.
"Perhaps you've got room to have two on our little practices? Go on, live dangerously.....that means twice the thrill of being able to avoid being shot by accident...."
She nudges him playfully.

Sylvero reluctantly turned around and put his attention to the others. He was unhappy using a weapon that he did not know how it worked, but he would accept it until he could find a technician to ask about it. So, those are my squad mates. At least I'm in the same squad as Robby, he thought.

"Yup, I'm Robby, he's Alex," confirmed Robby, jerking a thumb in the direction of his friend. He started to say something, then hitched. "Uh, do we call you Kysanuillion, or Kei-Rose, or what?"

He looked at the others assigned to their squad. Alex he knew he could rely on and Cal seemed to know what he was doing. Raven was intelligent enough to know when she needed help, and after learning to handle the rifle properly, she'd be fine. Di Lorenzi would be okay if she lost the superiority complex. The only one he did not know at all was this Kei-Rose guy.

"Yeah, if you want any help with the weapon, I'd be happy to oblige," he told the Onarrán after Raven suggested it.

She shoots a glance at Lorenzi, then turns her attention back to him.
"It's a shame our units have been chosen, with your 'skills' and mine combined we may have a chance of hitting something smaller than the side of a wharehouse!"

She nudges him playfully.

Di Lorenzi smiles, overhearing it accidently.

"Are you joking? You can probably hit the diamond off and ace of diamonds with your technique."

OOC: not meant as negative

Raven sighs and after excusing herself from the rest of the group, she follows Lorenzi.
Catching up with her she doesn't stop walking, but reaches out grabs the shoulder of her jacket, lifting her up off the ground just enough so that her toes are still touching and marches Lorenzi out of the others site and ear shot.
Coming to a stop she lets go of her and stands looking at her.

"Look Lorenzi, I don't know if that was another of your snide comments there or not, but this has to stop.
We are stuck with each other.
You with a plod of a farm girl who doesn't know one end of a rifle from the other and me with an arrogant short arse who thinks she the best markswoman in the unniverse.
We have got off on the wrong foot, but as I said this needs to stop NOW!"

Di Lorenzi smiles as Raven speaks and replies.

"Fine, fine... but two things. The first is that I'm from a farm too, ok? I never wanted to do this thing only because my father did something very similar to this. My mom died when I was young and so my dad never got a chance to have a son to do the sniper-thing running in the family. I'm sorry for starting this off, but I guess the Sarge just got to me and it came out with the others. It's sort of like the communist system back home, everyone's equal no matter what you do or are.

The second would be if you'd please stop taking everything I do so wrong and seriously. I just wanted to know if you needed help with the markswomanship. You have greater technique than I'll ever have and I'd rather have your skills on my side rather than the side I'm shooting at."

She sighs and walks away.

Raven huffs and steps back in front of Lorenzi.

"You weren't the only one who was brought up without a mother and are you telling me that Everyone is equal in your nation? I seriously doubt it. So get the chip off your shoulder and start thinking and behaving like you should, as a soldier and part of a team."

She takes a deap breath and calms herself.

"Look, we haven't mad the best of starts and we are gonna have to work together whether we like it or not, so lets just call a truce and get on with it OK?"

She holds out her hand to Lorenzi.

Di Lorenzi takes it.

"Fine, you'll end up saving my ass one day anyway."

Raven smiles and turning her round with her arm on her shoulder, she leads them back to the others.
"If we both work as part of the team, we'll all end up saving each others, thats the name of the game."

Di Lorenzi smiles back

"You know, it would be funny if some of the guys end up as the "damsel in distress" and we'll be saving them."

Raven looks over at the group and grins.

"With that lot, they probably will....."

Seeing Robby and Sylvaro looking over, (no doubt wondering what was going on), she laughs and waves at them.

"And I bet I know which two will be the first."

Cal had handed the blaster rifle back with a significant amount of indifference. It wasn't a bad weapon...but it also wasn't a CR-17. Didn't have the versatility. Or the range. Or the smartgun links in the versions designed for use with powered armor.

But it wasn't a bad weapon.

He hadn't bothered with the sight, or with an accurate firing stance. He'd just stepped up to the line, shouldered the weapon kinda roughly, aligned the weapon with the iron sights, and squeezed off a few shots.

Not a particularly tight group, but also not a particularly broad one. Every shot had hit the target, at least.

After he'd handed the weapon back, he'd gone through a set of rapid standing stretches, 'n he felt a little bit better because of it. To get the real kinks out, he'd have to spend an hour or so in serious exercises. Not something he was likely to have the chance to do...

At least the group dynamics were being hammered out. Hopefully they would work out on there own, and perhaps he'd been wrong to automatically assume that he would have to take a leadership position. He wouldn't object to it...but he would, frankly, be surprised if he acquired it.

In fact, based on current performances, he wouldn't be the least surprised if the little Goblin got the Squad Leader position. It certainly wouldn't be the best possible outcome from -his- perspective, but then, of the others...

Cal knew that he wasn't completely cured of "Butterbar who's been there" syndrome. He was improving rapidly, but he was still perhaps just a tad arrogant...

He knew that he would also never unthinkingly obey an order from Sgt. Delont. He was already a soldier, 'n worse, he was an officer. Which meant that while he most certainly respected non-coms of all sorts, he wasn't yet convinced that Delont knew his ass from his head.

Robby and Sylvaro were also...problematic. Good people, but probably not ideal choices from Delont's standpoint.

As for the two women...less than likely. Possible, aye, but he wouldn't bet on it.

As for that other guy -- the Onarri...Cal hadn't the faintest clue. So if he had to lay down money, it'd be Lowdbang, himself, Sylvaro, or the new guy. He shook his head wryly, grinning just a bit...regardless of the outcome, it'd be interesting.

Kysanuillion had smiled back at Raven's comment.

"Give me an H-Rig, and I'll fire perfectly, without I am merely passable."

The Onarrán turned to Robby and Alex.

"Your choice. Kysanuillion is my given name, kei-Rose means "Scion of Rose", which is equivilent to a surname. Nice to meet the pair of you."

Kysanuillion looked around at the others as Robby and Alex did so, memorizing their features and appearance.

"Thank you, Robby, it would be appreciated."

He watched the women walk off to discuss something - judging by the actions of the two during dialogue it was not something particularly pleasant - but turned away to allow the privacy that they were apparently desiring for their conversation.

As Cal arrived the Onarrán nodded politely and introduced himself, red eyes that lacked any apparent pupils or whites glancing over the Revenian with curiosity as to race and origin before an internal shrug returned them to the Ascended's face to conclude the introduction.

[[Apologies for shortness of post]]

...Gun
...Gun
...Gun
...Gun
....Goblin With A Gun

Kersplode strode up to the firing point, green fingers twitching with anticipation.

He paused dramatically and cracked his knuckles. This took some time.

He looked around from his position at the firing range, golden eyes surveying the world that gave him guns.

With a theatrical flourish he took the gun from the corporal, and examined it.

"Dakka....dakka....dakka..."

Muttering gently to himself, the small green creature cradled the gun. A firearm that looked ludicrously large in the diminutive creature's arms. Somehow, the small Goblin was managing to hold the weapon without difficulty.

"Loadin' frum 'ere...dis da sayfti....dis da trig-

Fire started spraying from the end of the gun, fortunately down the firing range, shots scattering at random throughout the entire range, managing to shred all targets but his own.

The Goblin was drunk on power, shouting gleefully down the range about how "Oi'z da bestest!", and that people should "Neva mezz wiva Goblin!".

It held an eerie fascination...the small Goblin holding a gun that was about as long as he was tall, firing happily down the range with the ammunition running low with an amazing rapidity.

Eventually, the fire counter reached zero. Kersplode looked at the gun. Kersplode looked down the range. Kersplode carefully placed the gun down and went to join the others.

The results on the range were...interesting.

The vast majority of his shots had hit either nothing, or the others' targets. Two shots, out of six hundred, had hit the target they were supposed to. One of them was where the humanoid target's crotch would be located, the other in the centre of the head.

Throw enough shots at something, and it might just work.

The Goblin philosophy of quantity over quality seemed to be demonstrated in this example. Six hundred rounds expended...two hits.

Raven took two paces back away from the goblin, then thinking better of it took another two.
She watched wide eyed, flinching now and then as the shots were fired into and around the targets.

"Remind me to always stand BEHIND Kersplode when he has a weapon of ANY kind in his hands."

Delont's jaw dropped by a fraction of a millimeter, watching the goblin shot itself to the top of his priorities list
"The law of averages strikes again eh sarge?" Bronson said, nudging Delont carefully.
"Yeah, remind me to restrict Lowdbang's use of heavy weapons later on. And he's not to go near the explosives range." Delont took the cap off his head and swiped his forehead with it, Behind him? Even there might not be safe for long.

Di Lorenzi just stared in amazement as the goblin unleashed the entire round of ammo. Whispering to Sarge for the first time.

"I think you should keep him away from ALL projectile weapons in the near future. I'm not so sure about knives or even forks around him. But he has good intentions..."

Thinking to herself: I think he'd be more of a threat to US rather than the enemy.

Raven looked over to Lorenzi, still with a look of disbelief on her face, but as she went to speak a huge grin crept over her face........

"Don't you just want to hug him, just because of his sheer joy of everything?"

She began to laugh slightly nervously.

"Uh, well that was an impressive display of... something," Robby put forward. The two Indoans were both several metres away from and behind Kersplode, and yet were still mildly concerned for their general safety.

Neither had thought or really cared who was their squad leader, neither overly wanted the position, but they probably would not turn it down if offered.

"If he got caught firing like that in one of our training camps, he'd not only be thrown out of the army, but probably thrown in prison as well. A general threat to the health and safety of the population," stated Sylvero softly.

The goblin would require watching if they were to stay alive on the battlefield, if he did not kill himself or someone else first.

"There is one thing though..." mused Sylvero. "Those two shots that hit. Look where they are. If we could get him to hit those targets without all the other shots, he'd be a force to be reckoned with. Or at least, a different force to be reckoned with," he corrected himself.

Raven walks over to the two Indoans, the look of incredulity, now replaced with a look of joy!

"I love every inch of that Goblins wonderful greenness, I'd heard about a Goblins lust for life and the pleasure they take in everything they do.....but ... He's perfect!"

She sees the look on the two men's faces.

"Oh come on lads! Wasn't that perfect? I want him on our team!"

She grins back at them, her green eyes twinkling.

"Look, he's fast and small and can get into places where we couldn't even think about going. And look what he's just done.....put that into battle context and he's killed a whole unit AND made sure that his main target is well and truely dead! Surely af all of us, YOU two must see the merrit in that?"

OOC: Sorry to break the mood with a bystanders comment, but the goblin cracks me up.

Delont critically observed the results of the rest of the trainees firing patterns, for what they had to work with after Lowdbang, it wasn't too bad. Still some weeds in the garden, but that was part of the idea.
"All right apes, move out, you have two hours of down time before Dinner, but don't expect that to continue for too long. Go on, move!" he watched the recruits doggedly return to their barracks, as he strolled leisurly to the Instructors bunk rooms.
"Well sarge, not too bad, except for the Goblin, could be some potentail there." Bronson said, sinking onto his bunk
"Definate potential, but a lot of cocky bullshit too, the big one was an officer at home..."
"An officer? Are you shittin me? Son of a bitch, he's gonna cause a problem sarge." Bronson shook his head
"Yeah, but he'll get sorted out one way or another. At least one problem has been solved..a little. Lorenzi won't be stirring up too much more shit in class. Sylvero's a little sore at me for the hand to hand I pulled on him, but he'll get over it. I figure, you put most of the foreigners on the same fire team, they could make a nice little unit, all the baiscs are there, Cal's got leadership, Corax has some comp training I think, Kane and Sylvero are good handies, the elf wannabe, he irks me a little, most elfs do, think they're high and mighty, but once he gets in the mud with his team, he'll be cured, all in all, we could do worse. So how're the kids?" Delont asked,
The conversation piddled off from there, Delont still wondered how well these kids would work together. If they could, they'd make it, pull one another through and maybe livce to see their retirement, otherwise, one of them was going to get hurt...

*Raven visibly relaxed when they were dismissed, a couple of hours free time would do them all the world of good.
She nudged Roby as they ambled back to the barracks.*

"Hey how about we go have a work out and get rid of some of these kinks, the you can take me back to the firing range?"

*She looks round the group*

"Anyone else in need of exercise, or are you going to leave us star crossed lovers to our own devices?"

*Her eyes twinkling mischieviously, she fixes Robby with a stare and winks*

OOC: I may not be able to post for the next few days, computer's died and I don't have easy access to another.

IC:
Robby's shoulders slumped as they were told they had free time. The only way he knew of to pass free time was to gamble with Sylvero, and he always lost.

His face brightened considerably when Raven suggested a workout, then he briefly wondered about the exact meaning of her statement.

"Sounds like a good idea. Just let me grab some of our magic Indoan pixie dust from our stuff," he told her.

Sylvero grinned at the question, and replied: "No, don't let me keep you two lovebirds apart. And that's my pixie dust, Robby, not yours."

He clipped the bigger Indoan round the head with his open palm, and they both went into fighting stances, making a spectacle of their mock fight, throwing punches which never quite landed or were blocked by the other. It was clear that the entire fight was staged, since both Indoans were laughing and taunting the other.

OOC: I may not be able to post for the next few days, computer's died and I don't have easy access to another.

IC:
Robby's shoulders slumped as they were told they had free time. The only way he knew of to pass free time was to gamble with Sylvero, and he always lost.

His face brightened considerably when Raven suggested a workout, then he briefly wondered about the exact meaning of her statement.

"Sounds like a good idea. Just let me grab some of our magic Indoan pixie dust from our stuff," he told her.

Sylvero grinned at the question, and replied: "No, don't let me keep you two lovebirds apart. And that's my pixie dust, Robby, not yours."

He clipped the bigger Indoan round the head with his open palm, and they both went into fighting stances, making a spectacle of their mock fight, throwing punches which never quite landed or were blocked by the other. It was clear that the entire fight was staged, since both Indoans were laughing and taunting the other.

Raven folded her arms and watched the two men, shaking her head with feigned dissaproval.
"When you two boys have finished? Would you mid telling me what the hell is Pixie Dust?

OOC
Off for a week to hit things with rubber weapons while running around in a field ducking mage bolts.
YEAH for the start of the live role play season!
*cough* Sorry. Will catch up when I get back.

They broke off their 'fight' at the question and grinned at each other.

"Pixie dust? Pixie dust is everything and nothing, the most magical and yet the most plain of possessions," said Sylvero cryptically.

Robby rolled his eyes and sighed. "Pixie dust isn't anything specific, but it is sometimes used to refer to the general ration issued to our infantry forces. However, while we do have some of those, we were actually referring to our secret stash of magic treats and goodies."
Sylvero started to say something again, but Robby cut him off. "Or, Alex's secret stash. I, fairly typically, didn't think about this too much and only brought basic stuff. So I'll just have to scrounge off of him for a while, until another Indoan ship swings by to check on us."

Sylvero shot Robby an evil glare for revealing their secret horde, then smiled. "Oh, you reckon you can scrounge off me, do you? I don't think so, friend." A tiny glint in his eye revealed that he had absolutely no intention of denying his friend, but to anyone who missed that, he would seem completely sincere.

[[Sorry about not beign able to reply - I'm in Washington DC at a rather expensive access terminal so not really able to do much. I'll try and post something later, but cannot promise much.
Will try and get something up either tomorrow or the day after.
See you soon, guys!]]

OOC: yeah, sorry about the delay here people, I had a bit of a family emergency this last week and haven't been able to post much. Keep going like you are though, it looks great

Delont walked slowly out of the small noncoms barracks he shared with a few other sergeants and corporals, and towards the equally small temple building, one of a few permanent structures on the training base. Once inside he bowed torwards the great four cornered star that represented his maker, Ison, and knelt at the small idol of Valon the warrior god.

"Valon who is guardian against all harm, I again consecrate myself to your cause, to protect the true people against all harm and to hone the skills of the warrior within." he said the customary prayer like a child would, eyes screwed tightly shut hands clenched before him, in all his years in the military he'd never lost faith in the warrior god of his people. he stood and lit a candle for the fallen warriors he had fought with.

"Still carrying on this hokey old crap Delont?" a gruff and unpleasant voice said behind him
"Yes Tavish, now what the hell do you want?" Delont asked turning to see the somewhat shorter swarthier man behind him
"Oh nothing, I just like to see fools go through the paces, that's all, incidently, that's a nice looking bunch of recruits you got there Delont, be a shame if something happened to you before you got to really training them, although they'd receive the training, and discipline, due them from a real instructor like myself." Tavish said grinning malevolently
"Tavish, you couldn't instruct a boil on my ass to burst, much less a company of recruits. Move Sergeant." he said shouldering the smaller man aside.
"Just remember Delont, we're all in this together." delont could hear the smirk on the mans face and it irritated him.

*Raven sighs as she watches the two still bicker and hastle over their "Pixie dust", then slowly begins walking towards their barracks she calls over her shoulder*

"You can keep it then, I on the other hand would do anything for a truss of nice juicy tomatoes fresh from the vine!........Now are we gonna exercise these kinks out of our bodies or just waist our time?"

"Oh you don't, do you? Well, we'll just see about that," returned Robby, and dropped into his fighting stance again, but hadn't gotten around to throwing the first punch when Raven spoke.

"Yes, I'm coming. Just gimme a chance to grab something to eat first and I'll be right with you," he called back to her.

He turned to Alex, looking puzzled. "What's wrong with what we got? She don't even know what it actually is yet," he asked quietly.

Alex grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "Who cares? If she doesn't want any, all the more for us." He continued walking towards the barracks, Robby close behind.

*By the time the two men arrive in the barracks Raven had changed and was laying on her bunk, legs crossed, munching on a bar of something dark and fruit like.
She throws two bars towards them.*

"Here try these, it's a dried fig bar, full of energy and fibre."

*She grins at them as she takes another huge bite and chews*

"That'll keep you going."

*She stands and stretches*

"Look I'll meet you on the assault course Robby, I'm itching to expend some of this energy, if you're lucky you might catch me before the second time round."

(OOC: Bwah-hah-hah-hah-hah. Thought you could escape me, didn't you! ... Yeah... Anyways, sorry about the lack of postage. Major crunch time at work plus major distractions at home == no postage for Rev. Ehk. Anyways.)

Two hours. Two bleeding hours. On the first day. Cal was in heaven.

He leisurely made his way to the barracks, munching on a survival bar...chalk flavored. Mmmmm...tasty. He arrived at the proper building, meandered to his bunk, checked to make sure that his bunk was still properly fitted and everything was immaculate, then popped the lid on the flat black footlocker he kept at the foot of the bunk, the one with the AFESSR sword and star insignia that covered the lock and the White Company shield (which was, oddly enough, white) on the right end side.

He sorted through the perfectly ordered items, each in their little tray or spot, until he found what he was looking for...

The flat black fingerless gloves didn't look like much, but they were specifically designed for unarmed training, with or without an opponent. The inserts he slid into his boots were a bit more...odd...but served exactly the same purpose.

Then Cal left the barracks and found himself a nice open and unpopulated spot that wasn't secluded or out of the way, rubbed the gloves together to activate them on his prefered difficulty level (high), then kicked the boots together to do the same for them.

Then he ran through a basic meditative unarmed sequence, detaching his mind from his body. He then set about constructing an illusory foe for his body to fight, and suddenly the slow, serene movements of Fhellanti meditative unarmed became all too serious.

Needless to say that while it wasn't funny to a Fhellanti practitioner, it certainly might be considered humorous to an uneducated observer, seeing Cal evade and block blows that didn't exist, then launch quite serious strikes at thin air.

Punching styles were fine, but Fhellanti Unarmed used not only the fist or the feet but the elbows, knees, shoulders, and shins. It was a very wide-ranging style that had its quick, opportunistic strikes and its deliberate, powerful strikes. Generally the emphasis was on speed, strength being something that was added into the equation as needed.

Perhaps one of the most basic tenants of the style was adaptability. Strikes were designed so that they could be turned at almost any moment -- there were very few maneuvers in the Fhellanti style that once began had to be finished -- this tended to make a battle between two Fhellant'im look like a carefully choreographed dance, as a combatant could easily change approaches, even mid-strike, to block an oncoming attack or take advantage of an opportunity.

One other noticeable thing -- unlike many Earthly martial styles, Fhellanti Unarmed is a silent style. There are no "hi-ya" chants or anything of that sort accompanying a blow. In fact, there is no noise whatsoever, save for the rhythmic breathing of the combatant and the sounds of limbs cutting air and blows landing or not landing. It can be...somewhat eerie.

*Raven pauses to re-tie her hair, sweeping the errant lock back in agitation*

The whole lot is coming off I swear, if this piece doesn't stop trying to escape I'm taking the scissors to it!

*As she does so, she catches movement from the corner of her eye and turns to see Cal, standing by himself.
She watches as he begins fighting the air around him, dodging and attacking an unseen assailant.*

Interesting technique, I'll have to speak to him about it, I wonder how well it'd stand up to less stylised ways of fighting? May have to try later.....

Alex caught the bar reflexively, peeled off the wrapping and sniffed it dubiously. He nibbled the end, looked oddly like a squirrel with a nut for a moment, then screwed up his face.

"I'll stick with what I've got thanks," he told her. Robby was munching experimentally, and Alex offered his bar to his friend. "If you like it, you can have this one too." Robby took it, after swallowing and nodding appreciatively.

"It's not bad. I prefer the Army's Pixie Sticks, but it'll do," he declared.

Alex dug around in his kit and withdrew two of the items in question. Throwing one to Robby, since the bigger Indoan could never turn them down, he ripped off the plain silver wrapper to reveal a large white bar, which appeared similar to a solid block of white chocolate, only with a softer, chewy texture.

He bit off the end and smiled as he chewed. The 'Pixie Stick' was the best thing the Army had ever come up with. It contained everything the body needed except water, including ludicrous amounts of energy, and tasted absolutely delicious. They were always in great demand on exercises, and they had successfully marketed a smaller bar as confectionary to the mainstream public. The previously mentioned Pixie Dust was the standard ration, since it contained a multicoloured powder, which had a similar effect to the bar when added to water.

Once Robby had finished eating, he changed into a plain T-shirt and pair of shorts and left the building. His legs were aching for the chance to do a proper run, several kilometres long, but he was also interested in trying the assault course. He headed over towards the assault course where he could see Raven.

*Raven, bent double and breathing heavily, looks up and raises her hand as she see's Robby aproaching. She stands, pushing the errant lock of hair back behind her ear and wiping the bead of sweat off the tip of her nose, before she speaks.*

"What took you so long then? I've been round twice already, you frightened that a 'girly' will show you up, so you're giving yourself a chance by having me half tired before you start?"

*Putting her hands on her hips, her green eyes twinkling, she grins a wicked grin and laughs*

"You didn't have to you know, I'm always gentle the first time....."

Robby snorted at the comment. "Nope, I just take my time is all. Besides, if you do 'show me up', it just means you're better. No shortage of women in our armed forces." He paused, thinking back to his week on the training camp last summer. "In fact I believe the fastest time record on the assault course back home is held by a woman, which I have no problems with."

He began stretching his limbs to warm up for the exercise, since as well as trying the assault course, he wanted to do a nice long run to bleed off the stress of the day.

"Well, come on then wonder woman, I'll race you around the course. Don't worry, I'll slow up just to give you a chance."

He grinned at her, then started off around the course before Raven could respond. He thought he heard a reply, but couldn't make out what it was.

OOC: can i join in with this please?

OOC:
Three United Isles
It's Jitanos baby, so he will need to be asked.

The origional OOC thread is here, it explains what its all about
http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=413195

OOC: ok, how often does he come on here?

*Raven shakes her head and sighs as she watches Robby head off. Laughing she calls after him.*

"IT's OK I'll give you a head start!"

Men, they always say, "We're not threatened by women", then continue to try and prove that they are superior....

*Hands on hips she watches him as he takes the first three obsticles with ease and smiles.*

He's good, very good, too damn good for a mere "mortal" like me to catch. Well at least working with other races gives me something to aim for.

*She automatically pushes her stray hair back, still watching Robby hurling himself over the next barrier.*

and he's so goddamn good to look at as well as having a brain, makes a change....

*Eyes twinkling, she decides to waite for him to complete the coarse and with arms folded, she stands and admires the view.*

OOC:
He's having problems getting on, I'm sure he won't object if you can introduce yourself as a "late arrival" and send him your stats etc. (Details of what he needs is on OOC thread)

Robby finished the assault course by jumping off the last obstacle energetically, completing two full somersaults before landing on the ground with a flourish.

He turned around to see where Raven was, then frowned when he saw her still at the far end. He sprinted over towards her, and pulled off another jumping somersault as he reached her. He was breathing normally and had barely broken a sweat, the result of his obviously excellent physical fitness.

"What happened?" he asked. "Don't tell me you're done already? I've still got a ten kay to do, and I want to try that course again."

There was no slight intended in his remarks, he was genuinely wondering if he had misread Raven's physical condition. He also really didn't have any problems with female superiority, and his challenge was just that, a friendly challenge to encourage some competition.

He was constantly moving, shifting and bouncing on his feet like a boxer, his arms moving in vague motions. He was bursting with energy that had been trapped within him all day, and had only now been released.

*Raven grins at Robby*

"No I haven't finished, but I'd already been round twice and I was just waiting for you to catch up. I'm afraid my poor fragile body pails in comparison to your physical make-up, but I'll still match you in your run and take the course again, even if I won't be able to keep your pace!"

*Again she is agitated by that stray hair and she growls to herself as she tries to stop it falling into her face.*

"Bit of a random question here Robby, but do you think I'd suite short hair? There's not a female in my family that has ever cut it short, sort of family tradition going way back, but this is driving me mad!"

Di Lorenzi was struggling with the assault course as she saw Robby and Raven talking at the finish line. A few feeble attempts at some of the obstacles and a stumble into the finish area only discouraged her more. Hearing Raven's comment:

"No I haven't finished, but I'd already been round twice and I was just waiting for you to catch up. I'm afraid my poor fragile body pails in comparison to your physical make-up, but I'll still match you in your run and take the course again, even if I won't be able to keep your pace!"

Di Lorenzi nearly fell back when she heard this. "You've been twice??? I'll be lucky if I can make it once with 10 K added."

*Raven looks a little embarassed*

"Hi, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you'd joined us."

*She felt a little stupid realising that someone may have overheard her having such a 'girly' conversation about her hair, which seemed to be becoming an obsession with her, but recovering quickly she continued.*

"We all have our own skills and our own levels. You with weapons, me......"

*She shoots a look at Robby*

"Well I DID think it was my strength and agility, but if we all pull together and try and equal the scores a little, then we should manage to get through this reasonably well."

*A slight breeze blows Ravens hair back into her face, she holds up the offending lock.*

"BUT the most important question of the moment is.....DO I GET THIS DAMNED MOP CUT OFF OR NOT?"

Slowly looks around the training camp his slightly built frame towering over the guards as he passes thourgh main gate as he reaches the main barracks for rookies he looks around for the superior officer he was to report to but as he notices the other rookies going on about their training and as he enters the barracks he leans over a bit so that he may not hit his head on the roof then as he sees what seems to be the superior officer and walks over to him handing him his militant papers approving his transfer here as the officer reads the papers over he stands there waiting patiently his nine foot three inches tall frame towering over those in the barrack the scar on his face making his once handsome face look wrought with angish *AS he waits he also adjusts the numerous weapons on his personal outfit which appears to be leather but it looks much heavier than regular leather* the numerous weapons to a trained eye could be identified as A 8. Gauge modified belt style fed fully automatic shotgun and two scimitars at his sides with bright cyan blue handles and numerous handguns and sub-machine guns including **A pair 45. magnums , A Desert Eagle .50 , and two Ra-14s an a SMG-DS6 with a silencer attached at all times **and his entire body is riddled with numerous ammo clips for his weapons

Robby grinned at Raven.
"It's 'cause I'm hyper-active at the moment. Sitting around all day has stored up loads of energy, so I could run all night," he told her. "I'm not normally this bad."

As Raven spoke again, he groaned inwardly. Don't ask me girly questions about your looks, I don't know. Well, I know what I think but how am I supposed to know whether you agree with me or not. You're a girl, you've probably already made your mind up anyway. He was about to answer when Di Lorenzi approached.

"Yeah, you know. We've all got different strengths and weaknesses. Individually, we're flawed, but together, we could form the best fighting force this side of Charlie-Raptor." It took him a moment to realise that neither of them knew what Charlie-Raptor was, so he explained. "Uhh, that's an elite Commando unit back home, the Raptor Force."

When Raven put her question about her hair again, Robby decided to jump in at the deep end and give his opinion.
"Well, I think long hair suits you, and believe it or not, that loose lock suits you as well. Very attractive. If it bothers you that much though, just cut that lock, don't lose the whole lot."

There, he thought. I've said it, and if she doesn't agree, then I've screwed up. She really is very attractive with that long hair. Short hair wouldn't suit her at all.

*Still holding the offending hair Raven considers what Robby had said. She grins*

"You may be right there and it would cause me a hell of a lot less grief when I go home on leave."

*With the swiftness of one who has had to deal with long hair all of her life, she braids the offending strands. Reaching into her belt pouch, she brings out a rather old and worn pocket knife, flicks it open and cuts through her hair, the razor sharp blade slicing like a hot knife through butter.
Closing the knife, Raven returns it to it's home and looks at the braid in her hand. A small impish grin creeps over her lips and bowing formally, she gets down on one knee and holds it out like an offering to Robby.*

"To the victor, the spoils! You can now say that you are the owner of a lock of Corvax hair, to my knowledge none have had that pleasure bestowed upon them for centuries!"

*As she stands up again, a two inch lock of hair forms itself into a curl and flops down onto her forehead just above her eyebrow.*

Inwardly, Robby sighed with relief at Raven's agreement with his statement.

"Well then, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked her lightly. "Makes you wonder why you didn't think of it yourself," he teased.

He suddenly looked visibly embarrassed, when Raven went down and offered him the lock of her hair, and glanced around uneasily, as if making sure nobody could see them. After a momentary glance at Ondrea, he partially recovered his composure and took the lock from Raven.

"I'm honoured to be trusted with such a rare gift. I promise to keep it safe," he told her, respectfully inclining his head and playing his part in her mock formal ceremony.

He looked at her critically as she stood up again, then smiled.
"There you are, you see. Problem solved, and you still look great."

*For some reason, Robby's words made Raven want to giggle like the "bubbleheads" she had hated ever since she and her class mates had began puberty.
She inwardly blanched at the idea and prayed that it didn't show on her face.
But recovering quickly she hides her feelings with indignation.*

"Oh you can stand there telling me I should have thought of it, but do you realise that I have committed a hanging offence by even thinking of cutting my hair never mind doing it!"

*She puts her hands up to her mouth a look of horror on her face*

"I will never be able to cross my family's thresh-hold ever again.....
They will have me hung drawn and quartered as is the tradition handed down from the 10th century!.....
I am undone Sir! Undone I tell you! A marked woman!"

*She puts her forearm up to her brow and swivels slightly on her heals so that she can wink at Ondrea, then allowing her knees to buckle she relaxes her body all falls to the ground in a dead feint.*

Cal finished his little workout with a quick, economical pair of punches. Right hand went fast and low to the solar plexus, while the left hand went back to gather momentum, then went fast and high to the head. It was one of Cal's favored finishing moves, but it was only a finishing move...unless one was fighting an unskilled or unprepared opponent.

Regardless, it got the job done. He then made his way back to the barracks for a drink of water. Water was important. Water was vital. Fhellanti, the Way of The Dance of the Desert Wind, had been developed in the walled city, though it wasn't much of a city as it was a temple, of Fhellantir, in Northfell's southern hemisphere.

Northfell was a planet of extremes, and also a bit too much axial tilt. The equator was the only really fertile region, with the rest of the planet being made up of either snowy wastes or desert wastes, depending on whether one went north or south.

As such, it was largely unsurprising that water played as much of a part as it did in the Fhellanti thought pattern and tradition.

Anyways.

That was when he noticed yon hugantimous walking armory. He blinked once, twice, then the requisite third time for luck. Then he shrugged and wandered back over to his bunk, peeling off the gloves and setting the grav generators built into them to the "off" position. He would then remove the boot inserts and turn them off as well, before placing both gloves and inserts into his footlocker.

Then he would produce a towel in Fleet Marines forest green with which to remove the majority of the sweat from his face and extremities. His sweat didn't have a scent -- that being a quirk of his Ascended blood, but it was somewhat distracting and uncomfortable, and the towel served its purpose admirably.

Cal carefully folded the towel, making sure the creases were straight and firm, then placed it back in its proper spot within the footlocker. He hadn't been obsessive about the state of his kit the first time through basic. He hadn't been obsessive about the state of his kit in the DSSC. He'd gained that particular quality in the White Company AIT courses that he'd taken upon being recruited. Immaculate in garrison, lethal in the field.

The Company's primary "official" MO was digitary protection. Thus, presentability was a priority.

He checked his watch, noted that a half an hour had passed, set the timer for one hour, then lay back on his bunk and drifted off...

Having not seen the wink to Ondrea, Robby wasn't sure whether the display was sincere or not, but decided that it probably wasn't. Regardless, because he was unsure, he would play it as though she was completely serious.

As she began falling to the ground, he leant forward and caught her, supporting her as he lowered her to the ground.

"Uh, Raven?"

If she is telling the truth, why is it such a big deal? It's just hair, he thought. It'll grow back, and by the time she gets the chance to go back, it probably will have done.

Unsure whether she could here him or not, he began talking.

"Well, if you can't go home, you'll just have to explore the rest of the universe. Come with me and see my home. Or we could disguise you, then you could go home. No, maybe that wouldn't quite work. Give me a week, I'll think of something."

He sounded completely sincere, and the look on his face showed that he was indeed thinking about each suggestion he made and its feasibility.

*Raven opened one eye and looked at Robby, a grin slowly spreading over her face. She instinctively reached up and kissed him on the cheek.*

"You are the nicest man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting Robert Kane!"

*She pulls him towards her and hugs him for a moment then lets him go.*

"And I'd love to see your homelands. But for now we need to have that run before our time is up and we have to return to the drudgery!"

*Standing up she looks over at Ondrea and grins at her.*
What I reckon is that we stagger our starts so that the less able can have a good go at it, then when the others catch up, they can act as the first two's pace makers? That way we can have the satisfaction of ending the run together."

*She jerks her thumb back at Robby*

"Super hero here is the last to run."

OOC: can i join in with this please?

Yeah sure, so long as I get the stats it's cool

Smirks as he watches the drill sargent summerize the transfer papers as he skims thourgh the multiple pages then as he watches the over recruits come and go in the barracks he cant help and smile at the bits and pieces of conversation he hears then out of habit he pulls out a six inch long dagger the blade itself curved almost to a complete circle and begans to twirl it on his index finger easily still waiting for orders from what he thinks to be the drill sargent

Robby's marble-white skin was tinged pale pink with a blush after Raven kissed him. His inward happiness even managed to overthrow the irritation brought on by her use of his full name.

"You know, I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," he told her, smiling. "Thank you, Coryn Corvax." He paused, thinking something over. "Except maybe that time when Alex told me I was his hero. But he was pissed out of his skull when he said it, so he probably didn't mean it."

He grinned at her, then mirrored her gesture, gently kissing her on the cheek.

"You're right. Let's get running." His face lit up with a sly grin. "Tell you what, I'll go around the assault course a couple more times, then start running. That sound okay to you?"

He was bouncing up on his feet again, constantly moving once more. He'd been waiting all day to do this run, and wanted to get started.

*Eyes twinkling Raven smiles at Robby as he sets off around the assault course, then signals to Ondrea to begin her run.
She watches as the slightly built woman begins to run, oviously determined to put as much space between them as possible.
Her attention is pulled back towards Robby as he finnishes his first round of the course and heads back towards her, she can't help but put her hand up to the place he had kissed her and begins to grin like an idiot as his long legs brings him back to the start. *

I wonder what she thinks of me? he thought as he finished the obstacle course again. He began running back to the start. I'm fairly sure I know feel for her, 'cause I ain't blushed like that in a long time. She seems like a lot of fun, so I hope I get the chance to find out. He was of course thinking of Raven, who he was now approaching once more.

Robby winked at Raven as he passed her, still waiting to start.

"Hey, you want me to go around again, while I wait for you to go? I do ten kay pretty quick you know," he called out.

He ran a few circles around her so that he could hear her reply, then darted off towards the first obstacle again, and bounded up on to it with tremendous energy.

Well he continued the line of thought. I guess I'll just have to see what happens.

*Raven watched as Robby started his next round of the assault course, then set off at a steady pace after Ondrea.
She didn't want to out run herself but was going to push as hard as she could to catch Ondrea before Robby got to her. Getting into her stride she allowed her mind to drift*

I wonder what he really thinks of me?

*She glanced behind her seeing that Robby was almost at the end of the course, she stepped her pace up a bit.*

Damn he's quick!

Name: Brittany Olav (http://www.lizkocsis.com/images/port/brit.jpg)
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 9 stone
Age: 18
Intruction level: rookie
Specialties: sniper, team leader potential

Brittany was pushed hard out of the big pick-up, she was wearing some loose training bottoms and a tight sports top, she was wearing a black bandana, her short blond hair out the back. She had several suitcases- she started to trail up to the office, seeing several very nice looking men on the way there
this will be a good year she thought, smiling to herself

Robby finished the course again, and was about to start running, but he stopped and just bounced around for several seconds to keep his muscles warm. The reason he was waitin had nothing to do with his being tired, far from it, he was itching to start the run. The reason he was waiting was so that he would not catch up to the other two too early.

Having counted off a suitable amount of time in his head, he started running. Whenever he started a run, it always required a lot of concentration, to get his rhythm and slip into the groove pace-wise. Once he was running at the right pace, he was free to think of other things, since his subconscious kept him at the right speed.

He could see Raven some distance ahead, moving well at her own reasonably fast pace. There was one advantage to doing the run this way, his brain suddenly told him. I can watch her. Damn, I wonder if she'd thought of that, or was it just a coincedence that it was her to suggest this?

He kept his pace low, taking it easy on this run. The hard pushes to beat his personal best time would come some other day.

Brittany walked over to the course where she saw two other people racing, she filled up her water bottle and tied her short hair back into two little pigtails.

'Hi....I am Brittany' she said smiling, her figure very slim and athletic, her arms muscular, and her stomach toned.

*Some way ahead of Robby, Raven had settled well into her pace, keeping her breathing and rythm steady, she continues down the rough track and into the shade of the trees. Ondrea had now dissapeared round the corner, so not knowing how near she was, she just kept the pace and would adjust it as and when she was in site again.
She didn't want to discourage Ondrea by catching up to her too soon, as it would wound her self confidence and Raven was rapidly becoming certain that the slightly built sniper had little of that out of her field of expertise.
In fact she was as certain of that as she was that Robby would cathc her up all too soon for her liking.
At that thought, she pushed herself up a gear and carried on.*

Brittany saw everyone running, she tied her new shoes tighter and followed the others - she felt a little uncomfortable as she was being slightly ignored.

Delont watched uninterestedly as Kane and Corax raced around the track, they wanted to waste their energy they could go right ahead. Before long he spotted two things, a late arrival, wearing, of all goddamned things, a bandana, Delont had long since stopped associating them with anything other that thugs, and the walking arsenal. He walked over to the late arrival slowly, passing the track.
"And you are?" she asked, a chipper little smile on her face, Delont grinned sickly, took in a great amount of air and...
" I am instructing Sergeant James Delont, since you have arrived late to this training facility you will be assigned extra duty time to make up for it, miss..." he stopped, and lowered his voice slightly
"Brittany Olav sergeant!" she replied somewhat weakly,
"Olav, fall out and report to your barracks, they're on the other side of the compound. Find a squad and join it, and get into some proper fatigues, this is not a GAP ad! Oh and one more thing." he said taking the bandana off her head "If I see this again I'm going to light it on fire, understood?" Olav nodded hurriedly, Delont grimaced and pointed at the barracks "Git!" he snapped. His encounter with Tavish had left him angry. He turned and walked to the armoury man
"Valariomartia, were in the name of all that is good did you get all that weaponry? It doesn't matter, all of it comes off NOW, you will report to the kitchens for extra duty, consider yourself lucky boy, I will not have live weapons on my base without express permission, and when you do get that permission, you will not be carrying inferior weapons like those. Git!" Delont stalked off angrily to his quarters, discipline was apparently going to be a problem...

Brittany walked over to the compound and found her barracks, she opened her bag and put on her 'proper fatigues'. she put some vaseline on her lips and her pimple blemishes.

she came out and wondered where her squad were.

Bows his head slighty as he immediatly takes off his numerous weapons and swords placing them into his unusally large duffel bag in his hand then as soon as he finishes removing the as the Sarge put it *live and inferior weapons* from his personal he heads over to the kitchen smiling as he walks in for he was a excellent chief as he gets his orders from the Marine in charge of the food quarters he gets right to work so he may put his items in the barracks afterwards and enjoy his stay here at this wonderful holiday inn he then smirks at his own little joke and gets to work on cleaning the numerous pots and plate and plastic silverware but before he does so he rolls his sleeves up and pulls out some headphones and pushes play on a mini walkman and those around him can hear Rob Zombie being played loudly from the headphones

Cal woke with a yawn, then checked his watch. Only a half-hour of shut-eye. Goddamn. He cancelled the alarm, then got up and stripped out of his wrinkled jumpsuit. He wore a pair of flat black compression shorts beneath his jumpsuit, which was pretty common where he came from. The integral cup was more for modesty than protection, seeing as how it wasn't rigid, but...

He changed into a pair of flat black cargoes with numerous pocket and a skin-tight black T-shirt. He would then pull the subdued black web-belt tight, but leave the gunbelt he would normally have worn in the footlocker.

Over this, he pulled on the traditional black jacket that fell to just below the waist. There were two proper cuts of jacket to wear with this particularly style of clothing, depending on whether one was wearing a weapon at the hip.

Cal wasn't, so he wore the longer cut jacket. Had he been wearing a pistol or a sword, he'd have worn the jacket that was cut to above waist-level.

The clothing was proper and traditional for a Revenian soldier when not in armor. Even then, he would merely have to shuck the jacket and the pants and he'd be just fine.

He would then give his boots a quick once over with a clean rag, slide them on, tie them, snap the buckles shut, rise to his feet, stretch, yawn, and exit the barracks.

In time to notice Delont chewing out a pair of late arrivals. Not to say this was going on in front of him -- it wasn't. It was, in fact, going on quite a distance away. But Cal was possessed of the tuned and trained senses of a Fleet Marine, piled on top of a youth spent in the outdoors. Specifically, on the plains of Armel. Anyways.

He made his way over to the young woman...what was the name...olaf...no. Olav, yeah, that was it. So he made his way over to Olav at a quickstep. Not anywhere close to an outright run, but also not a walk. It served.

"Hey. I'm Cal McRae. You are a victim of poor timing. Something to work on. I was headed over to see if I could get some time with a pistol and as close to an entry mock-up as possible. Care to tag along?"

'well my parents sent me to the wrong place and all that crap' she said, tucking some soft blond hair behind her ear.
'sure' Brittany said smiling, noticing he was kinda cute

[[I'm ba-aack!]]

Lowdbang Kersplode was enjoying himself immensley, despite the somewhat unfortunate event with his hand. Even that had resolved itself to the small Goblin's satisfaction - he had, after all, solved the Mystery of the Strange Green Liquid That Looks and Tastes Strangely Like Lowdbang Kersplode's Blood (Goblins are not brilliant at thinking up catchy names), and was feeling cunning and very pleased with himself at managing to not only solve the mystery but also at being able to remember fully a quarter of what people had said!

He clicked his knuckles as he stretched. This took some time. A long green nose was placed by the Goblin's knees as he curled up in the grass outside for a nap. Before long he was snoring loudly, making a noise like a pneumatic drill as his photosynthetic skin absorbed the daylight and converted the light energy into energy to be used later.

It is an interesting but rarely known fact that the Nebula Greenskins have three primary methods of gaining energy and nutrition - the first of these is the fairly typical digestive process that works much as any other (although it is far more resistant to poison than most other species, and Goblins consider many posionous and toxic foods to be good flavouring), the second is the synthesis of alcohol into pure chemical energy, and the third method is their photosynthetic skin - the chloroplasts in the skin cells and chlorohaemoglobin in blood cells being the reason for their skin colouring.

And so, Kersplode was enjoying a rest that he believed well-earned, while he gained energy from both the sun and his digestive system for later use. He had met a bunch of new people - all of whom seemed nice - and the sergeant was pretty friendly for a Fyta Boss. All in all it had been a good day, and there was more to come! The small greenskin snored on, a very noisy alarm clock (not of Goblin manufacture) cradled in his hands - he did not want to miss much more of this day. Maybe they'd give him some explosives soon, that would really cap it all off.

Cal would nod, then head off at, what was for him, a slow trot...but for most people would have been a hearty run. The difference was in the motions. When he got up to speed on low-gee planets, his strides became less of strides and more of small leaps.

He arrived at the place he'd mentally labelled as the firing range, and made his way up to the rangemaster. Or whatever you wanna call 'em.

"Sir, I was wondering. You have anything around here resembling an entry-mock up? Pistol or SMG course...that sorta thing? Prior training in High-threat High-intensity situations, y'know. Like to make sure what I know still applies."

What he meant was that he was an entry specialist. Which was somewhat odd in an officer, but...then again. The proper terminology was "shock tactics," but that was often misconstrued...

Brittany followed at a medium walk, she took a back seat, just listening to what he was saying and taking in the surroundings.

Robby's mind always wandered a lot when he was running, and today was no exception.

He found himself thinking about home, about what his brother Nikolai was doing right now (not knowing that his brother had just come out of a firefight with three bullet holes in him), about places he'd rather be than this dump, and various others.

There were two thoughts running through his head now. The first was I wonder what Syl is doing right now. Probably asleep, the lazy twonk. The second was a thought that had been floating around in his conscious thought patterns for most of the day, although it wasn't so much a thought, rather a multitude of thoughts surrounding a person: Raven.

He couldn't see her anymore, because there was something obstructing his view ahead, namely the curve of the route they were taking and things like buildings and trees which happened to be in the middle.
***

Alex was indeed, as Robby suspected, asleep. Flat out on his bunk, arms folded behind his head, snoring quietly. His face appeared peaceful, the slight twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth, as though dreaming of pleasent memories. The arrival of the two late recruits had passed him by, as had Cal's brief return to the barracks, all three of them failing to disturb his slumber.

Cal would nod, then head off at, what was for him, a slow trot...but for most people would have been a hearty run. The difference was in the motions. When he got up to speed on low-gee planets, his strides became less of strides and more of small leaps.

He arrived at the place he'd mentally labelled as the firing range, and made his way up to the rangemaster. Or whatever you wanna call 'em.

"Sir, I was wondering. You have anything around here resembling an entry-mock up? Pistol or SMG course...that sorta thing? Prior training in High-threat High-intensity situations, y'know. Like to make sure what I know still applies."

What he meant was that he was an entry specialist. Which was somewhat odd in an officer, but...then again. The proper terminology was "shock tactics," but that was often misconstrued...


Bronson stared cockeyed at the Revenian, sucked his teeth for a moment and then replied
"Well, if you mean you'd like to run a obstacle course, there is one, 's kind of tough though, No live weapons though, just runin' the course, not something for officers patty..I mean training. " he said grinning wickedly, " Straight through there, don't get hurt." he said pointing over his shoulder.
This'll be good he thought pit traps, gravfield enhancers, stun fields, invis's, The Pendulum, and a few other surprises, poor prat dun't know what he's in for.

Cal looked Bronson in the eyes.

"Keep that choice bit of information on the downlow, will you, Corp? I may be...prior service...but I'm also White Company, and before that I was in the Marauder/Recon program. May not mean much to you, Corp, but lets just say that the M/R's MO was combat without support on hostile planets against qualitatively and numerically superior enemy forces.

Thank's for the tip-off, though. I would appreciate it endlessly if that didn't spread, so pass that on to Delont, will you? Thanks."

Then he made a precise turn and headed towards the obstacle course, removing his jacket as he did so. He found a nice place to rest it, then took a few moments to limber up.

The words came to him of their own volition..

"Kitsikara-kajun-tikai makrit-jakintekr-kalakintyen"

High Ascended. Harsh, with lots of stopping the airflow on the ks so it sounded like he was talking in some sort of verbal morse code. Wouldn't mean a thing to anybody but another individual with Ascended blood, because the words themselves didn't mean a damn thing. High Ascended was a language of mind and body more than it was a language of the voice...

"March! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies
Front! --eyes front, an' watch the Colour-casin's drip.
Front! The faces of the women in the 'ouses
Ain't the kind o' things to take aboard the ship.

Cheer! An' we'll never march to victory.
Cheer! An' we'll never live to hear the cannon roar!
The large birds o' prey
They will carry us away,
An' you'll never see your soldiers any more"

He would begin, then, his body dropping reflexively into the half-crouch that was standard for slow-movement in a situation where one operated as much in alpha, off reflex, as anything else. No reason to rush this, he had all the time in the world. More to the point, there was nothing to be gained by hurrying and plenty to be gained by taking it slow.

His body felt his mind go alert and responded as it had been trained to respond, feeding a small trickle of Adrenaline into his system, and everything would become almost painfully sharp as his trained eye scanned for potential traps, ambush points...things out of the ordinary.

Brittany swooned as she saw him bravely go forth

Di Lorenzi jogged over to where Raven was resting for a few moments.

"Have you seen the new girl here? She's barely met anyone and she's already fallen head over heels for Cal."

She turned to look in the distance where Cal had started and Brittany was standing adoring him.

"She looks like she never left the house in her life, not to mention held a weapon. But I could be wrong, you probably are the most in shape recruit here."

*Raven looked up at the sound of Ondrea's voice*

"Hmmmmm? What? Oh yes.....I saw her arrive, she looks more like a Barbie Doll than a soldier."

*She shields her eyes and looks over at her watching Cal prepare and grins*

"Looks like he's praying to have her taken off his hands if you ask me!"

*She laughed, though her face showed that it was a hollow laugh and that her mind had wandered elsewhere again.*

Probably what Robby is doing about me right now........I wish I hadn't pulled that stupid trick with the feinting thing, WHAT A FOOL I MUST HAVE LOOKED! Good grief, I'm not up to this flirting stuff.......It always comes out all wrong!

*A movement in the distance catches her attention, dragging her back to reality again. It's Robby running easily, as if out of nowhere from behind a tree.
She stands and pushes Ondrea into action.*

"Come on......I know we can't outrun him, but we can at least not humilate ourselves more than we have to!"

Robby cleared the obstructions and the two women came back into his view ahead. Together, he noted, and much closer than he expected. They must have stopped, he thought.

He had decided to not to overtake them, but to run with them when he caught up, as a gesture of comradeship. This early in the training course wasn't the time to outrun them just because he could, that could come later, after they knew each other better.

Due to his wandering thoughts, Robby hadn't yet noticed the two late arrivals, even though the sound of Delont bellowing at someone had drifted over to him. He would not actually notice them until he finished running, since his subconscious was fully engaged, and his conscious thoughts were drifting randomly through the depths of his mind.

*Raven ran next to Ondrea matching the smaller woman's pace easily.
Her body and legs wanting to go faster, she held back.
Wanting to encourage her to try a little harder and push herself, Raven runs slightly in front of her and half turned, so that she was almost running backwards.*

"Come on Ondrea...you CAN go faster than that....there's more in those little legs of yours than you're giving!"

*Raven laughs as Ondrea spat out her responce.*

"What a thing for a lady to say! Come on!......Robby's catching us up"!

*Both concentrating on each other, Raven gently goading and Ondrea snarling curses, they don't notice that the pathway is begining to curve to the left. Sensing something behind her, Raven turns, too late to stop herself from tripping on the curbstone.
Her forward motion sends her carreering over it and head first onto the ground, smacking her temple onto a marker stone.
This time, Raven was out cold for real.*

OOC: what can brittany do now?

Ondrea didn't know what ahd happened to Raven. She saw her fall down but didn't see what she landed on. Seeing her crumpled down on the ground, she quickly got down on her knees beside her to position Raven in the safety position for First Aid. Robby was farther back and she knew trime was against her. The pain was in Raven's face as Ondrea could tell she wasn't getting up any time soon.

"Why did this happen to me? Why?"

Just get her to medical help. She thought

Picking her up over her shoulders, Ondrea hoisted her over her and began to jog back to the camp and find the medical building. Robby was nowhere to be seen, and Raven was getting heavier with each step Ondrea took. She held on to her as she seemed to gain weight and the camp seemed deserted from where she was.

When she arrived in camp, she saw the big red cross and ran straight for it. Like a surge on energy when she saw it, she sprinted and opened the doors shouting.

"GET ME A DOCTOR!"

After rounding another corner, Robby found that both Raven and Ondrea had vanished from the track visible ahead.
They couldn't have suddenly put on that much speed, could they? he asked himself. And neither would give up without a good reason. Where the hell are they?

Since he had no indicators as to what had happened, or where they had gone, he decided to continue and finish the run, then find them later. Now that he appeared to have no reason to stay slow, he put some extra effort in and raised his pace so that he would finish sooner.

*Raven groans and carefully opens her eyes and through blurred vision, finds herself in a bed on a medical ward.
For a moment she is confused at her surroundings, then the violent headache reminds her of her fall.
She puts her hand up to her temple and whinces.*

Now thats a damned good start to your training Raven me girl!

*She closes her eyes again and tries to push back the pain*

Delont leaned over Ravens bed
"Well don't you just take all girl?" he said harshly, as a nurse came over with a small device in her hand, she began running it over Ravens head, reducing internal swelling, but doing little for the pain,
"You'll be out in a few days, until then, get some rest." he said, turning around and walking out, Delont never could stand hospitals

*Raven sighs as she watches Delont leave.*

Damn, thats gonna set me back and I need the weapons practice as it is......Good Grief I hate hospitals!

*She leans back and closes her eyes as the nurse works on her head wound. The relief of pressure made her head thump less, but the sharp pain of her injury still caused her to whince.
Not out of vanity, but curiosity, she asked the nurse for a mirror and grimaced as she looked at her face. her eyes were puffy and already darkening into yellow/black bruises and her cheeks were red and puffing as though she had been crying for days, but it was the gash on her forhead that caused the most concern.
It ran in a jagged line from her hairline to just under her eyebrow, just about where that stray lock of hair had once been.......*

Damnit.........I knew it.......That'll teach you.........

*Putting the mirror down, she lays back trying to get comfortable.*

Di Lorenzi walked in as she passed Sarge walking out. Looking down at Raven on the bed, she just sighed and said.

"Well, you look better now then when you fell. Not to mention you look lighter now that I don't have to carry you."

Looking at the gash above the eye, she pointed up to her black patch over her right eye.

"It looks better than when I lost this... less painful anyway. Sorry I couldn't get you here faster, I'll need to work on the course a little more."

*Raven smiles and whinces at the pain.*
"I'll mend and you're right, I'm lucky that I still have all parts working."

*Then it clicks what Ondrea had said.....Raven looks at her for a moment*

"YOU carried me? Well you might say you need more time on the assault coarse, but you certainly come through when you need to!"

*She beams at her*

"Thankyou Ondrea, I appreciate it and when I escape this plce we'll get out first chance, my treat!"

Kersplode was the next into the room, accompanied by the harsh insistence of a nurse that he was to touch nothing....he had already been dumped into a vat of antibiotics and purifying liquids before even being permitted to enter the medical area.

Despite the enforced washing the little creature was reasonably cheerful and was lugging a rather large metal canister around. How he had managed to hide it from the nurses and doctors is unknown, but Goblins are very good at hiding things. Especially certain liquids.

With a bit of effort he tugged a guest chair up beside the bed, and stood on it, hauling up the container and dropping it with great ceremony on the bed, beside Raven with a completely unsubtle wink.

"Wun uv dem soldery typezez sayed dat day dun' reely giv ya anytink fer da payne, zo I brort ya sum uv Da Kinda Lite Stuff, unli fortery puh-cents alcylol."

The Goblin grinned proudly at both Raven and Di Lorenzo.

*Raven smiles at Kersplode and tries with some difficulty not to laugh, only the pain in her head stopping her*

"Thankyou! You are the nicest Goblin I have ever had the pleasure to meet!"

*She leans over and plants a kiss on his forehead*

After Kersplode and Ondrea had left, the next visitor was Robby, looking suitably apologetic and downcast. He came over and sat down beside her bed on the chair left by the goblin without saying a word.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea what had happened to you, I never saw any of it. I just carried on with my run, and I'm sorry." He lifted his gaze from his feet to look at her face.

"The first I knew of this was when Ondrea reappeared and told us. I'd have been here sooner, but I didn't want anyone else to be here."

He smiled sorrowfully at her, his eyes taking in the damage to her pretty face, and regretting that he had not been there for her.

*Raven looked at him for a moment, then reached over and roughled his hair, the way that a mother would when her son was upset.*

"Why are you sorry Robby?
Did you move the path and put that flag stone or whatever it was I hit my head on, there?"

*She puts her hand on his*

"Do me a favour and feel guilty when you've done something wrong and not before....."

*She pauses for a moment then asks quietly*

"Have you still got that lock of hair I gave you?
Would you promisse me to carry it with you all the time and not loose it?
And for goodness sake.....NEVER give it away....."

As he finishes all the chores the Marine in charge of the food court told him to do he sprints over to the barracks to put up his items and to get some time to relax for he was always nervous about interplantery travel and he never slept while traveling that why but as he reachs the barracks he gets to the very last bed in the corner farthest away from the door for it is a habit of his to be far from the door so that he may always be ready for anything coming in* then as he places his clothing into the trunk at his bedside he pulls out 5 boxes roughly the size of a shoe box* that gives off the smell of honey baked deer jerky with a bit of pepper flavoring for spicyness then he sits the now almost empty duffel bag in the footlocker along with the folded towels and rookie unifomr which he changes into after examing it he then chuckles saying to himself but outloud "i guess they did get my letter requesting a specialized uniform and the last bunk hmm oh well" then soon after changing he lays down to relax setting his watch alarm for 3 hours later so he can be plenty rested

Robby blushed slightly at her action, then smiled ruefully.

"You're right, of course. I had nothing to do with it," he agreed.

He looked at her, now with a happier look in his eyes. At the question, he reached his pocket and brought out the braided lock of hair with care, as though it was an object of immense value and extremely fragile.

"You mean this? Of course I still have it. No chance I'll ever give it away, so don't worry about that. I may chuck it in the fire, though."

He grinned as he saw her eyes light up angrily, then quickly continued. "Just kidding. I'll do my very best to keep it with me at all times. One question though. Why?"

Before she could respond, he spoke again. "You know, you're beautiful when you're angry. And even with all this," he traced his finger over the cuts and bruises on her face, "you're still one hell of a pretty face."

*Raven blinked and looked at him through puffed and bloodshot eyes, for a moment she wasn't sure he had said what he had, but the look on his face and his tender touch told her different.
It was her turn to blush, making the bruising on her face even darker.
Trying to cover it with a joke she grinned.*

"Talk about kicking a girl when she's down, telling me that when I look like this! I have never been pretty in my whole life!"

*She quickly tried to change the subject.*

"The hair..yes the hair. Superstition, bad things happen when it is cut."

*She pauses laughing, then whincing at the pain that caused.*

"But it brings with it good luck to those who have a lock of it. So just don't give it away OK and try not to loose it, I know it's stupid, but I would like you to hold onto it."

Robby smiled gently.
"No really. I still see a pretty face, even through all this. Just thought you might like to know that someone does."
He bent forward and kissed her gently, the touch of his lips ever so light to avoid hurting the bruised skin.

He frowned at her explanation.
"Bad things, fall on a rock and knock yourself out, bad things by any chance?"

He returned the lock of hair to his pocket, fastening the pocket securely to prevent it falling out.
"Don't worry. As long as I'm around, I won't let anything bad happen to you. At least, not after today. If you'd told me before, I might have stopped this," he said reassuringly. "And this isn't going anywhere." He patted the pocket with his hand.

*Raven was speechless, in fact so speechless that she couldn't even open her mouth, let alone utter a sound, her mind wroking over time she could only nod in agreement with what he had said.*

He kissed me........HE KISSED ME!..........Oh good grief, this is only our first day (or is it our second, how long was I out for?), day of training and HE KISSED ME!.....What the hell are we playing at, we are here to learn how to fight, not make THIS sort of friendship.....HE KISSED ME......Come on Raven pull yourself together, you've been kissed before......STOP IT NOW!......OW my head hurts......OH hell HE kissed me.....HELL...and he has sworn to protect me?........Raven you get yourslef into some hellish scrapes girl!

OOC
Sorry people but am away beating people and various nasty things, with blunt instruments for a couple of weeks, see you back here on the 4th of July.....

Robby winked at Raven, then stood.

"I'll see you later, okay?" he said, smiled, then turned and left.

He was halfway back to the barracks block when he realised that she hadn't actually answered his question, but he had recognised the expression on her face and decided that, hey it wasn't really that important, and the answer was obvious, wasn't it?

The events that had occured since his arrival at this camp weren't exactly how he'd originally forseen his first day of training to be, but he wasn't going to complain. The only really interesting thing was that he hadn't blinked all day, but maybe that was because nothing really significant had happened yet.

OOC: looks like a lot of people are having some trouble getting on, or I am at least, so continue playing please and I'll post when I can thanks.

As he wakes up from his nap he slowly looks around wondering why noone else was inside the barracks at the moment then as he shrugs the sleepiness away he walks over to the door still slouchin so that he doesnt hit his head on the roof when he exits he notices several of the fellow rookies leaving the hospital wing chuckling to himself as he relaxes in the sunlight waiting for the next training session to begin for he already missed two.

[[Hi, just a quick apology for my lack of presence - LARP followed by Glastonbury, and DJing taking up spare time.
I'll get a post in tomorrow once I've had time to read up on previous posts.

Once again, apologies for the delays, but I thought I should let you know that I haven't forgotten about the RP (actually, it's one of my favorites so far) and that I haven't vanished off the face of the Earth (although seeing as this isn't set on Earth....)

Cheerio,
ND]]

*Raven sighed as she watched Robby leave.
She hated being told things and not be able to answer, she kicked herself for not speaking more to Robby and behaving like some teenage schoolgirl.

But even more so, she hated hospitals and she hated being kept in bed just for the sake of a headache.
Wincing at the pain, she squinted through the window and saw Robby sauntering over to the barracks and then that tall new recruit uncurl himself from the doorway.

It was a glorious late afternoon outside, she watched the breeze ruffle the leaves on the trees sending patterned speckles of sunlight through and onto the immaculate lawns just outside her window.

She sighed again and looked towards the door, no-one around. Her life had always been full of people and bustle and noise and this silence and solitude was already getting her down.*

"Soddit..... I'm bustin' outa here!"

*Standing, a Little shakily at first, she searched for the clothes she had been wearing when she had fallen. They were nowhere to be seen.*

"Ah well, escape in a hospital gown....."

*Not worried that she was naked under the loose shift that tied at the back, she edged to wards the door and then began to pad bare footed to wards the exit.*

Brittany had heard what had happened to Raven, she went along to the hospital to see her.
I hardly know this girl, isnt this a bit strange she thought to herself,
oh well at least I can offer my friendship to her she said smiling to herself.

Robby entered the barracks to find it deserted. No, he corrected himself, almost deserted. Lying flat out on his bunk and snoring gently was Alex, still asleep despite the comings and goings of those around him.

Robby padded softly over to his own bunk and picked up one of his boots, which was lying on its side by his foot locker. He hefted the boot, shifted his grip then lightly tossed it in the direction of his friend.

The boot landed on Sylvero's stomach, causing him to wake up instantly and double up as he had the wind knocked out of him. He rolled off the low bunk and thudded to the floor. He remained out of sight for several seconds, then his brown hair reappeared.

"You fucking prick," he gasped, arms clenched around his stomach.

Robby laughed. "Well, I couldn't let you sleep all day, Syl. And you were such an inviting target."

Alex grabbed at Robby's boot and threw it as hard as he could back at the other Indoan. Fortunately, he was still struggling to breath and the boot just glanced off Robby's left forearm and fell to the floor.

"Fuck you! How the fuck did I ever let you drag me into this?" grumbled Alex as he got his breath back. "I should be at home in the Air Academy, learning to fly, not here in this shitehole."

The cursing would stop soon, Robby knew, since Alex could never stay mad for long. He just wasn't that kind of person. So he just grinned at his friend and sat down on his bunk. He would apologise in a few minutes, but he knew from past experience that Alex wouldn't hold it against him anyway.

Brittany had been waiting around for it seemed ages, she gave up trying to see Raven, she went back to the camp, she sighed heavily, she was starting to miss her family and friends

she walked past some barracks where she heard some loud cursing.

'Is everything alright?' she asked, knocking on the door.

*A tall well built, muscular woman appears at Brittany's side, as she looks up at her, she guesses, from the state of her face and long blue black hair, that she must be Raven.*

"That'll be Robby and Alex having a spat again, they're really nice boys, but it doesn't do for lovers to be in the same unit, I hate domestic arguments don't you?"

*As she steps in front of Brittany to open the door, she notices that Raven is bare foot and wearing a surgical gown.*

"Come on in, meet our motley crew."

*She tries to wink, but crinkles her face up in pain instead. Turning her attention to the two Indoan's as she enters.*

"Now now boys, we had another little lovers tiff have we? Never mind, Auntie Raven's here she'll make it all better again."

*Walking towards her bunk, Raven picks up Robby's stray boot and without hesitation throws it at him.*

"What have I told you about throwing things when you're having a hissy fit?"
*She shakes her head and makes tutting sounds, looking sternly at the two men.*

"You two are obviously bored, let me get changed and you can take me to the range and give me some weapons practice, it's a little drafty in this gown, even though it is obviously much more alluring than fatigues."

*Walking over to her foot locker, she drags out fresh uniform and without hesitation, drops the hospital gown and begins to change.*

'Yeah they arent nice' she said, she shyly walked in, she didnt know the people very well. she smiled at Alex.

'can I come with you for the weapons thing?' Brittany asked.

*Raven stops halfway through pulling on her sock*

"I'm sorry, this ..... (she nods to the larger of the Indoans).... is Alex Sylvero.... (she grins at Robby) ...... and this is Robby Kane. I am Coryn Corvax, but most call me Raven for obvious reasons."

*Finished with her sock, she drags on her boot*

"The other woman with us, she's short with an eye patch, is Ondrea Di Lorenzi."

*Raven looks up and smiles a painful smile.*

"I'm afraid I haven't caught your name yet, or the tall fellow's who came in just before you.... and of course you can join us at the range, as soon as these two have kissed and made up....."

*She feigns disgust at the two men and sighs, then pats her bunk and beckons Brittany over to sit next to her.*

"Come and tell me about yourself while they get themselves sorted, don't worry they'll be holding hands and skipping through the meadows before you know it."

*She catches Robby's look and pulls a face back at him.*

Brittany sat next to her and laughed to the comment about the skipping and meadow.
'I am Brittany Olav, I am from Tres Bonne a little busy island south of Serafima, I have no family and the country is in anarchy hence why i was sent her, I have nowhere to go now' she said, glancing over to Alex and smiling.

'Is Alex single?' she whispered and they giggled.

"That's a sad state of affairs Brittany, I come from a huge farming community, with an extended family and a history to match it, believe me you can still feel lost amongst a family my size as much as when you are with none.
I hope you can feel that we are your family soon enough, it's rapidly heading that way and we've only been around each other for a short while."



*Raven looked from the small slightly built young girl, over to the huge mass of Robby grinning like a six year old, with the shorter and slimmer Alex still scouling next to him.*

"Think you may be biting off more than you can chew there girl....."

'you think? oh well....its just, this might sound silly, but i can have loads of girl friends but theres something about him, i dont know, i can have loads of girlfriends and not b happy but when i have a boyfriend, i am so much more happier and i need as much happiness and confidence in this place, the officers beat me down so much for 'needing a good meal' ' she said, looking down.

*Raven looks at the waif of a girl sitting next to her and smiles.*

"I can understand why everyone wants to feed you up, but you don't need a man to be strong, you need to find your own strengths"

'thanks' she said smiling softly.

'I can be strong, but when i realise what my life is, i realise i have nothing to be proud of' she said, smiling, wiping a tear.

'i can be strong without a man, i dont go chasing, i'll wait for them' she said

'so....I wanna show you guys how to operate a gun, when we going?' she asked, dusting her hands and wiped her eyes.

OOC: free eagles is online but hes not posting in here......weird?

OOC: Yes, it's called posting in the many other RPs I'm taking part in, hence online but not in this thread. And Alex is short and thin. Robby's the bigger Indoan.

IC:
Both Indoans looked around as Raven entered the room, and both started to say something. Before either of them managed to actually produce any coherent words, Robby had to throw his arm in the path of his airborne boot to avoid being clobbered in the face.

Alex didn't manage to say anything either because he started laughing, then doubled up coughing again. By the time he was standing up again, Robby was speaking.

"Now look who's throwing things. I just gave Syl a wake up call is all. He just feels that there were probably some slightly more appropriate ways of doing so," shot back Robby.

Robby then found himself staring at Raven as she changed, unable to pull his eyes away until Alex clipped him round the back of his head.
"Privacy, Robby," he murmured quietly. Robby shot Alex with a lethal glance then picked up his boot again and put it on.

Robby pulled on his own fatigue jacket over his T-shirt and stood. He had heard the other girl introduce herself but he still didn't know who she was. Alex was evidently thinking the same thing, as he heard another softly spoken comment in his ear.

"Who's the fresh blood?" Robby shrugged.

"Late arrival?" he whispered back. Then he grinned and spoke out loud. "All right, range time. Syl, I bet I can shoot better than you," he challenged his friend.

"No bet. You're a soldier, I'm a pilot. Of course you can shoot better than me, you moron," replied Alex. "And we're not going out there to have a competition, we're helping Raven to learn to shoot like a pro."

(OOC....OOPS! Missed a bit out of my post, so it didn't make sense at all! I have ammended it! Naughty Raven no biscuits for you me girl!)

Both Indoans looked around as Raven entered the room, and both started to say something. Before either of them managed to actually produce any coherent words, Robby had to throw his arm in the path of his airborne boot to avoid being clobbered in the face.

Alex didn't manage to say anything either because he started laughing, then doubled up coughing again. By the time he was standing up again, Robby was speaking.

"Now look who's throwing things. I just gave Syl a wake up call is all. He just feels that there were probably some slightly more appropriate ways of doing so," shot back Robby.

*Raven shrugs, not even thinking of turning her back to Robby and Alex as she begins to undress and change into her fatigues, she continues her conversation with them.*

"Do unto others is what my old Gran used to say, if you don't want to have things thrown at you then don't throw them. Now if you want a wake up call, then I'll show you later what I used for the more 'tired' of our farm hands."


Robby pulled on his own fatigue jacket over his T-shirt and stood. He had heard the other girl introduce herself but he still didn't know who she was. Alex was evidently thinking the same thing, as he heard another softly spoken comment in his ear.

"Who's the fresh blood?" Robby shrugged.

"Late arrival?" he whispered back. Then he grinned and spoke out loud. "All right, range time. Syl, I bet I can shoot better than you," he challenged his friend.

"No bet. You're a soldier, I'm a pilot. Of course you can shoot better than me, you moron," replied Alex. "And we're not going out there to have a competition, we're helping Raven to learn to shoot like a pro."

*Raven, hands on hips, sighs at the two of them.*

"Will you two stop it? If either of you can manage to get me to shoot in a straight line with my eye sight as it is now, you will be lucky."

*She gingerly puts her hand up to her face to test it's tenderness and stifles the yelp of pain as she touches a tender spot.*

"But, if you can, then think what you will be able to do with me when I'm recovered....."

*Putting a hand on Brittany's shoulder, she introduces her.*

"This, my dear retrobates, is Brittany Olaf. She's tagging along with us as her company seems to have lost her as she arrived late. She's promised to show us how use our weapons properly and I most certainly need all the help I can get."

Ondrea was laying down stomach-first on the roof, blanket over her and her one eye looking through the scope of her 24mm rifle. Peering through the windows of the building opposite of her, looking for the leader of the rebellion's leader.

She knew he was a man who went by the codename "Shadow", and she also knew he was responsible for her father's kidnapping. Filled with hate and rage she kept peering through the windows looking for Shadow. He passed by one window walking by to see that the man that fit the description of the person she was to kill looked like her father. Her reaction pulling the trigger, the bang was fired.

Ondrea woke up sweaty with all the others talking in the barracks. Breathing heavily, she sat back down looking at the new girl before staring generally at the group blankly.

*Raven caught a movement from the corner of her bloodshot eye, she turned her face towards Ondrea, then turning back ushered the Indoans and Brittany out of the door.
As she left she called back.*

"When you're ready Ondrea, come to the range, I need all the help I can get."

Brittany smiled shyly and looked after Raven the best she could, whilst sizing up up the boys.

'Lets go then' she said smiling, zipping up her tight sporty cardigan.

Raises a eyebrow as he gets up from the grass heading over to the firing range with the other personal slowly following some five feet back so that he doesnt seem too intruding upon the group but he hums a mercenary tune loudly it has a catchty tune about it

*Raven Nudges Robby*
"Looks like the tall guy wants to join us as well?"
*They continue walking*

Ondrea struggled to catch up with Raven alongside Robby

Well, it looks like someone's used to getting all the attention. First showing up late, now this.

"Ondrea!"
*Raven's warm welcome and the arm she places around Ondrea's shoulder goes some way in dispelling her feeling that she is being left out.*

"This is Britanny"
*She gestures to her*

"And this, Britanny, is Ondrea, the third 'witch' of our coven. She's a hero, she carried me single handedly back to medicare when I did this!"
*Raven grimaces as she touches her forhead*

"You lot have just volunteered to help me fire a weapon without hurting anyone other than the targets....."

"Trouble is I can hardly see out of either eye!"
*Raven laughed at the irony*

"But if I can learn like this?"

Ondrea couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm not a hero... I was double-handed, not single. To make my point, I was single-eyed. But that's nothing out of the usual for me. A good stream of target practice would do me good, maybe you (Raven) will see things how I do. Of course you can learn from it, you only need one when you look through a scope."

*Raven laughs again, whincing as she forgets her swollen face.*

"Well you've got your work cut out I can tel you."

*As they walk past the medicare unit, Raven Ducks her head under Robby's arm, and leans in close, hoping that the friendly gesture would shield her from anyone looking for their escaped patient*

Robby eyed the figure coming towards them.

"Well, ain't this turning into a regular party? Me and Syl volunteer to help Raven with her aim, and before we know it, we got the whole squad coming along. All we need now is the goblin and that Cal guy."

He shook his head, resigning himself to it, then greeted the sniper.

"Hey, Ondrea. Thanks for helping out Raven. I seem to care for her somewhat, so I'm glad you were there to help," he told her.

Alex nodded his own greeting to Ondrea, then spoke.

"Hey, with these two around," he indicated Robby and Ondrea, "we'll have you hitting the target at max range with your eyes closed in no time. Pity the weapon's so useless," he said to Raven.

Robby put his arm around Raven's shoulders as she came close, and gently turned her head so it was facing away from the medical building. He spotted someone who might be looking for her, and turned to face directly away from them, bringing Raven around with him. To lend the movement legitimacy, he responded to Alex's comment.

"Yeah, I wish we had Indoan guns too, but we'll have to make do with what we've got. I'd gladly exchange that extra ammo for greater range or power. And I've still yet to see anything capable of putting holes in a tank or bringing down an aircraft."

'guys....feast your eyes' Brittany said, unlocking a steel case, full of top class guns and plenty of ammo.

'best my country have' she saidm handing them around.

Robby eyed the figure coming towards them.

"Well, ain't this turning into a regular party? Me and Syl volunteer to help Raven with her aim, and before we know it, we got the whole squad coming along. All we need now is the goblin and that Cal guy."

*Raven sighed*
"You two can't have all to yourselves all the time"


He shook his head, resigning himself to it, then greeted the sniper.

"Hey, Ondrea. Thanks for helping out Raven. I seem to care for her somewhat, so I'm glad you were there to help," he told her.

Alex nodded his own greeting to Ondrea, then spoke.

"Hey, with these two around," he indicated Robby and Ondrea, "we'll have you hitting the target at max range with your eyes closed in no time. Pity the weapon's so useless," he said to Raven.

"For the moment I am pleased that they are inferior as you refer to them, they still frighten the hell out of me!"


Robby put his arm around Raven's shoulders as she came close, and gently turned her head so it was facing away from the medical building. He spotted someone who might be looking for her, and turned to face directly away from them, bringing Raven around with him. To lend the movement legitimacy, he responded to Alex's comment.

"Yeah, I wish we had Indoan guns too, but we'll have to make do with what we've got. I'd gladly exchange that extra ammo for greater range or power. And I've still yet to see anything capable of putting holes in a tank or bringing down an aircraft."

*Raven nestled comfortably into his side, somehow it felt natural. Even when they had moved away from the Medicare Unit, she still stayed where she was walking between the two Idoans.

She sighs again as she listens to Robby's moans*

Give us a chance will you? I'll have enough trouble throwing stones the way things are going!"

'guys....feast your eyes' Brittany said, unlocking a steel case, full of top class guns and plenty of ammo.

'best my country have' she saidm handing them around.

*Raven's face drops, she groans and burries her face in Robby's chest*

"For goodness sake Brittany!
Put them away and get that lot stowed away, the last one who had his own weapons ended up on kitchen duties!"

*She pauses and looks at the young girl in front of her.*

"And while you're on, it may be best if you put on your fatigues, the Sarg won't be best pleased to see you dressed like that!"

'I'm sorry' Brittany said, locking the case.

'Alex, can...I walk with you?' she asked shyly.

*Raven looked exasperated*

"Go! Back to the barracks..get rid of your weapons and change or do you want to spend the rest of your training in the kitchens?"

*She speaks quietly to her*

"Alex will still be here when you get back."

Cal exhaled annoyedly as he executed yet another dive for the purpose of evasion. They said that practice made perfect...which must mean that he could qualify for the galactic championship in dives for the purpose evasion -- he'd certainly milked that maneuver to the fullest in this bleeding obstacle course.

Passing over the obstacle and avoiding the rather large log that swept across the path, he rolled out of the dive and came up on one knee, his eyes scanning the path in front of him, his ears tuned for the slightest sound.

There were elements among Revenian society who harped about "Hunter Sense," like it was some sort of super power. It wasn't -- it was just being alert. It was not acting beyond movement, instead devoting your entire being to detecting and then reacting.

So it was thus that he dropped flat on the ground in time to avoid yet another sweeping log, then came up nto to one knee and pushed off into a flat-out sprint, gaining momentum...

His feet left ground and if one had any doubts as to Cal being a heavyworlder, that long jump should have put them to rest. He went over the set of hurdles, over the rolling logs, over the tires...did a full one-eighty inversion, and hit the final wall with his feet.

Then promptly fell downwards, and would have hit flat if he hadn't gotten a knee under himself, which hurt like a bitch but allowed him to rise rapidly to tackle the wall.

The climbing holds were few and far between, and purposefully small. Nonetheless, Cal scrambled up that wall as if he'd been born to it, which was a nice, neutral "as if" statement, indeed.

He planted his hands firmly on the top of the wall and kicked away and up, pivoting over the wall and dropping straight downwards, rotating around so as to face away from the wall as he fell.

He hit the ground and carried his momentum downwards into a crouch, absorbing some of the impact. It hurt, yes, but he wouldn't let that stop him...he was already alert for another set of challenges...only to discover that he'd actually reached the end of the course.

He rose to his feet and walked slowly away...then a wry smile lit his face and he stepped quickly to the side, allowing the almost perfectly silent swinging log to pass by him. Tricky. Undoubtedly a very good lesson for cocky young recruits who happened to make it through the course through some combination of luck and divine favor.

Of course, it wouldn't do much for a so-called "recruit" who'd made it through the course on skill. But, generally speaking, the average recruit hadn't been a graduate from Fleet Marine Situational Awareness and Evasion training...

He set off back to the barracks at a trot and pulled a towel out of his footlocker, mopping the scentless sweat from his face. He removed his jacket and tossed it onto the bed, then stripped out of his sweaty shirt, folded it, and placed it into the drawstring bag with "laundry" stenciled in blue down the side.

Then he selected a fresh shirt and pulled it on over his head, replaced the jacket, ran a hand through his hair, carefully positioned the laundry bag so as to obscure the SMP-10 large-frame machine pistol that he was perfectly authorized to carry, had been noted in his papers, was protected as his right as a Revenian citizen...but was better not mentioned or even noticed.

Then he stepped out of the barracks, checking his watch. God what'd he'd give for a good pistol course...he was a tactical entry man by inclination and aptitude...good reflexes, good pack instincts, good feel for speed...

He wasn't particularly aggressive, but once he was committed...it was all about speed.

The same talents that made him a natural entry man made him a good bodyguard, seeing as how his first reaction was generally to get the client out of the line of fire, and the second was to insure that there was no longer a line of fire to worry about -- often by putting a burst from his preferred weapon -- that selfsame SMP-10 that lay in the bottom of his footlocker in a drop-down assault holster, packaged with a pair of magazines and the underbarrel laser aiming module -- into the threat.

Of course, he hadn't ever actually done it. The sims and exercises had shown aptitude...but he had absolutely zero actual experience in protection. He didn't really have any experience in entry, either. Oh, sure, if you counted room clearing as entry...but it wasn't the big one. The front door.

He'd watched Kael Stark and a few of his Special Unit boys force entry into an apartment building where a group of terrorists had holed up...it had been...incredible. It had also been fast -- it was like, one minute they were crouched their, preparing...the next they were gone and inside.

He shook his head to clear away the memories and draw himself back to the present. Thusly he set out to find himself a shady spot, then sat down cross-legged and began to bring his breathing into a proper natural rhythm. It was necessary, on occasion, to re-acquire a proper sense of detachment and calm, so as to not focus entirely on any one thing.

Now was such a time.

*After standing and watching to make sure that the wayward Brittany had indeed returned to her quarters to stow away her weapons and change, the now four carried on.
Passing the assault course, Raven notices Cal sitting motionless under the shade of a tree. She nudged Robby.*

"There's one of our missing there.....do you think he's happy on his own?
He seems to be having more trouble than the rest of us when in comes to finding common ground, perhaps he is finding us more alien than we are finding him?"

*She pauses for a moment, thinking.*

"What do you reckon? Do we leave him as he is and let him sort himself out, or do we try and include him?"

Brittany came back and stood next to Alex
'Hiya' she said, in her fatigues

Chuckles as he is deemed the name "tall guy" and continues following them humming the catchy little merc tune as they get closer to the firing range he begans to wonder if he will be any good on a long range course for he rarely needs to take down his oppenents from afar using his M3 12 Gauge to mow down the oppisition

"There's something different about him," replied Robby. "I don't think it's anything to do with having trouble adjusting." He paused, thinking it over again. "I think he's been through basic training before, somewhere else, he may even have seen combat. Just something about the way he carries himself and the way he moves, it reminds me of my brother, Nikolai. It's a soldiers stance."

Robby had looked at the weapons Brittany had shown them, but had decided that he would still prefer a proper Indoan LSR or PLR. His brother had talked to him frequently about this matter, and was strongly of the opinion that the standard issue LSR-14 was the best infantry rifle ever. Robby had of course picked up this attitude, and he certainly prefered it to what was on offer here.

Alex on the other hand had barely glanced at the weapons. Knowing he was stuck with whatever was given to him, he wouldn't bother seeing exactly how useless it was by comparing it to other weapons. Well, he wasn't quite stuck, but the pistols they had both issued with before leaving weren't exactly a primary weapon.

Brittany returned, finally in combat fatigues, and stood near him. He wasn't stupid, and had picked up on the fact that she seemed to be attracted to him. Unfortunately for her, he found her irritating.
"What?" he growled in response to her greeting.

*Raven thinks for a moment*

"So you believe that because he is experienced he should hold himself away from us? He's here for a reason, whatever it is, he's not going to get anywhere by standing apart from us is he?"

As they near the shooting ranges, they pass the Staff offices, Raven stops and looks at the door thinking.

"Sod this for a game of soldiers.....waite here...."

Marching into the offices, Raven is gone for a few minutes.
When she returns, only Robby notices that the top three buttons of her shirt is open, the others are looking at the paper she holds in her hand.

"We've got a pass!....Delont has been called away for the rest of the day and his stand in, Rolingson, was too concerned with looking down my cleavage to worry about what he was signing!"

She grinned and winked at Robby, fastening her buttons.
"It's about time we all got to know each other better, lets hit the local town and see what they've got in the way of entertainment eh?

She pushes past the group and begins to jog towards the baracks.
"Last one into civvies is first to buy the drinks and I'm thirsty!"

She prods Cal as she passes him.
"And that includes you big boy!"

(OOC: Sorry for the godmod folks, but with so many unable to contribute at the moment, we're getting a bit stale here......)

'I'm up for that!' Brittany said smiling.

Cal's eyes sharpened as his contemplations were cut short, and he took a few instants to replay what his ears had registered but had not penetrated to his conscious level, instead being stored for later use.

Then he smiled and rose to his feet, dusting off his pants and jacket. He set off towards the barracks at a leisurely trot and stopped at his footlocker to fish out his wallet, something that he didn't routinely carry with him on base.

He dropped the wallet into one of the butt-pockets of his pants and sealed the flap down over it with his thumb. That completed, he stepped outside and took a deep breath.

He wouldn't kid himself and say that it wouldn't be nice to be off this base for a few hours...because it would. He was...sufficiently calm...to maintain the proper detachment for some time yet, and he wasn't about to not take advantage of an opportunity like this, and as such he waited in silence for the rest of the group to assemble.

*As Cal came into the barracks Raven nodded and grinned*
So, even he wants a little reprieve form this place?....good!

*She changes, pulling on loose fitting trousers, (which she deftly tucks into the top of her boots) and a deep red tunic top.
Fastening a belt loosely around her hips, she checks in the attached pouch, ensuring that she has enough creds with her to enjoy herself and not be embarrassed should she have to 'buy her round' and stuffs the groups pass in.
Picking up her hairbrush she goes to the mirror and cringes at her reflection.*

Oh dear......I look as though I have been used as a punch bag!.....

*She laughs at her reflection*

Ah well, it'll save on using up my VAST selection of make-up

*Placing her single stick of lipstick back in her locker, she sits on the bed, watching and waiting for the others to be ready.*

'I'm up for that!' Brittany said smiling.

she changes into her tight hipster jeans, and her loose blue sports top and a black hoody, she roughly applied mascara and lipgloss, she did her hair in a loose side plait and was ready to go.

Grins as he rushes towards the barracks hoping he doesnt have to pay for the drinks and drops down on his knees as he enters the "short" barracks and slides all the way down to his bunk and takes out his traveling coat inwhich looks oddly familar to his outfit made of a strange leather like material then he walks back over to the crowd waiting to go on pass and he stands there singing a vulgar drinking song as he adjusts all of his weapons back into their rightful place including a box of honey barbuqued deer jerkey

The two Indoans looked at each other, and slowly began grinning like a pair of cheshire cats. Both knew exactly what the other was thinking, because he himself was thinking it: Maybe this won't be so bad after all. If we can manipulate the senior personnel we could have some fun.

"Well now, that was some good thinking, Raven. About time we found a member of the senior staff who wasn't a complete asshole," said Robby.

They walked rapidly back to the barracks building and changed to go out. Robby pulled on a pair of black slacks and a blue shirt. Alex replaced his combat fatigues with what looked like more combat fatigues, dark navy blue combat trousers and a grey shirt.

"Syl, we're going off duty. That means not wearing uniform," Robby pointed out.

"This isn't uniform. These are my clothes. You know me, I get lonely without all the pockets," explained Alex.

Robby shrugged and extracted a few items from his foot locker. After staring at one of them, he turned back to Alex, dangling an object on a chain from his hand. The object was about the size of a cigarette lighter, but only half as thick. It had the letters 'E.S.I.D' stamped on it in orange block letters.

"Hey, Syl. You suppose these work out here?" he asked.

The smaller Indoan frowned. "Dunno. Doubt it. Take it and see, though."

Robby looped the chain around his neck and tucked the object beneath his shirt. Alex did the same with an identical object. To counter the likely prospect of the object not working, both Indoans also placed wallets in their pockets.

After putting casual shoes on, the two Indoans watched the women doing their makeup, and chuckled quietly, thanking Hsu that men didn't have to suffer the same.

"Right then!"
*Raven rubbed her hands together with a smile on her face that could only be discribed as glee.*

"I've left a note for Kersplode and the others and told them we'll be at a place called "The pit"and for him to follow."

*She looks at her watch*
"If we hurry we can con our way onto the duty bus, which is about to leave in five minutes at the gate any one not ready will have to get down their by themselves, I'm not wasting a millisec of this time off!"


*The captain of the gate guard looked at Raven's orders with suspicion.
To have rookies off base this soon was unusual, to have Delont's rookies off base this soon was unbelievable, but after a quick call to Rolinson, all he could do is shrug and let them through.
Catching the bus and the bus journey was uneventful, (apart from a little problem trying to get Valoriamartia in and sort of seated, then shoe horning him back out again), finding themselves deposited on the long main street of the nearest town.
As the bus moved off, Raven looked up and down the street and spying another units men entering a door, she pointed in that direction.*

"Our watering hole ladies and gentlemen and I believe our good friend Alex is getting the first round?"

*Poker faced, she performed an elaborate bow and addressed him formerly.*
"After you sir, our alcahol awaites"

As he watches Raven do the fake little bow he chuckles as he pops his back wondering why he didnt bring his bike but shrugs it away in his mind for they would of laughed at it for being so primitive but fun then he walks toward the bar with a neon light flashing "The Pit" and wonders if he should get hammered but thinks better of it for he doesnt talk infront of those he doesnt know

As he reaches the door to the somewhat rundown bar he waits for the others and cant help but notice how anxious the other rookies seem to be to get hammered.

*Raven notices Valoriamartia's chuckle and winks at him, pleased that he has at least joined in with the joke*

"Come on Robby.......It'll be time to get back before we even get through the door!"

Winks back to Raven as he steps inside the bar seeing the usual bar crowd fighting yelling and passing out' he then begans to sing a drinking tune loudly in his homelands language which sounds poetic even tho few understand it but it seems to make those who hear it quite thirsty for a pint or two


"As you come into the bar my friends bring your wallet and stamina for when you go to a bar after you woman leaves ya you will be surrounded by those who truly care and they'll get you wasted before you know it" because thats their favorite job* Oi! bartender" get me a doubleshot of lime&gin please

*Raven rubs her hands together in glee*
"Come on you lot!"
*She pushes her way through the noisy crowd and heads for the bar*

Cal was feeling odd as sin without his gun and sword, but that wasn't anything new. Then he stepped into the bar...and his eyes widened. He blinked once, twice, then shrugged and made his way to the bar.

One glance at the labels on the bottles of hard liquor that set behind the bar...and he groaned. Loudly.

Call it a wave of homesickness. Whatever. What it really was was all the goddamn ways that Cal had to suffer because he was a Revenian and not a human coming to a head.

I mean, having to eat the goddamn nutrition supplements, having to take time out of his sleep periods to exercise so that he wouldn't lose his muscle tone, having to check everything he ate or drank for nasty harmful things, having to keep his body under iron control, lest he do something he didn't intend to do...

But the worst...was the alcohol.

Revenians metabolized alcohol better than humans, plus the denser bodies gave them a capacity to "hold their alcohol" that seemed quite odd, seeing as how they resembled earth-humans so much.

Ascended metabolized alcohol even faster than Revenians...thus it was that Ascended drank more or less straight grain alcohol instead of beer. Stuff that could be lethal in humans...straight, anyways.

Noting his Ascended heritage, it was unlikely that he'd get anything more than a mild buzz...which was a -bitch.- 'n he wasn't going to get into any bar fights, or if he did...he'd finish them far too quickly for said fights to provide any amusement...

Simply because drunks were unpredictable and thus dangerous.

Then again, Cal was Revenian. 'n thus considerably more dangerous. Like shiny blue glowy lights.

Dangerous.

*Raven notices Cal's consternation as he faces the bar and it's contents.*

"You don't have to drink the hard stuff if you don't want to Cal."

*To emphasise the point, she orders two bottles of water and passes him one, drinking from the other.*

"Pure imported water on this planet is like nectar......"

Sits there next to some Federation mercenarys at a back table idling talking to them of the latest events in a sub-par galaxy rivalry war as he talks he takes multiple shots of a beverage called " kile dertsa " from his homeland the equivelant of everclear but much smoother tasting like a rootbeer float and hopes that he can catch up on the news before any of the other rookies come over for the mercs were already nervous from his questions but his money was good so they talked

Cal sighed as he slid his sensor wand from its sheath in the lining of his boot. He unscrewed the bottle cap, then held the wand over the open bottle. The hair-like probe tendrils that slid out of the wand looked all to graceful and were somewhat...unnerving.

He waited perhaps the length of a few heartbeats, which was he paid for not using his implants, then flicked the wand free and returned it to his boot. He drank.

It was odd, really. Cal checked everything before he consumed it, and yet both the Revenian and Ascended immune systems were relatively robust, and that was before one took into account the implants.

Yet he did it anyways, perhaps because he was cautious. Maybe he was afraid. Scared of dying from some stupid bug in something he drank. It was said to be the warrior's nightmare -- dying an ignoble death, killed entirely through bad luck. Happened to drink the one bad flask of booze in the entire crate...

Possibly it was paranoia, afraid of people trying to slip poison into his drinks. Yet his implants carried a very extensive selection of antivenin...

The truth, though...

The truth was that the observer would have to decide for him or herself. Because there was no truth, no hard absolute fact.

Cal didn't know why he scanned everything -- it wasn't taught in basic, it wasn't something that the White Company trained, at least not for its own people. It was just something he did, natural as breathing. Maybe he was obsessive-compulsive.

The water tasted funny, but in Cal's experience, water tasted funny by nature. Water was difficult like that. Beer was easy. There was good beer and there was bad beer. Black and white. You didn't have "mediocre" beers. You either drank the stuff...or you didn't.

Water, on the other hand, was just a wide expanse of grey. There was no good water...there was no bad water. There was just mediocre water. Which wasn't a bad thing, really.

You could learn a lot from water. It gives life, and it takes it away. It destroys, even as it nourishes. Subtle, slow. Water has finesse, but water also has a temper. Ask any sailor, water is dangerous.

Cal smiled, then, as he drank.

Yes. One could learn a lot from water. For example, one could learn the concept of balance. Moderation. Too little water, and you die...too much water, and you die.

Yet, with water, there was a relatively large valley between those two extremes.

Cal lowered the bottle from his lips, closed his eyes, and breathed. For a few moments, he simply existed. It was the greatest of joys, the most relaxing thing in the world, to simply be. Yet, as in all things, it was only good in moderation.

*Raven watches Cal in silent interest, shaling her head slightly as he again checks something that he is going to consume.*

What is it with this guy, waters not gonna kill him and never speaks a word....

*She breaks into his thoughts*

"See I told you it was good......Cal what the hell are you doing here with us? It's obvious that you don't need the basic training we're having, so why were you sent here?"

Cal shook his head, as if punch-drunk.

"I was having some problems back home. Getting sloppy. It happens to everyone, but usually not so quickly. Then again, I...had some pretty traumatic experiences. So I got sent here because the opportunity presented itself and, hey, diplomacy isn't just about diplomats."

He blinked his eyes a bit, "Summed up and put into nice words, I was suffering from a case of acute combat fatigue. My unit, the White Company...we're...well...not really mercenaries. Well, yeah...technically we're mercenaries, but we've been on government retainer since our inception.

We provide military-level support in situations where the real military would be...problematic. Our primary MO was dignitary protection -- we were bodyguards, y'know? But we did a little bit of everything. Real easy to get burned out when you never know what you're gonna do but you still have to keep your drill sharp and your uniform gleaming. God forbid we get shot and -bleed- on our uniforms! Why we'd probably get cashiered!"

He sighed, his head falling forward a few inches.

"So to answer your question without all the bullshit, I'm hear for R&R. Let myself just run on routine for a bit, instead of having to manage not only the routine but also the killing."

He smiled grimly, his hand rising to his collar...he fingered the hole where his Lieutenant's bar used to be pin...then he grimaced and shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts away.

"Lemme tell you something, Raven. If you ever get in the situation where you feel like your only option is to kill somebody, use a gun. Forget knives, forget swords, forget your own damn hands. Guns are clean. Or, at least, I'd like to think they are. I don't know. But they can't be any worse than feeling the life ebb out of a guy you just killed with your own two hands."

He sighed...drank his water...

"So now you know. Or, well, you know part of it. A bit more couldn't hurt."

There was an odd glint to his eyes...if he'd had a glass, he'd have looked into it.

"You said I didn't need this training. You don't know how right you are. DSSC Honors Graduate, fourth in my class, shock infantry track. That was me. Quite the future I had. Style and skill, enough to catch the eye of the Captain, that'd be the CO of the White Company, you don't need to know his name. Then I go and have myself a nice mental breakdown."

He sighed, shook his head, "Three people. Just three. Bayonet, knife, hands. One and two weren't bad. I just stayed cold, detached, and twisted the blade on the way out...but when you kill a guy with your own bare hands...when you feel his life extinguished, and you know that you just killed somebody's son..."

He sighed, shook his head.

"See, Raven, I can't care about that. You care about that, you might have second thoughts next time I find myself in a situation like that...and then I'd be dead, y'see? Because 's only the good guys who feel bad about killing. In combat, your life lasts only as long as you are the one who pulls the trigger first. If you hesitate, you die. It isn't fun, it isn't nice...and it isn't me, right now."

He finished off the water, then slid a crest from his wallet and placed it upon the bar, sliding it towards her.

"That for listening to me ramble on. Last thing anybody needs to hear at a time like this is a particularly incoherent, not at all detailed story. Maybe sometime I'll tell the gory version. Probably not. You really have to have been there, seen combat, to appreciate a war story...otherwise it's just people dying."

He exhaled and slid three firebirds from his wallet, ordering a bottle of everclear.

"No, I don't want it cut with anything. No, I don't want a shot glass. Just give me the damn...yes, the big bottle. Yes, the 190-proof. Thank you. That is a firebird, my friend. It is equivalent to a Revenian tenner. Which is about fifteen USD. Good. Thank you."

He pulled his fighting knife free from its sheath and jammed it into the cork, twisted, then pulled the blade free. Then he set the bottle to his lips and took a rather hefty swig.

"Weaker than I'm used to, but it'll do."

As the mercs give him a detailed file he thanks them for their time and takes another shot of his kile dertsa and heads over to the rest of the group and yells to the bartender " kamikaze in the outhouse please " hoping the tender still made them for he had been here many times with his father and it was his favorite mixed drink inwhich it was a tankard of pretty much a bit of every but its mostly beer then as the tender chuckles and begans mixing the drink he asks" how long you been in town Serge its been ages " i know i know thats why when i got the chance i came down here Lance but oh well hows the family eh? *Lance* oh their doing just fine' hows your dad" *slowly breaths in sighing and says" he went to omega's frat party and isnt coming back thats why i ordered the kamikaze i need to drink one in his honor like good old times like what we have had to do for each one of the Dragon Platoon since the begining of the last Sub-par war"

*Raven listens to Cal intently, she knew full well what battle fatigue did to people, there were those in her community who had been 'retired' to the peace and quiet of the farm.
Many were little more than the husks of the people they once were, her father had many working for him. It was a personal thing, that he had suffered greatly while serving his country was little talked about, but she recognised the look of concern on his face as he had waved her off.

She waited for him to finish and order his bottle before she spoke, handing him back the crest that he had given her.*

"Where I come from Cal, you don't expect payment for listening to a friend's problems."

*She put her hand on his stopping him from taking a swig from the bottle he's ordered.*

"And that isn't always the way to get rid of the pain either and is certainly not a cure."

*Impulsively, she stepped towards him and wrapping her arms around him kissed him on the cheek.*

"Sometimes it's just as simple as knowing that there are others who know and can understand."

Cal set the bottle down slowly, closed his eyes, then began to laugh. Softly, mind you.

"Thanks. I suppose I needed that."

He opened his eyes, "But this isn't a way to drown the pain. I don't -need- this to drown the pain. We get basic Fhellanti training in basic along with all the usual psychological bullshit. That'd be probably the most popular martial art in Revenia, mind you. None of this "Iron Fist" bullshit. Most of the stuff they teach in basic is...well...basic. Y'know, how to control your mind, biofeedback, that kind of thing."

He smiled idly, "Even if I hadn't gotten my first circle when I was somewhere around the age of ten, simply having been through Fleet Marine training means that I my brain is pretty damned competent at telling my emotions to shut up and bugger off so that I can get on with living."

His hand went to his left arm, then pushed the sleeve up arond his elbow so that the three concentric circles branded into the inner bit of his forearm were visible. He pointed at the largest one, then the one smaller, then the one smaller than that.

"Apprentice, Apprentice Prime, Journeyman. Third Circle."

He chuckled, then, "No. This is for something entirely different."

He raised the bottle in salute, then murmured a few words that were almost certainly "Absent Companions," though that made little enough sense seeing as how he hadn't mentioned losing anybody in combat...and hadn't...

Then he took a swig from the bottle and closed his eyes.

"I like to think that I have sufficient control over my body as to appear to be a lightworlder, but I doubt that I do, so you've probably noticed that I'm not exactly...comfortable...in a one-gee environment. My people are native to heavy gee worlds. We're denser then similarly sized lightworlders, and we metabolize alcohol somewhat better. The light stuff -- beer, most other forms of liquor, don't really do much for us."

He set the bottle down, then looked intently at his right hand. He moved each finger individually, carefully, then clenched and unclenched his hand into a fist. Then he laughed for a couple of moments, then was silent.

Brittany was sitting with the group staying quiet, she felt odd, she knew none of these people and although they were welcoming she was still nervous.