The League of Origins

The League of Origins

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In a nuclear wasteland we struggle to survive. Our League Of Origins replaces the inevitable war over resources, but what will the outcome of this “sport” be for us?

1,396 readers have visited The League of Origins since blackwolt created it.

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Introduction

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Game Masters: blackwolt | wolf1992
RP Status: Active | Completed | Dead
Accepting New Characters: Yes | No






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Welcome to the year 2981! The Earth has become a wasteland, with many areas either completely barren or overgrown, due to a power struggle between the once great countries. At the peak of the struggle, nuclear warfare broke out, and only few humans managed to seek shelter. Billions of lives perished as radiation spread across the globe, and those who survived the taint became sick and mutilated.

Since that fateful and horrible event, 500 years have passed by. Today, the human race has once again risen from the dust! To accommodate the human societies in the event of nuclear war, the domes were built in the late 23rd century. Essentially a moving city encapsulated in a protective force field, the dome was, and is still, the pinnacle of human technology, allowing a city and a small amount of protected landmass to be self-sustaining with food, water and organic materials.

However, beneath the wasted soil of the Earth is hidden a tremendous wealth of minerals and metal, some covered with dust from the nuclear war, some covered by thick vegetation. To gain access to these minerals, the people of the domes have built small, stationary towns with the only purpose of harvesting a specific re-source. Protected by a stationary force field as well as the mobile domes, these small ‘Harvest Towns’ supply the people of the cities with the resources needed for further advancements in technology and society.

To counter the human nature of fighting for survival, the leaders of the most prominent domes have decided upon a set of rules of engagement, manifesting the inevitable resource war as a sport rather than a war. ‘The League of Origins’, as the sport is called, forces all domes to participate in what could best be described as a sports tournament: The winner gets the best harvest towns, while the losers are left with poor towns or nothing at all.

YOU are here to fight in this sport on behalf of the proud city Aequitas of the M3 dome! Your heritage, your line of family or your current wealth is of no concern to us: We are nothing but a small, unnoticeable dome among giants, but we MUST prevail in this fight to secure ourselves a prosperous and wealthy future!

Report to your team leader in the barracks! And may your commitment to our cause secure a glorious outcome in the battles to follow!



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The Cold War, mankind’s first nuclear conflict, saw the end as the 21st century began. For enemies were now reunited the Earth with politics, and the global trade began to flow again. The peace was only temporary, however, as one economic crisis after another struck the global markets, paralyzing several countries and shaking the world order to its core.

Nearing the end of the 21st century, the countries in the European Union merged into one great nation to counter the growing fear of a European market collapse. The newly formed country, still using the name “European Union” as a designation, ended up as a copy of the United States of America, with each former country acting as a state instead of an individual country. The newly founded European Union quickly regained a financial balance by imposing laws and restrictions on the European market. The securing of oil reserves in the Atlantic Ocean as well as uranium ores in the mainland also supported the EU financially, making a rebuilding of the European military infrastructure possible. As the 23rd century announced its arrival, the European Union had gained possession of enough nuclear warheads to counter the USA as well as the rising Asian threat.

The United States of America merged Canada into its ranks at the beginning of the 22nd century after several economic troubles with the Asian markets. With Canada as the 51st state of the USA resources and work was divided between the states, eliminating the need of resources and labor from the outside. USA, like its European counterpart, practically created a self-securing society. However, the world peace seemed more and more fragile, and while the Cold War had seen a lot of disarmament of nuclear warheads, the rising tensions forced the USA to rearm itself as the Asian countries united.

The Eastern Asian countries, India and Russia as well as some of the former USSR countries united in 2098 un-der the name ‘Asian Coalition’, suddenly posing a great threat to the military and economic situation of Earth. It did not take long before nuclear warheads were present all over the Coalition’s territory, and the division of the Earth into three major “countries” was now present. At the end of the 23rd century the Asian Coalition had even seized the countries of Africa, thereby threatening the European Union.

As every human could have predicted, the tension between the three great nations could only grow. Warheads were aimed in all directions, and while Greenpeace and other world organizations tried to bring the chaos to an end, the world leaders did not listen. It was simply a matter of national pride and security, and no country would be the first to disarm its weapons, making itself vulnerable without any leverage.

Seeing the world mentally torn apart, scientists around the world began the construction of cities protected by a force field. ‘The Domes’, as they would later be known as due to their big dome-like force shields around the cities, were to be the shelter of humanity in the event of a nuclear war. However, only a small amount of the population could live in the domes. After all, cities on the scale of London and New York would not fit into a dome with the technology that mankind had evolved.



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Nobody really wants to remember what happened at the start of the 24th century. The military crackdown that had been ruling the countries was beginning to falter. What started the war was probably nothing but a misunderstanding, but as soon as the missiles were in the air, the fate of humanity and the Earth was sealed. With the prospect of over 10 billion people dying from nuclear war, the domes were soon filled. The domes quickly sealed the force field with a retractable cape, hindering any view of the outside world as the missiles struck.

Only those left upon the surface of the Earth would be able to describe what happened. The last remains of humanity hidden in shelters could only guess at what had happened during the last moments of the prosper-ous Earth: The nuclear war had eradicated life as it was known!


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The 30th century Earth is nothing more than a wasteland, as most life was eradicated during the nuclear war. While plants and animals have begun to spread across the barren Earth again from the Equator, over half of the Earth’s total area is still devoid of life, the landmasses of the continents having ended up as deserts, tundra or bare rock. Only in few areas can vegetation be found.

The oceans and gulfs are covered with ice from the poles to the Equator, the ice linking the continents together and creating a hard outer shell. While life can still be found in the oceans beneath the surface, the thick cover of ice makes it hard to create a good fishing environment.
As most of the planet’s surface is devoid of life, resources are scarce and can only be found in the borderlands of the continents, where life is beginning to return, as well as beneath the surface of the dust covered Earth. Land suitable for farming can only be produced artificially in either the domes, mobile cities created by the humans in an attempt to survive, or at the harvest towns, the small stationary towns created with the sole purpose of harvesting resources for the domes.

The harvest towns make it possible for the domes to be mobile, the resources being transferred from a harvest town to its dome when the dome is near the town. A dome is therefore not bound by the land it was built on, making the harvest towns the only reason for a dome to stay in one place. The cities within the domes usually seek out a resource that it needs to further its technological advancement. However, some cities deliberately seek out rare resources to gain from the trade between the domes.

The nuclear wars, however, failed at eradicating all life. Leftover humans unable to find room in a dome or being punished for criminality were left to the fate of dying to either the radiation or the natural predators. As the domes began to evolve themselves, making movement possible, the encounter with what was coined “The Spawn” was inevitable. The spawn is, as far as observations have shown, nothing more than mutated predators, especially carnivore animals like bears, wolves and dogs. While the domes are able to withstand nuclear harm, their force fields allow predators and humans to move into the dome. Therefore, each dome defends itself against this spawn with whatever army the dome might have.

Transportation between the different domes is done with hovering busses. These hovercrafts are the only “flying” vehicles that have been possible to create, as the radiation prohibits the use of the electronic systems required to control modern airplanes. The hovercrafts, however, are extremely vulnerable to damage and therefore rely on great speeds to reach the safety of a dome.

The following is a list of the known cities and domes (will be updated as the roleplay progresses):

Aequitas (Latin: “Equality”) of the M3 dome
    Dome Size: Small (10 kilometer radius)
    Population: ~2,500
    Leadership: Democracy
    Dome climate: Seacoast village
    Dome speed: Slow (25-40 km/h)
    Dome purpose: Militaristic City
    Owned Harvest Town: None

Scientia (Latin: “Knowledge”) of the A1 dome
    Dome Size: Large (31 kilometer radius)
    Population: ~32,000
    Leadership: Constitutional Monarchy
    Dome climate: Urbanized environment with surrounding forest
    Dome speed: Very slow (10-12 km/h)
    Dome purpose: University City
    Owned Harvest Town: Unknown


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The League of Origins, often only referred to as “the fight” or “the tournament”, is the battle for harvest towns and resources between the domes. As the battle has been made into a sport to prevent full scale war between the new human civilizations, certain rules of conduct have been agreed on:

  1. The participants in the League of Origins must belong to one of three predefined schools of warfare.
  2. Enhancements of the participants are allowed, as long as they are biological in nature; only the psychokinetic participants may carry power amplifiers. Biomechanical enhancement is not allowed.
  3. A battle request cannot be denied unless the defending city has not controlled any gather points for the last two weeks. This prevents a strong dome from completely annihilating a weak dome.
  4. Battles over the harvest towns are fought either as “Capture the Flag”, where teams must capture the opposing side’s flag and bring it back to the HQ, or “Team Deathmatch”, where the teams fight until the last man standing.
  5. The battle between two domes may take place either in the cities themselves, or in special arenas built throughout the continents.
    While the initial thought was to make the participants of the League of Origins carry non-lethal weapons, most small domes were not able to upkeep an army with both lethal weapons for use against the spawn as well as non-lethal weapons for use in the sport. Therefore, the weapons used in the League of Origins are often lethal, meaning that the participants are running the risk of possibly being killed.

When fighting in the League of Origins however, it is expected that a surrendering enemy is restricted and removed from battle until a winner has been found. Melee oriented soldiers disarm the enemy soldiers, while ranged soldiers use paralyzing or trapping ammunition as a weapon. Taking another person’s life, even if it’s for the sake of a dome, is frowned upon because of its harmful nature against society.



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As given by the agreed rules of engagement for the League of Origins battles, three schools accommodating the three basic fighting types are usually found in most domes. While some domes specialize in one area, most domes do not have the privilege of such a resource focus, therefore often accommodating all three fighting styles.

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The School of Melee Combat upholds the legacy of the European and Asian medieval times. Honor and fair-ness are two keywords for the soldiers of this school, and while they divide themselves between being offensive and defensive, the soldiers are often quite united, taking on the mentality of an army.

The offensive melee soldiers are often seen equipped with medium type armor and using either swords or pole arms to attack the enemies. While they might employ the use of a shield, their main focus is to lead the charge against the enemies.

The defensive melee soldiers are on the contrary quite heavily armed, often employing the use of both shield and blunt weapon to take down the enemies and protect the ranged and psychokinetic personnel.

The School of Ranged Combat is based on the fighting throughout the 20th and 21st century, often using a very light armor in favor of mobility, aiming possibilities and tactical overview. The school formally divides into long ranged combat and close ranged combat, but this division is often quite blurry.

The soldiers using ranged combat are often required to use paralyzing, stunning or other non-lethal bullets when fighting in the League of Origins. Their role as ranged combat is still upheld, however.

The School of Psychokinesis is quite unique and therefore does not draw on some classical period of human society. While the fear of a new nuclear warfare uprising has made many humans abandon most technological research in favor of living “naturally” in the domes, one branch of technological research was reinvented as the League of Origin started: The argumentation of the human brain.

Some subjects show exceptional mental skills, often with a small amount of telekinetic power. This evolution of the human is thought to be a byproduct of the nuclear radiation, and while the natural power of an individual is not often enough to even lift a piece of paper, technological advancements in brain implants has made this possible. With a power amplifier either implanted or carried near the brain, the subject becomes capable of using this telekinetic power for either psychic communication, which enables the user to talk to people out of sight, or psychic tracking, enabling the user to track humans moving around in the proximity.

Psychokinetic users are often used in roles as tacticians, because they require no electronic connection to their soldiers to be able to give orders and receive tactical information. This also applies with the medical role in which psychokinesis also plays a huge role: The user is able to locate the problem without needing to talk with the subject; reading the mind of the injured is enough.



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The technological progression of mankind allowed the soldiers of the 21st century to be equipped better and better. Rifles and pistols were improved with new materials, but as the economies of the world markets threatened to collapse, further research into a new kind of warfare was abandoned in favor of keeping the soldiers of the 21st century. As the nuclear war was unleashed, the soldiers of the 24th century were not that different from the soldiers of the 21st century.

The melee and ranged soldiers of the 30th century uphold the traditions of the medieval times as well as the 2nd millennia by using equipment alike the soldiers of those periods. Melee soldiers are often clad in heavy armor, taking on the image of knights and medieval soldiers, while ranged soldiers tend to choose a medium armor suited for movement, aiming as well as concealment.

During the three last centuries as a united Earth, mankind managed to invent several carbon-reinforced metals and alloys. Carbon-reinforced titanium, often called “adamant” as a reference to the medieval term form a hard substance, is the core substance of weapons and armor, tolerating a lot of pressure and wear before breaking or bending. This makes the material very suited for the melee oriented warfare that is fought with conventional swords and armors.

Although energy weapons have seen some action in the 30th century, these weapons are not very widespread. The fear of a new nuclear war as well as straying away from the conventional society has hindered the advancement of energy weapons severely. Only ranged weapons tend to employ energy-based rounds with the purpose of stunning the enemy instead of the standard uranium-tipped ammunition.

The rifles and handguns fire bullets by sending them through a particle accelerator. The muzzle velocity of a standard 5mm bullet can with this technology reach around 2,500 meters per second. The bullets are stored in magazines as was the standard during the 21st and 22nd century, enabling the user to switch between several types of ammunition.
The force field technology of the domes has found another use in the shields of the soldiers. Simply superior to blocking metal with metal, the ‘force shields’ are capable of absorbing much of the impact force, the absorbed force strengthening their own shield and lowering the strain on the wielder. The shields nature also allows the wielder to deflect bullets, giving the defensive melee soldiers an import role on the field of battle.

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The illustration above shows the standard issued medium armor of the Aequitas Combat Teams. While the armor is not obligatory to wear, it offers decent protection due to its low-grade adamant shells. The individual soldier is free to fight in his or her own armor instead.

The Aequitas Combat Teams rely on their own weapons instead of an issued weapon. This allows the personalizing of one’s battle equipment.




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For this roleplay, the participating characters will (initially) be employed into the Aequitas Combat Teams. We are going to limit the players in the roleplay to 10 for now. These 10 players will be divided into two combat teams, each with a commanding officer, an executive officer and three soldiers:

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Combat Team “Black Wolves” Roster
Commanding Officer: Eve Heart | Psychokinetic | Tactician
Executive Officer: Phyllis Zethera | Melee Combat | Offensive
Team Member: Ameriv Argus Cortez | Ranged Combat | Long Range
Team Member: Ririn Crimea | Psychokinetic | Scout
Team Member: Aaron Blake | Ranged Combat | Close Range


Combat Team “Red Lancers” Roster
Commanding Officer: Alexander Patrick Lock | Melee Combat | Defensive
Executive Officer: Logan Sargan | Psychokinetic | Medic
Team Member: Lenard Conner | Ranged Combat | Mid Range
Team Member: Maen Raboc | Ranged Combat | Long Range
Team Member: Lana Haringer | Melee Combat | Offensive

Spots can be reserved for 24 hours!
We would really want to see at least one of each “combat school” in a team, although exceptions can be made. PM a Game Master or write in the OOC!


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You are welcome to use the following character skeleton when creating your character. Just remember to follow the rules! The character skeleton has been made so it fits the four character aspects given by the forum.


Code: Select all
[u][center][size=150]Your characters full name[/size][/center][/u]

[center][img]Your Character Image[/img][/center]

[size=150]Physical Description:[/size]
[b]Nickname:[/b] Your character's nickname(s).
[b]Gender:[/b] Your character’s gender.
[b]Age:[/b] Your character’s age. Please keep it 16+ as he or she will participate in warfare!
[b]Physical Appearance:[/b] Describe your character’s physical appearance. Use your picture or write it out. Height, weight, hair and eye color, skin tone, build as well as voice fall into this category.
[b]Warfare School and Class:[/b] Melee, ranged or psychokinesis school – Your class can be as simple as a de-fender or medic. Please note that you may make up your own class, as long as they are restricted (no “teleki-netic mages” running around). Stay with the lore.
[b]Team and Role:[/b] Describe the team on which your character serves as well as the role of your character. The role might be a medic, or commanding officer, or sniper.
[b]Abilities:[/b] This could be talents or psychokinetic abilities. Please note if you are a psychokinesis user you must restrict your character’s power in some way. Running around the field knowing the thoughts of every enemy is hardly fair/fun.

[size=150]Personality:[/size]
Describe the personality of your character – Remember that we do not want any Mary Sues, so try to make as colored a character as possible.

[size=150]Equipment:[/size]
Describe the weapons (if carried) and armor (if carried) of your character as well as any equipment he or she might carry.

[size=150]History:[/size]
Describe your character’s history. Why did he or she end up at Aequitas’ Combat Teams?

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Two red, dull eyes gazed back at Phyllis from the mirror, slowly moving their focus across the reflection of her face. Her brown hair was a mess, dirt and blood tangling the short hair together and creating a contrast to her pale skin. Across her face dirt had gathered around the moist areas of her mouth and eyes, while blood was smeared across her left cheek. She bend over, the water from the tap soothing her mind as the physical remnants of the night vanished. As she rose to once again confront the mirror, dizziness struck as she became absentminded, the previous night’s episodes haunting her mind.

Blood flowed from the cut as her blades moved through the body of the humanoid spawn, her body feeling the vibrations as the blade cut through the spine. Phyllis shook her head a bit as to make the images and feelings disappear. Yesterday had been the last day of normal guard duty, her education finished and her service as a grunt in the Aequitas Defense Guard being fulfilled. Tonight was to be the final night duty before transferring into the newly formed league teams. Tonight was supposed to have been a formal farewell to the soldiers she had fought side by side with for what seemed like an eternity. A quick glance across the reinforced plates of the reflection’s armor made Phyllis’ mind return to the start of her shift: The normal calmness of the forsaken wasteland that the M3 dome was traversing had been replaced with a sudden spawn attack, forcing her and the other guards to move outside the dome to defend the citizens. The small guard army had faced several hundred monsters, most of the spawn resembling humanoid beings, most likely apes. Phyllis’ facial expression twisted in horror as she thought of the monsters: They could have been humans mutated by the nuclear wasteland.

The war cry of her fellow soldiers as the charged into the spawn brought her back to the field of battle. Her commanding officer Swaeson had been leading the charge that Phyllis participated in. As their charge came to a halt, Swaeson and several other offense based guards had tried to flank the spawn, encircling the monsters and trapping them between the blades of the warriors and the rifles of the soldiers. The eyes of the reflection began to tear up as Phyllis remembered the sudden cry of surprise from Swaeson as he was overpowered by a spawn, his body being crushed beneath the spawn as they fell to the ground. With the spawn finally on the run, Phyllis had rushed to him but too late: Swaeson had passed away, a spawn bite having penetrated his thigh armor. The radioactive level of the spawn saliva was like poison in the human veins. Albeit with great casualties, the spawn had once again taken a good soldier from the Aequitas Defense Guard. Phyllis closed her eyes, her brain trying to cope with her situation as the minutes passed by.

But this was not the time to mourn. Her presence was needed at the briefing room. Grapping a towel and wiping her face dry of water, Phyllis turned around and walked into the hallways of the guard dormitory that had become her home over the last couple of years. A quick peak into the small room that had until recently been hers confirmed her transfer to the newly created league dormitory: Her personal belongings would already be at her new accommodation. The bare, white walls of her old room seemed so sterile. Phyllis began to think back of her first time in military school, her eyes moving along the hallway. The metallic sound of her armor hitting the frame of the door brought her back to reality. “Better hurry”, she thought to herself as she checked for her swords on her back and began to walk through the hallway.

The Aequitas Barracks, the formal name of this cluster of buildings outside the city, consisted of a main building, the ‘Headquarters’, where all the military leaders, coordinators and strategists as well as some jurisdictional and legislative staff worked and lived, as well as a guard dormitory for the Defense Guard and a newly created league team dormitory housing those were supposed ‘to bring glory and riches to the city of Aequitas’. As fancy as it sounded, the league dormitory was no different from the guard dormitory: Small rooms for one or two inhabitants, with shared mess and bathroom facilities amongst all soldiers. The three buildings of the barracks had been places in what could best be described as an angular U, the futuristic style of Aequitas dictating this rather science fictional placement.

As Phyllis reached the entrance to the dormitory and walked out into the drill square in the middle of the “U”-shape, her attention was caught by the mail building: Two large flags, showing off the logos of the two league teams, were placed on the sides of the main entrance to the white HQ building. Phyllis could not help but think of the relic paintings she had been shown since her childhood: Noble warriors and knights in front of Renaissance European fencing schools. Surely the leaders of Aequitas had had these old paintings and traditions in mind when designing the Aequitas Barracks.

Phyllis walked straight through the drill square, her armored boots creating soft metallic sounds as they hit the stones. The black plates of her armor shone in the sun, although they were hardly clean: Blood and sand was smeared across her arms and chest, and although she had tried to wash it away shortly after the battle, the last dirt and blood would remain until her armor was cleaned properly and disassembled. “Might as well do that in the new dormitory”, she had told herself earlier. Besides, the dirty armor would send a signal to the guards as well as the members of the league teams, hopefully manifesting her position as an executive officer. Rumors were that a lot of fresh meat had been recruited specifically for these league teams, and Phyllis would need to keep her authority if she were to assume the role of an XO.

The heavy, wooden doors of the main entrance creaked as Phyllis pushed them open, her movements through the entrance showing determination. The emotions that had previously shown on her face were now gone and only determination could be seen in her eyes. The civil staff members of the jurisdictional and legislative areas were staring at her as she strode by in her armor, the red markings around her chest piece glowing softly in the dimmed light. “Guess they rarely see battle clad warriors around here”, she thought to herself. The door to the briefing room came closer and closer, and Phyllis prepared herself mentally for the confrontation with General Jonathan Verturum, the leader of the Aequitas Defense Guard and League Teams. “I am here to see the General”, Phyllis proclaimed as the two guards’ inquiring eyes hit her, her right hand raised to her head in a salute. “The General is currently preoccupied with the events of the night”, one of the soldiers explained. “You will have to wait here until the league teams have been gathered”. Phyllis recalled the soldier as belonging to one of the city’s defense forces, although she had never served with him directly. She nodded quickly as an affirmation of his words, then looked around and located the nearest bench. Walking over to it, she could hear the murmurs coming from the civil staff as the sound of her armor plates echoed through the halls. “I guess this would be the time to get some rest”, she almost whispered to herself as she sat down on the bench, the events of the night having left her with no sleep until now. She placed her helmet in her lap together with the armored gloves of her armor, the metallic clang from her swords hitting the wall assuring her that she could lean back. Her eyes closed softly as the sounds of the people slowly faded away.

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Logan was dead tired. He had just finished unpacking his meager belongings when he was told to go see some high and mighty General dude. He looked around the room: He had moved to the Aequitus Dome just only 2 years ago, after graduating when he was 17 and taking a year to yell at his father. He had been hoping for a peaceful life, possibly settling down or maybe even getting a job as a doctor, but his wild side kept him from either of those things. That was how he got interested in their guard squad. He had heard on the grapevine, cause he has his sources, that they were hurting for some good medics just 6 months ago, and he felt almost compelled to join. However, he refused when they asked if he would join their medical team, saying that he needed to find himself first. The pleading didn't stop. It continued until last week, when he finally caved in and joined on the condition that he set his own rules. They were thrilled.

Last night was the first combat action he had seen in a long time. Being a medic, he was doing his best to find, heal, and fix any problems with the Guards that he could. But he never knew the work, nor the deadliness of the radiation that the beasts could inject into their victims. He had pulled an all nighter healing people, and that didn't put him in a good mood - his mood never was anyway. But the only reason he was asked to be some XO in that stupid league teams was when he was on the field, helping a few people. He was soothing their pain, something most of the doctors had never seen before, with his brain. But the scariest part was when he was attacked by 2 of the beasts. 3 of the medics were killed quite quickly, barely moving since they couldn't defend themselves worth crap. The other 5 had gone off running. Logan, on the other hand, had his melee combat training kicking in. He grabbed a fallen spear to his right, spun around, and impaled the beast as it was lunging at him. Apparently the General thought that party trick was impressive, since he was watching and all.

So here he was, dragged out of his little apartment that he had been sinking most of his money into to fix up and into a white room. Logan thought he had been stuck in a crazy hospital. With only a few hours until some important thing, he changed up the room, putting his very thin armor up on the wall, his spear beside it. Posters covered most of the walls, with a single picture of his family on his shelf. He was happy with his new little room, which he also had demanded that he got one by himself. He got a quick shower, hoping that would wake him up a little, since not sleeping for 36 hours kinda does that to ya. While drying his hair, he grabbed his favourite lighter (lighter links for his list of them will edited into my character.) which he called the 'Spider Lighter' and lit up a cigarette. It got him thinking about his nickname, Spider. He had recieved it not that long ago, and took an instant liking to it. He hated his old name, Corpse. Reminded him of home.

Once he had gotten dressed, back into his usual vest and tie, he stumbled his way to the main room, and pushed open the doors, the cigarette still in his mouth. He was tired, and most could tell. But that didn't mean anybody really wanted to approach him. He had learned whom most these people were by now, having lived in the little dome long enough. But he probably looked like a wreck.

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#, as written by Varyar
The ocher smell of tobacco filled the room. The smoke circled in the air, describing magnificent images that lasted a few seconds before becoming misshapen smoke once more. Aaron, sitting back in his chair with his feet up on the table, inhaled deeply, feeling the nicotine penetrate his very bloodstream. Tobacco plantations were a rarity these days, especially because not all domes could afford to give away part of their fertile lands to plant something non-vital, but Aaron knew a direct supplier, a supplier that produced high quality cigars…

The dimly lit and smoky room matched Aaron Blake’s personality. There was an empty cigar box thrown into a corner, and the table on which rested Aaron’s dirty boots was dusty and stained, but not more stained than the filthy floor. There was a painting hanging on the wall, a relic from before the war. When Blake purchased it, the dealer said it was an imitation of a very famous painting. It probably wasn’t famous enough, since Aaron didn’t knew it, but this was not the reason why Blake bought the art piece. It was because of its name. The painting was called Mona Lisa.

Lisa. Liz. Elizabeth.

Betty.

Blake liked the picture. He stared at it, leaning back in his chair with his feet up, staring at the woman's mysterious smile. She was very beautiful and very similar to Betty, which was part of the reason why there was a Renaissance painting contrasting with the rest of the room. It was a piece of shit, of course, but a classy piece of shit. Blake picked up his lighter from the table, and stood up. He walked to the painting, looked at it one last time with a long sigh, and then the flames from the lighter set fire to the cheap imitation. He watched as the canvas melted and fell in the ground with a hiss, and soon there was nothing left but ashes and a terrible smell mixed with tobacco.

Aaron Blake smiled. Burning something always made him more excited. He crossed the tiny room that served as his house and lifted the box where Betty, the flamethrower, was. It was a huge black briefcase, in which there were the different propane capsules (lethal and non-lethal), the rest of the flamethrower, various explosives (including pulse grenades) and Aaron’s fireproof armor. Blake tied the bag in his back, put the lighter in his pocket and left the room, hoping never to return.

The future League member crossed the city to the barracks. He certainly did not seem like a combatant. He was dressed in a heavy trouser with lots of pockets in it and a white shirt, surprisingly clean. He shifted the cigar from one spot of his mouth to the another while walking, enjoying the smoke.
The situation was irritating. The letter from General Verturum was surprising, but not that much. Aaron knew his reputation preceded him, and he felt it was almost Verturum’s obligation to ask Blake to join the team. The irritating part was starting from the beginning all over again. Blake had already fought in previous tournaments, but things went wrong… He had to disappear. But anyone well-related could find him, and apparently General Verturum was well-related. Blake didn’t see any problem in joining the tournament again, but starting from scratch… He would have to report to the commander officer of the Black Wolves, pretending that he would obey and serve until death, and only then Aaron would be allowed to go to his room and rest until they could fight. In fact, all that mattered was the fight. The heat of the battle was the reason why Blake got up every morning. The only thing there was to care about was the tournament. What happens before it passes through like a dream, just a bunch of people talking and a monotony eat-sleep cycle. And training. Training hard in order to survive the next fight, and then fight again ...

Aaron looked at the white building, and recognizing the Black Wolves’ flag, he moved on. He walked in, approached the guards and unceremoniously asked: "Who is my superior around here?"

The guard pointed silently to a bench where a woman was sitting. Blake turned to the guard, a sarcastic smile on his face, but when he realized he was serious, his smile disappeared. A woman? Aaron Blake would be forced to obey... A woman?

Aaron crossed the hallway several times, attracting a lot of suspicious looks. Finally he decided to confront the commander herself. He approached the woman, and woke her up with a light punch on her shoulder.

Obviously, 'light' to Aaron Blake meant 'do not cripple or kill', and nothing less. When the woman awoke, Blake mumbled, with a tone of contempt in his voice: "Looks like I'll obey you from now on, so let's cut the bullshit. I'm Blake. Aaron Blake. Now you tell me your name, I pretend I care and you stay out of my way the rest of the time. Got it? Good. Now when does our Commanding Officer arrives?"

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“Kester, Miko, Barry, Lin, Scott, Tabby and Megan” Lock was flipping through the dog tags of his fallen squad. IT had been 3 long years, but he still look over them from time to time. He would say their name. Always in the order of their dog tag number. They were good soldier and great friends. Even the way they died was noble. Lock could ask no more from anyone. To die to save others.

The dog tags made the sound of jiggle bells as he places them softly back into his foot locker. The foot locker was filled with a random assortment of belongings. A violin, a tennis racket, a top hat, a chess board and a picture of Lock and his old squad. They were all he had to remember them by. The locker shut with a thud and then Lock secured it with a padlock.

Lock mobilises his large limbs as he pushes off his bed and walks to a finely crafted desk. He opens a draw to reveal a stack brown paper folders each around a stack of papers. He counts them. One, two, three. No four. Lock was told he would be in charge of four people. With a great displeasing sigh he is force to except that he won’t be able to read up on all the soldiers under his command. However he starts with the three that he has.

“Logan Sargan” Lock thinks to himself. As he mulls over the information in the files of his Executive Officer thoughts on the matter start to form“. Young for such a position. Medic is an odd choice for Executive Officer. Impressive treatment records. Ah, that explains why, quite an ability. Good bed side manner. Yet not exactly a man of the people. Next to zero experience. Worrying” Lock puts the file down and picks up the next file.

“Lenard Conner. Impressive running speed for such a load. What an awkward weapon choice. Not to mention a show off. Again limited experience“. Lock tossed the file with the last one and frowned as he realised a pattern emerging.

“Maen Raboc. Impressive marksmanship, in fact very impressive. Yet again little experience. Been a civilian far to long for my liking“. Lock placed the file down softly as he let the thoughts of these three men he now had to order around.

“It looks as if General Verturum has a wicked sense of humour. Giving me three men with little experience each with there own personal hang-ups. Still, there is much potential here” Lock put the files back the draw and locked the draw. He then walked over to the bed he had yet to sleep in. As he got into bed his last thought before his nap was “diamonds in the ruff”.

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Standing in the center of the relatively quiet drill square, Maen Raboc once more held the little slip of paper up to his helmeted head. The slip contained orders to report to General Verturum in the Aequitas Barracks, as well as instructions on how to the building where he was located. After accidentally wandering into the wrong building twice, Maen finally managed to figure out the directions. The place he was looking for was the white building directly to his right. Shoving the paper back into his pocket, Maen picked up 'Gravy' and slung it over his shoulder before heading towards the entranceway.

When he had first received the slip, he thought for sure it was going to be further orders to just wait for further orders, but his spirits rose when it informed him to report in with full gear, and that his belongings would be transfered to the Team dormitory. He had spent most of the previous day out on the dome with friends, spending the majority of his money on what little entertainment the Dome had to offer. His willingness to indulge in personal fantasies while battles were being fought beyond the borders of the Dome had irritated many, but Maen had always been an upbeat individual, and refused to let anything spoil his mood. "They accepted this way of life when they volunteered." he thought to himself.

As he stood before the heavy wooden doors leading into the HQ building, he realized just what it was that he volunteered for.

Pushing the doors open, he was relieved to find no one in his face reminding him to remove his headgear, as was typical with military facilities. "Looks like the League regulations are a bit more lax than the standard rank-and-file." Of this he was glad, one of the main reasons he had been so reluctant to join the Guard was due to everyone having a stick up their rear. He kept his trademark helmet on as he stepped forward into the room, he was approached by a squat old man who appeared to be civilian. "League?" he asked curtly. "So they tell me. I'm supposed to report to General Verturum." The man pointed across the hall to a door flanked by two soldiers. "Thanks." returned Raboc, but the man had already wandered off. Approaching the door with his usual confident demeanor, he turned to one of the soldiers. "Am I late?" he asked. The man looked at him, "The briefing hasn't started yet. Stand by." Maen smiled under his helmet, "Oh joy." he thought as he walked away "Stand by in military terms means shut up and wait for a few hours." Without bothering to look around, Maen quickly found a place to sit in a far off corner and took it. Setting 'Gravy' by his side, he crossed his legs and leaned back in a relaxed position. This could take a while.

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Ririn Crimea sighed for what must have been the 80th time that day. He was in his room, airily resting on some of the boxes that had been piled into the center of his room, and looking around at the room with sad eyes. Never in his nearly twenty years of living here had his room ever felt so empty. Everything he had intended to take with him-clothes, personal belongings, supplies-had been packed into a crate and duffle bag, and were sitting beside the door waiting for him. Everything else was packed up in the boxes that he was currently sitting on, just waiting to be moved out into storage, leaving the space completely bare. Every sign that a little boy, and later a quiet teenager, had ever lived there would be gone by the end of the week. Of course, Ririn thought, he was an adult now. It was perfectly normal for a young man to leave his father's house. That thought didn't change the problem though: he was going to miss the place.

Deciding that there was no point in delaying any longer, stood up from his sitting position, sighing sigh #81, and heading for the door. He hoisted the crate up and tucked the duffle bag over his other shoulder, and then closed the door to his room for the last time without a last look back. He navigated the narrow hallway of his father's small house, careful not to bang the crate against the wall. He took the steps one a time (an oddity for him), and stepped into the foyer. Ririn's father was already in the kitchen, which was visible from the foyer, cleaning up from the early dinner he and his son had had. The older man turned around when he heard Ririn come down. Ririn looked at his father, and took in the sight of the man who had raised him.

Alec Crimea looked like an older version of Ririn. He was fairly tall, now just a bit shorter than his son, and slight. His hair had been blonde, but had grayed into a peppery color, and now seemed permanently withered and windswept on his head. His skin didn't have his son's paleness, rather, it was tenderly tanned in a way that spoke of years outdoors. Ririn's father had always had tranquil green eyes, and even now the glistened peacefully behind his lashes. Although something was very different about his eyes today: They were wet with tears.

"Oh Dad..." Ririn dropped the crate and bag and ran up to his father, hugging his father tightly. Alec returned the embrace, sighing a bit in a resigned way. Apparently, sighing was a genetic thing for the Crimean men.

Alec broke the hug, but kept his hands on his son's shoulders. "You be sure to look after yourself, 'right Rin? Don't put yourself in a situation where you can't get out." Ririn nodded, and squeezed the hands on his shoulders. "Know I will." With that, they broke apart, and picked up the things Ririn had dropped. Ririn opened the door, and stepped out onto the porch, feeling the sun on his face. He took his first steps out of the nest, walking out onto the sidewalk that would lead him to the building where he was to go. Ririn turned his head over his shoulder and gave his father a watery smile. "Love you Dad," he called, and then broke out into a run. Alec rushed to the edge of his property, waving to his son and yelling "Come back to me in one piece, you hear me!? I want to hear all about how you brought our home to glory!"

...

The new scout of the Black Wolves stepped into the building that held the first step to his new life. He had only had to stop once to ask for directions, and thankfully, he had simply been able to flash the invitation he'd been given, and the shoulder had pointed him in the right direction. There were a few people in the lobby area, which Ririn quickly avoided as he stepped towards the receptionist. Once again, he simply flashed the invitation he had been given to the person, and she pointed him in the direction of some of the people in the room. His head turned back to the pointer with a mortified expression on his face. There was no way he was going to introduce himself to actual people. Grumbling in exasperation, she pointed instead to one of the empty waiting chairs. Giving her an apologetic look, he moved to sit and rest his weary feet, setting the crate beside him and letting the bag rest ontop of the wooden storage unit.

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#, as written by Hydrall
Lenard Conner


"Doo da, doo da, dada da dada, dada dada, dada da dada..."

The sound of humming carried up the hallway as a man in red scaled armor came trodding down the hall. He wasn't especially unexpected, since there were already other armored soldiers hanging around. He walked with the stance of someone used to carrying a heavy weight everywhere, his steps too light and firm as he overcompensated for a burden that wasn't there. His odd step carried him over to the receptionist's desk, where he was turned away with the same polite (but growing in annoyance) response that had greeted all of the others.

The man continued with his odd gait into the waiting room, and entered with a grin. "Hey, you all be here for the games as well?" He spoke with an obvious accent, one that wasn't usually found in the domes. Compounded with his bleached hair and pale skin, he looked obviously foreign, although he retained a similar body shape that said he wasn't too foreign. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Can't wait, myself! Honor to the dome, and, uh, stuff." He threw himself into one of the chairs, leaning backwards and stretching out.

But most honor to myself, he thought happily, but his excitement faded slowly as time passed. I've got to stand out from these chumps, got to make myself look better. Maybe I should have brought my gun? He imagined attempting to carry it through the hallways, and what people might react with. Er, maybe not... It had probably been a better idea to leave it with his other things, too.

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Logan was sitting in one of the comfy chairs, near a window, smoking away like he always did. As soon as one finally ended, he would light up another with his Spider lighter. He tried to focus on his new job, being some Executive Officer for the team the Red Lancers. His medical bag, which he had carried with him for over 3 years, got a make over with the Red Lancer's icon replacing the original red cross. He never liked that cross anyway, but the Lancers logo looked alright. Nothing too flashy, just a red dude on a red horse. With a lance, of course. And now he kept lighting his lighter, looking around.

A dude that, he guessed, was supposed to be unnerving with a massive black case on his back was waking up some random sleeping chick. These people looked all like massive jokes to him, none of them looking like a normal, simple soldier. But then again, neither was he. Maybe he should start talking or something... Screw it. He was too damn tired to even care if someone got shot. And his job was to care. Just as he thought that the moron squads couldn't become more idiotic, a complete fool of a dude walks in and starts talking like the world just crowned him friggin king. He didn't look like he was from around here, but neither was he, so why the hell was he talking?

But his annoyance spiked when the dude laid down on the couch. Was this guy a soldier, or some random chef?! He began to swear under his breath, annoyed at how cheery this guy was. Soldiers were fighting last night. He obviously wasn't. And that pissed him off. As long as the guy kept his damn mouth shut and wasn't on his team, he would be fine. Logan decided to voice that opinion.

"Hey, buddy. If you haven't noticed, we are all a little tired after last night. So if you could shut up and keep quiet like everybody else, we would all be grateful." Sarcasm dripped from his lips as his double coloured eyes blinked.

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Lock had woken up at the sound of the alarm as he had planned. He prefer to look his best when meeting new soldiers. It was quite some time until he was back in his armour. After all he had to polish it, buckle it in just right and make sure that all the joints worked as they should. Lock leaves his weapons in his room as he walking to the meeting hall. It was time to meet the recruits.

As he approached he heard the back and forth of two of his soon to be men. Lenard sounded fake. Lock didn’t need a file to tell that much. Logan, on the other hand, seemed to have his mind set on the job at hand. Perhaps he was in the right role after all.

“How interesting for you Logan. You see, like yourself, Lenard here will soon be under my command. Now I hear you have good bedside manners. It will be interesting to see if you apply them to someone you dislike” Lock looked over his men. He only got to see their faces in the files. Seeing them in person, and their attire didn’t exactly inspire confidence. “I am Commander Lock, Commander of the Red Lancers” Lock salutes quickly and with purpose.

The setting changes from 30th Century Earth to City Barracks

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The smell of coffee and the sound of fingers dancing on a laptop keyboard were filling the room Eve had lived in for almost four years now. The room was empty except for the standard furniture that had been moved back into the room, when Eve’s personal belongings were moved to her new room in the league team barracks.

Eve looked at the clock on the laptop screen, it’s about time to leave. She closed the laptop and put on her white trench coat together with her white leather gloves that matched the coat. Both the coat and the gloves had the family crest printed into the leather. The reports of last night’s events has to wait for now. With a tired look on her face she opened the door and left the neutral white room.

While walking on the cobblestone in the streets she couldn’t help but think about last night. Maybe it was because of the crying civilians desperately trying to find their family members, maybe because of the soldiers walking around like brain-dead zombies thinking about the people they never would see again. Eve couldn’t tell nor would she try to, showing your feelings in the middle of the street like that was a sign of weakness. Though deep inside, she couldn’t help but feel remorse by thinking that way. Damn I hate this split personality of mine.

Different from most of the people in the city Eve had actually had a good night of sleep, surely because of the painkillers combined with the sleeping pills. She had to be in top shape every time she was inside the city barracks, if she should be able to achieve what she wanted.

As Eve finally arrived at her destination she could see that most of the team had already gathered there, except for one. A quick observation gave her the feeling of different conflicts occurring, everybody had had a hard time the last night, but letting it out on other soldiers was the wrong move. Eve walked up towards Aaron and Phyllis “Is something wrong?” She said with a somewhat happy voice and a forced smile on her lips. She had already read a bit about the members of the Black Wolves, the man’s name was Aaron Blake, a man that was hard to control, but still a good card to be able to play if necessary. “I would rather want you to talk to me than waking Phyllis right now. She has had a rough night on the field and seems like she is in need of some sleep.” She put out her hand in order to shake his, hopefully he would accept that.

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#, as written by Varyar
Blake turned to the newcomer, a woman whose beauty would have taken the breath of any man, but not Aaron. He had lost his taste for women a long time ago. There had been no other, and no better woman than Betty ...

The woman looked at him with a goofy grin plastered on her face and an outstretched hand. Even though Aaron was still angry he would have to do the ceremony all over again, he could not ignore a gesture like that. He shook hands with the woman, trying hard not to break any bone, and answered, making another effort not to sound rude.

"Yes, there is a problem, ma’am. I just arrived here and I found out that my team's Executive Officer is a woman! No offense, ma’am, but women cannot lead! It is a scientific fact. I was hoping to meet with the Commanding Officer of the Black Wolves and maybe he could explain to me what's going on. Anyway, I'm also here to see the General Verturum, like everyone else. So I don’t want any problems, at least not for now. "

And not without Betty, Blake thought. If he had the flamethrower equipped, this conversation would be a lot different.

Trying to sound friendly was a very complex communication exercise for Blake. Damn, he used to talk that much in one week! That didn’t mean Aaron wasn’t smart. Blake had a lethal intelligence, but a slight... Issue with words and social relations in general. Blake only liked two kinds of people: Those who respected him ... And those who burned.

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A tall, lithe figured stepped gracefully past the neatly tended lawns and flowerbeds that enhanced the era-less structures of the Headquaters. He wore light brown shirt and trousers, pressed and unwrinkled in an military manner. His gait was also military, strong and sure. He extruded self confidence that was surprising from a grunt of the military service. Although Ameriv Argus Cortez knew he was no grunt, although his rank could say otherwise. He knew himself to be skilled at what he did and a valuable asset to the defense force. He was proud of his ability, not attempting to pass his own boundaries as was right. Yet in the steady steps there was the slight slope of his shoulders and the bags beneath his eyes. Fatigue leeched lightly into his muscles from a short night.

As an active member of the Aequitas Defense Force he was required to assist in defending the dome. He would have gone anyway, it was his duty and where else would his skill come in use. He had focused his life on being a warrior, to cower when he was needed would undo everything. So it was that as the sun set upon the peaceful community that he joined the chaos of prevent the hideous spawn from penetrating the unguarded interior. He had taken to a sniper roof and the the moon bathed the battlefield as the warmth of his rifle bathed the side of his face. Countless times he had seen the pink mist of through the scope, a mutated beast lurching to death as the bullet ripped through its flesh. He had seen fellow soldiers die alongside, not hearing their screams of death from his safety. He offered little sorrow for their passing, they were warriors giving themselves to protect. There was nothing greater or worthy for them. It was late into the night as the assault ended and the soldiers were dismissed to get as good a nights sleep as possible.

He was intended to have been present at the ceremony appointing the new members of the League teams until it was untimely interrupted. The man felt no great thrill at this success, only a determination to deserve the appointment that he had garnered. He slept for a short time and awoke early, certainly not getting a decent amount of sleep. He had attended the practice range in the morning, like clockwork and today was no exception. His aim was unfaltering. Score peaking just below his acceptable mark. He grudgingly settled for that, knowing that he ought to have continued and hit his target score. Yet he had no time and the night condensed his usual timetable.
His lateness was guiltless however as he entered the waiting room shortly behind his commanding officer. Not that he knew he position at the time. He ignored the others and took a seat, not allowing his eyes to shut him in a small peace. It would not do to give this situation anything other then the attention it deserved.

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Lana sat in her newly-appointed, plain little room, polishing and sharpening her prized axe. At 17, she was the youngest on her new soon-to-be squad. She was accepted early from Combat school due to exceptionally high performance and recommendation, but sadly being the youngest took its toll. She wasn't exactly taken seriously and was usually overlooked as weak. It didn't help that she was teased for being fragile. Of course, they wouldn't tease her if they actually knew she was a girl. They thought she was just a little boy who could barely lift the axe that he wielded. But Lan was okay with this. It's what she wanted. A new identity, free of the shackles of her previous life.

The ex-communication wasn't entirely her fellow students and new teammates fault though. Lan brought a lot of it on herself. She stayed quiet and kept her head down most of the time, and only talked when spoken to. She would rather be seen as weak and then strike out when the situation called for her too. She also enjoyed the privacy because in her eyes, company meant more people around to discover her secret. She was sure nothing would happen to her, but maybe they would call her ex-guardians or kick her out of the Defense Force and League team altogether. That would ruin everything she had planned out in her narrow little mind.

Finally, she set down her axe and stood up to look at herself in the mirror. She saw all her slender curves and soft feminine features and wondered how in the world she hadn't been found out already. Her eyes were big and round reflecting the stormy gray of her heart and her short auburn hair was laying randomly a tangled mop. It was always messy. Used to, she would be annoyed and try to fight with it, but she had realized it gave her an extra boyish look so she usually kept it the way it was.

Suddenly, she heard a voice yelling out and a heavy knock on her door. "Spawn attack! Ready your weapons, Lan, you're needed on the front line!"

She threw on her breastplate and roughly grabbed her axe and helmet. Then she threw open the door to reveal a frantic young trainee, Jered, she thought his name was. "Where?" she asked him sternly.

"Just to the west of the northern front. They haven't made it to the city yet, but there's loads of them. Commander Jax told me that he needed you to lead a small front line to attack head on, while he leads a larger group around their right to flank them," he spoke quickly and in a grave tone.

"Thanks, soldier," Lan said as she quickly ran through the hallways, footsteps pounding in sync with her heartbeat. Spawn attacks always exhilarated her, sent burning adrenaline rushing through her veins. She loved the feeling of her axe burying deep into the heads or chest of whatever monster she faced; each time she destroyed a creature she felt that she was one step closer to avenging her beloved family. Besides, this was her last mission as a regular Defense Force soldier. Tomorrow she would officially be part of the Red Lances. She just had to live that long.
~~~
The next morning, Lan woke, exhausted from the bloody battle of the previous night. She lay in bed for a while, replaying the brutal scenes of death and torment in her mind before she got up and got dressed, her usual outfit of tightly fitting black cloth pants and a lose sweater with the sleeves rolled up. Luckily, her legs were fit for a boy but she had to hide her chest with lose clothing. "Damn, this is a pain." She thought as she adjusted her shaggy hair a little and shoved her dagger in its sheath around her waist before walking out of her room through the halls to where the new squads were meeting.

When she got there, she examined her new teammates. She noticed a large man with un-swaying confidence whom she assumed to be the Commander of the Red Lancers. She also noticed two young looking men to be about in their twenties, one laying cockily on the couch, the other looking like he was about to cut the first one. The second man looked calm and official, and also carried what appeared to be a medical bag. She predicted him to be second in command. She usually had a pretty good sense for things like that.

She took one last look at the rag-tag group before walking slowly forward, quietly with an air of something between confidence and intimidation.

"Private Lan Haringer reporting sir," she saluted to the large commander. This was going to be interesting

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Lock looks silently at Lenard and Logan who had said little ever since he introduced himself. With a sober look Lock shakes his head thinking how in the world he will whip these young men into shape. He was just about to command their attention when a light voice came from behind him.

“Private Lan Haringer reporting sir," a short weedy boy of a man salutes Lock. Lock is almost inspired by this mans enthusiasm. The salute was swift, he was in full armour and the axe on his back gleamed. A man after his own heart to say the least. How he wished this was one of his soldiers to command.

“Red Lancer Commander Lock” Lock gives the same swift and sure salute as before “Private Haringer I was not graced with a forth file. If you would be so kind to tell me the team you have been assigned to?” Locks voice was gruff and solid as always. However his diction was changed due to the fact he acted much gentler towards people not under his command.

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Maen raised his head as he heard a man address himself as the CO of the Red Lancers. Looking around, he located a small group of people, the individual he had heard being a rather gruff looking fellow. Standing up and slinging 'Gravy' over his shoulder, he walked over towards the group.

Apart from the CO, there was a man who looked to be about as laid back as himself, as well as another who didn't look too pleased about it. The apparent Commanding Officer was talking with a young man at the moment, so Maen decided it best to just wait until they were through. Walking up to them, he put his weight on one foot with his hands resting on his hips. More than a few people had told him that this stance looked rather feminine, but he was comfortable, so he stuck with it.

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Lan was corrected about the brute being her commander. He seemed like he was perfect for the job, gruff and sturdy, but she could detect a hint of kindness behind his almost harsh tongue and placid expression.

"I have been assigned under your command as a Red Lancer, sir. I was pulled as a late addition to be granted completion of my first year of combat school and training," she explained to him with as manly a voice as she could muster from her tiny diaphragm. She wanted to give a good first appearance, especially since he seemed so annoyed with the men in front of him. The medical boy seemed to be fine, but the other one...not so much.

"I'm pleased to meet you and look forward to further my training under your guidance."

Just enough to butter myself up, she thought.

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“Excellent. Although I respect the abilities of range soldiers, I much prefer melee myself. So I am glad I will have someone following the melee path for me to impart my expertise” Lock stopped looking at Lan and turned around to the sound of soft foot steps. The man he recognised as Mean (from his photo in his file) had come closer to the group.

Lock stepped back a couple of steps as he looked at his team in their entirety. While stroking his beard in a rather ruff way, he gives the slightest of smiles. “So this is The Red Lancers? Remember this day well boys, because this is the day you stop being individual soldiers. Instead you are now part of a vital team. Vital because our success could very well mean the difference between this dome’s survival and utter destruction” his voice had a sober tone to it. As if he really believed that The Red Lancers and The Black Wolves teams could and will make a difference. Their was a sense of pride and duty in every word.

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"I'm very honored to accept that knowledge," Lan said. Then she followed Lock's gaze to the man walking up to the group whom I assumed to be another member of the team.

“So this is The Red Lancers? Remember this day well boys, because this is the day you stop being individual soldiers. Instead you are now part of a vital team. Vital because our success could very well mean the difference between this dome’s survival and utter destruction," Lock said proudly and surely. Lan looked around her once more at the group that she would be spending so much time with.

It truly was a melting pot. With metalhead walking up, Mr. Cool on the couch and the uptight doctor on top of Lock the giant and little Lana, they seemed to have nothing in common.

How will such a dysfunctional group be able to save Aequitas? she wondered.

"When will we begin our training?" she asked the Commander, eager to learn from someone as seemingly experienced as him.

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"Since everybody else feels like saying there name, I might as well." He spoke after that Lan character had started talking about training. Logan's voice still sounded scratchy from last night, cause nobody wants to pull all nighters. He did that back at the academy. And wanted to punch the professor in the face after he complained that Logan had fallen asleep. Those were good days. Logan stood up, yawned, then whipped his dull brown hair - with the faded blue tips that he should have probably gotten brighter - off his eyes. He

"I'm Logan Sargan, AKA Spider. Combat Medic. Apparent XO. Trained in Melee Combat, then in Psychokinesis." He shrugged. He guessed he could play nice for a little. But they should really get to know him now instead of later. "Honored to be a part of the team, but I need some sleep if that is all good." Logan swore he would fall asleep after saying that, but he kept standing.

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The uptight doctor was the one to speak. Logan, was his name. And once again, her almost scary ability to read people proved her right. He was her second commanding officer. He didn't seem too bad. She believed that she made it out lucky with her two officers. Hopefully, they would be as bearable as they seemed.

"It's nice to meet you, Executive Logan. My name is Lan Haringer. I specialize in offensive melee combat," she said to him, adjusting her breastplate and holding out her dainty hand for him to shake. That was one bad thing about her that she couldn't hide. She definitely had feminine hands.

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#, as written by Hydrall
Lenard Conner


Lenard rolled his eyes at Logan's sarcastic spiel, but didn't dignify it with a response. He could take crap like that,  and had before. Wasn't no business of his if the guy was a whiny ass. The cannoneer just grinned back and turned away- There were more attractive faces to look at. 

And if he'd inferred from Lock right, this guy was their medic. Lenard prayed that he would never, ever need the guy's help.

As the other members began to introduce himself, he listened with a certain amount of skepticism. They all sounded like they'd been fighting these tournaments forever. 

It wasn't like the surface wasn't dangerous- On the contrary, they were constantly in the same danger that the domes only encountered every so often. But when the Spawn came, they usually hid in the caves and bunkers instead of suicidally trying to push them back. Plenty of people died, either way. 

Lenard had fought before, but he was beginning to realize that these people had been fighting their entire lives. 

They're going to kill me. Kill me and forget me, soon as I stop being useful. Maybe earlier if they learn I'm a Harvester. Same as a Harvest Town. Fight and fight over them, but when the ore runs out... He was certain of this. It took the grin off his face for a second. If Lenard failed here, both were doomed to be forgotten. So he couldn't tell about his home- only the recruiters knew that, right?   

He looked up at the introductions, noting his team members. He gave easier names for his head- Whiny, Gruff, Midget, Stoner. So Whiny was the medic and XO. Gruff was the captain. Midget was a... Melée fighter? Someone, somewhere, must have thought that was funny. Unless he was a mutant. You never knew. Stoner had yet to introduce himself.

Lenard decided to try again, somewhat more subdued by his sudden spike of fear. "Lenard Conner, of..." He bit himself off. Idiot! Domers didn't mention their hometowns when they introduced themselves! That was a Harvester thing! "Mid-range gunner, and grunt. Nice to work with yer." Despite his desire for fame, he found himself hoping that here, at least, he would avoid notice.

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Lan looked to her right as the lazy one presented himself. The way he held himself seemed cocky, arrogant, and fake.

He's hiding something. She thought to herself. She knew all about people hiding things, since she herself hid the biggest secret of them all. What he was hiding though, that was the mystery.

"It's nice too meet you as well...Lenard, it was?" she asked. She contemplated whether she should offer a handshake or not. She only really needed to make an impression on the higher-ups, not fellow grunts with an ego. Maybe she was just being judgmental though. He could really be a nice guy, strong and brave and ready to die protecting his city. But with all the experience she had of sitting quietly and studying people in the background told her otherwise.

Still he was her new teammate, and she really didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with anyone. So she stuck out her slender hand and gave a slight smile.

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Lock paused for a few seconds trying to answer when the training would begin. The truth was Commander Lock was also in the dark about when training would start. After all this wasn’t no normal team of soldiers. The League of Origins was meant to be none deadly skirmishes. As such these inexperienced soldiers had the luxury to learn from their mistakes in the field of combat.

Lock’s hesitation was met with Logan introducing himself to the rest of The Red Lancers. Lock didn’t know if Logan did this to undermine Locks authority, to buy him sometime to give a proper answer or simply because he was tired after the bloody night before. Either way Lock was glad that Logan had since Logan reminded Lock that Logan was indeed trained in basic melee. Lock made note not to view his second in command as a mere medic.

“As do we all after last night. But the sooner we are done with this briefing the sooner we can get some much needed rest. Just hang on a bit longer”. Not wanting to be rude to Lan, Lock turns to him and continues to answer his question. “As for training. The exact time has yet to be decided. However when the team is not in combat or ordered to rest, it is at my digression on when and how often to train. Either way I very much doubt we will see combat before a proper rest due to last night. And I would much prefer everyone to be rested before I train the team as well. As such expect a day to rest up. Use it wisely mind you. For my training sessions shall not be lax” Lock gave a deep but brief chuckle. After which his face turn quite serious.

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Logan swore he was going to face palm himself. He had dealt with far worse back at the academy, but these guys were a bunch of jokes. The one called Lan looked so damn small to be a dude, but then again he was skinnier than most women. So he should probably shut up. But it was that Leanard character. This guy was a complete moron. Logan could read most people, cause being Psychokinesis had to have some benefits. Leanard came off as a glory hunter. The way he didn't even bother to signify that he had even heard him was one reason. The other was the fact that he was clearly not from around here. How that made him into a glory hunter was the fact that Logan could see in Leanard's eyes that he wanted to be recognized. Why he wanted that, Logan would never know. Logan would rather sit in the corner and sleep. So, Logan labeled him as the glory seeker. And that made him easy to understand.

Logan smiled, finding a way to play right into his own hand "Nice to meet you, Leanard of." Logan knew teasing the grunts would come back to bite him in the ass, but for now he wanted to have some fun. Besides, all he had to do was hurt him slightly anywhere. And the nightmares of Leanards mind would begin. Happy with that thought, Logan flicked away the cigarette.

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Maen had pretty much picked up how everyone ticked by this point. The CO was one of those gruff but lovable fellows he had seen a few times in the past, strict and to-the-point, but had a side he wasn't all too open about. The XO was perhaps Maen's least favorite so far, being a bit too lone-wolf for his tastes. The one that apparently was pissing everyone else off was the one he hoped to make quick friends of as he seemed upbeat, like himself. As for the smaller guy, Lan, Maen felt rather odd around him, as if the usual natural connection that all guys felt didn't apply to him. It was probably just due to him being smaller.

After everyone had introduced themselves and the CO had given his little speech, Maen felt it was his turn. "Maen Raboc ready for action, sir. Long-range stuff is my.... stuff." And so it was that his first sentence already let slip his tendency to not think his sentences through.

The setting changes from 30th Century Earth to City Barracks

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A small spike of pain shot through Phyllis’ shoulder as the force of a punch was transferred directly into her armor-clad shoulder, the shock-absorbing suit apparently not working properly after the last battle. “I’ll have to have it replaced again”, she mumbled as she groggily returned to a state of awareness. “… I pretend I care and you stay out of my way the rest of the time. Got it? Good. Now when does our Commanding Officer arrives?” The voice slowly faded in, and Phyllis’ eyes quickly adjusted to the light of the hallway before the feeling of embarrassment hit her: She had been sleeping in front of those she would sooner or later be leading into battle.

Cursing her actions under her breath, she was about to turn to the offensive soldier, her mind already planning a very formal yet aggressive response, when suddenly Eve Heart of all people was to be found in the hallway saving Phyllis the trouble of responding. “Oh the irony”, Phyllis thought. While she did like Eve Heart for helping her through the tough times, Phyllis did not want to be indebted to Eve, much less defended by her. Phyllis wanted to be responsible for her own actions.

Anyway, I'm also here to see the General Verturum, like everyone else. So I don’t want any problems, at least not for now.” The words of the soldier next to her, Blake she recalled, forced her to return to reality once again. Standing up, she faced Blake again, her face returning to that of an emotionless officer, although her prepared speech in her head was completely ruined. The only words leaving her mouth was the essence of what she had wanted to say: “I’m Officer Zethera.” Her voice was almost trembling as the words came out, her brain cursing itself for its stupidity.

A quick glance around the perimeter informed her that ten soldiers, herself included, had gathered here. Besides Eve she was not familiar with any of them. No wonder, since Phyllis tended to keep herself in the ranks of the charging melee soldiers, medics and ranged soldiers not peaking her interest at all. It seemed to Phyllis as if the Red Lancer CO had made his entrance and gathered his team around him while she had been occupied with Blake. That would mean that the three leftover soldiers, Blake included, were her new team mates.

Phyllis began to walk towards Eve, her eyes and facial expression saying ‘Thank You’. Just as she passed by Eve, however, the door by the guards opened and out came a tall, grey haired man with a cold expression on his face. His age was clearly shown in his face, the amounts of battles he had partaken in marked by the scars running across his cheeks and forehead. Phyllis quickly snapped both heels together and saluted Commander Verturum, her eyes awaiting an order from him.

Stand down, soldiers. We will commence the briefing now”, he said. Phyllis could not help but notice the lack of excitement in his voice. Surely the savior teams gathered to enable Aequitas a conquest in the League should be a bit more interesting than organizing the grunt training? Her thoughts, however, quickly ended up dwelling at the events of the night. The loss of yet another soldier out of an army size of 90-something soldiers was quite a burden to bear. As Verturum motioned them to join him in the briefing room, she quickly moved along. With her helmet under her left arm she entered the briefing room, the only room of its kind in the whole barracks. Maps over the desolated Earth were projected onto the white walls, while a holographic map in the middle showed the current position of Aequitas in a much more detailed view. Phyllis quickly found herself a spot at the right side of the room, trying to create eye contact with those of her fellow team members who were entering through the door, hoping that the soldiers would separate themselves into teams.

Today marks the beginning of a new era for Aequitas! We finally have an army suitable for participating in the League, and while we have fought in the League several times before this day, we haven’t emerged victorious yet.” Phyllis could not help but notice the change in the room atmosphere as Verturum began to brief them, his voice captivating both officers and soldiers alike. “Following the League rules, Aequitas cannot be attacked as we do not control any harvest towns. However, the city of Aequitas craves, no demands, new farmland in order to expand. With our current crop production here in the dome we will not be able to feed the next generation. Therefore, the M3 dome is as we speak heading towards the city of Triticum of the K2 dome, our first opponent.

Phyllis exhaled after holding her breath throughout Verturum’s speech. She looked closely at Verturum, his face beginning to show the early signs of a smile. Her eyes then glanced at the holographic map on the table, the view of Aequitas suddenly showing the K2 dome in the distance. The excitement was unbearable! Phyllis tried to gain eye contact with Eve for a short moment, her eyes reflecting the feeling of happiness and yet nervousness that was stirring in her head, before returning her focus to Verturum.

The city of Triticum is not much bigger than us, only boasting a 12-man League team. However, they have managed to hold onto the harvest town of Avena, a small farming community. We, the citizens of Aequitas, will need to gain hold of the harvest town stockpiles if we are to replenish our almost depleted food stockpiles.” Phyllis’ eyes followed Verturum as he finished speaking, his posture not changing very much even though this was fantastic news. Phyllis guessed he had been through so many briefings before that his body did not reflect the content of the information.

The E.T.A. for Aequitas will be approx. 36 hours. We will commence our attack as soon as we can, and as the M3 dome is one of the fastest domes in its class we should have no problem intercepting them. We will be fighting the battle across the two domes, the battle itself being a ‘Capture the Flag’-styled battle. Since we will be going up against 12 soldiers, and since we do not have anything to loose except your lives, I have personally decided upon an all offensive strategy: We will be lowering two bridges between the domes. The Black Wolves will be assaulting on the right flank while the Red Lancers will be on the left flank. Remember: All we need is their flag to win. If we are strong and fast enough, they will not be able to defeat us!

Phyllis did not hear the last words, her mind already picturing herself fighting the enemies across the bridge. She had yet to experience real dome warfare, but with her experience from spawn fights she felt confident. Her right hand tightened into a fist as she remembered the cause she was fighting for: This harvest town would be just another in the path towards reunion with her father. With her mind preoccupied she did not hear Verturum say “Any questions?

The setting changes from City Barracks to 30th Century Earth

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As Lock looks on his friend of 16 years General Verturum he is relieve that the briefing is finally about to start. This briefing was meant to start 10 minutes ago but the General much preferred to make people wait for him. A fact that at first annoyed Lock when they met each other all them years ago. However back then Lock called General Verturm, Johnny Boy. A nickname he would not dare use in front of these new soldiers. Lock and most of the other soldiers saluted the General before following him into the briefing room. Lock sat in the very mile of the seating arrangement and looked at the scare riddled face of the General. Many of them scars on the General had a brother scar on Lock. A mark of their brotherhood through battle. Upon hearing that the teams would already be entering combat Lock glanced at General Verturum as he gripped his seat. It was as if Lock was about to explode out of his seat and the only thing stopping him was his hands securely grasping that seat. Finally General Verturum said the words Lock was waiting for. “Any questions?” the action of Lock leaping to his feet was closely followed by a dense rattle of armour.

“With all due respect General, these teams have just been formed. Now I’m not saying that everyone needs training. However I would very much like to see my soldiers abilities before leading them into combat. Not to mention that no team acts as one without training together. Now I am well aware that stopping this announced skirmish with Triticum is a poor choice. But at the very least please tell me that you intend for time after this match for some much needed training?” Lock and the General seem to be having some sort of battle of wills by the way they were glaring at each other. The truth was they often butt heads on matters like this. However in the past they would just laugh about how they are both stubborn mules. This could very of well been one of those time if it wasn’t for the audience and the importance of the matter.

"I understand your concern, but I'm afraid there is no possibility for training before the match. Aequitas is in need of the harvest town, however, and the people of Aequitas has decided upon a confrontation as fast as possible. I know your concern is coming from your previous service history in squads, but what better training exists than the field of battle? Both teams sport trained soldiers, all ready to defend our city against the spawn. I am sure they, with two excellent CO's, will be ready to fight the enemy. Proper training programs, as you request, will be commenced as soon as we have secured the harvest town of Avena." As always the General replies with tact and dignity. Lock loosens his stance as he is happy that the General agrees to the training programs Lock believed are vital to further success. “And on the note of COs, it would be proper for the Commanders to identify yourself at this point” General Vecturum glances to Eve and then back at Lock.

“Commander of The Black Wolves Eve Heart reporting for duty” Eve was quick to raise and held her salute as so rest of her team could clearly identify her. Lock was pleasantly surprised that the young female was the Commander of the other team.

“Commander of The Red Lancers Alexander Patrick Lock reporting for duty” Lock followed suit holding his salute. After a few more seconds had past the two commanders both briefly gestured their hands forward as they ended their salutes.

"Remember, we are all relying on you and your teams to score us this needed victory” for the first time in this briefing General Vecturum spoke with a hint of compassion. “This day onwards these two Commanders are in direct command of you. Good day” without another word General Vecturum left the briefing room. Lock was going to meet for him after the briefing for a drink of whisky. However it was clear that they both needed their rest.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m off to bed. Red Lancers you are dismissed. Get some much needed rest” Lock leaves the briefing room and heads back to his private quarters.

The setting changes from 30th Century Earth to City Barracks

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As the general left the room Eve rose from her seat and looked at her crew with a strict expression on her face “I will also let you rest for the time being.” Her eyes glanced from one person to another “I believe most of you are in need of that because of last night’s events. If you need me you can find me in my room at the league quarters. I have the information required to get into contact with all of you. Until you hear from me, the Black Wolves are dismissed.” With those words she left the room I had hopes that we wouldn’t get into action so soon “tsk” I just have to use the fact that we will attack at night to our advantage I suppose.

Eve was out of the room quite fast in order to catch up with the CO of the Red Lancers. Alexander P. Locke, a name she had heard a bit of through her time in the military academy. “I hope you don’t mind me walking with you Locke.” She said to him as she finally caught up with him, walking through a long corridor going from the head quarter to the league residence “We have to discuss how we start out the encounter, we have the time with us but they will surely be waiting for us when we finally get aboard the K2 dome. If I recall correctly the dome environment is basically plain fields with some few forest areas.” While talking to him she was thinking with all her might different plans to commence the attack “I will use some time to see if I can get some information on the dome and maybe their league soldiers. After all know thy enemy is a great term.” She turned silent for a few seconds “But of cause knowing your friend will also be required of this. What can you tell me about your team Alex-… Erm Locke?” Making a mistake at the last sentence wasn’t good; if she had just been able to do it at the start it wouldn’t have been as easily seen.

Eve was ready to face the fact that she would hear a lot from all of the members in her squad, she would have thought the same if a young person was about to command a team she was a part of, but luckily it wasn’t like that. Even though she didn’t look like it, she was indeed one of the top tacticians in the city as well as a good leader. But she was merciless on the battlefield; she had ease sacrificing people if she could save more by doing it. Her strategies could go from logical to insane from one point to another, but somehow they always seemed to end up well.

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#, as written by Varyar
Blake turned around, ending the conversation, when the woman who had been sleeping introduced herself slowly, as if intimidated. Aaron looked at her from top to bottom, and was about to confront her when the General Verturum appeared. This man was someone who deserved respect. Only by being able to find Blake, he deserved a different treatment. Everything about him reflected battles: His scars, his graying hair, even his posture, reflected that of a man who knew the joy of battle. That was kind of man who deserved respect ... But did not deserved to be feared. The number of men who Blake feared could not fill the fingers of one hand, and the number of men he respected barely reached a dozen. Verturum should feel proud. Maybe I’ll tell him, Blake thought.

He followed the flow of people, not caring whether any of them run into the suitcase tied behind him. When he entered the small room packed with maps, his eyes met those of Zethera, and Aaron could feel the arrogance emanating from the woman. Who did she think she was, commanding him with a look? Aaron returned the stare with hostility and then settled down as best he could, without taking out the huge suitcase behind him.

Verturum then began boring a motivational speech, and Blake decided to use his time to analyze each of the fighters in the room.

There was his commander, Zethera, and she eliminated any type of consideration, and Zethera’s friend, a woman who seemed familiar with that procedure as well as Blake. Aaron wondered what place she occupied in the team.

There was a skinny teenager so pale that Blake thought he was sick. He had slightly pointed ears, and Aaron thought that maybe he was really sick. But he seemed to be agile, very agile, the kind that could evade Betty’s flames. He deserved to be taken into account. There was a man wearing a helmet and a sniper rifle slung over his shoulder, and Aaron ignored him instantly. There was no honor in killing at distance, and men without honor deserved not respect for Blake. There was another pale teen, this one with a horse-tail. The teenager was passive, cold as ice. Blake knew that the most dangerous men are those without emotion, and that young man did not seem to have any. Still, he was young and too weak to be respected.

There was a man who appeared to have the same age as Aaron. The man looked like a rat in appearance, with his gray hair and his skin pale, and seemed to have no idea where he was, with a behavior way to happy for the occasion. Way to happy for Blake’s taste. There was another young man, with very peculiar eyes, probably a mutation, smoking a cigarette. He was too young to smoke, but Aaron started smoking at the age of fifteen, who was he to judge? He had an arrogant expression on his face, as if he knew something nobody else knew and bragged that. This pleased Aaron, and he wished that the smoker was in his team. It was always better to be friends with arrogant men, for they were the ones who died for you trying to prove something on the battlefield ... There was another woman, much smaller and weaker than the other two, and if it weren’t for her diminutive size and stance Aaron would’ve thought she was a man. She wore a dagger at the waist, and that alone won Blake’s favor.

Finally, there was a huge man, much older than Aaron, and maybe this man deserved his respect. Obviously he was a born fighter, and certainly a melee one. He seemed to be almost as old as Verturum, and if someone else deserved Blake’s respect in that room, was that man. Blake hoped that this was the Black Wolves CO, and felt happy to serve under his command.

When Verturum finished his speech, Blake came back to conscience, soon enough to hear the General say: "Any Questions?" Blake would not have cared if any of the recruits asked a useless question, but it was the respectable man who did, and Blake heard him. He smiled. Perhaps the others needed training, but not Aaron. Aaron was always ready to fight ...

Then Verturum asked the Commanding Officers to introduce themselves, and Blake nearly collapsed when the woman took a step forward ... And his fears were confirmed. Eve Heart. Commanding Officer of the Black Wolves. The General left, and Blake followed Eve like a rocket, interrupting her conversation with the respectable man.
"Listen very carefully... commander" Blake spat the word with contempt. “Feel free to give orders to the other submissive assholes, but do not expect me to obey! I'll do my best in order to bring glory to Aequitas, and I’ll also try not to get my team exterminated, but that's all. I already told your friend and I will also tell you: Point the enemy and stay out of my way!"

The setting changes from City Barracks to 30th Century Earth

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"Thank the Lord..."
Logan had sighed thankfully towards his new acting commander. He felt that a commander was like a teacher at the academy: They were all strict and stuff, but at least they cared for your well being. Logan turned on his heals, and headed towards the door. His medical bag hung beside him, and he put his lighter back in, along with the rest of the stash of his lighters. He was damn tired, and needed a break for once. Before leaving, he said.
"If I don't wake up in time, just yell. I may not be the nicest in the morning, but at least I will be awake. You can justify why later." He walked out the door, and slowly made his way to his room. He laid on the bed and thought about last night for a bit. It was the first time he had lost somebody in battle before, and even though his brain told him that he couldn't have done anything it still didn't feel right to him. He was a Medical genius, as the teachers said, and he cuoldn't even save 10 people. He felt a bit like a waste of space, but then fell into his deep slumber, hoping not to feel as so.
It didn't help.

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Lock was drained of energy, yet he still kept a fast pace walk despite his heavy armour. The racket his armour made meant he couldn’t hear Eve’s footsteps and as such he wasn’t aware of Eve until she started to talk. As he listened to Eve he did not slow down at all. Luckily she seem willing and able to keep at the same pace. After hearing the start of his first name from Eve he came to a complete halt. Slowly he turns to Eve.

“I demand the utmost respect from all my soldiers, as such I refuse to addressed by my first name. However, as a fellow Commander you can call me Alexander if you wish” Lock smiles at Eve. As he had thought someone so young and female would have to be one hell of a tactician to reach the level of Commander. “I see that your eager to find a solution to this pressing problem we have. I agree its important to know each others team. My team is raw hide ready to be made into leather. They all have developed skills , but there is a lot of friction in my team due to personality differences and completely different training methods. Judge purely by skill we are mainly close range with one long distance sniper. But I can tell you from my experience that the other dome’s team are much better trained” Lock’s face was filled with worry. He was unsure of weather his soldiers would be able to follow his command or weather he even knew them well enough to command them correctly. “Eve, may I call you Eve? The truth is our chances of winning this next encounter is less than 50% and it will all come down to working together. Something the other side has already had practice at, when we have had none. I predict that the only reason why we are going forward with it is due to pressure the good General is under from the rest of this dome. The reason why I say this to you is that although we should hope to win, its perhaps a good idea to prepare to lose. Just be prepared to deal with the low moral that follows a defeat. Now, any concerns about your team? I hope they were kind and gave you an easier to organized team” Lock looked to his door that was only a few feet away from him. It was very important to get along well with Eve due to her role in all this, but the siren song of Lock’s bed was loud.

Suddenly a large soldier that Lock recognized from the briefing approached Eve. His attitude seemed very out of place here and Lock was wondering if the General had gone mad bringing someone like this here to fight for us. As he thought about it, Lock couldn’t help but give a slight chuckle “you don’t seem to understand. You’re a soldier now, part of the most important type of army that exists in this era and this is the person in charge of you. Weather its commanding you off a cliff or to dress up as a woodland critter you have to obey” Lock came closer to the man. So closer that he could whisper his last line “If you don’t obey, I assure you, your life as a combater will be over for good” giving one last stare Lock marches to his room, keeping an ear open for any trouble.

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#, as written by Hydrall
Lenard Conner


Lenard shook Lan's hand and returned the smile. "Yup, Lenard. Be interesting to see how you fight, kid. Lan." He glanced over at Logan, somewhat more warily. "Nice to meet you too, doc." He's just trying to mess with you, don't let it get to- Wait, aren't I letting it get to me by trying not to let it arrrgh. He turned to listen to the last Lancer- He couldn't be sure yet if Stoner was an accurate mental nickname, but time would tell. He did seem a little out of it.

Then the General came into the waiting room and began to brief them. Lenard tried to look like he was feeling the appropriate amount of gravitas, but he knew all this already- as did everyone else, he suspected. In his case, he'd specifically chosen the lowest Dome- you got more famous for clawing up from the bottom than from falling from the top. Not to mention that it had been nearby.

I guess it would be too easy for them to be after Leagel first try... Besides, a mining town would be important only once you've got food. He tried in vain to recall what dome owned his home- But he couldn't remember. It changed so often that no one had. So we're supposed to go off and get ourselves killed so this place can get bigger... Oh, right, we're volunteers. Damn. He felt slightly irked about being personally treated like an expendable commodity. He'd lived his whole life that way, but now it was more personal. Nothing like imminent pain to put things into perspective.

Dismissed, he followed the others through the halls, hoping his stuff had already been delivered to whatever room he'd been assigned. He had no idea where it was, though. Or was he supposed to go find it? Damn these confusing domes...

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"Any questions?" said the great General, Verturum was his name. Lan thought of speaking up and asking what exactly the advantages and disadvantages of Triticum was, but decided against it when Commander Lock said his piece. She agreed with him whole heartedly. She was wary of going into battle without proper League training, and thought that if they stood a chance, they should take the time to at least learn each others strengths and weaknesses. She wasn't exactly a planner, in fact she was more of a beserker type person and preferred running straight into battle and taking out enemies alone in her way, but she still wanted to at least know what kind of fighters the others were. Were they bold and rash berserkers? Sneaky bandit-like people? Or maybe they preferred flanking the enemy when the oppurtunity was presented and surprising them.

Regardless of her commanders "suggestions," she decided she needed more practice. She had heard a little about the dome they would face, but not enough to feel comfortable blindly rushing in and trying to win. No, she would definitely do some self training. So she went to her room, grabbed her axe and helmet, and went down to the practice field. There were a couple regular Defense soldiers training, but she kept her distance and practiced some dagger throws and maneuvers and tossed her axe around some. She loved the feeling of swinging it around and into her targets, expecially when she used her dagger along with it. Block the first attack wtih her axe. Move quick. Distract with dagger. Finish with axe. She had several variations of this for all different weapons, but this was the most basic. She smiled to herself and whispered, "Those bastards don't stand a chance."

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Ririn sat in his chair, legs picked up and knees tucked to his chest, being very still. His face was half-hidden behind his knees, leaving his widened eyes to peer out across the room. He looked like someone had hit him over the head, or as if he'd just woken up in a strange place. Shell-shocked. That described how he was, huddled against himself protectively. His senses were assaulting him-his ears being the worst, as they could pick up every word the people said-causing him to cringe. All this came from one cause, though: the people. There were so many of them in the room, and Ririn had lost count after the first five or so. It had been forever since he had been in such proximity with a crowd, even such a small one as this. Sure, at the academy there had been people. Many people, far more than there were in the room, but at least then he had had the comfort of space. In here, it felt as if everyone was crowding in on him.

As with the number, Ririn had lost the ability to distinguish individual people. It was a single mass of several faces, thankfully none turned on him. The chatter was deafening, and Ririn had just been about spring out of his chair and bolt from the room, when someone else entered the room. All eyes focused on him at once, even Ririn's own. It was an older man, worn but seasoned with years of battle, and years of living. Instead of panicking about yet another body being added to the mass, Ririn felt himself relax, a quiet whimper escaping his lips as his shoulders slumped. The old man had an aura about him, and it was pointedly soothing to Ririn. Only a few people had that feeling to them, of gentleness mixed with wisdom-his own father being one of them-, and Ririn had admired every one of them he had met.

Despite the fact that he was still amongst the others, calm had settled over him, and Ririn found himself hanging onto every word the General said. He was actually able to listen to a speech and understand it, something that nearly none of his teachers at the academy had been able to accomplish with him. When it was done, and people started to file out slowly and talking animatedly again, his discomfort didn't return. However, that didn't abate his shyness, or the creeping embarrassment that he felt of himself. Honestly, he was a man now, and a soldier to boot, and he was still sitting in the corner of the room afraid to talk to anybody. If only Noah, the only friend Ririn had made at the academy, had joined the league team along with him, then at least he'd have someone to be with. No such luck though, he was alone, and he was going to have to toughen up...

He stood roughly, his cramped feet suddenly meeting the floor and trying to support his unbalanced weight. He fumbled for a moment, but then righted himself. He walked forward purposefully, heading towards a woman with red eyes that he had gathered was on his team. Her eyes were what had drawn his own, before his xenophobia had set in, as most oddities did. Anything that seemed odd or out of place seemed to draw Ririn, but he guessed it was just like calling to like. He had meant to ask her about what he was supposed to do now, where he was supposed to go, but the closer and closer he got, the less confident he got. By the time he was close enough to reach out and touch her elbow, his mind was warning him not to bother her with his pathetic problems. Hastening his step, which had lost its strength, he moved past her and out the door. He kept walking, off the main path toward a secluded space around the corner, his things momentarily left behind.

Ririn knelt down once he was sufficiently hidden from anyone that might have tried to follow him, letting his breathing still has he berated himself for being such a coward. What am I going to do with myself, he thought dejectedly. He rocked back on the balls of his feet, letting himself fall back to sit on the grass. He looked up at the sky, which was settling in the darker part of the night, and stared at the moon and stars that were visible beyond the domes perimeter. He smiled a weak smile; he always liked the moonlight. The sun was too harsh, even on the mildest days. It burned him out, and made him feel too thin and invisible. He used to stay up some nights and hold his hand up to the moon, though. The night lights were much gentler on his skin, and sometimes when he tapped his imagination, he could feel that the soft light of the stars made his skin glow.

"I'll wait for them to leave. Then I'll go back in and get my stuff, and see if I can find a somewhere to nap a bit." He spoke to himself, in as reassuring a tone as he could manage. It helped him, sometimes, to tell himself what he was going to do next. It was calming. "I don't need to bother anyone about a room. I just need to find a tree or something. No big deal, Rin. You're a mess, mate. Honestly."

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Maen waited until everyone else had left the room before heading out himself. Most of them appeared to be heading off to their rooms, but the younger one apparently had other plans. He had already grabbed his axe and helmet and was heading outside, no doubt to get in a bit of training. Having gotten a good nights sleep, unlike most of the others, Maen wasn't feeling remotely tired. Instead, he decided he'd check out how the smaller one on the team handled himself.

It took him a little while to get to the training field, as he almost always walked at a leisurely pace. Upon arrival, he found his new teammate swinging the axe in a manner that showed he knew what he was doing, Lan is what they called him. Careful not to get in too close, Maen walked up to him. "You're pretty good with that thing. I'm glad I'm not your enemy!"

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Lan was completely immersed in her training: feeling the fluid movements of the axe in sync with the rhythm of her arm. So she jumped when she heard a voice behind her. She swung around, almost burying the large weapon into her new teammate...Mayan, or metalhead, or something like that. She honestly couldn't remember.

"Just remember to not scare me like that again, and you won't be. And thanks," she said, accepting his compliment with a slight smile while subtly warning him not to get on her bad side. She didn't particularly like being interrupted during training, especially not when surprised. "I'm sorry, I don't think I've formally introduced myself. My name is Lan Haringer--offensive melee and grunt are my roles." She put her axe on her back and extended her hand to him. She planned to act friendly for a while, just enough to get on everyone's good side. But really all she wanted was to shrug everyone off and be left alone to think of her miserable past and all she could do to prevent the horrible memories from replaying in her head. The last thing she wanted was to be depressed.

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Maen gave the boys hand a quick shake. "Maen Raboc. Offensive melee and grunt are my ro- I mean, long-range combat is how I role. I perform sniping duties."
Letting go of the Lans rather tender hands, he folded his arms across his chest. After getting a better look at him, the lad did have some strikingly feminine features, but then, that wasn't entirely unheard of. Summing it all up, their team had a CO that reminded him of some kind of Spartan from the storybooks, an irritable XO, a guy that had more ego flowing through his body than blood, himself and this kid. Seemed fine and dandy, he preferred a more chaotic team, usually meant less responsibility. Lan, on the other hand, seemed more the type to dwell over such things, as evidenced by his wanting to train up. "So, what do you think of the team?" he asked.

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Logan had awoken from his power nap. It had been long enough to make his entire appearance change. After getting another shower, his unruly dull brown hair was sitting nicely on his head, his voice didn't sound the least bit gruff anymore and he actually felt a bit better. He lit himself a cigarette with his spider lighter and got dressed in his normal attire. He knew he should probably go out to train, so after getting himself ready to go out the door, he grabbed his spear. He loved the way it felt in his hands, like it was supposed to be: instead, those hands got more action with a scalpel. And they weren't too happy bout that.

He admired his spear for a couple seconds. The way both ends had blades made fighting with them look like a dance, with the sun shining off each end. It wasn't as heavy as it looked, but took time to master how to wield it. The black fibers that ran along the shaft made him smile, remembering his days at the Offensive Melee Section of the School. And because he wanted to make sure he still had it, he walked out the door and out into the training field. He didn't notice his 2 team mates out there, because he went straight towards a section of dummies that hadn't been violently abused yet. When he got there, he took his bag off his shoulder, and readied his stance, just like his dad taught him to so many years ago. His feet spread apart wider than most stances, his right hand behind his back holding the spear in the middle and his left hand in front of him. He then flew forward.

He cut through them with the brutality of any other soldier, but with the grace of a dancer. The spear twirled, stabbed, lunged, smacked and destroyed the dummies, all 12 of them. He stood there, satisfied with his work

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Eve was glad that at least her co-commander didn’t mind that Eve was a 21 year old woman, or he was very good at covering it up. With the information on the Red Lancers Eve was able to begin drawing a picture of how to start off the attack. Her own squad however was hard to put into a group, the same way Alexander did with his, they were all very different individuals. One thing was for sure though; her team was put together in such a way that they easily would be able to keep a good overview of a fight.

Before Eve was able to answer Alexander, a third person had joined up, Aaron Blake. A move Eve had seen coming from a person like him, but she had had her hopes that he would have waited until he got a chance to yell at her in private. Instead his entire “wrath” struck her in the middle of a conversation with her co-commander and if that wasn’t enough he even defended her. Eve didn’t like when people tried to protect her in any way. Of cause she knew they did it with the intention of helping, but she felt it as if it would show other people that she was weak and needed others to look after her. She kept this inside her mind as the commander talked to Aaron, That man truly need someone to show him his place… Or maybe someone to understand him even? Eve’s eyes turned to the black case Aaron held on his back. What was his weapon again? Oh yeah a flame thrower. Eve suddenly smiled, she had just gotten a plan of how to commence the attack.

Eve turned towards Alexander, who stood in front of the door to their room “Thank you Alexander I will take it from here. I’m going to contact you as soon as I have some more information. Rest well.” And with those words spoken Eve turned around to meet the sight of Aaron once again. She walked up beside him “Your surely seem hungry, why don’t we discuss this matter in the cafeteria? I’ll buy you a well burned steak if you’d like it.” Eve began walking towards the cafeteria, while hoping that Aaron would follow her.

On the way she found her phone in one of the pockets in her trench coat. She dialed a number and put the phone to her ear “Good day it is Heart, I will need some information on the city Triticum as well as the K2 dome. I would appreciate a map and some info on their league teams and setup… Yeah I want all the information you can gather in 12 hours, and remember to keep this unofficial as always… Thank you. Just send the info to my mail as you find it.” She hung up and put the phone back into her pocket. Sometimes it is good to be a part of the Heart Corporation. She smiled once again.

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Maen, his name was. She giggled at his messed up sentence, but quickly covered it up with a cough. Men don't giggle, she reminded herself, giving her mind a mental slap. How could she be so careless? Oh well, this guy didn't seem too bright. But then again, the smartest ones were the ones who stayed quiet in the background. When he asked her the question about their team, she paused for a moment, turning them over in her mind.

"To be honest, I think we need a lot of work. That cocky Lenard fellow seems like he knows about fighting, but I also think that he's fake. I'm not sure about him. The XO has his nose a little to high in the air, and a stick a little too far up his ass. The commander is hard, but if I know his type as well as I think I do, he's got a soft spot somewhere inside that giant of a body of his. And you, you're pretty mysterious, with that helmet of yours over your head. I still don't know how to feel about you. But you seem pretty cool. As for me, I prefer to work individually. And I can go ahead and say that there is a lot you will probably never know about me, but none of it is important," she explained. She winked at him then continued, "Overall, we're a melting pot of completely random characters performing in this war-torn play. And Commander Lock has it in for him if he thinks he can whip us into shape soon."

She knew she was being brutally honest, but she didn't care. Maen seemed like a pretty trustworthy guy, regardless of the fact that she didn't even know what he looked like, so she went ahead and spoke her mind. She didn't notice Logan coming onto the practice field.

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#, as written by Varyar
Aaron went from angry to embarrass. Being rebuked by the man he admired didn’t make wonders for his morale, and he felt truly humiliated when the commander whispered at him, almost threatening, and left as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just scold - and humiliated! - Aaron Blake! Blake resisted the urge to burn the commander during the night, but smiled when thinking about it...

Eve Heart muttered something to the respectable man, and then turned to Aaron, who was still shocked. Surprisingly, she was nice. Aaron expected resistance, because they all feel slightly superior, but instead his commander invited him to a friendly dinner. Blake wondered what she wanted from him... Suddenly she began to walk, and Blake had no choice but to follow her. He needed no further punishment, and the woman was his superior, after all ...

They reached the cafeteria, a dirty little place with nothing special. Blake sat down heavily in a fragile chair, which cracked and almost broke under Aaron and his equipment’s weight. He shouted to the kitchen, asking for a steak and water, and then began a complex ritual. Blake took the case from his back and carefully placed it on the floor. He opened it as if opening an ancient manuscript and started removing Betty piece by piece and putting her up on the dusty table. He began to inspect the flamethrower, lingering on each check, carefully polishing each part. He signaled Eve to begin the talk, implying that he would not interrupt the ritual, even though paying attention to what she would say. The commander would have to deal with that.

The setting changes from City Barracks to 30th Century Earth

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Logan had heard what Lan had said about him, and was laughing really hard to himself. He nearly laughed out loud, but all that made it out of him was a little grunt of laughter. At least the dude had an opinion. A couple guys from his academy hated his guts for no reason, other than the fact that he whopped their ass everytime he fought, or took an exam. But what Lan said about the entire team was quite true: They were a bunch of random people who had nothing in common stuck together in a team. But maybe that was the point? Lock had said that their mission was to not only bring about the glory of this little dome, but to grow and build as a team. So, maybe the General has a cruel sense of humor, and wanted them all to rip each other apart. Logan didn't mind, he was the Medic after all: They may all hate him, but eventually they would all need him, it was just a matter of time. And what made him so deadly was the fact that he knew it.

Logan looked at all the butchered dummies and smiled to himself, glad he hadn't lost his touch while in Psycho school. That place was so boring when it wasn't productive. When Logan wasn't learning anything, he had been taught to sit there and do nothing, something to do with channeling mind energy. He didn't do that. He instead practised the technique he was famous for: The one that was called the Spider's Web. He called it that after the one guy gave him the nickname Spider.

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Lan heard a grunt as she finished what she was saying and looked over towards one of the other soldiers on the field. But it wasn't just any 'other soldier', it was Logan, her XO whom she just insulted. Twice. Her cheeks turned bright red and she held her breath. She hoped he didn't hear him. That would have completely ruined the impression she felt she had made on her two commanders. Dammit, good going Lana, she scolded. Way to ruin yourself on the first day. Now that she had noticed him though, she felt like she had to say something to him, just in case he had seen her look over at him or heard what she said.

"Hello, Executive Logan," she called to him, saluting. He seemed to be admiring his excellent work in cutting up his dummies, and she immediately regretted interrupting him. Oh well, it's too late now. She didn't really know what to say to him, so she began to ask him questions and shower him with compliments. "You really butchered those dummies. I like the way you work. How do you feel about our team? And by the way, do you know who we're supposed to be rooming with? I never got the official room chart." Her sentences weren't connected at all, but she didn't care. She just tried to act casual about everything and kept smiling her slight smile.

The setting changes from City Barracks to 30th Century Earth

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Logan sighed. Now the dude was trying to make up for insulting him? He sounded... like girl. It was kinda annoying, but he still laughed anyway.
"Dude, you didn't have to apologize. I was actually glad that somebody that the nerve to insult me. It's something I haven't seen in a while. Then you went and ruined it dude. Whatever" He twirled his spear around and grabbed his bag. "To answer your excuses for trying to hide your embarrassment..." He laughed. "I don't really care about our team. Lock will do what he needs to, I will too. Thats all i need. And i don't friggin know whose with who for rooms. All I know is that I am alone in mine."

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Ameriv was a master of ignoring and being ignored. It was the greatest way to avoid distractions and so focus on what was important. So it was that he did not involve himself with the others. He did not serve the general the same response. A man like the general was what Ameriv once aspired to be, a great warrior serving his dome. He was deserving of respect, perhaps the others were as well. They were present for the same reason as Ameriv and that would mean they are the warriors who serve Aequitas. They had yet to prove themselves. It was a mismatched bunch, not that Ameriv judged by appearances. He hardly judged at all, there was no need. He didn't need to know what they were like, he wasn't planning to spend time with them outside what was required. He had his own tasks that deserved his attention, else he would not maintain the level of skill he needed.

The briefing was as the young man expected, merely Verturum attempting to inspire his warriors. It had no effect on the monotonous sniper. All that was relevant was the intended tactics the general put forward. Ameriv didn't care what their target was as long as he could use the target dome's terrain to his advantage. He needed roosts, places where he had command of a battlefield through as scope. When questions were request he kept to himself, he would learn on the task. There was no need to interrupt others or waste his own time. With the dismissal he was quick to leave. He had not yet excavated himself from his previous home, yet he had few belongings and shifting them was hardly a chore.

With the moving complete Ameriv settled to sleep and recover from the previous night. He could not maintain the required level if fatigue dominated his mind.

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"Remember, we are all relying on you and your teams to score us this needed victory

The words of the general seemed only to encourage Phyllis. She needed no knowledge of the chance of winning, nor of the consequences that would come if she was to fail the task given her. Each battle in the League would be one step closer to finding her father again, and she would be sure to keep that objective prioritized. Phyllis did not share any deep connections with Aequitas. Sure, the dome had originated from somewhat the same area of the Earth as her ancestors had, but for all she cared it was just another mobile city, another piece of a puzzle displaying the human legacy.

Eve’s strict expression drew Phyllis back to the reality. Phyllis’ face became a mixture of emotions: Eve’s expression made her worry, but her feelings were at the same time too confused from the inputs the General had given them. With Phyllis’ brain unable to cope with her feelings, Eve luckily announced her plans to retire to her room and then walked away, Phyllis spotting Blake in sharp pursuit. She decided to once again glance down at the holographic map, her thoughts moving elsewhere. “Triticum, huh?” she thought to herself in an inner monologue. “Being a crops-oriented dome they’re probably not heavy on psychokinetic users. Should be easy to charge their ranks”.

A soft noise towards the room’s exit made Phyllis aware that all of her fellow soldiers had left the room. “Better find a room and get this armor cleaned”, she thought to herself, her eyes slowly closing as a response to the once again growing sleepiness. A yawn came across her face as she moved down the hallway of the main building, her helmet striking against the side of her armor with every step. A slight annoyance with the helmet could be seen across Phyllis’ face, her normal style of fighting not including the use of said protection. Phyllis noticed that the amount of civilian staff visible had decreased over the course of the briefing. “The mess is probably overrun with people”, she noted to herself, her stomach responding with a quiet growl.

The league dormitory’s entrance came closer with every soft clank from her armored boots. As Phyllis walked through the entrance, a copy of the main building’s entrance albeit smaller, she noticed the dormitory assignments on the wall mounted screen. Skimming quickly through the list, she found herself assigned to room two. Not caring about the rest of the soldiers’ assigned rooms, she quickly paced her movement towards the supply room of the dormitory. Walking into the room filled with everything a soldier could want in maintenance supplies, she quickly decided upon a standard cleaning set needed to conduct maintenance on her medium armor.

Entering her assigned dormitory room, Phyllis noticed that she had been assigned to a two-bed room. “Surely they do not expect me to live with others?” she said softly to herself, her words structuring her sentences much easier when alone. Phyllis began to detach her armor from her body, the cleaning kit thrown down upon the white sheets of her chosen bed. As her hands became free of the armored shell, Phyllis noticed a small but noticeable tremor throughout her fingers, the prospects of finally going into real combat making her body flow with adrenaline.

With most of her armor off and cleaned, only the chest piece and legs remaining on her body, the lack of sleep was finally wearing Phyllis down. She quickly undid the two lasts pieces, pushed all the armor to the end of the bed and slipped into the sheets, her shock-absorbing suit still on. “Nobody’s going to care after what I did this night”, she assured herself, the empty void of sleep closing in on her fast.

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Character Portrait: Eve Heart

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Eve observed Aaron, in front of her, while he was going through the black case, picking up small metal parts and cleaning them at the table. Seems like everyone has their own habits “It seems like you don’t like the fact that I am your superior.” She folded her hands in front of her “I do understand you at some point, but this is how it is.” A girl came from the canteen and placed a steak and a glass of water in front of Aaron. Eve caught the attention of the person “A can of Swiftness.” Swiftness was a more or less normal energizer in the dome.

Eve didn’t speak for some time; instead she looked around the canteen. She saw a group of young soldiers look at her then talk a bit then look at her again, seeing a woman with her age and beauty in the barracks wasn’t something you would see every day. Eve smiled towards them and waved. “We all have masks Blake.” The girl that had been there with the steak to Aaron came back and placed a can of Swiftness in front of Eve, then she returned to the canteen. “We develop masks the older we get and the more people we meet, for example I am using my cute mask towards those soldiers over there.” She turned her head towards Aaron. “I have more masks than the most people in my age, and you will see that I use them to benefit my needs, and my needs alone.” She smiled but with a rather creepy smile. “That’s how I am; manipulating.” She opened the can in front of her and took a sip of it. “Why would I tell someone like you this?... Well it seems like people think you a quite insane.” She giggled “Another feature I like about you indeed. You aren’t like everyone else, and through that they call you a maniac. Am I right?” She took another sip of the can. If people knew my real intentions they would surely think the same about me though.

The mobile in her pocket vibrated, she picked it up and looked at the display. Her face expression had turned rather feeless while she was tapping on the phone. “Perfect” Eve leaned towards Aaron in order to whisper into his ears “Tell me; have you ever heard the sound of burning crops?” The creepy smile was back on her lips.

The setting changes from City Barracks to 30th Century Earth

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"Dude, you didn't have to apologize. I was actually glad that somebody that the nerve to insult me. It's something I haven't seen in a while. Then you went and ruined it dude. Whatever" Logan said. This made Lan blush again, this time out of aggravation instead of embarrassment. You try to be nice and this is what you get? Geez, the army is a bitch. Especially this guy. she thought.

"To answer your excuses for trying to hide your embarrassment...I don't really care about our team. Lock will do what he needs to, I will too. Thats all i need. And i don't friggin know whose with who for rooms. All I know is that I am alone in mine." This guy really did think he was cool as ice. His whole attitude towards everything was annoying and to be frank, she didn't like him at all.

"Thank you for your help," she said sarcastically and, smiling, turned away and walked off the practice field. She decided to get him out of her head as soon as possible; she didn't like to dwell on things she didn't like. So to distract herself, she stopped by the mess hall to grab a snack and walked around for a bit, trying to clear her mind and think of the big battle coming up. How would they do? Would they be successful? Will they gain the harvest town? She knew that Aequitas wasn't the wealthiest place in the world. She was "lucky" to have been adopted by one of the most notable families in the city. But she wouldn't go back there. She would chose this life over that one any day.

She eventually found herself heading towards her newly assigned room. She assumed that her things would be taken up, so she would just have to go unpack. She was also told she would be sharing a room with someone, but she didn't know who yet. She wondered if they would have given her her own room if they knew she was a girl. Oh well, she was fine with this situation. It would just be harder to keep her gender a secret, but she would manage. She had come this far.

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#, as written by Varyar
Aaron rejoiced when he heard exactly what he thought he would hear. Then he was believed to be mad? He always thought that people with small minds would judge him that way. But what is insanity? Strange behavior to the eyes of society, perhaps? But then, if society dictates what is madness ... In a world where everyone is insane ... How to prove that you are the only sane one?

Aaron shook his head when hearing about the masks. He ostensibly began to polish the macabre fireproof armor helmet. Its color was dark brown, almost black, made of the same material as the rest of the armor, able to withstand high temperatures without heating up. The helmet was composed of two parts: there was the helmet itself, protecting the entire head and the face and docked with the chest armor, and there was the mask. The mask was placed over the helmet, and it was far more sophisticated than it seemed. It had an antenna, which collected all the information that reached the screen that was projected in front of Blake's face. This screen gave Blake an advantage, for it projected a peripheral and telescopic vision of what laid ahead, besides projecting Aaron’s vital signs. The three bright red crystals embedded in the face of the mask were purely decorative, but when Betty was spitting fury the crystals sparkled, and when Blake wore the mask it seemed that he was not human but a monster, coming from hell to seek souls and bring them back to the deep pits where he came from.

While he polished the crystals Aaron thought about what Eve had said. She was right. Even Blake had masks.

Then his commander leaned over and whispered to Aaron. At this point Aaron couldn’t help opening a smile on his face. The idea was tempting ... Way too tempting to pass up. He turned to Eve, who was also smiling in a macabre way, and that made Blake laugh. The young soldiers at the end of the cafeteria looked back quietly, and even the waitress who served Blake came back to see what was happening. It was a guttural, cruel and sadistic laugh, and made Aaron feel really alive.

The huge soldier then carefully placed the sophisticated helmet down and stood up, causing the chair to squeak reliefed. He was still laughing, and with a smile on the face Blake muttered to Eve:

"Now we understand each other."

Then Blake made an effort to get serious, and his effort was pathetic, which caused a grimace on his face. He saluted, and as he had done this very few times in his life, the gesture came out with a comic and ironic tone. Then he said aloud for all to hear:

"Soldier Aaron Blake reporting for duty, ma’am! Where can I be of use? "And by adding that last question Aaron's eyes sparkled.

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Logan knew it. From the moment Lan was introduced, something odd was going on in that giant suit of armor. Nobody wore that thick of armor and kept the damn helmet on, and expected to pass for being some ordinary dude. That was just stupid, and Logan was feeling quite smart now that he had put the pieces together. It didn't take him too long to figure out about Lan, as he was kinda obvious. Guys that were aggravated clenched their fists, snarled, showed something that made them look tougher. Lan, on the other hand, sounded like he was gunna stutter something out, and Logan guessed that he was blushing under that big ass helmet he wore. So Logan narrowed it down to 3 options:
1. Lan was a dude, but gay.
2. Lan was a dude, but had some serious issues with how to be a guy. Maybe even a tranny, or mutation.
3. Lan was a girl.

Every option would be exploited, every option would be tested. Cause that is how Logan worked: Finding the answer by manipulation, exploitation, or just ripping off that stupid helmet. All three of his options were quite liable, each one of them having their own reasons for being that way. Logan smiled, as if Lan had signaled a little challenge between both of them that there was a miniature competition between the two. And Logan hated losing.

Challenge: Accepted.

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Lan arrived at her room, her stomach full and mind clear. She still didn't know who her roommate was, so she decided to relax a while and wait for him. She went to the mirror, took off all her armor, and set her weapons in a corner. Luckily, her bag had been sent up, so she grabbed some a loose sweatshirt and some pants and went to take a shower. She felt disgusting from training, and she wasn't able to take a shower the night before after the battle. Luckily though she wasn't as tired as she thought she'd be.

When she returned to her room, refreshed and clean, she lay down on her bed and thought some more about the events to come, waiting to see who she would be rooming with for the next chapter of her life, and worrying about keeping up her little act. She was ready.

The setting changes from 30th Century Earth to City Barracks

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Eve hadn’t thought that she would get as far as Aaron saluting her, but she was glad that she finally had him fully on her side. She waved with her hand to make him calm down and go back to his seat “I’ll just tell you about what the plan is for now, I might change it the more info I get, but this will be quite like a plan B. And just so you know, this plan is unofficial.” She leaned back in the chair “You know what people think about honor and such, and this plan is rather dishonoring.” She leaned towards Aaron once again “We will put the two teams into a lot of rather small groups. The opposite dome does not have many psychokinetic and I suppose there isn’t any in their league teams at all. This gives us the advantage that they will have a hard time keeping an eye everywhere, but they surely have a lot of long ranged people and without a good plan they will win just on raw muscle power.”

Eve looked at the waitress as she came out of the kitchen with another plate walking towards the young soldiers not far from their own table. They were sending evil glares towards Aaron. “We are outnumbered, so we will go for their flag, but only a small team will go for it, the rest of us will stand close to our own dome and keep an eye on the enemy. If we are so unlucky that the small team can’t get in without getting spotted, we’ll have to create a chance for them. That is where you come in. If the enemy sees one of their fields on fire they will surely concentrate all their forces in that direction. I will be with you all the time, so there won’t be any problem at that point.” Eve looked directly into the eyes of Aaron “For now that is the information I will give you. Don’t tell anyone about this plan, not even the general.” With those words said she rose from her seat “Eat your steak while it’s still warm. I’ll be in my room and go through some strategies if you’ll need me.” Eve walked out of the cafeteria with the can of Swiftness in her hand. Who would have known that they only were a week away from harvesting? It makes it all perfect.

Eve walked to her room; she shared room with her co-commander. The room itself looked as if it originally was thought to be two rooms, but they didn’t make a wall between them and only put one door instead. It was a rather long room with her stuff in the right side and Alexander’s in the left. Someone had taken Eve’s laptop from the old room and placed it in the new one together with all of her furniture. Before she would go to her desk however she looked at the bed in the left side of the room. Alexander was fast asleep and his face looked rather calm instead of the commander-face he was using before. Aww, doesn’t he look adorable Eve though while smiling Anyway, back to work. Eve walked to her desk and placed the can of swiftness beside the laptop. She sat down, opened the laptop and began to work.

After a little bit of time she decided to listen to some music while she was thinking through the strategies and getting mails from an unofficial contact. She placed two small earplugs in her ears and turned on the music. She couldn’t help but think that the first song from centuries ago had a pretty good text when thinking about how the future turned out to be.

After some few hours of work, Eve fell asleep in front of the computer in a very awkward position. Her right foot on the desk chair and the leg leaning on the desk. Her head had fallen down on the right shoulder and both hands were lying on the armrest. Despite the awkward position she looked rather cute sleeping like that.

The setting changes from City Barracks to 30th Century Earth

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Logan returned back to his 'room' where somebody was standing infront of it, as if they were waiting. As soon as the dude saw him, he walked up and blocked his path. Logan tried to evade him, but the soldier was persistant. He sighed, Now what... he muttered in his mind, then said "Okay, soldier, you got me. What is it?"

"You have been transfered to a different room." Logan felt his hopes falling. He would have to repack all of his meager posessions? Then move to an entirely different room? This sucked, but it wouldn't be too bad. "I'm also under order to tell you that you will be bunking with somebody -" Logan looked at him, incredulous.

"What?!" He sputtered out, couldn't believing his ears. He had specifically told, more like demanded... but told the General that he wanted a room seperate from everybody. He wanted a room to himself, because he didn't want to deal with the crap of others, nor did he want them finding out a bazillion things about himself. "Oh... the General thinks this is funny, isn't it?" He laughed angerly, "Just give me what I want, then throw me back to the wolves, huh?!" He punched the wall beside the soldier, causing him to flinch considerably.

"You tell the general this, dumbass." He paused, letting it sink in. "You tell him that I'll only budge so far until I snap, got it." The soldier began to make some incoherent words about he would be bunking with a teammate regardless of his decision, so Logan backed off, still seething. This could not get any worse. "I shall be out of my room in half an hour." And he stormed into his old room, which was a weird thing to call it since he just got it that day. And he wasn't as awake as he wanted to be. Within that half an hour, he pulled down the three posters he had, put everything back in the packs he brought, stuffed his medical bag full of crap again - including the one 20 pound dumbbell his mom told him to bring - and grumbled as he approached his new room. He would probably be rooming with one of his teammates, and he wasn't thrilled with that. He found the room and knocked, the new cigarette in his mouth the only good thing he had since training. Knowing that it was probably a dude, he opened the door, saying " If you expect that I'm going to be fine with this, I'm - " He paused, dumb struck. Sitting on the bed..
Was Lan.

The cigarette fell out of his mouth, and fell to the floor. It could have done some damage, but he stomped on it while saying "You have got to be kidding me."

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Lan was starting to doze off, her heavy eyelids falling over her gray eyes. She had even begun to have some weird dream about talking fruit helping them fight in a war against vegetables, or whatever the hell they were doing. She really wasn't sure what was going on. All of a sudden, she was awoken suddenly by the door creeping open and a voice saying rather angrily, "If you expect that I'm going to be fine with this, I'm - ". It took a second, no more, to recognize the voice--Logan's, her XO, medic, and headache. She shot up and looked at him.


"You have got to be kidding me." he said, smashing a cigarette into the ground. Great, now her room would smell like smoke all the time. "It's nice to see you too, Executive Logan," she greeted him sarcastically. Was he really her roommate? Him, of all the people in the entire barracks? How did she get so lucky...

"Are you, uhmm, my new roommate?" She was not happy about this at all. It would have been fine, but Lan wasn't exactly fond. And he didn't seem too happy about her. Now she had to live with the one person she didn't get along with. This should be fun, she thought.

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"Apparently so." he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "You look as happy as I am about this arrangement, so if we can keep some form of peace this should go better than bad, hopefully. He smirked suddenly, remembering his side mission that he hoped to accomplish. At least it would become easier, but then again Lan didn't seem to happy to see him. Logan looked around the room, and realized it would become a nightmare. Things would get thrown together by accident, both would feel squished, arguments would form. But he hoped not, arguing in the mornings didn't make Logan a happy camper: Any more so than he normally was.

He dropped his things on his side of the room, and propped his spear up in the corner, along with his armor. He emptied his medical bag, including three of his lighters the singed picture of his parents and himself, and that dumbbell. Normally he would change into something else, even though he was wearing his favourite style of clothing (white dress shit, vest, blue undershirt, black pants.). However, he didn't feel like exposing his back to Lan here, he didn't trust him enough to let him see his marks. Instead he turned around after the Thirty seconds it took to throw his stuff in a corner and looked Lan in the eyes, his own shimmering with their split difference. Logan had always liked his eyes, they made him feel like he could get away with 2 types of personalities.

"I'm gunna get me some food, so I'm out." He lit a cigarette as he walked towards the door, hoping the dude didn't mind the smoke.

The setting changes from 30th Century Earth to City Barracks

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#, as written by Varyar
Aaron leaned out while the commander left. He took his time with the equipment, putting everything in order, looked sternly to the brats at the end of the cafeteria, put everything back in his huge briefcase and left. He was still smiling. So Eve didn’t have problems with getting her hands dirty... Smart girl. Honor is an illusion for the weak and repentant. That plan would work perfectly, and if one were to oppose it, one would burn along with the crops...

Blake reached his bedroom, and apparently they expected him to sleep in the same room as someone else. Aaron laughed. He was so tired he did not even bother to complain. He just quietly reached for his lighter and decided to burn the bed of the unfortunate soldier who had made the mistake of sharing a room with Aaron Blake.

Entering the room, chaos was palpable. There were pieces of armor around the floor and the lower bunk was occupied. Aaron reached his lighter, playing with the flames as he approached the bed, when he stopped. The person in the bed was none other than Phyllis Zethera, his superior officer! Blake hesitated. His desire to lit everything on fire only increased, but his common sense, the small amount of common sense still left in Aaron’s mind forced him to turn off the lighter. If he couldn’t burn a person, he would burn something else. Blake put his black suitcase on the floor and gently moved it to the corner. Then, he inspected the roof looking for sprinklers that could spoil the fun. He found only one in the center of the ceiling and quickly took care of it, punching the sprinkler until it was unusable and until his hands were bleeding. Blake then threw the sheets on the floor, piled them in the center of the room, lit his lighter and threw it on the stack of sheets, watching while the tissue burned. Nothing like a show before going to bed. The fire danced. It sang for Aaron. The flames rose high, but did not spread neither triggered any alarm due to Aaron’s careful preparation. He stood beside the fire for half an hour, so hooked on the show that never even realized if Zethera had woke up or not. He stood beside the fire until there was nothing left of the cheap sheets, and without looking at Phyllis he climbed the bunk, with the metal creaking under his weight. Aaron laid down on the bed too small for his body and slept a dreamless sleep.

The setting changes from City Barracks to 30th Century Earth

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#, as written by Hydrall
Lenard Conner


Lenard lay sprawled out in what was apparently his room, at least according to the worker he'd briefly accosted. It had all his stuff in it, at least- Broadcaster had been placed almost reverentially (or perhaps in sheer terror of the obviously cobbled-together safety mechanism) against the wall, and he had checked to make sure it was fine- Fortunately, nothing had been broken. He had a stand for it, which he place it against, then had lain back in his bed wishing for a radio or something.

That got old fast. Lenard sat up, annoyed. There was nothing to do here, except wait. Back home there'd always been gardens to tend or walls to watch. Sure, maybe he could go down to the targets or... Maybe he could do that.

As he walked down the hall, he noticed Logan standing shocked at a door, but didn't pay much attention. If he did, he'd probably end up shocked too, and what would that accomplish? Lenard glanced inside as he passed, but didn't see anything special and kept moving. It might have looked strange to see a man go walking down the halls with a shotgun as tall as he was, if they noticed.

Lenard made his way down to the targets (amazing, isn't it?) and training fields, noting the number of trainees milling about and working. Huh. There's more people than I 'spected. Why not just mob the other guys, if they only use twelve? No matter how tough they are, twelve men can't take down half a hundred, if my guess it right. Deciding it must be some kind of stupid rule about team sizes and proportions, Lenard stepped over to an open target.

Broadcaster was raised to the Harvester's shoulder, its hydraulic brace settling in.

Alright... Pretend it's the doc. He squeezed the trigger. With a crack like a thousand twelve-gauges strapped onto a firecracker the gun fired and sent Lenard stumbling back. The hydraulic brace hissed and slammed shut with a belch of steam. Fortunately, his armor prevented him from actually being injured by the shot. The target had been...

"Motherfucker," Lenard groaned, staring in dismay. He'd taken a chunk out of the target's left side, but the shots had mostly just torn up the dirt a ways behind, and probably a few dents in the wall. Obviously, he had to work on his aim. A lot.

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Maen had stayed behind to watch the other people training as Lan took off. Most of the regular soldiers seemed to be performing at levels befitting their rank. Missing a target here, hitting a target there. Just when he had given up hope on humanity, he noticed another one of his new teammates, Lampford or something, stroll onto the training grounds. He was carrying a gun that looked like it belonged on a tank, or at least something capable of absorbing the recoil. Nevertheless, Lamb-something raised it to his shoulder and, after a brief pause, pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang as the gun let loose and the recoil caused Lumber to stumble back a bit. Maen looked to the target, surprisingly only a bit of it was blown to pieces. It appeared that the majority of the shot had been wasted. Still, the damage that had been done was more than enough to take someone out. After a pause he decided to walk up to Lionel, or whatever his name was. "That thing looks like it hurts." He said.

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#, as written by Hydrall
Lenard Conner


Lenard looked over as Maen approached, surprised at his interest. He grinned and nodded. "Hell yeah. When I asked for their biggest shotgun, they sure gave it." And I kinda wish they hadn't. "Too bad I'll have to tone it down somehow. Don't think the other domes would appreciate me blasting the hell outta their prodigal sons and all." He looked from the smoking barrel to the target. "Not that I really get how to do that. Rubber bullets probably wouldn't... I mean, the content of the shot is probably not the issue here." 

He began to open the casing to reload, slipping another oversized canister into the slot. "Reminds me- You're a sniper, right? How's that work in all this?"

The setting changes from 30th Century Earth to City Barracks

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Character Portrait: Phyllis Zethera

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Phyllis woke with the dawn, her eyes filled to the brim with tears from her sleep. Her groggy mind was not able to make any sense of her blurry vision as she sat up in her bed. After nearly hitting her head against the top bunk of the bed, Phyllis quickly wiped the salty water away from her eyes, suddenly faced with the mess that she had made last evening: Her right leg was encapsulated by her chest armor, while her left foot had found security inside her helmet. “Just great…” she whispered to herself, a small yawn coming over her face.

Getting up from her bed, she suddenly noticed the excessive amount of equipment spread throughout the room. The thought that somebody was sleeping above her suddenly dawned on her mind, and adrenaline almost spontaneously filled up her veins. Peeking into the upper bed, Phyllis was faced by the face of Aaron Blake. A small gasp escaped her lips as she quickly hid. She quickly gathered up her armor pieces and her weapons and then moved stealthily, as if hiding her presence from Blake, out of the room.

As soon as the ventilated air outside the room hit her, she noticed the smoky odor from her room that had caused her eyes to tear up. “That… idiot… probably burned something off in there”, she said out loud to herself, nobody in plain sight. Hurrying quickly towards the bathroom, she tried to forget everything, her mind needing to prepare itself for the upcoming battle; however, the surprise of the wake up still scared her: How had she missed him entering her room? And why was he even in the same room as her!?

Putting on her armor was done quite easily and fast, and Phyllis even managed to clean some of the missed spots from the previous night’s cleaning. She had found one of her other shock absorbing suits and were now ready to fight, although it was only 5.20 AM. Over 17 hours left until the real purpose of her being here started. Phyllis quickly paced herself for Blake’s and her room, her thoughts returning to Blake and his role in the outcome of this League mess. Reaching the room, she quickly threw her helmet back on the bed as she would not need it anymore: Real warriors needed to see their enemies!

The mess was quite peaceful at this time of the morning, most of the civilian staff not in yet and the guards either still asleep or still on night duty. Phyllis enjoyed her energy diet in silence, although the sound of the kitchen was quite annoying. The energy diet was essentially everything needed for the body, although it had a horrible taste that reminded Phyllis of a mixture between licorice and oatmeal; not exactly the thing Phyllis craved when having just awoken.

The morning was spent on the training field. Phyllis was making sure her armor did not hinder her usual style of movement. With both swords wielded, she stroke against one invisible enemy after another, the blades dancing around in spirals. The Sun was quite warm that day, and the dome above her head did nothing to conceal the terrain from the warmth of the rays. For the sake of mobility as well as required by her low weight threshold, Phyllis’ armor did not have any ventilation; this ultimately forced her to end the training session around noon.

Pacing herself towards the mess in order to eat, Phyllis suddenly locked eyes with Aaron Blake. Her mind, which had been quite rested after the training session, was now once again filled with resentment. Phyllis continued her path, trying to ignore Blake’s presence, but out of the corner of her eyes she could see him moving towards her.

Did you sleep well, sweetheart? I hope the smell didn’t bother you…

Blake’s word did nothing but fuel Phyllis’ anger, but she had to show constraint if she did not want to lose her position. Having turned her heard towards Blake, Phyllis kept staring at him until her brain had come up with a comeback to his insolence. “You don’t smell that bad, really” she finally uttered after a small, awkward pause. “I really need to calm down”, she thought to herself, her hands clenched together into fists, but her face losing some of its angry expression. As Blake began speaking again, probably to say another offensive line, Phyllis turned towards the mess and walked away, the handles of her sword reflecting the Sun.

The afternoon passed by without any noticeable events occurring. Phyllis spent most of her time in the city, the defense force being treated quite well by the citizens. After all, she had just helped defend their lives. Around 9 PM she decided to head back to the briefing room, the team needing their final orders from the team leaders and the General. Phyllis had made sure her armor as well as her body were ready for combat: The dinner had been the same as both her breakfast and her lunch. Standing outside the briefing room, Phyllis felt quite full of energy and fighting spirit: Tonight would be a major turning point for better or for worse… and for all she cared it had better be a victory.

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