Second Drill: All Hell

[Polks]

Somehow, even on the brink of impending death (for the second time), Dominic managed to keep his composure. The last day felt as if he had been walking through a dream, or even someone else' life. He had barely been a reaper even before his arrival in Darokin. As far as he was concerned, he was still just a well off Ulstrian student. He had been looking forward to going to school -not to military training. So he remained quiet, avoiding going out of his way to interact with his fellow cadets. As if somehow not acknowledging his time here could make it simply end.

Perhaps his wish came true, albeit in a way he had not imagined. Being thrown into battle already, and without any formal training certainly sounded like a concise end to his time in Darokin. Dom had almost laughed when the officer announced the attack. Yet as soon as the laugh made to escape from between his lips, it instead came out as a noise of choked fear. Half dressed in the cold, he longer seemed to feel it, yet it was now he shivered hardest. His pale face remained motionless but he knew how hopeless and pathetic he looked at that moment -he needed to only look on either side at him. They were all young and inexperienced here. And for the first time since his arrival, Dominic bothered to think about someone aside from himself. Isolation and delusion had been a coping method, but a poor one. Around him, the cadets stirred -some turning to their fellows and quietly murmuring to eachother, others steeling themselves. It would have been nice to have the comfort level of at least having one person that you thought would watch your back.

He quickly returned to his dorm, shakily dressing himself and trying to ignore morbid thoughts of the countless horrific ways that his life could end, and how shortly they could come to pass. Dom silently thanked his parents for forcing him to take the few fencing lessons he had. While he was far from skilled, at least he knew how to hold a damn rapier. He had a feeling he was better off then half the other cadets.

Arriving late to the weapons cache, it took some time for him to find a worthwhile weapon he had any familiarity with. He settled for a slightly worn rapier devoid of ornamentation or decoration of any kind before shuffling off with considerably less enthusiasm to the North end where the cadets gathered. Running a hand nervously through his still bed-touseled mop of black hair, Dom sincerely hoped this was not going to be his last day at Darokin.

Offtopic: WOAH SORRY BROS, I am making a great first impression with this lateness, I am sure.

[Paroxysm]

Fillip silently acknowledged the wave of relief that washed over him as more and more cadets started to make their way to the rear-lines. Previously, there had only been a handful, a dozen or so, maybe, but now that number was quickly growing with no clear signs of stopping just yet. However, looking around the battlefield, he still wasn’t particularly impressed, but there were a few cadets that just seemed far more together than the rest. A man here, a woman there; some were more outrageous than others, more outlandish, too, such as a charcoal-skinned, white-haired girl with piercing, crimson eyes, but these types of cadets were few and far between: the bulk of the recruits were, to put it simply, inexperienced children playing soldier, and today’s lesson would be a hard, much-needed one.

Snapping out of thought, Talon’s particular brand of anxiousness caught Fillip’s eye and he promptly walked over to the young man, grunting to clear the air: “’Lo, cutter,” he shifted unconsciously on his feet as he spoke, his voice was gruff, but heavily accented, like usual: “Mark this, will ye? Ye might be ready to nick some of the deaders, but t’Lost are attracted ta strong wills and power. Best to be calmin' or ye’ll call the horde down atop ye’r head n’anybody else nearby, un‘stand?”

The man’s shoulders rolled into a shrug and he walked away with just that. Living in Sythinia saw him the occasional--well protected--merchant from Darokin and a little exposure to the undead, too. Honestly, he had only seen a few in his days and never any fighting on their part, they were usually docile... But the rumors, there were rumors, and they were not any shade of nice. It was better to warn Talon and avoid suffering the boy’s consequences, nothing personal, but he had already died once and Fillip still had things to atone for, he wasn't ready to experience Death's embrace again.

[Shin]

Talon was too focused into himself to notice Fillip while the man was walking near him. He was truly getting caught up in the excitement again, the magics that coursed through his being swirled, escalated and rushed along every limb. The effects were not visual and certainly not ones that could be seen with the naked eye, but to Talon they were as real as a sword through the gut.

The young man stammered as Fillip spoke to him, raising his head from the ground to look the man in the eyes as he spoke. Noticeably Talons left eye was not the plain brown his right was and swirled with all the colors in the spectrum, it even permeated a faint light one that would still be easily recognizable in the early morning.

“I…can’t help it..” Talon said his voice barely above a whisper. It was a revelation, at the moment some of Talons building momentum ceased. Fillip had stolen some of that it seemed by interrupting Talons focus.

The sorcerer nodded as Fillip walked away, he thought he understood the man well enough. The horde of undead would be attracted to him if he used to much power though he knew there were others far more powerful present and he wanted to do his part and contribute to this fight. His biggest fear was to be one a cadet that sat back idle while others fought… or worse, died around him.

[Nayt]

The "rear lines," as it'd been called thus far, was organized chaos. The Drunalan Empire's main forces were accustomed to this sort of threat, but that did not discount panic. Though they had survived the battle for Dachinst, the veterans of that battle did not magically become expert warriors. Their experience was a trial by fire; you either survived because you were good at what you did or because you were lucky, but they were-- simply put --survivors. They weren't accustomed to military training, and the bulk of the offensive companies had been lost whilst capturing Dachinst. In some cases-- rare cases --there were cadets more skilled than vets.

There was, however, no cadet more suited to survive the harsh landscape of Darokin than those who had survived the Liberation of Dachinst. And as such, there was no cadet standing at the far end of town more suited for defending the city from the hordes.

"Drunalan" soldiers were lined up at the far end of Dachinst. They came in all shapes and sizes, all races and ethnicities, and they all seemed to favor very particular instruments of war-- unlike the cadets, who (unless they'd brought weapons of their own) were simply given two choices of weapons, one melee and one ranged, all of which were mass-produced and borderline generic weapons. They all seemed to fit in weight classes of their own:

Melee Weapons Long sword (Heavy) Short sword (Medium) Dagger (Light)

Ranged Weapons Crossbow (Heavy) Longbow (Medium) Shortbow (Light)

Of course, provided any of the cadets had weapons of their own, they'd have no need for one of those mass produced weapons-- but if they only had one ranged or one melee weapon on them from home, they were still required to take one from the category in which they lacked.

The rear line was established at the point that homes and other such structures ended and barren prairie began. The land this far was infertile and mostly comprised of lengthy slabs of rock. A forward camp was set out just behind the rear line, where the regular army stood and prepared to defend the city. The camp itself was a large tent with several men and women buzzing around inside. This was where the cadets had to wait for further instructions.



Offtopic: At this point, you may choose your character's weapon specialty path. The two categories can be mixed and matched; a character may specialize in both heavy melee weapons and light ranged weapons-- but when military education comes into play, the weight classes of the two weapons they chose for this sortie will be what those particular characters will be taught henceforth. More weapons in these weight classes will be offered to the cadets eventually. Just because it is not offered now does not mean it will not show up later.

[Syntaphar]

From the shouting of the organizers around the dining hall, Aldric knew that he would be breaking regulations to not have a ranged weapon on hand in the battle. However, being late would likely be a stronger offense. Fortune smiled upon him though, because as he ran, he came upon a longbow and a quiver of arrows. He could only figure they had been left behind by some ill-fated deserter that lost his nerve, cast his weapons aside and left for the border. Aldric fastened the bow and quiver to his back with the sashes they came with and continued for the back lines.

As a noble in Vontier, he had learned a tiny bit of archery, and could even hit a bulls eye once in a while, when conditions were right. But he had forsaken that hobby long ago in favor of skill with a blade. He did not regret his decision, but damn that archery training could have come in handy now. He wondered idly if his archery trainer was still alive... But regardless, he had a job to do. Whether he would be able to even engage the enemy in hand to hand combat was unknown, but he planned to give them hell if he could.

[Zach Kaiser]

For once, Alicia was thankful for some of the paranoid ideas in the head of her benefactors. They both insisted that the older orphans train with weapons so that if they ever were threatened while the two were absent, they could still defend themselves.

Of course, they also said not to fight if it could be avoided. Still, she couldn't help but wonder who would possibly want to attack an orphanage in the middle of nowhere.

She'd grabbed the weapon she'd personally trained with, a sabre, from her room when she got dressed. But as she tried to rush to where she was supposed to meet some older guy pulled on her and started yelling about having a ranged weapon too.

While she did not appreciate being yelled at (and that seemed to be the only way anyone interacted with her here), she figured the more weapons the better. She took a shortbow and a quiver of arrows--she'd practiced a bit of archery too, and was actually probably a bit better at it than she was with a sword, but she didn't have a personal bow to bring.

With it slung around her shoulders, she hurried to the tent. She didn't like being told what to do, but it was chaotic around that she'd rather that than try to figure out what to do for herself.

Offtopic: Alicia's sabre is for all intents and purposes a medium blade; it's a little longer and thinner than a short sword, and only has an edge on one side. It also has a hand guard.

[Lemon]

Naius was nowhere to be found as Sedit plunged into the growing mass of milling, uneasy cadets. He remained vigilant for the elf, hoping to draw upon his commanding presence, but sank into obscurity as he entered the crowd. Suppressing his soul had become second nature after dying and allowed him to exist without being noticed. He was essentially better than invisible; unnoticeable even if he were to stand in front of someone and stab them in the face, so long as he was concentrating and the person he stabbed wasn't supernaturally aware. Although it would be highly likely that if he stabbed someone in the face, they wouldn't notice much through the rapid, torrential blood loss.

Being cloaked allowed Sedit to observe, his single favorite time-killer. The front line, filled with the battered and bruised survivors of the liberation, shifted about nervously. They knew what was coming. Their confidence was visibly plummeting as more and more cadets filed in behind them, but still they stood at the ready and awaited further orders. The cadets themselves were hardly an inspiring sight, an obvious group of them still dressed in their nightclothes and clumsily holding swords and bows as if handling delicate, alien artifacts from far off lands. The entire defensive force shifted and rippled like boiling water. A single disturbance and the entire group might shatter outward and disintegrate.

And what could be more disturbing than a reanimated horde of the undead? Visible, now, as a dark blight upon the landscape, it closed fast. Limbs and bodies writhing and thrashing ever forward, violent in both their movement and intent. Death had come to the horde, and it was here to bring it to the Drunalan Empire.

Sedit noted that another force was gathering behind the cadets. Another rear line? It was filled with more capable fighters, soldiers that could inflict some real damage, he imagined. They seemed more purposeful in their preparations, less at conflict with themselves than the survivors of the front lines. But his place was not to question. There were reasons for all these things, and though he noticed them, he didn't question. He stood at attention, invisible to his comrades, in a single spot in the rear line as he had been told to. Inside he screamed and balked and wept at what was to come. Outwardly he simply stood with his ninja to at the ready and a shortbow he had claimed from the armory on his back--though the instrument was as useless to him as a greatsword for all he was trained to use it. He hadn't even considered grabbing a quiver of arrows and all the dead weight it would provide. He was told to grab a ranged weapon and so he did; nobody said anything about ammunition.

[littlebean]

A steady quickly approaching pounding noise came closer and closer to the tent. After wards a cloud of dust followed behind it, and for some reason the pounding noise eventually began to silence until it came to a complete stop. It took a moment or two, there was a small pause before the stomping noise returned even faster and faster until finally, a young teen's head bashfully peeked into the tent.

He was in such a rush to get where he was going he hardly payed any mind to what his destination was. Somewhere in a "rear line." When he heard they were under attacked he dashed off panicking out of fear to the rear lines. What he expected was a group of people for him to stand behind. During his run he also expected a line of rears. Either way rear lines didn't look like a tent.

He wasn't sure if he was even supposed to be there. Shyly the kid peeks into the tent, unsure of himself as he walks in armed with a bat and a short bow he forgot all about. Something about taking a long ranged weapon with him? He barely caught that part because he was running by too quickly, but somehow ended up with a bow he had no idea how to use.

Eventually he would notice it, but for now he stepped into the tent uneasily, not so sure of himself. There seemed to be a few people from the center of the campus here, so was this where they were supposed to meet?

"I-is this...it?" He raised an eyebrow in question, talking to anyone who was listening.

[Polks]

As Dom headed towards the massing group at the North, he realized all of the cadets around him had not only held a blade (or in some cases, a different weapon they had brought aong with them) but a bow as well. Cursing himself, he headed back to the weapons cache against the tide of his peers going the opposite direction. With how his luck was going today, he almost expected someone to accuse him of cowardice, or even desertion, but the other cadets were much too wrapped up in their own thoughts to spare him a passing evaluation, it appeared.

Arriving back at the cache, Dom took the moment to catch his breath. His blue eyes scanned the ranged weapons that were still left laid out before him, the crossbow was the most inviting of them. But he wasn't stupid enough to grab it -he wasn't the largest or most muscular for his age, and carrying that thing around would more likely be the death of him than save him from it. He settled for a longbow and strapped a quiver on before darting towards the tents where everyone waited.

The tents were full of nervously milling cadets, and it only made Dom realize just how anxious he himself felt. The apprehension came in waves, and for a moment it was so bad he thought he was going to throw up. He turned and headed for the nearest opening in the tent, no way was he going to embarass himself where everyone could see.

But instead of making a short escape, another cadet blocked his path. The nervous youth clung to a bat and a bow uncertainly, and questioned the tent's occupants at large.

"Yeah," Dominic swallowed almost painfully, forcing the lump in his throat away and replying too quietly to be heard over the murmurs of the other cadets.

He cleared his throat and tried again, louder, "Yes, this is where the cadets are supposed to be."

Offtopic: Rapiers are the forerunners of short swords, so I believe this would still work fine in that category. It's mostly a thrusting weapon, and has a handguard.

[Nayt]

Areva had no weapons of her own. She never needed them. People didn't attack Igorath. At least, not the kind of people she had to fight. The only time something horrible happened that she could have fought, Areva was wholly outclassed by her potential opponent. She was hurt (but not badly), spared, and sent away to deliver a message to someone. A message that nearly got that someone killed.

She should have taken up some personal training regiment after that. It would've made perfect sense--yet she didn't. She hated the whole mess of it. Fighting and whatnot. She'd wanted to avoid it as much as possible.

But alas, it seemed Areva could only avoid it for so long, and she was brought here with little more than a few change of clothes and no personal experience to carry her through. She threw on something like--a sleeveless white shirt and the slacks of her uniform--and rushed out to the dining hall.

The first things Areva looked over were the ranged weapons. There were three types, it seemed. A small bow, a large bow, and an even larger bow. This would've been immediately disconcerting, were the larger bow not so overtly different from the former two: it was huge, it was heavy, and it required next to no strength to fire it. It was a crossbow, after all; all she would've had to do was put an arrow in and pull a trigger, right? And so, it was the first thing she grabbed and dragged off a table.

Only to have it fall to the floor front first when she couldn't support its weight. It nearly dragged her down with it. And so the girl stood there for a long moment, staring perplexedly at the floor and the front of the crossbow that now propped up against it. She still held it by the handle, and strained to try to lift it all again-- but failed once more. With a sigh of disappointment, Areva released the handle and let it fall to the floor uselessly.

"What am I gonna do . . .?" Areva whimpered.

---

Truth be told, Naius brought a pair of weapons from home. They were the first things he went for when he got back to his room. He rushed to the two trunks of his belongings that someone had moved in for him (it seemed most everyone had their belongings moved in by someone else), and rummaged through until he found a small gray box. He was extremely tempted to open it up, but stopped at the last second. The last of his intoxication died away and he released a sigh of sobriety. Now was not the time for this. He couldn't even justify rummaging around for the other object of his family's legacy. Not just yet.

So he slid the gray box back into his luggage and sighed again.

"Damnit. What was I even thinking?" Naius muttered to himself before skulking out of his room.

Rather than bringing some of his own personal weaponry, Naius checked by the dining hall. The selection was pretty miserable and he was barely interested in any of the six weapons, but before he could fully scoff at it all, his attention was caught by a young girl who looked ready to cry at a moment's notice.

---

Areva was amongst the last few cadets to arrive at the rear lines. She was helped along by a long-eared elf by the name of Naius, who kindly assisted her in choosing a couple of weapons best suited to her: a dagger and a short bow. When Areva protested that she'd never fired a bow before in her life, Naius picked up a short bow, notched an arrow, pulled, and landed it across the room in a flash. He then put it in Areva's hands and guided her in doing the same. It was surprisingly easy to pull the string back on the short bow. She was nervous and shaky and it took her a few tries to do more than just viciously assault the floor for whatever harm it had done to her, but she managed (on her fifth try) to cast an arrow to the other side of the dining hall, albeit not with the strength that Naius could. He congratulated her, handed her a dagger, and picked up a short bow and longsword set for himself.

She and Naius arrived in tandem. Areva was panicked and Naius was calm. The young elf's calmness made her panic just a little bit less, at least, though little could be done to calm the girl once she saw their enemies in the distance . . .

[Shin]

Talon was only vaguely aware that the other Cadets were coming out with weapons but when he looked around he heard someone barking orders about grabbing a weapon. Talon furrowed his eyebrows at this, he wasn’t particularly skilled with any weapon, certainly not a ranged one.

Still, he found himself being ushered back inside to choose from a very slim choice of weaponry. He grabbed himself a dagger, it was small and could be forgot about as he held it in his right hand, he would have put it in a pocket…if he had any in this particular pair of shorts.

When it came to range weapons he didn’t want to pick but knew he didn’t have a choice and so he grabbed a short bow and a quiver of arrows, both of which he slung around his back and out of the way. After he left the building he was sure to drop the dagger into the quiver as well.

After all was said and done Talon would eventually find his way back out into the throng of Cadets.

[Paroxysm]

Fillip had walked into the tent and mingled with the growing crowd, there didn’t seem to be too much order, but with the chaos outside, order was probably going to be hard to restore for a bit. He had been hassled by a commanding officer to pick up a weapon, to which he rejected out right, the officer, however, was not too keen on that; the two had argued for a bit, but Fillip eventually relented and took to holding onto a bow and a quiver of arrows, if only to shut the officer up.

Still waiting for directions from a superior, he did and said nothing to anyone. Really, how much longer were their superiors going to keep them waiting?

---

An outlandish young woman stood away from the cadets, her arms were folded against her chest, her eyes were open, but they almost gave her a near-disinterested quality. Around her hip was a weapon that, while familiar, would be foreign to most of the cadets, it was a weapon of Darokin design, it had inspired or taken inspiration from other weapons, of course, but it did have a few distinctive features about it, too; likewise, the weapon would seem more decorative than not. It was encrusted with jewels and even the hand guard was more aesthetic than purposeful, but if the young woman knew this, she obviously did not mind. Around her shoulder, slung sideways and cradling a quiver of arrows, was a large bow, a long bow, to be exact, and it was equally as tall as she was.

Slender, black fingers played with the banner around her arm as she eagerly awaited their next orders. She wasn’t nervous, though; it was more like she was excited and anxious to get started. She had grown tired of the stares that her looks had afforded her, some had even mentioned her being here was more weird than the elf, but what could be weirder than dinner walking, talking and fighting?

She brushed the white strands of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes and took a step forwards, darting from person to person, around some, through others, and made her way out of the tent, surveying the distance and thinking to herself.

With her arm raised and hand held just above her brow, the banner on her arm was especially visible: she was missing the scythe and skull.

[Skylar]

She had been one of the firsts to get to the back lines. She seemed calm and relaxed as she watched the others rush up fumbling with weapons they had no clue about, while some seemed more then at home with the thought of an oncoming attack.

As quickly as she could she assessed the situation and quickly her eyes came to rest on Aldric. Quickly, but without alarm, she made her way over to him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “How do you feel?” Perhaps an odd question to ask in such a time, but she knew keeping their wits about them would be more beneficial in the long run.

[Nayt]

It wasn't long after the cadets had all arrived that a familiar face departed from the tent. It was the general from before, the stone-faced old man that delivered the cadets' orientation. It was unlikely that he slept at all last night, but he didn't appear at all bothered by this. He walked until he stood before all of the cadets-- until they could all see him, at least. The old general eyed them over once. The most of them seemed to be shaking. Fumbling. Frightened to near paralysis. And why shouldn't they be? They faced the legions of the unliving.

Or they were going to soon enough, that is . . .

"Good," he said, "Most of you have made it. I suppose a few must have ditched, but . . . that's not important. Not right now."

He glanced behind him. Over his shoulder, he could see the ranks of the Drunalan Empire's regular army. They stood nervously, each and every one of them prepared to lay down their lives to put a stop to Darokin's charge. They were all that kept the legion of monsters from entering the city.

"As of now, Darokin's forces will be bearing down on this city in less than three minutes," the old man continued, yet to look back at the cadets all scattered about before him. Most of them were probably too scared to organize by rank and file. "They're merciless. They'll kill anything they can once they reach this spot. So I'll be short . . ."

"Your priority is to make sure that doesn't happen. You are going to charge the enemy down the center and cut their approach in half. Fortunately, there's no greater undead in their ranks; all you have to do is shut down brain function and the monster will no longer be a threat. Don't be afraid to swing at their necks or shoot for their skulls. Rush from here to the canyon and destroy every undead in your path. Any monster you fail to kill will continue its path to the city. Your task is to reach the canyon, divide their approach in two, and-- if possible --locate the legion's source."

He was up front and blunt about the entire mission, a task that, for all intents and purposes, should have been considered a suicide mission.

But which was better? Going out on a suicide mission or running from it-- a suicide mission in and of itself?

"Consider this your first official sortie," the old general concluded: "Move out."



Offtopic: All player characters-- whether they intend to or not --will be leading the charge. The first character to move forward will be the one at the very front of the charge.

[Shin]

Somehow, unbeknownst to him Talon had wandered near the front of the ranks on his way back from grabbing a weapon. Only, he didn’t know that this spot would soon be considered the ‘front lines’. He had gotten lost within himself again and when the general spoke he looked upon the man as if he were two different people.
One afraid for his life, which reminded him he knew nothing of combat or how to fight. But that logical side was pushed aside by one of a more primal nature, one that shown through from his left eye as a bright multi-colored spectrum of light.

“Battle…” He whispered, but he did not hear himself. He looked on the general but with his adrenalin pumping furiously and blood rushing through his body he found it hard to actually hear what the man was saying.

Talons heart raced, sweat beaded on his forehead and when the general said the single word…he charged. He didn’t look to see if there was anyone running beside him and didn’t think he could stop even if their wasn’t. He was focused entirely on that single word phrase. Move Out. To Talon it meant run and attack, keep moving…don’t stop. Stop and you die. And so Talon ran…as fast and hard as he could, his mind not yet realizing the consequences of his actions.