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Post by Tribune Bolton on Dec 15, 2014 21:49:11 GMT -5
JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: The Last in Line
Greetings, soldier/sir/madam. On behalf of the Federation of Switzerland, you are hereby cordially invited to a unique coalition of forces never before seen in our fair empires. Whether it has been for the entirety of your life, or only recently, you may have noticed strange occurrences, mysterious powers, haunting rumors, esoteric truths, frantic exertion, or, most commonly, pugilistic apparitions. If these terms do not apply to you, report to your commanding officer to receive corporal punishment. If these terms do in fact apply to you, pack your necessary gear, you are being recruited for a tactical squad of soldiers much like yourself. This invitation may not be denied. Forgive me for the brevity of this introduction, we will soon be more formally introduced. You're after the witch, you may never return home. You will be joining the last in line, those who will truly learn the price of a mile. We are MFAS, we do not fight alone, we are fire, we are stone. We are the hand that writes and quickly moves away. Ex Oblivione
~Kisses, Colonel Aldo Greensleeves
Ilya Repin Khalayev, proud Cossack of the Ktulu host, looked up from the letter, down at his steppe horse, and back up to gaze upon the beautiful rolling hills, worthy of the poem Kubla Khan, covered in fellow horsemen on their way to serve the Tsar, much like himself. With the contemplative puff of a pipe that only a true natural philosopher could give, Ilya deduced thus and so forth: He couldn't read English.
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Post by hellohello on Dec 15, 2014 21:56:43 GMT -5
"You're......you're joking, right?" Arzu said, standing in front of the desk of General Mohammed. "No, Arzu, afraid not. You have been chosen to represent the glorious Ottoman Empire in this little........gathering." Arzu shook his head in disbelief. "But, that means, I'll have to work with....the Brits, and the French, and, and, and, the.....Germans?" Arzu said, almost spitting the word. The General nodded. " Afraid so, Arzu. You will leave first thing in the morning." The General saluted him and went back to his paperwork. The only thing Arzu could think about as he headed towards his private courters is how much he hated the Allahdamned German.
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Post by darkisnotevil on Dec 15, 2014 22:00:36 GMT -5
"Hey, mister? What's that?" A girl seemingly not older than 16, wearing a blue shirt and black shorts, stared up at a courier carrying the letters for Stand users. She was unusual in virtually every way, with her physique unusually muscular for her childish figure to wearing young men's clothes rather than dresses and the like. She had brown hair and semiclear blue eyes- not inherently weird, but her gaze gave the sense as if she wasn't entirely there. "Yeah!" There was another girl, who looked exactly the same, munching on an apple and sitting down nearby. Even their clothes matched, unnervingly. "Is that for us?"
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Post by NeverNeverland on Dec 15, 2014 22:25:58 GMT -5
"Greensleeves? What kind of a name is that? And who ends their letters with 'kisses'?!"
Leonore kept a strong frown on her face as she re-read the letter and took a sip of her coffee. While she was curious how the sender managed to find her, she was more furious at how the invitation gave her no option. Sure, it may give her an opportunity to learn about how she could create these 'body cannons' of hers, as she liked to call them, but being told to do something she knew nothing about didn't work with her. It's why she left Germany, and its why her sister's nowhere in Europe anymore.
Taking a long breath, she paid for her drink and began walking the streets. She may have done everything she needed to do in France, but it doesn't stop her from admitting how nice it looks.
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Post by DeredereChan on Dec 15, 2014 22:28:21 GMT -5
As Kitty's eyes scanned over the paper, a slight smile came to her lips. She took a sip of her chamomile tea and set it down, contemplating what she just read. She stood up from her chair and walked through the large, empty room she was in over to the window. Outside, the French countryside was in it's springtime bloom, with flowers dotting the green countryside. A storm was brewing in the mountains on the horizon. How ironic. A cool breeze flew by, giving her a slight chill. She sighed and closed the window. I wish this country could go back to the way it was when I was a girl, when I didn't have to worry about being bombed. Kitty was never the sentimental type, however. If she really wanted to do something for her country, she would have bound her chest and fought. But her talents lied in another area. She walked throughout the mansion she was in, looking at paintings of her forebears lining the hallways. They seemed to look down at her with cold, detached eyes. She looked right back at them, unamused. Finally, she made it to the end of the seemingly endless hallway, and a rapier hanged up against the wall stared directly at her. Kitty's lips took the form of a sly grin as she took the sword down. "Très bien."
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Post by MistaMista on Dec 15, 2014 22:30:44 GMT -5
Aleksis Kaidanovski looked at the letter in puzzlement. A letter in English was odd enough, but a letter in English found under her pillow in the morning? Nothing short of amazing. The only information she could extract from the piece of paper was that it was written for her--nothing else. An odd thing in itself. Must be stand work, she concluded.
With the letter tucked tightly in her undershirt, Alek decided to just get on with her day as she reported to roll-call, strapping her familiar goggles on her face as she pulled on her thin gloves. If they could contact her that easily, she had no doubt that they'd send her further instruction.
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Post by Khârn on Dec 15, 2014 22:51:51 GMT -5
March 15th, 19163 miles west of Verdun The Somme Offensive Line German Lehr Infantry Battalion 3rd Company, 8th Platoon.The rain started before dawn, at first a drizzle, but soon it fell like the weeping tears of the heavens, in anticipation for the bloodshed to come. When the first thundering boom sounded out, both lines cowered within the muck of their trenches, awaiting the first shot of a new barrage, a declaration of a battle to come. Lightning arced across the skies, and the dark clouds above boomed, as the downpour soaked the mud of the trenches, draining into the already cramped quarters which lay beneath the surface, in a futile attempt to provide shelter against the elements. Soggy bread floated in the gathering pools, and not far to the south, the stench of those dead, their corpses piled up, faces still staring in horror to the skies, would pollute the air around the German lines. Rats would dash between shadows, the brief lights from above illuminating their nefarious activities, as men prepared. An order was being given, command expected an attack today.
An explosion sounded out amongst the lines, as the first casualties of the day cried out in terror one final time, before darkness engulfed them forever. Blood now ran through the trenches, mixed in with the mud, grim and shit, and with the scent of fresh dead and gunpowder making itself known, a order was cried out from officers throughout the lines.
"TAKE COVER!"
They did not even finish their words before nearly every soldier had ducked and dug in as deeply as they could. Silent prayers would sound across the line, as the booming barrage of British artillery sent forth a volley of fire. Men weeped, boys screamed, and across the line, everyone closed their eyes, and hoped to whatever God might be watching his children, he would grant his mercy and make their deaths quick. The volley continued for another half an hour, German artillery roaring in challenge to it's English counterparts, as on both sides on the conflict, men sat grimly in their own mass graves. The results of the bombardment would vary, for some, it was over in a final flash, limbs and ichor shooting out from the blazing explosions that had killed them. But for most, it was slow, and agonizing. Private Hans Guntenheimer would shriek as shrapnal cut it's way through his body, leaving him with a dozen holes seeping blood. Staff Sergeant Dufrense would gasp his final breath, as he felt his ribcage and innards exposed to the cold, uncaring air around him. Ten men would suffocate and drown in the dirt, as a shell detonated above their shelter, leaving them comrades together in death. The volley continued for another half an hour, and when it finally halted, the rain has stopped, and all was deathly quiet across the lines, as if the world held it's silence in memory of the lives lost.
Then, a rumble could be heard, as an echoing warcry sounded out, a thousand footsteps charging from their defensive lines, seeking to finally come face to face with their enemy. Recovering, the Germans would respond, as another order was cried out.
"COMPANYYYYYYY! FIRE AT WILL!"
An order they would be all to happy to obey. A boom would sound out, echoing across the battlefield, like the fist of God had struck the ground, as each German fired off their first shot, and among the hazy outlines of the charging Brits, three in every ten fell to the ground, and the symphony of death would resume. Shooting, each soldier would finally be able to fight for themselves, and though there was hardly a case where the two saw one another, the intimate nature of each kill would briefly link the killer and the slain, if only for a moment. With the anger and excitement growing with each step the British came closer, it was apparent that the charge would not be broken. Lieutenant Dann would grin at this, as he shouted out a final order, to be repeated across the Germand front.
"MEN! AFFIX BAYONETS!"
Each soldier would attack their blades to their rifles, just as the British came assaulting their lines, and finally, both armies would meet head to head. The brutal close quarters of the trenches would leave little room for ranged combat, and soon, every man was grappling with another, a personal dual going on between the thousands involved. Men scream, as knives slice open their guts, trying to push their innards back within; they let loose warcries as they brought their fists hammering down upon their foes, the bloody mess left after the beatings making it remarkable that such fleshy pulp had once been man; they locked eyes with their targets, as they strangled the lives out of them, being connected in a manner only lovers and killers could ever know off. Across the line, the blood ran like a river through the trenches, as the war carried on.
Then a roaring engine could be heard, as the British employed a reserve to help punch through German lines. An armoured behemoth, the father of all tanks, would come rumbling across the mud and the muck, letting loose it's armaments, tearing into the defending Germans, and lending a boost in morale to the English. It was supported by another two of it's kin, and with their combined firepower, the Germans would be on the brink of retreating. Sergeant Holt would be forced to shoot one of his own men for attempting to flee, only just buying time before the Germans routed. The steel monsters came closer, and with every inch, victory for the English seemed assured.
Then, the clouds above parted, and the first rays of light shone down upon the battlefield, and with the incandescent glow of the Sun, came an Angel. He flew down from the heavens, like the wrath of god himself, upon wings of the purest white, his armour shining out like a beacon, a large sword in one hand, as he flew towards the first of the tanks. The greatsword came down in an arc, and the sound of tearing metal would ring out, as it's left side gun was slice off, crashing to the ground. The angel would not halt, as the now exposed innards of the tank would react to this new threat, raising their guns, but to late. With a flash of his wings, the angel ascended into the skies, but not before leaving a present in the form of a grenade. With a clang and a boom, one of the metal behemoths went silent, the entire process taking only eight seconds.
The Angel would dive back down through the air, it's greatsword reforming as it flew, being replaced by a cyclopsian sized mace, which, with a heave, came crashing down upon the second tank, crushing it like a tin can, the blood and meat within shooting out like a shaken soda. A rumbling would sound behind the angel, who would turn it's helmed head around, to see an oncoming tank, looking to crush him beneath it's treads. The mace would fade away, as the angel reached out, and grabbed at the tank, sliding back through the mud as machine fought man. Finally, he found grip in the ground, and the tank's engines would whine in protest, as it came to a halt. With a bellowing warcry, the angel would slowy begin to lift the armored war machine, before all at once throwing it back, so it came crashing down in the mud, upside down, it's threat neutralized.
The gathered armies still fought and slaughtered one another, but now, a cry could be heard echoing from the Germans, rallying them, while sending fear into the hearts of the British.
"KONRAD! KONRAD! KONRAD!"
Turning to face the fighting British, those who had shed the blood of his brothers, Konrad Gunther, the man behind the armor, would shed a single tear for those lost, before spreading out his wings. With a rush, he began running towards the trenches, gaining speed until with a leap, he took off, rocketing towards the British. He'd arrive in seconds, re-united with his brothers, a blade forming in each hand.
The British offensive would be halted within the next hour. Konrad, now standing within the trenches, would release the power of his spirit, and his wings, his blade, his silver armour, would fade away, leaving the man behind, in his grey trench coat, and military uniform. As he walked back to report to his officers, it would become clear to any watching, that Konrad was but a boy of seventeen.
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Post by Tribune Bolton on Dec 15, 2014 23:32:09 GMT -5
Every soldier (and small girl?) that had received the letter, as well as Konrad who did not, would soon hear the splitting voice of a Tennessee accent: "NEON KNIGHTS, FALL IN, AT EASE."------- Ilya toppled over and off of his horse as the letter projected a neon red silhouette of what appeared to be a high ranking American officer. It spoke Russian to him. Not only did it speak Russian to him, it spoke his dialect. His dialect. Russians could hardly understand what came out of his mouth. A quick look around confirmed his suspicion that no one else could see it, much like the spirit he'd known as Panzerkampf. The figure directed him over a far away hill, and promised death and glory. It said other things, but none of that mattered. Death and glory were enough for Ilya to saddle up and ride like a madman to his ordered destination. He'd find a small zeppelin landed, awaiting his arrival. -------
The same figure, with the same call, appeared in front of Arzu, this time a silhouette of neon orange. In perfect Arabic, it spoke, "Arzu Kaprol! Your ride shall be here shortly. Pack your belongings, traveling lightly is not necessary." it said, and motioned out a nearby window, to a zeppelin landing nearby. ------- The courier spoke up, "Oh- Uh, let me see here..." before falling back unconscious as the figure appeared and, to put it bluntly, knocked his lights out. It was appearing now in neon yellow, and spoke up. "I have no fucking idea who you are, but you're necessary. Find the zeppelin landing nearby, if you even need it." ------- The figure appeared once again, in front of Leonore, with it's call, in neon green. In German, it spoke, "Leonore Duessel-Heidrich! Your ride, it would seem, is already here." it pointed to an in-flight zeppelin, and the ladder hanging off of it. "Pack your belongings, traveling lightly is not necessary." ------- The figure appeared again to Kitty, in neon blue. In French, it spoke, "'Kitty' Beaumont! Your ride shall be here shortly. Pack your belongings, traveling lightly is not necessary." It walked to a window with a resolute point, and soon a zeppelin came into view, and landed a short distance into the countryside.
------- The figure appeared from behind Aleksis, with it's call, in neon indigo. It spoke in Russian. "Aleksis Kaidanovski! We've had to take special preparations for you. Prove yourself worth it, accompany these fine men to the zeppelin outside." it said with a gesture to a large squad of black-uniformed men blazing their way through the camp with gunfire, faces hidden under gas masks resembling skulls. They waved for her to duck and follow them out. ------- The letter had not made it to Konrad. It was fortunate Greensleeves had gifted his commanding officer that sabre, and it shined in neon violet as it let out it's call, and spoke in German. "Konrad Gunther! For once, you're the only recruit trapped in the trenches. Your superiors have been informed, you are being brought to a special regiment. Pack your belongings, and find the unmarked tank behind friendly lines. You will be given the proper letter of conscription once inside."
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Post by hellohello on Dec 15, 2014 23:40:14 GMT -5
Arzu nodded. He didn't have much, anyways. He went to his room and grabbed his saber, his Quran, and his autobiography. He left a short note for his wife and children, then headed off to the Zeppelin, getting inside.
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Post by DeredereChan on Dec 15, 2014 23:42:11 GMT -5
"These guys don't waste any time, do they? At least they know who they're dealing with." Kitty quickly packed her belongings and made her way out to the zeppelin. She didn't take much, just several of her outfits and her rapier. Hopefully this would be exciting, and not turn out to be a dud.
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Post by Khârn on Dec 15, 2014 23:48:20 GMT -5
Konrad's eyes would flash wide with surprise, before he protested, looking to his officers.
"But sir!"
Lieutenant Dann would hold up a hand, before picking up, and passing the young man a few pieces of paper. Konrad, as he looked them over, realized these were direct orders from high command, back in Berlin. The capital had taken direct interest in him, in seeing him transferred to some organization he did not rightly recall. As he finished reading, and was about to ask what was going on, Dan spoke, his back straight, his uniform crisp, and his word law.
"Soldier, I do not know what has you withdrawn from the front lines, nor will you know until those up above deem it fit for you to. What I do know is, that your a damn fine soldier, and I would hate to see this day darkened by insubordination. Now, you have been called upon to serve, and as we all answer, so you will to. You are to gather your gear, you are to march yourself to your transport, and you are to listen to your orders, or I will personally drag you to your new unit myself, divine powers or not. Do I make myself clear?"
Konrad, almost instinctively, would stand at attention, giving a salute.
"YES SIR! Thank you Sir!"
With a nod from the LT, he was dismissed, and after taking a few steps out of the command tent, he looked up to the skies for answers. When none came, he summoned forth his wings, and embraced the air, flying back to his placement, to gather what little things he had.
Within two hours, Konrad Gunther would report to the awaiting tank at the co-ordinates given to him. His head was bowed, his face solemn, he passed his papers to the men awaiting him, and was escorted inside. With one last look back towards the distant trench lines, he would recall the words of his brothers in arms, those who had seen him go when he'd fought with them for years. They told him, "Bring the Fatherland pride son." or, "Hopefully we'll have this messed cleaned up when you get back.", but most simply shook his hand, and nodded their farewell. Konrad would give a salute to his distant brothers, knowing in his heart he would probably never see them again, before whispering.
"Goodbye, and good luck."
With that, he'd enter the tank, and feel the clamp of the closing doors, before the engine started, and he was spirited away from the Hell he'd lived in since he'd turned fifteen.
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Post by NeverNeverland on Dec 15, 2014 23:51:05 GMT -5
Hearing the loud call to attention, Leonore didn't waste any time in bringing out her Stand. She pointed her hand like a pistol, her index finger now a small cannon barrel, at the green silhouette. "Who are you!?" She yelled out in French before turning to find people in the street clamoring and whispering about the scene that appeared, then yelling and panicking about the zeppelin that was randomly in the sky.
Looking around, Leonore had no means of escape, and between the military-esque call and the weird green sillouette thing in front of her she was bound to be noticed by someone important. Cursing under her breath, Leonore began climbing the ladder, pulling herself in as the zeppelin began to pull away from the town.
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Post by MistaMista on Dec 15, 2014 23:51:28 GMT -5
She could work with this.
Alek grinned, then followed the figure easily, arms clutching the several small notebooks she'd tucked away inside her shirt. There was a soft flash of blue as Alek activated her ability and began to slowly, methodically collect information on the zeppelin, making note of every single detail.
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Post by darkisnotevil on Dec 16, 2014 0:02:15 GMT -5
MonDay, TuesDay, and WednesDay all climb up on the zeppelin whilst the message-carrier looks on, stunned. "Bye, Mister! Maybe we can write you a letter!"
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Post by Tribune Bolton on Dec 16, 2014 0:04:07 GMT -5
The interiors of the zeppelins were sparse, and utilitarian, although the temporary rooms of each recruit provided ample room for their stay. This was not, however, the most notable trait of the zeppelins. No country had yet to claim to own zeppelins as advanced as these, years ahead of their time, with modifications for military use. The soldiers accompanying Konrad, black with skull gas masks like the ones that escorted Aleksis, silently handed him the proper letter of conscription, as the tank made it's way. It'd roll into one of the advanced zeppelins before reopening it's doors for him. If any of the recruits asked the staff of the zeppelin, they'd be told, they were headed to a remote base in the Swiss Alps known as 'Rumpelkombo.'
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