18+ Presidium Wars

[Tiaz Raydari]

The 82nd Meridian Firebase.
Small Firebase situated in Cyrodiil, Home to roughly two hundred soldiers, eighty of them are ground combat based. They take part in the recon and tactics part of the Imperial operations. One of those squads serve directly under Captain Myron Goldman; They take part in search and destroy operations and other major ones that are in other provinces. They have gained and lost so much from this war already, roughly one in twenty recruits die because of fear alone while others die because of the stress of war, losing well known friends, squad mates and sometimes accidently killing civilians. The remaining men of this firebase serve as pilots, mess hall sergeants, guardsmen, and various other tasks.




"Wish I could stay in bed, with you but sadly I've got to report to general Adams in the control room," Myron said while sliding on his trousers.
"Sometimes I just wish this war would end so you and I could live a normal life, and I was lucky enough to get a five day pass. Too many wounded are coming in and trust me its getting real crowded in the hospitals," Claretta replied.
"Well hopefully I get to see you before you run back off, better get going," Myron quickly kissed Claretta and she returned it. He walking out of his quarters and brushed his hands along his face, "Need to shave soon, don't want the general on my case."

Two soldiers who stood guarding the control room quickly saluted Myron as he walked into it, "At ease," he quickly said. "Sergeant. Lieutenant. Status report." Myron greeted the two men already waiting inside.
"Captain, new recruits are due to arrive today and a Thalmor group has been sighted south of our position. Also here's the recruit roster," The Sergeant replied before awaiting for his next orders, Myron took the roster and searched the names.
"Tell Private Thomas Gemain to report to my office when he arrives, he seems fit for my squad. Take the rest and give them their duties and suitable positions," Myron dismissed the Sergeant before turning to the Lieutenant, "The general waiting?"
"Yes sir, I've got him on the radio and he really wants to speak to you," the Lieutenant said before handing Myron the radio.
"General,"
"Captain, how are things going on your end?"
"Good sir, very good. What do you need of me?"
"Well in a week or two I'm going to be coming down to inspect the base with a friend of mine you might known, also I've got a mission for you."
"What's the mission sir?"
"Basically the same old stuff, we have reports of a Thalmor supply dump roughly south of your position."
"Well then that confirms our reports of Thalmor movement, what are your orders?"
"Move out in two days and destroy that dump, bad enough they have weapons and now they moving them up here for something big. Whatever its for, just get rid of those weapons so we can sleep peacefully."
The radio buzzed off and Myron quickly turned towards the entrance of the control room,"I wish my men could sleep just as peacefully as you could too,"
As he got outside to greet the cold morning he heard someone call out, "Mortar!" before hearing a loud explosion just outside of the base. Myron quickly hit the dirt and said,"Just another day."

 

[Delusional]

Dante could hear his own breathing as he lay in wait, crouched in the dank tunnels that ran beneath the surface, carving out Vhosek, one of the distant outposts of the New Aldwyr Coalition. His trusty Galil was gripped tightly in his sweaty hand, trigger finger anxious. Waiting was always the worst part. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, a combination of the humidity of the surface above him and the stuffy dankness of the foxhole.

Eventually, the familiar sound of an approaching convoy became audible. The dull, low murmur of the conversation among the troops; the roar of the dirt and gravel paths underneath the trucks... it was almost time. Dante shifted in his foxhole slightly, moving into a ready position, right hand wrapped around his Galil, left hand prepared to shove the hatch open and spring up. All he had to do was wait.

This convoy was one of the larger ones. Almost three whole shipments of Presilium in one vulnerable, traveling unit... it was the perfect opportunity. However, it would not be guarded lightly. The Imperial Meridian always takes much care to assign some of their most capable soldiers to their largest convoys, especially after the NAC's raids picked up in frequency and brutality. Dante smirked, remembering the response their generals issued after learning of the infamous Vykadin Incident about three months prior. They were infuriated.

Dante snapped back from his wanderings and trained his ears to the sounds above him. It was almost time. Dante wiped his forehead with his forearm and licked his lips, ready, waiting for the signal...

There it was. A resounding crack could be heard resonating through forest above him, signaling that the snare had been tripped and it was time to strike. Dante burst from his foxhole, heaving the hatch open and bringing his assault rifle to the ready. For a moment, Dante's eyes scanned the scene before him, surveying how this ambush would play out. The snare, a series of pitfalls dug deep into the path and the surrounding forest, had inhibited the movement of the supply trucks that carried the Presilium. Their wheels lodged into the earth, they had no chance of continuing in the midst of conflict.

Perfect, Dante thought as he aimed down the iron sights of his Galil and lined up his shot. The sounds of gunfire could be heard already as the other NAC soldiers engaged in combat with the surprised guards of the Imperial convoy, most of which were in a frenzy to find cover from the onslaught of guerrilla fighters that surrounded them.

The Redguard squeezed the trigger, unleashing a stream of bullets that tore through the brush around him and ripped through a duo of Imperial soldiers who were attempting to return fire to Dante's comrades on the opposite side of the path. They collapsed onto the dirt, leaving the remaining of his bullets to clatter of the side of the truck they were trying to hide behind.

The convoy guards fell one by one, their numbers slowly diminishing as the fight continued. Dante slowly lifted himself from his foxhole and began to approach the line of vehicles that lay stranded on the path. His eyes quickly scanned the aftermath of the ambush, searching for survivors.

Suddenly, a young Imperial, most likely a new recruit, leaped from the brush and charged Dante, combat knife held high. The Redguard spun on his heels and let his Galil fall to the ground. Almost mechanically, he reached around his back and withdrew a foot-long blade, which he used to swiftly parry the soldiers blow and proceed to lodge it in his chest. He coughed; blood sputtered out of his gaping mouth, running down his chin and onto his combat fatigues. Dante pulled the man close and leaned into his ear.

"You don't fl*ff with the Blackheart," he said in a quiet voice as he slowly eased the dying man to the ground, "especially with a knife." Dante twisted the blade in his chest, evoking a final gasp before the life faded from his eyes and his body collapsed onto the ground, a limp corpse. The Redguard wiped the bloody blade on the man's fatigues before standing to secure the Presilium and perhaps locate the captain, or the captain's corpse, of the convoy.

"Blackheart! Here!" The call came from the front of the convoy, near the pitfalls that trapped the first truck. When Dante reached the source of the call, he was greeted by one of his lieutenants, Adabah, a stout, burly Redguard. He was crouched over an injured Imperial and surrounded by a few NAC grunts.

"What is it?" Dante asked in a gravely voice as he approached Adabah, curious as to the significance of the injured soldier.

"This is Captain Janus. He is, or, well, was in charge of this convoy." Adabah rose from the ground and stepped back.

"Hmph. Very well." Dante crouched next to the man, who held a blood soaked cloth over his abdomen, and leaned in. He found that the closer he got, the more intimidating he appeared. "Where did this Presilium come from? And where was it headed?"

"Hah... you think I'll cave that... easily?" Captain Janus coughed, spraying blood across Dante's face. He smirked.

"Not at all. But they all cave eventually," Dante replied, shoving a fist into the man's abdomen wound, inducing a scream before standing and turning away from the captain. "Clean up his wound, and load him up. We're taking him back to Afa-Saryat with us. There, we will make him talk." Adabah nodded in affirmation before heading off to make preparations for Captain Janus' transportation.

"Avik, where are you? Let's get these containers opened!" Dante shouted, searching for the engineer stationed at Vhosek, one of the outermost outposts of the Coalition, who came rushing up to meet him. "Good. There you are. Let's get this Presilium out of here before scouts show up. Come on, move it, everyone!" With that, Dante strode away from the convoy and into the forest as he produced a cigarette, lighting it up and taking a long, relieving drag. pl*ps... I need a break.

 

[Skyrimosity]

The new recruits were being shipped to the Imperial Meridian firebase. Among these men was Thomas Gemain, a young Breton fresh out of training. Thomas was nervous, as were all the other recruits around him. Except for one Nord named Bjorn.

Bjorn was nearly 6'6 and 250 pounds. Muscles were stacked on his arms and he was, to say the least, a presence. "Gonna kill some elves!" he'd say or "No wimps bother fighting. This is a man's war!". The other men, such as Thomas, looked at Bjorn with a smile on their face but with doubt in their eyes.

The convoy of trucks filled with recruits pulled into the firebase and the recruits dropped off. Unsurprisingly the man stood there with a list of names. Surprisingly the man only called out one name. "Thomas Gemain! Report to me immediately!"

Thomas looked around for a moment. He didn't know why. He sheepishly stepped forward and said "Here, Sir!"

"Captain wants you to report to his office. NOW!"

Many eyes started at Thomas immediately. Was he someone special? Was he perhaps a traitor? Oddly, the same questions went through Thomas's head as he walked toward the command center of the building.

He entered the command center and was directed to the Captain's office. Hesitantly he entered through the open door. He saw the Imperial Captain looking over some documents. He quickly closed them. He spoke "You must be Gemain."

"Thomas Gemain reporting for duty, Sir!"

 

[blue 468]

Sami sat on the cold hard ground waiting for her Que, her detonator ready in her hand. She heard gunfire a few yards off, smiling she pressed the red button and waited for the blast....frowning when nothing happened she looked down at the trigger smacking it into a rock. She pressed it again and jumped when the explosion shook the ground. She stood up from her cover and looked upon the chaos she had just caused, Thalmor soldiers ran around screaming in pain as the burned alive. She grimaced it almost took the fun out of explosions...almost.

She walked through the firebase tinkering with a small firecracker as was her habit when she noticed the new recruits as the lined up. She gave a puzzled look when on of the recruits was singled out and told to go to the command center. Shrugging she walked off yelping when the fire cracker shot out of her hand.

 

[Mr.Self Destruct]

"They've got a lot of guys on this one."

"Yeah, boss said it was a big convoy. Three shipments of Presilium comin' through here."

Caiden's eyes scanned the dirt road which sat at the foot of the hill he and about five other men were watching over. Each of them were sitting atop black motorbikes and were armed with either sawn-off shotguns or automatic SMGs. This was routine for them by now, and today's hit would be Caiden's 13th ambush with the NAC. He was one of the more experienced guerrillas of the squadron of motorcyclists, even though he had been with the NAC for a short while his natural skill and expertise in killing and riding made him popular with command. He had seen a lot of action in the few months he had joined up, more than most of the others.

Caiden took a hit from his cigarette, blowing out a gust of smoke which dissipated in the air.

"For fl*ff's sake, Caiden, did ya' have to blow that right into my face?"

"What can I say? You're standing down wind. Just be glad I wasn't passing gas."

The group chuckled in response, until suddenly the distant sound of an engine could be heard and the squadron immediately shut up.

"Show time."

Caiden tossed the cigarette and put on his black helmet, fastening the strap tightly to his chin. From behind the visor, he could see the trucks rumbling by with an envoy of armed Imperial troops. Caiden's heart began to beat faster, his hands clutching the handlebars of his bike tightly.

The jeep taking point tripped the snare, and with a deafening crack it set off a series of pitfalls and blockades which stopped the convoy in it's tracks.

"Go!"

Caiden and the others slammed down on their kick-starts, the sounds of engines roaring to life filling the air as they swooped down along the hill at high speeds, weaving and bobbing through the trees as other guerrillas emerged from their foxholes and opened fire on the convoy.
Bullets whizzed through the air as the motorcyclists raced to cover the convoy's flank, blocking them in between them and the other guerrillas and giving them no chance of escape. Caiden swerved to the right as he came upon the road, kicking up dirt and gravel as he slammed on the brakes, raised his shotgun and fired off two shots at the troops getting off the back of one of the jeeps.

The first missed it's intended target, instead shredding the rear window of the jeep in a gust of glass shards. The second connected, blasting apart a young trooper's chest cavity in a flurry of blood and gore and sending the body flying back, crumpling to the road in a bloody heap.

It was over in seconds, with the others emptying everything they had into the jeep packed with soldiers who were trying desperately to escape the death trap. Bullet casings clattered against the ground as smoke filled the air. Holes riddled the hull of the jeep, with rounds punching through and tearing the troops inside to shreds.

Suddenly, the roar of gunfire stopped as dry clicks filled the air. For a moment, Caiden looked on cautiously as he loaded two more shells into his shotgun.
Slowly, the rear door of the jeep creaked open, the pool of blood that had amassed inside spilling out onto the road as a shaky and bloody hand reached outside, trying to escape. Caiden narrowed his eyes and raised his shotgun as he dismounted his bike and began to move towards the survivor.

Caiden slowly paced over to the jeep, up ahead the battle was already over, with guerrillas descending upon the crates of presilium like buzzards to a carcass.

"..h-help..."

The voice was barely audible, but loud enough for Caiden to hear the pain and suffering in the man's voice. Caiden, with his shotgun raised, peered inside the open door of the car to find a scene of blood, guts and limbs splayed out across the inside of the jeep, nothing alive save for the lone survivor. The man reaching out with his shaky hand was young, perhaps a new recruit. His face was streaked with crimson, his eyes pleading for help. Caiden looked closer, the man's torso was riddled with bullet holes. He wouldn't make it even if Caiden wanted to help.

"...help me."
Caiden was stunned, he had seen his share of death, but nothing like what he was seeing now. But he wasn't going to crack, not now. He forced away the thoughts of whether or not these people had families, whether or not they deserved what they got.

"Sorry, pal."

Caiden looked away as he directed the muzzle of his shotgun towards the man and pulled the trigger.

____

Caiden rode away from the scene as the guerrillas began offloading the presilium, still sufficiently shaken by what he had seen. As he cruised through the forest, he found Dante walking alone; rifle slung over his shoulder and a smoking a cigarette.

"So, did we save the day? Put an end to tyranny and all that good pl*ps?" ​

 

[EpicVakarian]

The strike shocked me. It probably shouldn't have; I'd been at the firebase nearly six months, and this sort of thing happened every day. I scowled and scratched my head, my hair flapping in the wind.

I strolled over the dirt tracks, sometimes stepping out of the path of the occasional troop transport. There seemed to be a new group of recruits arriving at the base; green as the grass on the other side. There was a huge Nordic man, more than a foot taller than me and looked more than twice my weight. I rolled my eyes; these recruits clearly were still in the mindset that brute strength would prevail over the Thalmor and Aldwyr bastards. Well, it might have a stroke of luck against the Thalmor, but the tactics of the NAC would turn that against them. I had a feeling that the big lad would die quite quickly; the smaller ones would last longer, like the one that had come forward and been sent to the captain. Well, maybe not small, but smaller.

I kept walking, sI'm a racist asshole who doesn't understand boundaries, respect, or basic human decency and I need helping as Sami, my squad's explosives expert, let a firework off in her hand. She was quite eccentric, but she was friendly and good fun to be around. I put my hands in my pockets, making sure to avoid the small rocket's path as it spiraled out of control.

Eventually, I reached my destination; the barracks. I entered my small room, taking off my beret and jacket, leaving me in my white tank top and baggy military-issue trousers. I opened my locker and hung up both my beret and jacket, turning away before I saw my reflection in the mirror that was screwed into the locker door.

I looked a mess; my hair was greasy and plastered to my face, and my skin was covered in sweat. Cursing, I undressed and climbed into the shower, washing myself down and brushing the knots out of my hair. I wrapped it back up into its short ponytail at the back of my head, letting the rest frame my face as it normally did.

I reached into the long chest at the foot of my bed, pulling out my two beloved rifles; my M14 and M24. I took out a cloth and some oil after them, and began to coat the gunmetal in oil.

Before long, the rifles were sparkling clean again, exactly as I liked them. I stowed them back in the chest, slotting my standard-issue M1911 pistol into a small holster on my right thigh and fitting my knife into the scabbard on my boot. I emerged back out into the Cyrodiilic sun, putting a hand over my brow to stop the sunlight blinding me and watching the recruits march across the yard, some giving worried glances towards the forests where the Thalmor were probably hiding their mortars. I purveyed the yard, spotting the base commander watching the recruits. I remembered that Captain Goldman had requested that I go and speak with the commander, as he had noticed my hesitation at certain orders. I dreaded the conversation, but it had to come, so I walked swiftly towards the man, snapping my feet together once I reached him and saluting respectfully.

"Sir! Corporal Kaylee Mannerling, reporting as requested, sir!"
"Ah," the commander said. "one of Goldman's girls, huh? At ease."
I moved my feet apart and lowered my hands behind my back.
"So, Goldman told me what was going on. Some sort of moral problem, huh? He said you were hesitating to follow orders that went against your moral code."
"Yes, sir."
"And what kind of orders would they be?"
Ironically, I hesitated.
"Taking out someone who I don't consider a threat, and other such orders, sir."
"I see," he said. "Do you understand that decision isn't made by you?"
"Sir?"
"Your acting commander makes that choice, not you. If you want complete freedom, go over to the Aldwyr. Here, you obey your commander, and you obey Captain Goldman. Understand?" His voice was stern, but kind.
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
"Thank you, sir."

I turned on my heel and walked away. I knew he was right; in an army, a woman was expected to follow orders, no matter what those orders were. I made a silent promise to try and follow orders more easily from now on, though I made myself no promises.

I decided to go and see Captain Goldman and inform him that I had seen the commander, though I wasn't entirely sure where I'd find him. I simply wandered aimlessly, hoping to come across the Captain in one of the corridors.

 

[Tiaz Raydari]

"Damn Thalmor, maybe just maybe we finally find that mortar base. Highly unlikely that we do find them, they keep on moving around." Myron cursed while walking back to his office.
He sat in his chair and pulled himself whiskey while looking over documents. A knock at the door and Myron quickly replied for whoever it was to come in.

"Thomas Gemain reporting for duty, Sir!"

"At ease Private, I've been expecting you. Hopefully Sarge gave you the grand tour but lets just cut to the chase, I want you on my squad Gemain and you're to report to barracks 12B. I've give you some time to rest and get use to the schedule over here, Also go check the duty roster posted on the Sergeant's door. I think you're on Latrine duty, Dismissed."
Myron left the private puzzled as he walked out, he needed to find the Colonel; the base's commander until further notice. He wandered through the base and as he turned a corner he suddenly came to a thud and somebody dropped to the floor. Myron looked down, "Mannerling, you should watch where you going. You been to the colonel as ordered? I was just about to go see him for a mission we have later." he said before holding his arm out to the Corporal.

 

[EpicVakarian]

I turned a corner, and was immediately knocked to the ground. I looked up, brow furrowed, and realised that I'd finally found Captain Goldman.
"Mannerling, you should watch where you're going. You been to the colonel as ordered? I was just about to go see him for a mission we have later."
He reached down, took my hand and pulled me to my feet. His large hand completely enveloped my smaller one.
"Sorry, sir. Yeah, I've been to the colonel, he's sorted me out." I brushed the mud and dirt off my top, wrinkling my nose at the smell. "If you don't mind me asking, Captain, what's this mission involve?" It always felt strange, talking to Goldman as my CO. He was younger than me by two years, and my mind thought of him as a squadmate, rather than my commander. I often caught my mind thinking of him in other ways, but I was trying to train myself to stop thinking that. It wouldn't do to be lusting after a senior officer, and besides, I didn't want a relationship with anyone I worked with; it would be far too awkward, especially in a military environment. No; I forced my brain to recognise him as the leader, rather than a possible interest, and it had worked so far. Realising this, I subtly shifted to the correct position, so as to avoid causing some sort of disrespect to Goldman.

 

[The OP3RaT0R]

War. War never changes.

Sergeant Corrilas Silinthar dropped his pencil to the Captain's desk he sat behind in a mobile office in a Thalmor firebase in the southwest of Cyrodiil. A snicker crept up from his throat, and his stern features twisted into a smirk that was tinged with cynicism; the Altmer didn't know where that humdinger of a line had come from - probably some war-glory flick he had seen back on the home front, leaving still the question of why he had thought of it unanswered - but it made him stop what he was doing. For one, the sheer melodrama of the line just killed him, along with the fact that the civvies in that theater with him had probably been just absolutely grabbed by the heartstrings and wrenched into the drama of war by that single line. 'War never changes.' That's a good one. It was also a bare-faced lie, Cor knew all too well. He had seen the same conflict go from using M1s to M16s, and now the engineers and designers were really starting to get creative. The elf caught his train of thought and hopped back on the metaphorical locomotive, the laugh fading out. He picked up his pencil and returned to work.

His task was writing a letter to go along with the company clerk's requisition form - now there was proof that war did indeed change! Forget the fact that there had been a global war going on for over three decades, Corrilas was doing paperwork, and made the world a scary place. He was a fighting man, for Phynaster's sake! But the new captain they were expecting had yet to arrive, and Cor was put in the position temporarily for his tenure in the service and the experience that came with it. Did the brass forget to put the flag up on their box to get us our mail-order Cap? By the gods, if we get some officer school-fresh little career man... If that happens, either there's going to be trouble, or he's going to learn FAST. Cor finished his letter and looked up; through the windows in the doors to his office, he saw the head of the company clerk, a Khajiit, pass by.

"Oy! Abiri!"

The cat-man poked his head into the room. "Sir?"

"Don't call me sir, first of all, you never called me sir before- Call me Cor. Okay?"

"I'm sorry, of course. What do you need?"

"Get on the horn with Sargeant Leshaong and call him back here. Tell him his temporary Captain has a mission for him."

 

[Lady Redpool the Unlifer]

Dareth Leshaong was in the second or third happiest place he'd ever been: neck deep in grease and oil working on The Chopper. He'd been up for nearly fifty hours now, putting in the time and loving care that kept his baby up and running. "Never mind that there are other mechanics around," he muttered to himself, "or that none of the other pilots worked on their vehicles. I'M the ONLY one allowed to work on Chopper. Besides that he would have shot a mechanic if they had tried to help." The thought put a smile on his face as he stuck his upper body into the rotor bell housing.

It didn't last long though. From down below a voice shouted, "Sargeant Leshaong! The temporary commander has a mission for you!" Cursing loudly as he jumped in surprise and slammed his head into a gear, he pulled himself up and jumped down from the platform. Looking at the Khajiit with a look of anger while he felt only mild annoyance, he snapped his shotgun up from his tool bench, smiled at the as the khajiit took a step back, and slung it across his shoulder. "Giving orders now is he? Love how quickly he adapted to his role. I always thought he was too uptight for an enlisted man." Chuckling to himself he walked across the tarmac, stopping briefly to swap a mechanics grease can for one filled with fuel, and strolled up to the mobile command office whistling a merry tune.

Showing about as little real respect as he could, he opened the door and shouted loudly, "Where am I goin', and who do I get to kill!" He looked the high elf in the eye, saluted him and asked again, "Well Commander, what's this mission you've got planned for me?"

 

[The OP3RaT0R]

"Where am I goin', and who do I get to kill!" Cor looked up from his letter at the sound of Sergeant Leshaong's booming exclamation, saying nothing. Good gods. "Well Commander, what's this mission you've got planned for me?" Dareth's salute reeked of insolence.

"I didn't choose this position, Dareth. Aside from all the damn paperwork, guys like you are the reason why I'm glad I never signed up as an officer. Anyway," the Altmer said, standing from his chair, sealing the letter in an envelope, and beginning to walk towards the exit from the office. "Because you're so eager to take orders from me, you'll want to get right on this; command can't seem to get around to sending us our Captain, so you're going to fly down to Cyrodiil HQ and procure us one." Cor smiled mischeviously.

"They've been taking lots of guys on tours in the rear, seeing as they're overflowing with empty field command positions, and I think you could get us one of those nice fresh officers. Pick out the best one you can who will go willingly and let us know ahead of time, give Corporal Abiri some time to doctor up paperwork making it look like our 'recruit' was set to take a little tour here, and when you get back we'll let the brass know that circumstances beyond our control thrust the lucky officer into a position of command at which he proved excellent. It's a bit of work, but I can guarantee that it'll turn out better than if we were to just wait around for the brass to send us someone."

 

[Tiaz Raydari]

Myron walked into the commander's office, "Sir, General Adams sent us a mission," He said while holding a salute.
The commander looked at Myron,"At ease Myron, I've been briefed on the mission and some other things I wish to discuss with you. Soon this base will be under your command Myron, the orders came this morning."
"Why me, might I ask?" Myron looked at him with a half puzzled look on his face.
"Well you're next in line for one, and I've leaving this base. I've been promoted and Control wants me over there, I'm leaving in a week. Also I'm sure you're aware that general Adams is coming over for a visit with his friend, General Goldman."
Myron's brows furrowed and his speech grew wary, "My Father! What does he want? I wonder why General Adams never told me about this... Congratulations on the promotion, you've earned it. Thank you sir, I need to go address my squad."
"Yes, you should go do that. Also I hope Mannerling won't give you any trouble anymore," The commander replied.
"Aw, I was starting to think she liked me! Hope you didn't frighten her or anything." Myron said.
The commander chuckled and returned to his work while Myron walked out over to his squad's barracks.

"Sergeant Anders, glad to see you here. Where's Gemain and Mannerling? I guess the rest are here though." Myron asked, standing in the doorway.
"Captain, I don't think I've seen Gemain since I sent him to your office. Mannerling, I don't know where she is either."
"Alright, I guess we can do this later. Mess hall or something? I need to get my mind off something" Myron looked at the sergeant.
"Lets just go to town, have one or two drinks and then come back?" The Sergeant suggested.
"Okay, but you're paying," Myron told him sternly.
"Sure thing, Captain," The sergeant replied, while walking to a nearby jeep and Myron followed.

 

[T. Rakinson]

'Jason...Jason...JASON!'
Uggghhhh...
As Jason pushed himself up off of his desk, his eyes were suddenly engulfed with a stinging cloud of smoke. He began wafting as much of it away as he could whilst wiping his watery eyes; not easy with only one arm. As the labratories blast-proof doors pushed open and his bodyguard Sonya came rushing into the room to help the young scientist scoured the room looking for source of all the smoke. Spotting his most recent 'experiment', which had a few licking tounges of flames flittering around it, he grabbed a bucket of sand resting in the corner and threw it over the flames. As the flames fluttered out Sonya grabbed him by the waist and pulled his almost-limp figure out of the room.
Jason's eyes still hurt from all the smoke, but as the stinging passed he opened his eyelids and stared at dirt-cacked ceiling that was Afa-Saryat's specialty. As he began to cough up any excess smoke still lying in his lungs, Sonya gave him a rough pat on the back that knocked the wind out of him. As his body resisted the urge to crumple from the blow Jason quickly spun around and put on an annoyed look.
'Did you pull me out of there so that you cou...'
Damn it, Jason thought to himself. Despite his constant arguments about the subject inside his head, He couldent help feeling attracted to the strong & yet sympathetic blonde Nord woman. Fortunately Sonya had never caught onto this fact; that or she choosed to ignore it. His social anxiety didnt exactly reinforce his burst of anger either.
Sonya seemed to have not heard the half-comment.
'What was going on in there?' she asked in a friendly and yet scolding tone. 'I dont suppose you've been working on those smoke grenades again?' she added in a now more sarcastic voice.
Jason gave her an get real look, There was no way he was going to work on that particular project again.
'Gadget prototype. Trying to make it so only I can operate it.' 'Self defence only' He added, as Sonya gave him a puzzled look while staring at the scorched walls in the lab.
'Well Dr. Crutor, I hope you never need to use such a contraption, it may harm yourself more than any potential threats'.
As if on cue a rolecall began. Jason jumped as the announcers voice began its echo throughout the underground corridor. He thought it was only 11pm.
As Sonya began walking back off to her bedroom to sleep, as if it was the end of her night shift, Jason asked her whether the alarm had gone off falsely.
'Forgive me Dr. Crutor, but you really need to be more attentive to your surroundings. Its 6am!'
Sonya gave him a friendly wink and started heading back to her dorm.

************************************************************************************

The mess hall seemed to open at the break of dawn, and it was empty until about 4AM when people started waking up. Jason didnt feel tired despite his 'night shift', but he decided to head back to his dorm to meet up with his friend and fellow scientist Byron.
Byron & his fiance, Jesselina, were just getting ready to leave the cramped dorm when Jason arrived. Technically it was just the two men who lived there, but Jes spent enough nights there doing goodness-knows-what with her partner that she'd moved most of her stuff in, which didnt increase the breathing space in what was basically a closet with beds. Jes gave Jason a quick wave before heading to the mess hall, but Byron had news for him.
'Got some info for you. Theres been a captured Presilium convoy near Vhosek base. There asking if you want to go and meet them. No again, I presume?'
'And end up with no arms at all?' Jason said with a gesture towards his amputated right appendage. He was not too big a fan of Afa-Saryat, but at least here he was safe here. No way was he going to do an optional appearence on the field.
'Ill give them the usual refusal if you want, but the NAC is trying to help you. Would it be so bad to just go out once? Rumours are starting to circulate that your some kind of vampire, what with you never seeing the sun any more'.
Jason wasnt sure why Byron was pressing him to go out on the field, he usually prefered Jasons view on polotics to Sergeant Dante drill-sergeant. Maybe so him & Jesselina had more room in the dormroom? He shuddered at what they might do if he left for a few days...
'Fine, tell Dante ill set off for Vhosek this afternoon. Maybe ill try asking him why he ditched the ideas of peace across Tamriel so easily. Yes, he & I have a LOT to talk about...'

 

[Delusional]

As Dante strolled through the waning forest, he heard the familiar sound of a motorbike, increasing in volume every second. The mounted division proposed by one of his lieutenants was quite the brilliant idea; the motorcycles always caught the enemy, whether they be Thalmor or Imperial, by surprise as they tore across the landscape, circling the incapacitated convoys, their riders hooting and shouting as they mowed down soldiers. Dante had little love for the riders; most of them were just street scum from the inner cities and concrete jungles of urbanized Cyrodiil.

"So, did we save the day? Put an end to tyranny and all that good pl*ps?"

Dante exhaled before looking over his shoulder. It was Caiden, one of the more experienced bikers who had taken part in the ambush. The NAC had picked him up off the streets, as was the case for an overwhelming majority of the riders of the mounted division, but he had exemplified above average skills in his first few operations, and almost rose up as a de facto squad leader, which Dante had no issue with. He chose not to assign ranks to his men so that natural leaders could rise up on their own without needing Dante's permissions or orders.

"We did what we needed to do. Can't say we saved any sort of day, because this is war, and days are never saved in wars." Dante took another drag of the cigarette as he continued to walk through the forest, Caiden trailing slowly beside him, the engine of his bike purring softly.

"Though, we did secure an unusually large quantity of presilium. Three whole shipments. Do you know how much of that pl*ps is in three Imperial shipments? Way too much for this convoy to pass as a standard convoy. This convoy was special, and we need to find out soon." Dante tossed the cigarette to the forest floor and snubbed it out with his combat boot before stopping and turning to face the rugged biker.

"You're quite the rider, kid." Dante paused, studying the young man. "I've been watching you. And I've noticed that you've sort of risen up as a leader of your small contingent of bikers."

"I was wondering if you would be up to a task. I've been planning something big, and it requires a small force of bikers. Do you think you could handle it? If you think you'd be game, we can discuss this further back at Afa-Saryat, but I need to know now if you can rise to the occasion." Dante looked at Caiden expectantly, hoping that the kid said yes. He needed a skilled rider for this operation.

 

[Mr.Self Destruct]

"We did what we needed to do. Can't say we saved any sort of day, because this is war, and days are never saved in wars."
Caiden nodded, letting out a sigh as he kept pace with Dante on his bike. He knew better than most the harsh reality of war, that once you set aside the false promises of glory and triumph on the battlefield you're left with the unsettling truth. Caiden respected Dante, he seemed like a convicted and honest man. But the truth was, Caiden really didn't have strong feelings for the cause, he worked with the NAC because he felt like he had a debt to repay to them. They had taken him in, and if it wasn't for the work of their doctors Caiden would be a dead man.

"Though, we did secure an unusually large quantity of presilium. Three whole shipments. Do you know how much of that pl*ps is in three Imperial shipments? Way too much for this convoy to pass as a standard convoy. This convoy was special, and we need to find out soon." After taking a final drag, Dante dropped what was left of his cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot.

"You're quite the rider, kid." Dante paused, studying the young man. "I've been watching you. And I've noticed that you've sort of risen up as a leader of your small contingent of bikers."
Caiden smirked, "Yeah, well..." Caiden glanced over at nothing in particular for a moment, before turning back to Dante, "Someone's gotta' keep them in check."

"I was wondering if you would be up to a task. I've been planning something big, and it requires a small force of bikers. Do you think you could handle it? If you think you'd be game, we can discuss this further back at Afa-Saryat, but I need to know now if you can rise to the occasion."

Caiden sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, you know it's funny you'd say that now. I appreciate what your people have done for me, saving my life and all... but this, this right here--" Caiden pointed downwards, making a general gesture towards the entire war and his involvement in it, "I don't know if I belong here, to tell you the truth."

"I owe you all, big time. I know that, and I've worked with you for a few months now. But I'm thinkin' of movin' on, boss. I'm a cold, rotten son of a bitch who should've died. I robbed banks, I killed innocent people, I'm a fatherless piece of pl*ps and I don't have a place here. To be honest, I hardly care who controls what, I don't know the first thing about presilium."

It was then that Caiden realized what he had just said, and the severity of his words.

"... Look, I'll do this for you. This last job you've got lined up, but once it's over, it's over. For me." Caiden raised an eyebrow, "How 'bout that?"

 

[Skyrimosity]

Thomas reported quickly to barracks 12b. Nothing but a collection of poorly made bunk beds with harsh looking pillows. Nothing comfortable-looking about them, certainly. Thomas instantly just got on top bunk of the nearest bed and laid his head on a pillow. A future of neck pain awaits.

"Hey you. You Myron's new boy? Yea, you are. I can tell. I can always tell. Give him a few rooks and he throws 'em away like casual garbage. The bastard". The voice came from nearby, but Thomas hadn't seen anyone when he entered the room. Thomas saw the very buff though small in stature Imperial now. "Names Tyne. Welcome to Oblivion, rook." The man smiled as he walked out the room.

Thomas just remained seated, keeping in mind that Myron had given him permission to relax. It had been a long drive and someone would probably get him if he needed something. He dozed silently to sleep.

 

[Delusional]

Dante was shocked with Caiden's reply. He did not show it on his face, as he was very capable of masking what little emotions he had, but Dante was speechless. Caiden showed so much promise as a leader and soldier, and it would be a blow to some of his future planned operations to lose such a capable fighter and leader.

"Hmph," Dante grunted, not quite knowing how to respond. "I'm not one to tell you what you can and can't do, so there's little I can do to stop you." The Redguard crossed his arms across his chest as he paused before continuing.

"However, I want you to know that what you're feeling right now, guilt, worthlessness, all that pl*ps about not belonging, that happens to most everyone here. We pick 'em up off the streets, and months later, they all start going on and on about how this coalition isn't where they belong." Dante looked straight into Caiden's eyes as he spoke in a quiet yet almost intimidating tone.

"And to be honest, very few of those who feel that guilt actually leave. This is your home, Caiden. Do you want to head back out to the streets? Rob a few more banks? Get thrown in jail a couple more times? Is that the life you really want?" It was true, very few of the street scum that end up in the Coalition leave to return to their street life. Most of them either realize that life on the streets is considerably more rough than the life of a soldier in the NAC, or they just like filling Imperials or Thalmor with lead so much they don't want to leave.

"Not everyone here in the Coalition gives two pl*pss about presilium, either. In all honesty, presilium is only half of the reason this coalition even exists. Most people are here to give the Imperials and Thalmor both a good ass-whooping, which I would agree is very necessary at this point." Dante paused. "You're not alone; I'll tell you that, Caiden. You're in the same boat as almost everyone here, and look what they chose."

Dante let his arms fall to his sides and turned away from the biker, beginning to pace around the forest floor. "You don't have to listen to a word I say, really. It's your life, and I'll let you choose whatever the hell you want to do with it." He paused again, turning back to Caiden and resting a hand on his shoulder. "But please, don't let this be your last mission with us." With that, Dante started back through the forest, heading back the way he had come. He needed to check up on the presilium unloading, and see if his lovely technician would grace the grizzled Redguard with his presence.