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Post by Masurao on Dec 30, 2005 11:24:48 GMT -5
((Darkblade, may I suggest only one sig for your use? Three is more than enough, especially when two of them are of considerable size.))
Gat had seen Huks before, but they were wearing more armor, moving insanely fast, and at night. So, to put it accurately, Gat had caught a glimpse of Huks, but not seen them like this. The holocron proved to be an unfriendly reminder of what she was going to be up against. Angular and segmented, hostile and vile. All abomination and no mercy. And she was supposed to kill these things? The very idea seemed laughable. There was no way she was going to get a decent shot against these creatures. And the weapons they were issued wasn’t much to reassure Gat’s worries. They were heavier than she had imagined, much heavier, and while the rest of the soldiers could easily handle them with one arm, Gat was having trouble keeping the rifle steady with both. More than once she had to rest it on the ground, only to be chastised by the elder soldier next to her.
“Pick that up.” He hissed. “Do not disrespect your weapon like that. That’s going to save your rear end. The only time your weapon touches the ground is when you’re dead. Got it?”
“But it’s heavy…”
The soldier picked up the rifle with ease and handed it back to Gat. “I don’t care if it’s heavy. You keep it off the ground until your arms dislocate from their sockets. Didn’t you father ever teach you how to handle a rifle properly?”
Acdhe’s father had taught his sons how to handle a weapon, not his daughters. While her brothers were off practicing their shooting skills with their father, she had to stay behind and do chores with the rest of the women and young children.
Gat shook her head.
The soldier sighed. “Well, good thing you’re young. You’ll learn quicker. Just wait after this training session is over. The Huks are about a day and a half or so away and I still need to show you your rounds and feed in the belts. But for now…” He picked up his weapon in a military stance almost automatically. “Rifles! No matter what other kind of job you have here, you have to know how to shoot one of these things. It’s ground base. Take me for example. I’m usually handling the turret guns, but I always have a rifle nearby in case anything happens. Basically, the most important thing you need to know about any weapon is this: Point this end at the enemy. The second most important thing? Don’t die. If can manage those two, the rest is easy. Try not to get wounded either. It kinda puts a kink in plans. Now, see those targets up there? I want you shoot one of them as best you can.”
“Seriously?”
The soldier aimed the end of his rifle at Gat’s head. “You want me to begin the shooting then? They may be pelles, but they still hurt like hell.”
Gat readied herself in a stance she knew for it to be gravely flawed in many aspects. Mimicking at how other soldier’s did it clearly wasn’t enough to hide her obvious lack of experience. She aimed her rifle in a way she prayed was enough to make a good shot and have the soldier off her back…or at least his rifle away from her head. The target was in sight. She pulled the trigger…
And found herself on her back, pain throbbing into her shoulder with every beat of her heart. There seemed to be no air in her lungs and she was left there on the ground, stupefied, staring into the air like a fish out of water.
“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, you being inexperienced and all, that the rifles kick like an ollabac on crack. I guess if you’re not ready it can take you by surprise. By the way, you only grazed the upper right corner of the target. Get back up and let me see your stance again.”
He had to be joking.
Gat got up, her legs wobbly like a newborn prey animal, and got into position again. Her shoulder screamed in protest and her entire body quivered, knowing what to expect from the rifle, but far from wanting to experience it again. The soldier observed Gat then kneeled down next to her and adjusted the elbow slightly.
“You elbow is too high,” he said. “Don’t lift your trigger hand to compensate, drop your bracing arm.”
He stepped away. “Are you sighted in?”
Gat nodded. “I think so…”
“Alright, now breathe in deep…Good. Now let it out and hold it, then squeeze…”
The crack of the rifle resounded in her head like a pounding echo, and though she did not manage to stay on her feet this time either, her shoulder was so numb from the first attempt that she did not feel much from the second try. Still, it hurt. Gat gathered her breath once more, looked at the target, and smiled. The target now had a nice dent…right in the middle of it.
“I did it.” Gat said, wonderingly. It was both amazing and terrifying to know that she had done that.
“Good job. Much better, heh?” The solder said.
“It’s so…easy.”
“Well it has to be. If it wasn’t easy, soldiers would find some way to mess it up.”
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Post by The General on Jan 4, 2006 19:38:22 GMT -5
Grievous watched the troops fire at the targets, unholstering his own Blaster Pistol to clean it as they did so. The suns blazed down on them, baking the sands and making the rifles damn near impossible to hold if it weren't for the bandage like wrappings around each of the soldiers hands. A scout soon came running in, bringing Grievous the daily report and yet this time the look on his face was a smile. Something good to report? Grievous opened the paper he clutched in his hand a small grin appearing. So, good news did come every now and then.
After an hour or so of shooting and learning how to load, reload, and care for the weapon Grievous stood, placing the pistol back in it's place. They were tired, beaten, and worn. Good.
"Attention!" Grievous barked, and almost immediately every troop fell silent and stopped moving, save for a few of the new recruits who were just getting the hang of being ordered around. "Now," He continued, his voice turning back to normal. "If you'll look to the back of the arena, you'll notice a post. On top of that post, happens to be a Huk Skull. One of you is to climb up there and grab the skull, and bring it to me."
A few of the younger troops laughed at such an easy task, but the veterans knew better. They shifted uneasily, rubbing their already sore muscles, hefting their rifles to better distribute the weight. "How about you?" He spoke out finally, pointing a finger at the young troop he had shot before. "Do you think you can do it?"
The solder through a cocky grin. "Of course I could," He boasted, and Grievous merely smirked beneath the mask.
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah, really."
"Very well," Grievous commented. "But, seeing as you're oh so confidant, I'm going to raise the stakes."
Now the young soldier didn't look too confidant. He may not have been the brightest of the group, but he wasn't totally stupid, even he knew Grievous had something he hadn't mentioned....and there was no backing down now.
"If you can't do it on the first try....then everyone, and I mean everyone will be doing some physical fitness training...my way." Grievous finished.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"But wait, that doesn't make any sense." The soldier said slowly. "The Huk are only a day or two away, how can we fit training like that in?"
Grievous had waited for that. "We can," Grievous began. "Because we are no longer the foremost army attacking the Huk. High General Nakal was waiting in ambush along the Karnack Mountains where he took the Huk by surprise...we only know now because he wanted to make sure the Huk would be taken fully by surprise and wouldn't catch word of such a move."
"Nakal...? Isn't that.....?"
"Yes. That is my father." Grievous replied with a nod. "We'll be going to assisst him in two weeks....and you will be ready by then I assure you. What does that mean? Simple, you will train everyday from Sunrise to Sunset until I think you are ready. One day to rest a week, that is all."
The soldiers mouth dropped, most of the young ones did. The Veterans merely shrugged, they knew Grievous' methods and although they were harsh and brutal, they worked. "You better start climbing, shouldn't you, if you want the rest of the day off and we can just start tomorrow." Grievous said, slightly amused.
The Soldier turned to climb, but Grievous stopped him with a grunt underneath his breath. "I think you're forgetting something."
"Oh, and what is that?" The soldier replied irritabley, his jaw clenched.
"The rifles of everyone in your squadron, of course."
"What?" He replied in disbelief.
"You heard me," Grievous said amiably, collecting the rifles from his squad mates and slinging them over the soldier's shoulder. He had to refrain from laughing as the Kid nearly buckled beneath the weight. "Well? Start climbing."
Grudgingly the troop started to climb, gripping the pole and working his way up. Only a few feet off the ground, he began to slip, his talons digging into the wood to prevent himself from falling....but it was to no avail. In a heavy thud he crashed to the ground, tangled up in the rifles. A shot was heard as one went off, pelting him right in the gut, a laugh rising from Grievous as the Trooper winced, clutching his stomach.
"And that," He said, still chuckling. "Is why we make sure the safety is on." He backed away, clasping his hands together. "I'll see you all in an hour for the real training....oh, and no one gets access to the bath house until I get that skull. Have fun."
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Post by Redeemer on Jan 5, 2006 17:21:08 GMT -5
Nalio grins under his Mask as he sees the task before the new men. He walks up behind the General and puts his hand on his shoulder, "Could i have a word?" As they walked over to the side Nalio said, "Sir, i agree with the training and noow that we have more time i would like to get that Melee training in on some of the last days. It is up to you but i think it is of ut most importance we all be ready for when the town is swarmed." Nalio looked to his right, a fine chair was there, brought out from the shop for higher officers. Taking a seat he waited.
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Post by Masurao on Jan 6, 2006 14:41:10 GMT -5
The young soldier that had failed to climb the pole still clutched his wounded abdomen, angrily tossing his squad mates’ rifled unceremoniously off his back. His frustration was partially due to the pain, and the other was because of the embarrassment at failing the general’s challenge in front of his peers. That frustration and disappointment naturally turned into anger. Gat was just thankful that she had been overlooked and not been picked for the challenge. She wouldn’t have been able to hold the weight of so many rifles, much less climb up the pole with them.
Gat hadn’t even noticed the other soldier – the “ammunition-boy recruiter”- until he talked.
“Let me guess, you forgot to put the safety on your rifle.”
That gun was familiar…
Gat sighed. “…Yes.”
The soldier patted Gat’s back – Gat tensed, wondering if the solider would feel the bandages wrapped around her torso – and said, “One thing at a time for you, heh? Your aim is pretty good, but you obviously need to work on maintenance and safety. Replace those pellets with actual ammo and there could be big trouble. For you, that is…”
Gat relaxed. He hadn’t noticed.
“I-I’ll remember next time.” She said. At least she’ll try to remember, no promises could be made. “Is the general serious about the pole challenge? It’s rather unorthodox, but being neglected of baths until he gets the skull? He has to be joking.”
The soldier chuckled. “I wish. He gets a weird kick out of pulling stunts like this. Odd challenges that require more intelligence than strength. I can understand, I’d rather fight alongside troops that are a bit smarter than the enemy fighting them. Grievous will continuously test a soldier’s brain and muscle until exhaustion if given the chance. That’s why there’s a silent objective amongst us soldiers…”
The soldier picked up his own rifle and slung it over his shoulder, then handed Gat her own weapon.
“What’s that objective?” Gat asked, her curiosity roused.
“Don’t give him that chance. Try to be one step ahead of him, or at least keep up his pace. It’s one of the few things you can do to survive here. I had no doubt he was going to choose a new recruit for the challenge, he usually does, so when he states the consequences of failing, there was no way of avoiding it. So here I thought we were going to have at most one full day of training before the Huks came and now that general Nakal is up on the front we can enjoy at least one week of intense training before somebody figures out the pole challenge. Great.”
“Karnack Mountains…” Gat muttered to herself.
“You ok, kid? Your face just paled a bit.”
“I-I’m fine…”
Which couldn’t be farther from the truth. The Karnack Mountains. She knew the location of those mountains, heck she could walk to them were she back at the camp, just a few miles east. If you can pass the sea of dunes, eventually one would come up to the jagged peaks. Soldiers would come and go to the camp, some for a few hours, others for days, to find company with the locals; particularly of the female kind. None were related to the other by marriage. None cared. The refugees did not know were the soldiers came from and the soldiers were careful to keep silent about that, but when liquor was passed around freely amongst them words that should not have been uttered were spilt as often as the content from their cups. Karnack was a name that was favored amongst the soldiers, at least when they complained.
The raid. The Huks. The soldiers that did nothing and the general that held them back.
All for the sake of keeping their location a secret.
The Huks’ raid on the camp had not been random. They weren’t trying to demoralize the Kaleesh nor to destroy whatever came in the way, but to lure Nakal’s army out of their hiding place. It was strategy, for both the soldiers and the Huks.
Gat looked at the general as he conversed with another officer, and was willing to bet he had no idea what his father had to sacrifice in order for his ambush to be a sucess. No idea...
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Post by The General on Jan 8, 2006 18:58:45 GMT -5
"Melee training? Nalio, we only have two weeks, at best, it takes months to get the hang of a blade, and can take years to perfect it in time for an actual war." Grievous replied, slightly annoyed. "I hardly have enough time to train these fresh out of the basket pups how to shoot let alone enter in a sword fight."
He turned his head slightly, watching the young soldiers, along with a few veterans attempt to climb the pole and retrieve the skull. He shook his head as time after time they crashed to the ground in a similar manner that the first soldier had. "As you can see, Nalio, melee training is out of the question. It's going to be hard enough as it is just to finish off these next two weeks. Luckily most of them are already in good condition, I just need to teach them how to focus that and use it in battle."
As Nalio nodded and went about his own business, Grievous leaned against a worn down building across from the training grounds. He watched the Troops rest, stretch, continue to go after the skull, and even a few attempted to head towards the bath house, only to find it guarded. Grievous grinned, looking into the afternoon sky, his arms folded across his chest. Things were going favorably for him. Not only did was he going to be hard on them today, but the suns were beating unmercilessly down, heating up the sand like an oven.
A good idea for training their concentration and physical body came to him, and on a second thought, it was rather cruel....
* * *
An hour passed and their time was up. Grievous walked over to them, dressed differently than usual. Instead of his typical attire, he wore thin, baggier pants, no shirt, and was even missing the bandages that were usually wrapped around his hands. "Attention!" He roared above the hustle and bustle of the troops, and had to refrain a smile as one of the soldiers crashed to the ground from the pole as he turned to face Grievous.
"Your hour is up," Grievous began slowly, looking them over. "I hope you used it wisely, because until the last of those suns is out of sight, we do not stop training. Then you get to have the pleasure of walking back to camp."
A slight groan began to rise, but Grievous quickly silenced it with an icy glare.
"During this training, most of you will come to hate me. I understand that. But perhaps once you get on the battlefield and you realize that most of this will in fact save your lives." He continued, noting that this time there was no reaction from the crowd, and he was slightly glad that he didn't have to deal with the moans and groans of the lazy few. “Now,” He continued, looking over the group. “Follow me, your first exercise routine is about to begin.”
• * *
Where Grievous lead them next was surprising. A beautiful Oasis was located just outside of the City, and a rather large one at that. Pushing through the foliage, Grievous stopped in front of a winding river the encircled the Oasis, the speed of the Water surprising, and looking particularly dangerous. Grievous turned around to face the troops, a delighted glint in his eye.
“I’m sure most of you are considering jumping in,” Grievous said slowly. “But allow me to explain the nature of this challenge.” He walked over to the Waters edge, pointing at a small bridge that led to a series of wooden posts that gradually sank into the current, becoming slick and treacherous to try and hold one’s balance. “All of us will cross these pillars, even the ones submerged, until we reach the rising ones on the other side.”
“What does that have to do with jumping in, Sir?”
“I was getting to that.” Grievous replied calmly. “The reason why this water runs so fast is because it’s connected to our filter which continuously sucks the water in, supplying our water tower, bath houses, etc.” Grievous kneeled down, picking up a large, fan like leaf off of the ground. He dropped it into the water and instantly, what would have usually floated, was sucked down, disappearing from sight. “If you fall in, that will happen to you.”
“You mean…we could die?”
“I doubt it. You’re slightly tougher than a leaf, but it still wouldn’t be a pleasant ride to the filter, especially when you started hitting rocks.” Grievous replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Besides, if I saw you were in too much trouble I would dive down in after you. I’m used to this current; I can handle it just fine as long as Grayscale doesn’t give me any trouble.”
“Grayscale…?”
Grievous nodded at the speaker. “A rather large fish with a big, razor filled mouth, and an attitude to match. He lives in a small, placid bank on the far side, but he can handle the current just fine. We’ve tried to remove him before…it didn’t work out so well, so we built the filter instead, to keep him and what ever else he leaves behind out of our water.”
Grievous hid a smile as a few of the new recruits visibly blanched. “Well,” He said, walking towards the bridge. “Come on then, we haven’t got all day.” As he approached the end of the bridge he nimbly leapt from one post to the next, balancing with ease on the slick tops without a problem. As he neared the ones delved beneath the current, some 20 posts later he turned around, gesturing for the others follow him. “Be careful when you reach the underwater posts, take extra care on them, as the current may knock you off your feet.
Four other identical rows of posts were visible now, and slowly the troops began to file onto those as well, until not one of them was left on the bridge. “The point of this exercise is not only to increase your leg muscles, due to the fact that you have to jump, and hold your position, but it is also to increase your concentration. That in itself is the key to this endeavor.”
“You must keep focus on posts, time your jumps perfectly, and stay calm.” He added, noting the ragged quick breaths of some of the new troops. It occurred to him at that moment that it was indeed plausible that not all of them knew how to swim. Not everyone grew up near water, though most did, to some it was even scarce to see and this might perhaps be the most any of them had ever seen. A minor technicality, as long as he was here, nothing should go wrong. Hopefully.
Grievous jumped to the first submerged post, a the others in the front line of posts did so as well, one of them crashing into the water with a splash as they slipped from the post and into the murky depths. Grievous sure hoped that the trooper could swim…
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Post by Masurao on Jan 10, 2006 14:23:36 GMT -5
The rifles and target practice had been troublesome but reasonable. The pole challenge with the Huk skull at the top, teasing the soldiers below, was a bit unorthodox. But jumping onto slick poles over powerful water currents as an exercise? The general had to be mad. Denkas – Gat’s senior adjutant – had said before that Grievous enjoyed odd exercises to sharpen his soldiers’ wits and brawn, but this was ridiculous! As beautiful as the oasis was, Gat was in no mood – and could not call on enough courage – to complete the exercise. The oasis was inviting as a place to relax and rest, but the yelps of the soldiers as one by one they lost their footing and fell into the water with an audible splash distracted the otherwise more fitting scenery of calm. Most of the soldiers did not seem greatly affected by the current and were trained enough in the art of swimming, by either their fathers or officers, to fight against the water and return to shore. Those who were not as experienced were cautiously overlooked by their training partners and peers, intervening only when it appeared that the trooper was having more trouble than was considered reasonable.
Eventually it was Gat’s turn to brave the challenge, yet Gat was felling anything but brave. Her shoulder was sore and in pain from the kick of the rifle, echoing with every beat of her overworked heart. The heat was unbearable. She was tired and irritable, and certainly in no mood to undertake any foolish tests. In fact, she didn’t even have to do his. Well, if she were Acdhe that is…But she was Gat right now, Gat the soldier, and Gat had an exercise to complete that will more than likely fail.
Stupid exercise.
“What are you waiting for?” said an impatient Denkas right behind Gat. “You’re not scared of the water, are you?”
Got shook her head, keeping her sight on the poles in front of her. “Well, I haven’t been near a large body of water for years, at least this is the biggest body of water I’ve seen in years, and I wasn’t much of a swimmer…”
“Don’t fret about it. Just do your best and if you fall, then you fall. Some of us are actually falling down on purpose just to cool down a little. Well, at least the ones that know how to swim well are falling on purpose. I’m not sure about the rest… Listen, you get in trouble and we’ll fish you out.”
The problem was that Gat didn’t even want to fall in the first place.
The stress of the rest of the soldiers pressuring Gat to move on eventually became too great and Gat only had one moment to collect her thoughts, gather her courage, take a deep breath, jump…
And miss.
The pole would have been a fair distance for an experienced man and his longer legs, but Gat, being naturally shorter than her male counterparts and far less experienced, did not judge the distance well, nor the amount of power it would take to safely reach the pole, and missed the target with space to spare. Gat felt the water hit her back and then she was completely submerged under it. She didn’t even have time to scream on the way down nor could she open her mouth to do it now. Though Denkas was right and the water was cool, Gat did not jump in for that reason and had no plans to stay and fool around, but no matter how much she flailed her arms about or kicked her legs to reach the surface there seemed to be an invisible force than dragged Gat down and away. The current, it was stronger than Gat had believed, but then again all of her expectations so far were worse than she had originally thought of them. A large, dark something dashed by the corner of her eye, but Gat was too busy trying not to drown to notice. Gat thought the rest of the soldiers would be checking on her soon, but there seemed to be no attempt to do so right now. How long did they believe she could last under water?
The current smashed Gat against some small boulders and a few of the stones loosened, causing them to fall and trap some of Gat’s clothing in between them. She tried to free herself from the boulders but she could not generate enough strength under water to do so. There was a slight pang in her lungs and fewer bubbles were emerging from her mouth. The large, dark something dashed by again, and this time Gat noticed...
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Post by Redeemer on Jan 10, 2006 16:24:08 GMT -5
Ill Post later, just wanted to let you know im here
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Post by The General on Jan 10, 2006 19:02:35 GMT -5
Perhaps it was just instinct, or perhaps it was the fact that Grievous saw the flashing movement soon after Gat fell in that caused Grievous to dive in the water only a few mere seconds after the soldier had fallen in, but either way it was too late to take back the jump.
Cool, refreshing water surrounded him as he dived foreward, dissapearing beneath the depths, partially from the power behind his dive, the other part from the swirling current that dragged him down. Instantly he searched for Gat, ignoring the burning sensation in his eyes from the water pushing against them.
He noticed a figure struggling to rise several feet down and let go of the rock pillar he had grabbed hold of, dropping down to his level. Placing a hand on Gat's shoulder, he let him know that everything would be alright, but that he needed to stop struggling. If he was right about the movement he had seen earlier, struggling would only make matters worse.
Slowly he drew a blade from his waist and slashed through the snagged bit of clothing, and pulled him up, swimming towards the light.
But it was too late.
With a snarl Grievous pushed Gat upwards and into a rock, hoping that he would catch the idea and grab a hold of it and pull himself out of the current. No sooner had he done so, Grayscale hit, his large mouth biting into Grievous' midsection. Blood flowered into the water, rising to the bubbling surface, and Grievous' eyes widened with shock as pain swept through his entire body.
Grievous hadn't been lieing when he said the large Fish had an attitude. Nearly Fifteen feet long, Grayscale was a beast of an Animal, and certainly not something to be triffled with. Native to one of the many moons of Yavin, he was not even supposed be here, but was originally an attraction at the Citiy Zoo...when the Huk attacked and the gate shattered, Grayscale was sucked through his own filter and out into the Oasis. He had no intention of going back, nor would his animal instinct allow intruders in his territory.
Grievous, however, was not quite ready to die yet either. He drew back his fist, ignoring the pain that continued to wash through his body, and slammed it right into the large, round eye of the creature. An odd, serpent like hiss eminated from Grayscale and he let Grievous go, writhing in pain. He regained his senses, slowly focusing in on the figure swimming towards the surface, and shot off in pursuit.
Grievous surfaced, taking in a massive breath. He was relieved to see Gat safe and sound on the rock outcropping, but was not so lucky himself. Nearly as soon as he took the breath, he was dragged back under, Grayscale locked firmly on his ankle. Grievous let out a howl of pain underwater as he felt teeth connect with bone and fumbled around his belt, drawing the blaster pistol and aiming.
A fire erupted from the muzzle, but Grayscale merely paused, unharmed. Suddenly a small rock smacked him firmly on his thick skull, and he released Grievous, diving to the left to avoid a multitude of larger rocks as they smashed down, trapping Grayscale inside a small tunnel. Most would have sighed in relief...but Grievous knew better.
He instantly tore for the surface, grabbing the nearest rock and dragging himself up onto it's hard, craggy surface. His chest heaved from exhertion, his body soaked in his own blood. Several cheers at his arrival quickly turned to gasps as they noticed the large teeth marks that etched his sides like he had been cut with a work saw.
He propped himself up against the rock behind him, glancing at the silent troops, looking directly at Gat. Nodding in fatigue, he coughed slightly before clearing his throat to speak. "I...I think," He began, his words ragged and breathless. "I think that is enough for today...I'll see you all in the morning." And with that Grievous closed his eyes, fading out into darkness.
* * *
A burning sensation in his right arm woke Grievous with a start. He jolted up, but soon wish he hadn't. He winced as Majew, the main Medic in the entire city slowly removed the needle from Grievous' vein, shaking his head slowly.
"Well now that wasn't too intelligent, now was it, General?" He stated, pushing Grievous back down slowly.
"Apparently not," He replied dryly, shifting uncomfortably. "How long have I been out of it?"
"Oh, only about seven hours," He stated, waving his hand nonchalantly. "As deep as those wounds are, and as beaten as you were I figured you'd be out a lot longer than that. But then again, you are the General, he who fights large, voracious fish in his spare time."
Grievous rolled his eyes like a young child, dismissing Majew's sarcasm with a wave of his hand. "It was all with good intentions, it's not like I meant to get mauled by a fish." He grunted.
"The Road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions."
"Oh shut it," Grievous dredged out sourly.
Majew merely sniffed a reply as he went about his business muttering to himself. "Oh and by the way, you have a visitor," He stated as he placed several books on his shelf. "I'll go get him now. For all I know, you have several, not that I care. These days my private quarters are filled with wounded men and now people have decided to come visit them, when they should be sleeping...."
Grievous rolled his eyes, blocking Majew out. He laughed inwardly, Majew certainly did remind him of an old housewife...
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Post by Masurao on Jan 12, 2006 8:46:13 GMT -5
The exercise had stopped as soon as the general dived into the water with soldiers crowding alongside the shore, jockeying for a better spot, to see if they could catch a glimpse of what was happening below the surface. Some were excited at the prospect; others had a right to worry.
“Do you see them?” Denkas screamed at another soldier as he frantically scanned the water’s surface. “Gat fell around here… Wiebke is going to kill me if he finds out I lost our ammunition-boy already!”
“Then quit complaining and start looking!” The other soldier responded. “You’re not doing anyone any good by yelling!”
“What else do you want me to do? I’m not exactly going to jump in there with that scaled beast prowling around! I thought it would be on the other side of the oasis at this time, it doesn’t usually come out into the open at midday! Oh damn!”
“Well you guessed wrong! All the splashing must have gotten its attention and that boy is probably the right size for an appetizer!”
“Don’t say that!” Denkas hissed. “I feel guilty enough as it is! Wiebke is going to kill me!”
“Will you shut up? It’s not – LOOK!”
The water surface broke and Gat emerged, holding onto a nearby rock pillar for life itself. Soldiers rushed to help the young trooper out of the water and back onto shore. One of the soldiers held Gat up while another patted her back until she started coughing up water. It was not the same nauseating feeling as vomiting from the stomach, but emptying the contents of one’s lungs was just as unpleasant, if not slightly harder to accomplish. Gat coughed hoarsely and soon enough her throat became sore and raw, every breath an exercise in pain. She wanted to cry, and her eyes already swelled a bit with tears, but the experience had been too frightening, the only thing she could do was be silent and tremble. Oddly enough, just now she could feel every single pair of eyes focused on her and a horrid wave of self-consciousness would not allow her to cry in front of other soldiers.
The more experienced soldiers yelled out instructions to the rest of the troopers, mainly to get Gat away from shore and to call a medic. Gat wanted to say that she wasn’t hurt, that it was not necessary, but feared that if she opened her mouth she would begin to cry. Soon another wave of gasps and yells erupted from the soldiers as the general emerged from the water and – judging from the sounds of worry the soldiers made – was greatly injured. By the time Gat dared to raise her eyes to see what was happening the general had already passed out. For a second they all feared he was dead, if not at least dying, but almost the very second after they all sprung into action and carefully wrapped their officer’s wounds with their own bandages and carefully carried him as fast as they could to the medical center. Denkas and a few others remained behind with Gat.
Denkas patted Gat’s back, as if encouraging more coughing from her. “You ok?” he said with worry in his tone.
Gat nodded.
“Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the infirmary?” Denkas asked.
And let the medics get a chance to find out certain things about the young soldier’s anatomy that they shouldn’t?
Gat shook her head.
“Look, whatever happened back there, don’t tell Wiebke. If you do, or somehow he finds out about this, just tell him that I rescued you or something. I don’t think I would survive an encounter with him if I were to tell him he had to take the ammunition-boy job again.”
Nice to know what his priorities were. Never mind that the young soldier in his care nearly drowned because of his negligence, just as long as he didn’t get in trouble with Wiebke.
***
“What are you doing here?” said a gruff but familiar voice.
Gat was snapped out of her thoughts to look up to the old medic that she had met a few days before, when she had first arrived in the city with the children, but now she appeared before him with damp clothes and a few extra bruises. The medic didn’t seem to recognize the young soldier’s face, but if he did then he was really good at keeping it subtle and going past formalities, straight to the point.
Gat almost wished the medic had some sort of mental telepathy so she wouldn’t have to talk. “I heard the general was here…” she said.
“He should be sleeping,” he started, and that was enough to discourage Gat, until he said, “He should, but it doesn’t look like he’ll be getting any sleep with all of you popping in to see him every other moment.”
“Oh…I-I’ll come by at a later time if that’s more convenient then…” Gat said taking a step back.
“Nah, you aren’t the first and you’re definitely not going to be the last. Go ahead, if he gets irritable from lack of rest then that’s going to be his problem not mine. I’ve already patched him up. I’m a medic, not a damn babysitter. He’s in the back.” The medic pointed towards the end of the building.
Gat thanked the medic – Majew, if she remembered correctly – with a light bow of her head and slowly made her way inside the darkened building, not sure why she was here in the first place but with a pretty good idea. While Denkas was trying to convince Wiebke that the accident had been just that, an accident, and not his fault, Gat felt guilty over the wounds her rescuer received because of her fault and wanted to make sure that he was ok. If he were to be greatly injured, Gat would feel horrible for the rest of her days. This was the least she could do.
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Post by The General on Feb 11, 2006 3:55:00 GMT -5
The small trickle of light that filtered through the tent danced over the reddish brown skin of General Grievous as he stood from his cot, removing the bandages that covered his chest to reveal the deep gashes that the damned fish had made with it's teeth. The good thing was they had more or less scabbed over and started to heal, and the other good thing was that they hadn't been infected. If he hadn't been so lucky, and they had gotten infected, well, that would have been a serious pain in the ass.
Flexing slightly he tensed and relaxed the corded muscles on his chest, making sure the cuts wouldn't break open and bleed again, making sure that they could adjust to his body movements without a problem of difficulty in the way he moved. A small sound from behind him caught his attention, and slowly Grievous turned, facing Gat who now stood in his room.
"Ah, it's you," Grievous commented slowly, rotating his arm lightly to get the stiffness out of it and work some blood back around his body. "I take it you never learned how to swim? It's a skill you'll have to be taught I suppose. I cannot expect everyone to have been fortunate enough to grow up near a water source."
Grievous bent backwards, his spine popping several times before he was satisfied that the kinks were all gone and he could move without his back aching once more. The headache was still as sure as hell there, though. "Listen, Gat," Grievous said, moving around the bed. "I don't know where you're from, really I don't. I don't know why you're here, and I don't understand either. Your father obviously never taught you how to fight, or anything along those lines."
"I cannot have a Soldier in my ranks who is liable to get their squadmates killed..." Grievous glanced out the tent frame, straight at the Huk skull that sat perched upon the post, and sighed. He had been out for hours, and that skull still sat proudly where everyone could see. He turned back to Gat and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "What I'm trying to say, is that if you don't shape up soon, I'm going to have to send you home on an Ollabac. I'm sorry."
Without another word, Grievous walked past, headed towards his personal tent, limping slightly as he walked. He was tired, beaten, and exhausted. All he wanted right now was the sweet embrace of his own cot...
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Post by Masurao on Feb 12, 2006 13:05:09 GMT -5
“I-I understand, general…” Gat responded to no one in particular; the general had already left the small lodge leaving the ashamed and fearful young soldier to stare at the ground like a child after being lectured of a wrongdoing. The bandages around her chest suddenly seemed too tight for comfort, her lungs ached for release of a built-in pressure, the same pressure shared in her eyes but in the form of tears. Gat wanted to scold herself for wanting to cry a second time in one day, believing it was a sign of weakness. Soldiers did not cry.
But I’m not a soldier…I’m not even a man…
Even so, she wouldn’t be caught crying out in the open. So Gat left the cot for the welcoming seclusion of the darkened shades of an embankment nearby. Her thoughts ran a thousand paces a minute. What would happen to the children if she were to lose this occupation already? Good chance they would still be allowed in Cavecove, but without a steady income to support them they would have been in trouble really fast. All because of her fault.
“Oh, so that was you,” said a most unwelcomed voice.
Gat had heard him coming, but was unable to erase the evidence off her face fast enough before he appeared out of the corner of her eye. It was the soldier of before; the one that should have been taking care of her during the exercises but almost let her drown. The same one that wanted to be his turret gun’s ammunition-boy. The one that now had the damn nerve to intrude on Gat’s personal affairs. He was the last person she wanted to see. Sure, he had helped her improving her shooting stance that one time, but at the same time made her look like a damn fool in front of everyone else.
Gat narrowed her eyes, wiping the last trace of tears with her hand. “What do you want?” She hissed, taking in a sharp breath.
The soldier didn’t seem deterred at Gat’s anger, merely amused. “I want you to stop crying like a woman, grow a good pair of testicles between your legs, and get off your rear end because you have to learn your rounds for my gun now.”
The nerve!
“I’m not doing a damn thing for you!” Gat said, looking away. “Just leave me alone. I have been this close to getting kicked out and I blame it all on you. If you had just fished me out of the water like you said you would then maybe the general wouldn’t have gotten hurt and he wouldn’t be mad at me.”
“He said he was mad at you?”
“Well…No, he didn’t say he was mad at me, but he did threaten that if I did not improve soon he was going to send me back. Apparently he thinks I can get you killed.”
The soldier chuckled. “I don’t blame him. The way you hold a weapon makes me feel safer standing on the Huks’ side.”
Gat scoffed. “But how can anyone expect me to know how to hold a rifle when I just got here!”
“That’s the thing; you should have come with those skills already. Your father should have been the one to teach you how to shoot and take care of a weapon; those are basic qualifications for the army. I mean, how do you think I felt having to stand next to someone who didn’t even have the strength to hold the weapon correctly, much less use it properly? It was embarrassing.”
Gat was silent for a few moments before responding. “My father didn’t…have time for me. And if you were embarrassed why didn’t you just find a more qualified partner? Nobody made you look over me.”
“Actually, Wiebke did. He really doesn’t want that ammunition-boy job again, along with his Sharpshooting duties, so he graciously explained to me the many ways to castrate a man using a small rock with such vigor that it would just be rude to decline his proposition.”
A light wind began to blow, picking the lighter layer of sand and dust from the ground. The soft whisper of grains of sand hitting against cloth, rock, and metal made an interesting melody of nature. It wasn’t by all a beautiful sound, but it was comforting to say the least. The lighter pieces of cloth were whipped in the breeze like a snake being charmed with music. Gat chuckled silently when she took the time to imagine the conversation in her head between the two men. In what little time she knew Wiebke she could still easily believe that he was the type to threaten someone else to do his bidding. No wonder this here soldier was so worried that something may have happened to Gat. Though the idea that he valued his own testicles to another person’s life still wasn’t very comforting.
“C’mon,” the soldier said at last. “Hide your tears and let’s go learn your rounds. The sooner you learn, the better. Think of it this way, if you’re any good at feeding ammunition then maybe the general will let you stay.”
Gat thought about his last sentence for a few moments. As much as she did not want to admit it, he was right. If she were to be good at something, anything, then nobody could say that they wouldn’t need her.
** “You want to get kicked out, don’t you?”
Gat needed a few seconds to get enough breath to say something coherent, “I’m trying the best I can!” She exclaimed hoarsely, her throat hurting with every word.
“Not hard enough!” was his response.
It was no use, there was no way Gat was capable of carrying gods-know-how-many pounds worth of ammunition belts from the magazine in the storehouse, running as fast as she could, jumping over rocky obstacles – and some large sacs of sand that the older soldier had put there to imitate dead bodies – and any other obtrusion on the ground, up a small but incredibly steep hill, and place both belts on the ground to feed them into the gun’s tray one at a time with great hurry. While the gun was to be active one belt would have been consumed so the next belt already had to be in the tray to be used up, while the second belt was there to give enough time for the ammunition-boy to run back and get more belts before the gun ran out of ammo.
Then it was to repeat the process all over again.
After the second sequence, Gat was near close to collapse. Not only were each belt heavy, but she had to carry two at a time, one hooked on each soldier. Then that little run to add to the suffering. Gat had learned quickly enough how to feed the actual belt into the gun’s tray, it was getting there that was proving to be grueling. Her entire body screamed like a wounded animal to be put out of its misery.
“I-I can’t…Just let me rest…” Stall. Anything not to do that hell-run again. If she didn’t trip over a rock and had a new bruise the size of a fist on her thigh, then one of the belts slipped off and she had to pick it up, or she couldn’t go up the hill on the first try, or any other kind of mishap that could made a person snap under the mental and physical strain. Gat thought it was a small miracle – or one cruel joke – she had survived this long and her corpse hadn’t already been removed from under the belts she was supposed to carry.
“You can rest when you’re dead.” The soldier said, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that displayed he was no satisfied in the least with Gat’s performance. “Which would be about now because you took so damn long that I ran out of ammo, the Shapshooters were overrun, and now the Huks have just toppled over the city wall and are swarming in, killing anything in sight.”
Gat shook her head, which made small beads of sweat trickle down her forehead making a dark spot wherever they hit on the ground. “I told you I’m trying…I just…can’t. They’re too heavy and –”
“Quit your whining! When you start feeding belts to two or three guns at a time, then I’ll allow a complain here and there. With only one gun? It’s pathetic! You can’t shoot, you can’t swim, you can barely make the round in one piece…” He trailed off, looking towards the side. It seemed he was just as tired watching the young soldier fail the rounds as Gat was running them and his tolerance was thinning, allowing his fouler mood to emerge. “You might as well leave the army, slice off your genitals, and call yourself a woman because you’re beginning to be an insult to men. I’m going to get something to eat. Put back the belts and have the afternoon off for all I care. I’ll see you around, Gat.”
With that the soldier walked past Gat, his disappointment evident even in the musk he exuded, not even bothering to say the simplest word of encouragement to the young soldier.
This was all going wrong. Gat wanted to reap the benefits of being a soldier, not do the actual soldier-ing. The older soldier’s words stung more than the bruises and small cuts and sore muscles combined. She was doing the best she could and still it was not enough to evade insults from others. With much effort and many silenced pains, Gat returned to the storehouse and placed the belts back where they belonged again, then walked in a slow, tired pace to nowhere in particular just as long as it was away from the turret guns. Soon enough Gat found herself around the area where the Huk skull stood atop of the pole. It seemed no one had yet figured out how to get up there. The concept was simple, but simple and easy were two very different words. Climbing up a pole was something even Gat could do with ease; a talent she acquired from climbing up uliitte trees – known for the sheer verticalness of their growth – for their fruits. If it weren’t for the fact that she had to carry all those rifles on the way up there, she would climb that pole in a flash. At least she wouldn’t be seen as a lost cause.
Gat picked up a small rock and threw it towards the skull, missing completely. She picked up another and repeating the process, proving over and over again that her aim needed to greatly improve. Sometimes the rock would actually hit the wood of the pole, or fly by the side of the skull, but never strike against the actual skull. If she could just replace the skull with the image of the general then somehow her aim got a little bit better.
This wasn’t very productive, but it was a hell of a lot more entertaining.
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Post by Centanu on Feb 12, 2006 13:13:07 GMT -5
My character will be Capt. Furey Osis, a captain in the Navy.
Ship: The Victorious
Use: Starship Carrier
Height: Fifty five meters at beam, seventy five meters at conning tower. Seven hundred fifty meters long.
Type: Strike Carrier
Weapons: Twelve quad-laser turrets, twenty five single laser turrets, ten heavy concussion missile tubes, five turbolaser batteries. One hundred twenty starfighters aboard hangar bay.
Appearance: The Victorious is a Strike Carrier built at the Corellian Shipyards as a private endeavor by the Corellian Starship Manufacturers, CSM. CSM is very dedicated to the Republic, so when Coruscant fell they immediately laid down the begginings of the Victorious. It grew into a long craft, with the conning tower off set to the left of the vessel three quarters at the rear. The hangar bay is in the nose of the vessel, which is also protected by an extra shield. On each broad side of the Victorious lies four heavy concussion missile tubes and two batteries of three turbolasers for ship to ship combat. One the top and bottom of the vessel are the point-defence lasers for taking out enemy fighters. In the nose lies the other two missile tubes and laser battery. There are two huge hangar doors on either side of the hull for sending out the one hundred seventy five onboard starfighters for their missions. Conditions on board are comfortable, with double occupancy rooms for the crew and single rooms for the officers. The Victorious carries two companies of marines to defend it if boarded. The carrier can enter the atmosphere, but Captain Furey rarely does so. Furey Osis was selected to captain the ship becuase of his undying loyalty to the republic, and his brilliant mind when it comes to the commanding of warships. He frequently employs unconventional tactics that often confuse his opponents, who also underestimate the smaller escort carrier. While the Victorious can hold its own against ships of equal or lesser sizes, she is vulnerable to larger Fleet Carriers and Battleships. Usually deployed with a pair or trio of Corvette class vessels, the Victorious is a fine example of a Corellian warship. A quartet of fusion engines fuel the vessel, giving it good speed. The shields are of modest value, and the Victorious also employs a series of secondary shields protecting the conning tower and hangar bay doors. Typical starfighters onboard are seventy A-Wing and X-Wing fighters, thirty five Y-Wing bombers, and fifteen ARC-170. In addition to the two companies of marines aboard, twenty LAAV/i gunships and fifteen AT-TE are aboard for ground operations
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Post by The General on Feb 12, 2006 21:41:07 GMT -5
The winds tore at Grievous' exposed flesh, sand blasting into him like fire, yet still he would not move. Sitting lightly on the stone slabs that had been dropped in preparation for the Slashrats, his eyes closed and his mask next to him, Grievous trained. True, it was unorthodox, but everything about Grievous was unorthodox. His training, his methods of punishment, even his fighting style in battle was out of the ordinary.
It hadn't failed him yet, that's why he was still alive, and that's why he continued to practice it, even though most of it was highly advised against. The excercise wasn't neccesarily meant to train his focus or his concentration, but more or less on the sole idea of pain tolerance. If he could ignore rocks and sand tearing into his flesh and leaving patches of raw, bloody skin, he could ignore the pain of a glancing blaster bolt.
It had been hours since he had left the infirmary, and although his original intention was to sleep, it hadn't turned out that way. Once again his sleep had been plagued with Nightmares that terrified him more than any Huk threat ever could. Grievous stood slowly, slipping the mask back over his head. He had been out here long enough...sometimes the smartest choice was to come in from the weather, and the sandstorm was intensifying by the minute. Silently he walked back in, closing the gate doors behind him.
It wasn't just the Nightmares that kept him awake. He was troubled and he was worried. It was only a week or so away from battle and the skull still hadn't been retrieved, not to mention most of the training was a complete and utter failure. Maybe he just worried too much, maybe he didn't. Perhaps the skull challenge had been too difficult...not to mention the men were beginning to stick to the heavens above.
He glanced back over the wall as the suns slowly began to appear over the hills of Kalee. Had it not been for the precious oil reserves in this area, Grievous would not even be on this barren area, but rather in the more lush, temple endowed side of Kalee. But the Oil reserves were too important to Kalee for them to lose, and their economy was already weak enough.
Entering his tent, Grievous pushed back the flap and sat idly on his cot. He tried to be optimistic, but deep down he was dreading tomorrow, dreading the same mundane ruitine he faced since that damned skull had been placed on the pillar. He made a mental not to climb up the pole and get it tomorrow, if it did not rest on his door step by the time he woke up.
Then perhaps, the real training would begin.
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Post by Masurao on Feb 13, 2006 16:09:38 GMT -5
As much as throwing rocks had been entertaining, it soon became – like many other decisions Gat had done – a bad idea. It was getting late, the older brother sun was already disappearing behind the horizon and the first of the brighter stars were beginning to appear on the darkening sky of night. All of Gat’s attempts to knock over the skull from its perch had been fruitless; it only succeeded in making her already sore muscles numb. A few soldiers returning from target practice called out to Gat and ordered the young soldier to return their rifles back to the storehouse. Since Gat was clearly outnumbered eleven to one she picked up the heavy weapons, slung them over her shoulders or hooked on her elbows, and began the dreary walk back to the storehouse muttering curses under her breath. The street lights were already lit within the heart of the city and the soldiers around the military area had begun to start the fires to provide both light and warmth. In Gat’s hand was the largest rock that she had yet picked up. It was going to be the last rock to be thrown before she returned the rifles and went to get some rest for the night. The rock flew from her hand and undoubtedly missed the skull and the pillar completely; Gat expected nothing else. What she hadn’t counted on was that the rock would miss the pole only to find another target: the rump of an ollabac tethered to a post. The creature bellowed a mighty howl, rearing to its full height, pulling with all its might against the rope it was tied to. Other ollabacs nearby responded to the first’s warning call and they too began to pull, kick, and rear, kicking up dust and spittle. When soldiers tried to calm the animals down, many were responded with a kick to the stomach, head-butted, or bit. The creatures who were more panicky began to use their horns as a defense which resulted in at least two men on the ground with grave injuries. A few ollabacs managed to break free from their tethers and began galloping uncontrollably throughout the complex, bucking and howling, some with their heads down, willing to charge against anyone that came near them. Many of these creatures were trained to use their horns in battle and now utilized them against their own trainers or even other ollabacs, their instinctual fear blinding them to who was friend or foe.
Gat was paralyzed in place throughout the entire ordeal. This entire domino effect of rock, ollabac, and chaos was due to her and all she could do about it was stare dumbfounded like a vya fish out of water.The only time senses returned to Gat’s body was when a rogue ollabac broke away from the main herd of panicked animals and charged at her, its head down and menacing. Gat managed to jump onto the skull’s pillar and hang on for dear life as the creature raced past her, barely missing impaling the young soldier. The rifles hanging off of her slammed against all sides of her body causing Gat to hiss in pain; wrapping her arms and legs tightly in an unusual hug. The ollabac skidded to a halt then turned around, digging its front leg into the ground then kicking up the sand with its claw-like hoof a couple of times before it flew forward once more, bellowing hoarsely. The pillar shook when the creature’s thick skull slammed against the pole.Adrenaline allowed Gat to mask the pain of her sore muscles and give her enough strength to climb a little bit higher just as the ollabac reared on its hinds legs to try and reach her. Ollabacs can be easily domesticated when trained from infancy, but a sour temper had always been one of the creatures’ trademarks and when angered they could be a match for even the most experienced of handlers.
The weight of the weapons was beginning to show and Gat could feel how she slipped just a few inches down, and when she thought she would soon be at the mercy of one very angry animal she stopped moving altogether. A pair of rifles at either elbow had their straps intertwined and Gat’s weight created enough counter strain to effectively halt the slipping. The ollabac snorted angrily and reared once more, attempting to reach the young soldier in an unexplained animalistic fervor. Gat pulled herself up a few notches, the animal’s bellows being enough incentive to continue going higher. Three more rifles had somehow fallen from her shoulder and the straps had wrapped around her knees. In an attempt to undo the bond with her legs Gat managed to hook two of the straps under her thighs and the other across the back of her knees. While it decreased movement from her legs, it unexpectedly provided support for her weight. Another bellow below told that the ollabac was not going anywhere for a while and motivated Gat to climb higher in fear that the creature would somehow jump high enough to reach her. Gat quickly found out that if she pulled up the straps from her legs first, she could use the strain to push her upper body later with ease; albeit with great discomfort from the rest of the heavy weapons’ straps digging into her shoulders and arms.
A yell from a soldier, and a rope was thrown around the ollabac’s neck. The men nearby pulled with all their might against the animal’s resistance. The more the creature struggled – kicking and rearing – the harder the men pulled. Another rope was looped around the neck and a second set of men began to pull the opposite direction. With its energies depleting and with no force to counter against, the ollabac gave one last howl and sat on its haunches; a sign of defeat. The tired creature was taken away with a large piece of cloth across its eyes to prevent it from getting excited again.
A few soldiers left behind pointed at Gat with surprise, some muttering words that she couldn’t hear from that high up. When she attempted to get down, the soldiers below began to yell and protest against it; some actually throwing small stones to discourage Gat from continuing. Gat could not understand the purpose of the cruel joke. She wanted to get down from the pillar but the others would not let her. Some men were pointing higher up from where she was, yelling something excitedly. Gat looked up, praying it was not some sort of large bird out to terrorize her. Her eyes widened. Just a few feet above her stood the Huk skull atop its perch on the pillar that Gat was clinging on. The men below began to chant some incoherent words of encouragement to climb higher and get the skull, swaying their arms back and forth in the air in rhythm to their chant.
Gat reached her hand out, but she was nowhere close enough to grab the skull. She pulled her legs up, making sure the straps did not move about too much, and created the tension on the straps necessary to push her upper body a little bit higher. The wind was colder and sharper at this altitude, and it was quickly become uncomfortable. The two straps that had intertwined at her elbows made sure her upper body was stable and secure on the pillar. By this time night was at its darkest, and little visibility was available. Only the dim flicker of golden light from the fires below that danced on the smoother surfaces of the otherwise greatly uneven skull provided Gat with some distance relation. The distance between Gat and the skull became smaller…smaller…smaller. A hand flung forward…
And the skull was in her grasp.
Cheers and applause bursted from the soldiers below, some whooping and jumping around the pillar in celebration. Gat remained still for a few moments, deeply regretting that the adrenaline was leaving her body and tire was setting in, before she regained enough breath to shoot her hand with the skull high up abover her head, proudly displaying what no other soldier had been able to accomplish until that moment.
The victory – while glorious – was short-lived. Gat still needed to get down and heavy rifles around her body would make the deed more dificult. A few soldiers below were willing to grab the weapons if Gat let them fall at them, and that was exactly what she did. Leaving only a few rifle straps for tension, Gat managed a controled slide to the ground where she was greeted with painful pats on the back and cheers and congratulations, eventually dizzying the young soldier amongst so much celebration. Every other soldier said some different words of praise, but they all meant the same thing:
Gat had done it. No one else but Gat.
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