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Finding Serenity

Finding Serenity is an original-character roleplay set in Joss Whedon's Firefly 'Verse. Events take place after the events of the Serenity movie.

The year is 2519.

Earth-That-Was is long gone. Humans found a new group of solar systems with dozens of planets and hundreds of moons. The "Core" planets are civilised, high-tech and under Alliance control. The "Border" worlds are diverse and distinct. The "Rim" is the wild west of the 'verse and the "Black" is where our ships travel, hoping to avoid the perils of space: Alliance, pirates, and the monsters known as Reavers.

So here we are, on the "raggedy edge". This is where our characters live. There are those who stick by the Alliance Government, those who want to rise up against it, and those that just don't care either way as long as they can make a living. With every turn, every choice put forward and every decision made we are FINDING SERENITY

Author Topic: Birds Donít Sing Anymore  (Read 212 times)

Re: Birds Donít Sing Anymore
« Reply #20 on: October 27, 2018, 10:34:52 AM »
Maxell scoffed at the pilot's suggestion as the Marines made their way into the trees. "You might be a terror in the skies, but securing the ground is a Marine's business. Once we've conducted a proper sweep of the area, I'll be the first to congratulate you on this particular kill." Maxell gave the pilot before him - Turner, by the designation on her uniform - a stern, scrutinizing look. "It's a different thing, isn't it Turner? Looking a man in his eye as you end his life. Takes something harder than just pushing a button and dropping the payload."

Graves leaned in, the brim of his hat nearly jabbing Melody in the face. "You sure that's what your made of? The steel to hear a fellow soldier's death rattle? Or are you too used to sailing the open skies, only hearing that distant thwoomp as you crater the ground below and put the action miles behind yourself in mere seconds?" Maxell held the pilot's gaze, seeing only a reflection of cold, hard steel. Tension hung in the air between them, before Graves broke it with a nod of approval. "Good. Let's go collect your corpse."

Boots crunching in the powdery hell piled up between the trees, Graves held out a hand to stop Melody as he spotted a pinkish splash. Looking up at the tree beside him, he spotted arterial spray. "Go se." Maxell turned around to Melody, drawing his hold-out in her face before the traitor could alert her browncoat compatriot. "This is what you call mortally wounded, Turner? What'd you do, shoot a knife at him from twenty yards?" Maxell snatched Melody's uniform, pulling her in front of him as he pressed the barrel against the back of her head. "Call for them. Tell them to surrender. Now! Or I'll execute you as a traitor on my honor as an Officer." Maxell growled as he looked into the trees, seeking any sign of movement. The briefest hint of disappointment crossed his face as he glanced down at the holdout pressed to the back of the pilot's head. He missed his L85A1.
The bugle sounds - the charge begins, But on this battlefield no one wins
The smell of acrid smoke and horse's breath, As I plunge on into certain death

Iron Maiden, "The Trooper"

Re: Birds Donít Sing Anymore

Re: Birds Donít Sing Anymore
« Reply #21 on: October 27, 2018, 08:15:12 PM »
"It's a different thing, isn't it Turner? Looking a man in his eye as you end his life. Takes something harder than just pushing a button and dropping the payload," the Officer questioned and Melody couldn't help but clamp down on her jaw and glower stubbornly up at the decorated Officer. This was the second time she'd been asked this very question in the span of just a couple hours. Clearly, there was some misunderstanding between the military divisions about what exactly bomber pilots did or...didn't do. Did they think they didn't know what war looked like? That they just zipped by from above playing games and dropping bombs without the slightest understanding of what was going on below? Sure, perhaps there were some out there like that, but not Melody. She wasn't classically educated, but she wasn't an idiot either.

Even so, it took everything in Mel's power not to attempt to slug the bald Marine across the jaw, which would most assuredly have led to a bullet being deposited directly between her eyes at worst, and the stripping of  her rank at best, and she figured the immense satisfaction at seeing the surprise register across his face probably wasn't worth it. Probably. The effort required to keep still and silent in the face of his barrage and questioning of her character and resolve culminated in the trembling of clenched fists, both of her hands down by her sides. When the man finally moved away, a breath slipped past her lips and her shoulders relaxed fractionally. This man was mighty unpleasant, even compared to Mel.

Still, the bomber pilot shoved her closed fists into the pockets of her uniform pants and stomped after him, making as much noise in the fresh snow as she could and preparing to blame it on her inexperience being down on the ground. The frost crunched and cracked under her boots, and sticks and leaves crumbled and snapped under her heavy feet, hoping to give Holger a general idea of where they were. She was just a pilot after all, she couldn't know anything about stealth or walking softly, right? Mel rolled her eyes at the Officer's back. But again, some small part of her wondered why she was assisting the browncoat at all. Maybe she just felt like he deserved better than being executed by this yī dŗ tuů dŗ biŗn...

As the man spun about, Melody immediately lifted her hands up, palms facing him, baby blues flickering between his gun and his face, both of them equally distressing. A startled grunt ripped free of her lips, her feet tangling up as he pulled her toward him and she extended her arms to steady herself, hissing in annoyance at the feeling of hard metal pressing against the back of her head. Great. Not only was she in quite the pickle, but now she was physically closer to Maxell than she would have liked.

"I'm not a Traitor," she snapped, just as ornery even with a gun to her head. "I'm a bomber pilot, how the hell am i supposed to know exactly what mortally wounded looked like. I thought he was, clearly I was mistaken. I must not be suited for ground combat," she continued with added venom.

Re: Birds Donít Sing Anymore

Re: Birds Donít Sing Anymore
« Reply #22 on: November 07, 2018, 09:24:08 PM »
Holger nearly had another Alliance soldier by the ankle when the Major grabbed Melody and put a gun to her head. A strange thing to do to one of your own allies, but Holger had seen men do much worse. The why of it, however, concerned him. Outside of earshot and their conversation, he didnít know that Melody was being accused of collaboration, but it didnít take a powerful brain to guess that much. Her peril gave him pause, and certainly complicated his plan of harrying them till it was just him and the one with the cape.

Surrender was an option, one that Holger didnít like. His thoughts drifted back to Yorkieís descriptions of the camps and an involuntary chill went down his spine. No. He didnít like that one bit.

Holgerís hand hovered near the soldierís leg as he decided what to do. With the Majorís hackles up, taking them out one by one would be next to impossible. Or would, at the very least, get Holger killed. A prospect he didnít much like at the moment, despite his requests to Melody not an hour earlier. But if he were to die, he wanted to take as many of them out as possible, without getting Melody killed or Court Martialed. He didnít stop to consider why he cared what happened to the pilot.

So, what to do? Holger had his knife, his previous killís service weapon, andÖ

The flare gun.

Holgerís hand retreated from its snare-like posture and back into concealment. He got himself into position, squirming his way to remain in hiding while also preparing for his attack. He prepared the rifle in his good-hand, the flare gun in his off. A step back, he leveled the flare gun at the soldierís back. Holger considered the distance. Thought better of it and took another step.

With a smile he pulled the trigger, sending the flare rocketing into the soldierís back, an explosion of fire and sparks sending the man running towards his comrades, his arms flailing wildly, screaming likeÖ well, a man on fire. Holger hoped the scene would distract from him strafing to the side long enough for him to catch another one or two with the rifle. Even if it didnít and they saw him coming, he let loose with the rifle on automatic, trying his best to hit everyone but Melody.

ďIíll see you in Hell, you Purple Buggers!Ē


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