The Flight of the Valkyrie

Started by noseatbelts, August 21, 2019, 12:59:57 PM

noseatbelts

August 21, 2019, 12:59:57 PM Last Edit: August 22, 2019, 08:02:38 AM by noseatbelts
The events in this aside take place in 2507, while the War for Unification is still taking place, 12 years before the current time period. The crew of the Darling and the ship herself will not actually feature in this story, however, Mona does and this is how she got to know Barnaby's younger brother, Ignacious "Nate" Goodweather.

From Rune:

Quote from: Mona Heyerdahl on August 08, 2019, 05:31:08 PM
So! Seems like a good time to go over some of Mona's backstory, and I think it'll be a lot of fun to get whoever else would like to be involved in on the aside. So far I know Lomari and noseatbelts are down, but the invitation's open to help fill out the rest of Mona's squad of Independent soldiers from back in the U-War. Mona's primary experiences during the war centered around demolitions ops and embedded trench combat, so your character should likewise be an infantry or explosives specialist. There is room for a platoon leader/Lieutenant, while the platoon sergeant/Sergeant First Class is being played by nos.

Mona and Nate are members of an elite unit of Browncoat Commandos that is filled with a motley group of characters:

Lieutenant
Pb: TBD
Player: Open

Sergeant First Class Rudolph Remington
Pb:Bob Remus
Player: Noseatbelts

Staff Sergeant Mona Heyerdahl
Pb: Gwendoline Christie
Player: RUNE

Sergeant Ignacious Goodweather
Pb: David Harbour
Player: humanhyperbole

Corporal Alexi Gaevsky
Pb: Robert Sheehan
Player: Lomari

Specialists: OPEN, NPCs

Mona Heyerdahl

Snow drifted and fell across St. Albans, nearly whiting out the planet save the hot springs and those rocky peaks that stubbornly refused to collect the stuff. Those same stubborn formations likewise refused to yield to the will of the wind or the tides of time itself - fighting the good fight as long as they could - up where the thin, dry air made those fat flakes blanketing the foothills into pathetic, disparate particles that split from their others against the jagged edge of the mountain in much the same way Mona recalled watching an Alliance boy's throat open against a blade of forged Heyerdahl steel. Not that she knew the family to have a secret steel recipe, but her grandfather enjoyed crafting knives as a past time. And one of those same knives she saw plunged into the soft flesh above a rigged uniforms collar, held in a grip as strong as a promise between kin as Holger roared and let the nameless lad's blood spray across the walls of the frozen creek where The Nords - a platoon of freedom fighters made up mostly of the children of Hans Heyerdahl, their cousins, and some close friends - laid in ambush of patrolling Alliance forces. The Nords wore no official uniform, and those strong in the blood made themselves particularly known by their choice to wear much of nothing at all, each of them springing from the natural trench bare-chested save for the warpaint smeared from belly to brow. Mona watched her brother smear the enemy's blood across his chest, then his pant leg to remove any wet, warm remainder before it affected his grip, then spat on the fading corpse as if to be done with it once and for all. For her part, Mona attempted to match her brother's ferocity as she drove the butt of the rifle into an invader's face, smashing their nose flat with a sickening crunch, but she found it hard to revel. Killing she made her peace with, and times she came to enjoy it, but try as she might she could never quite meet her brother's enthusiasm for open war. In particular, he just really - really - loved killing officers.

=================================================

What the Anglo-Sino Alliance and it's core planet constituents referred to as a "rebellion", the people living dirt side on places like St. Albans considered a fight for their freedom, their families, and their futures. An inconvenient matter of fact grew into an unpopular opinion, and over time evolved further still until hushed whispers of dissent became declarations of independence and a confederacy of rim planets and moons reckoned that if the core considered them folks too far away and too uncivilized for Alliance representation and fair treatment under the law then stands to reason they were right. And it stood to reason them folks ought to decide for themselves how to govern and how to trade and with whom and who ought to see a piece of their hard earned dough. After all, them's that terraformed the rim and raised and procured the resources  ought to be the same who benefited from all that work, and people found themselves a might tired of watchin' the fruits of their labor pilled up in Alliance freighters and shipped off to be put to use by some high-falutin' mouth-bet wouldn't spit on 'em if they was dyin' of thirst. And so it was, that a handful of minor 'rebellions' saw that big, bad Alliance lookin' like an ornery and uproarious schoolyard bully kickin' away at ant hills turned into a wayward half-wit stumblin' into a den of -

=================================================

"Honey badgers!"

Mona blinked twice across the fire at Ignacious Goodweather. "What's a honey badger?"

"Aw, you know! Mean little buggers, don't care 'bout nothin'! They'll eat anything, and they'll fight anything!" Sergeant Goodweather held the M.R.E. aloft as if to accentuate his point, to which Mona nodded as if to say he'd won that round.

"Ya got me there, Nate." Mona conceded casually in the company of a unit for whom rank piled up to little more than a formality. They'd become much more of a family over their months in service, and as the handfuls of proud browncoats circled the flames for which they stayed grateful for having permission to light, the pecking order mostly faded from their minds. Mostly. "But if you wanna change the company's name to the Honey Badgers you're gonna have to take it up with Remington."

Mona laughed to herself, shoveling her spoon back into the beans. She stole a quick glance up at Nate, watching his face for any signs of hurt and feeling relieved that he maintained his good nature. After all, of all the faces she hoped to see alive and well from day-to-day, his had grown on her a might more than most. 'The Valkyrie', as she'd become known on the battlefield, forced her attention down the line to Nate's Corporal, Alexi Gaevsky. Brave Alexi, a wiry and tenacious little man who barely spoke a word of English except to curse but spoke in his strange little language with such gusto and enthusiasm those he conversed with found it hard not to get caught up in it. "How about you, Lex? You got any ideas?"
When the battle is lost And the slain ones are chosen The Valkyries will guide us home
We'll heed the final call A call to arms The Valkyries will guide us home
Blind Guardian. "Valkyries"

HumanHyperbole

September 04, 2019, 05:41:00 PM #2 Last Edit: September 04, 2019, 05:44:49 PM by HumanHyperbole
Nate shoved his spoon into his MRE's portion of beans, they were cold, and seasoned like dirt, but it was edible in a technical sense. Which was more than good enough for this honey badger. He didn't imagine Remington was going to be that receptive to a company name that had the word "honey" in it. He smiled slightly as he chewed on his beans, non verbally communicating he didn't really care if Sarge approved or not. They ate like honey badgers, and fought like honey badgers.

==========================

Earlier...

Ignatius crept up along the ridge as the Alliance supply ship came to a rest a hundred yards or so away. The yet to be named Honey Badgers were raring to pounce. Normally they'd wait for a signal from Remington or the LT, but in Nate's opinion, they were dithering, troops were approaching to start collecting their supplies a few miles away. This was their time to strike and disappear back into the hills. His lever action rifle was lined up perfect on the transport's pilot.

Controlling his breath carefully, he squeezed the trigger, and the pilot dropped to the ground. A shock-wave of panic spread across the purple bellies as they all realized they were being ambushed. Corporal Goodweather's aim shifted to a foot soldier who froze like a deer upon watching his comrade fall. He could hear shouting from the LT about who fired first, but the Honey Badgers were in the fight now. No turning back.

==========================

Now...

Holding up the MRE in the air, he shook the loose bits and last morsels of sustenance into his mouth like a bag of potato chips. Crumpling up MRE package he thought of the processed protein meals they often had to settle for on The Darling. The food was just as bad, but at least there was dirt under his feet, a fight to be had. He was fighting a losing war, and faced death at any moment. But at least something was happening. Go here, pick up the cargo, go there, drop it off. Rinse, repeat. War was hell, but at least it wasn't a normal job.

"Ahh look at Lexi. He's a honey badger if I've ever seen one."

He mimed like he was their new namesake tearing and chewing on prey for a second before stopping to chuckle at his own nonsense. Standing and stretching out, his barrel chest puffed out as he took in a deep breath surveyed their surroundings for a second, then directed his attention back to Mona. He opened up his jacket slightly revealing a secret to his comrades, there was a bottle of sake he'd lifted from the supplies they'd ransacked earlier. Standing orders were no alcohol while deployed. But half their standing orders were stupid in his estimation.

Quickly closing his jacket and winking to Mona and Lexi he offered a bribe.

"Honey Badgers share in the spoils. Honey badgers share right?"

Goodweather looked around quickly to see if any of the officers were watching them at the moment, before he pulled the bottle from inside his jacket and bit the cork off, spitting into the fire. Tonight could be the last night of their lives, like the ones before. The burning cork a clear indication of his desire for them to drain it before the brass could catch on.

He sat back down and offered the bottle to Mona first. Nate was a good soldier generally. Hell, in his estimation, this type of minor rebellion is how he figured brothers, and sisters in arms bonded.

Lomari

Hearing some version of his name, the deceptively frail man looked up from his own can of some kind of liquidous bean to smile toothily at the other man, turning the full force of his beaming grin in the direction of the rest of his team. He laughed cheerily at Nate's imitation of some kind of creature, although he wasn't entirely sure which one it was. But whatever it was, it was a spot on impression, Alexi was sure of it. With his own upward stretch, Lex scooted off the debris he sat upon and leaned his back against it instead, one shoe coming off, then the next, his moist feet tapping against one another as he let the heat of the fire dry out his skin. Eyes lit up at the sight of the offered bottle, toes curling excitedly as he waited his turn. In fact, this reminded him of a story from his youthier youth. "Это напоминает мне об этом один раз, когда я был ребенком. Мы с братьями заблудились в лесу во время охоты на троллей," he began, hunching his shoulders and crouching down in on himself, looking around at those gathered like he was imparting upon them a thrilling secret.  "У нас были привязаны к палкам охотничьи ножи нашего отца, и мы с гордостью говорили, что мы поймаем этих троллей и отвезем их домой, чтобы родители увидели их. Мы все глубже и глубже уходили в лес, когда наконец увидели тролля. Ну, мы думали, что услышали одну. Что-то шуршит в кустах. Так что мой брат идет посмотреть..."

==========================

Bushes rustled in the distance and a pair of young boys moved toward it slowly, makeshift spears held in their hands and feet silent on the mulch. They crept forward side by side, chewing on their lower lips and sticking their tongue out slightly in concentration. They were nearing their goal, the thing they hunted. One boy, a little Alexi, pointed toward the bush with one hand and jerked his head toward it, brows aloft. The other boy, his brother Pavel, shook his head frantically but knew he'd drawn the short straw in a game they didn't need to play. With a frown, the boy crept forward, pausing in front of the bush as the rustling ceased. There was silence... and then something burst out from the bush, screeching something fierce, lunging toward the boys!

==========================

Alexi jumped to his feet with his hands raised above his head, making a loud noise of sudden surprise to emulate the shock of the moment. "Кабан выпрыгнул из куста! Это преследовало моего брата на дереве и не подвело бы его больше часа!" the man exclaimed, laughing boisterously and falling back down onto his rear at the base of the debris. He continued on, every word interrupted by infectious snorts and chortling, "Он застрял там до обеда! Наш отец ударил нас хорошо за то, что мы так поздно! Но не так сложно, как когда я сказал ему, почему мы опоздали!" he finished, his hands on his stomach as his abdominal muscles cramped up from the laughter.

CHARACTERS
Charity ~ Melody ~ Tabitha


NARRATION
Darling ~ Iscariot

noseatbelts

September 11, 2019, 01:37:10 PM #4 Last Edit: September 11, 2019, 01:42:13 PM by noseatbelts
Sgt. Rudolph Remington heard laughter. Inside of his general issue tent, immaculately constructed, though small for his hulking frame, he heard his squad laughing from around the nearby campfire, where he'd instructed them to eat their rations and keep their mouths shut while he took his own dinner in his tent. Fraternization with the squad was a big no-no, far as he was concerned. Bred familiarity and false favoritism. They were all the same to him. Earthworms. Cannon fodder. Try as he might, he couldn't make them good soldiers. Most of them hadn't even been properly trained before being shipped out, let alone career soldiers like himself. The Independent Faction was desperate like that. But frivolity was not to be tolerated. Not when they were this deep behind lines.

With some trouble that culminated in crawling out of the undersized tent on his hands and knees - the tent being general issue but Remington's wide chest and shoulders very much were not- he exited himself from his canvas domicile and stormed over to the fire. "Hey, assholes." He stood, hands on hips, waiting for them to come to attention. "What'd I say about keeping your gorram mouths shut? Want the Purple Bellies to hear you?"

And then he saw it. The bottle Cpl. Goodweather was trying to keep him from noticing. "Corporal! The rut is that, soldier? That booze I smell on your breath? Hand it over!" Before Nate could protest, Remington grabbed the bottle and gave it a look-see. "Sake? Not today you don't. Confiscating this. Be lucky if I don't tell the L.T." Positive he'd done his best to give them the fear of God, Remington turned on his heel, barking at them on his way back to his tent. "Now clam up and get some shut-eye. Wake up is O'Dark Thirty, assholes."

Back at his tent, he sniffed the bottle and liked what his nose found. Down to his hands and knees, he crawled back inside and squeezed in between the kerosene lamp, cook stove, and bedroll and poured himself a little cup of the rice wine. A dainty sip and a satisfactory sigh. Wartime afforded so few pleasures as yelling at assholes and stealing their booze.

Mona Heyerdahl

Mona couldn't have fought the smile from her face if she tried as she watched Nate acting like some frenzied animal. There was more life in him that she ever hoped to find on a battlefield, and on the nights she stayed up thinking about it she found it difficult to decide whether he just seemed brighter by comparison to the grim reality she often found herself surrounded with, or whether he was truly so lively and entertaining even at a mundane family dinner. Of the two options, she much preferred the latter.

When Nate opened his jacket and revealed the bottle he'd stowed away, Mona shook her head slightly as if to admonish him but when he handed the bottle to her she took it with a wide grin. It'd been a long time since any of their Overland squad had anything like a break since they put boots to the dirt, but if anyone could make something as simple as a quiet night near a campfire special it was Ignacious Goodweather. Mona knew she wasn't alone in her fondness for him. Since The Nords were properly conscripted into the Independent Armies and assigned to units in accordance with their skills, this squad became a surrogate family for her and she knew Nate to be the glue that held it together. And while she grew up in a family full of men who often took masculinity to the absurd and beyond, there was a charming swagger in the way he committed the cork to the flame with a commanding finality that insisted the squad follow his lead.

There were no men in her family like Alexi, however. He stood out in his own weird little way, drawing the group's attention to himself as he simply stretched out and relaxed. Mona was happy to have him, though she sometimes wondered if he might suffer from a fungal condition. Still, she ignored the smell wafting her direction and focused instead on the drink and the tale. Not that she had any idea what Alexi was on about, but the way he went on and on made her think of fond memories of her own. Alexi wrapped his story with what she assumed to be a joke, and joined the squad in a chorus of laughter.

"I don't know what in Hel's name you said, Alexi, but it sounds too funny!"

The towering Valkyrie rose up from her seat, little more than a rough pile of debris stacked best as broken things could, mimicking Alexi's gestures and unleashing a wailing squeal before bursting into laughter all over again. Unfortunately, the ruckus attracted the most unruly bore of all and Sergeant Rudolph Remington burst into the circle in an attempt to stamp out what little fire the sake and story lit in the squad's hearts.

Mona rolled her eyes at Remington's threat to report Nate to the L.T. They all knew the N.C.O. would rather eat his own boots than talk to the Lieutenant more often than he absolutely must. "More than like he's off to swill Nate's hooch all by himself. Heavens forbid he join us for a round or two, maybe show us there's more to him than just orders and drills." After Remington's heavy footsteps and heavier grunts faded back to his comically small tent, Mona looked around at her compatriots and let out a low whistle before a wry smirk formed on her lips. "Sergeant's off on a tear tonight. Reckon we best follow our gorram orders, if we know what's best for us. That is, of course, assuming nobody's holding out?" Mona scanned the familiar faces around the fire mischievously, her eyes lingering on Alexi for a moment before settling on Nate.
When the battle is lost And the slain ones are chosen The Valkyries will guide us home
We'll heed the final call A call to arms The Valkyries will guide us home
Blind Guardian. "Valkyries"

noseatbelts

The next morning, after the troops had broken open the box of sake Nate had stashed beneath his pi gu and successfully gotten their drunk on; they were all feeling it to varying degrees. But one had to take what moments they could in war time behind enemy lines. They were a small, elite unit designed for infiltration and reconnaissance, striking targets deep in enemy territory that were too well guarded for traditional bombing runs. And drones missed things human eyes didn't.

They walked through abandoned trenches, dug deep and constructed to withstand enemy combatants, but not tactical retreats. Disused and lacking maintenance, they threatened to fall over in places, retaken by the vegetation that that had been cleared in order to make room for their being there, it was a twisted maze of mud and tree roots, broken beams, mementos and bodies of soldiers long since gone to their makers.

The sun was shining, though, and drying the mud beneath their feet. Or, at least, the top layer, so with each step it was like stepping through the crispy crust of a molten brownie only to find the gooey bits leaching on to your boots, hampering every step. It was not pleasant. But it did have a purpose. The trenches were mostly forgotten and therefore mostly unguarded. And they led straight to an Alliance Supply Depot, the one that had fed the ship they'd ransacked yesterday.

Was there anyone better than the Honey Badgers for such a mission? Eh, probably. But, as the old saying goes, Honey Badgers don't care. Honey Badgers don't give a rut.

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