The village of Resembool is a sparsely populated region, with a few farmhouses within eye shot of one another. The rolling hills and occasional clumps of trees give it a lovely, idyllic look, especially when the skies are at their bluest.
[SA] Ruins of Resembool
- Thread starter Karl Jak
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The village of Resembool is a sparsely populated region, with a few farmhouses within eye shot of one another. The rolling hills and occasional clumps of trees give it a lovely, idyllic look, especially when the skies are at their bluest.
At the head of his unit, Roy Mustang finds himself marching across the rolling hills of Resembool. Even though the sunlight is beginning to fade, the villagers lean out from their farmhouses to wave to the man as he makes his way through the heart of the region.
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Iza listened carefully to his teammates words, chuckling a bit here and there from the unusual upbeat tones and jokes. He took a deep breath, and sighed out negative emotions held so tightly in his gut just moments earlier.
Despite their brief meeting... He was very right.
Iza hadn't had much social interaction aside from Shiki.. Even as his graduation from the academy. The majority of the students there stayed at arms length and talked behind his back.
He hadn't really dealt with anything like rejection before.
And after this experience he couldn't quite say he was privy.
A few more chuckles and smiles on his part prompted his colleague to give him a stiff slap on the back, "There ya go kiddo! Ya feelin better now?" He reaffirmed, causing Iza to nod slowly.
"Yeah... Thanks, I really appreciate it... Uh... Hm...-" noticing what he coule possibly be wracking his brain for, the man smirked and gave a kurt bow, before standing straight to keep up with the rest of the unit.
"Mirage!" He jovially stated causing Iza to smile once more and reply in the same fashion.
"Well, thank you Mirage! I suppose I didn't quite notice how bad of a mood I was in... So, yeah. Thank you."
Despite their brief meeting... He was very right.
Iza hadn't had much social interaction aside from Shiki.. Even as his graduation from the academy. The majority of the students there stayed at arms length and talked behind his back.
He hadn't really dealt with anything like rejection before.
And after this experience he couldn't quite say he was privy.
A few more chuckles and smiles on his part prompted his colleague to give him a stiff slap on the back, "There ya go kiddo! Ya feelin better now?" He reaffirmed, causing Iza to nod slowly.
"Yeah... Thanks, I really appreciate it... Uh... Hm...-" noticing what he coule possibly be wracking his brain for, the man smirked and gave a kurt bow, before standing straight to keep up with the rest of the unit.
"Mirage!" He jovially stated causing Iza to smile once more and reply in the same fashion.
"Well, thank you Mirage! I suppose I didn't quite notice how bad of a mood I was in... So, yeah. Thank you."
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“I’m saying that all these lousy extras are crimping my style Ford!” The chattering mercenary continued to follow Mustang as the commander finished his survey of their camp on the outskirts of the idyllic village. They couldn’t afford to stay here long, the village wasn’t meant to support this many men, and an idle army quickly turned to disorganization and trouble. At the same time, they had needed the rest; many of these soldiers were new to the prospect of ordered marching. He supposed it shouldn’t have been surprising to see that Syntech didn’t have professional armies on hand but working with volunteer soldiers was going to only make this more complicated. As the campaign wore on and the glamour of war succumbed to its reality, he could not count on their discipline to hold them together. He needed to end this swiftly, finish the fighting with minimal casualties. Mustang strode between disorganized rows of tents with a grimace. He would have to get these troops ready for the frontlines, and soon. He needed to develop a training plan to…
“I’m a celebrity. A bona fide staple of the genre! I can’t be waiting on the sidelines for a cast this big, what’s that going to do to my reputation!”
“Get over it.” Mustang barked, irritated at the mutate’s persistence. “I’ve got more important issues to handle than inflating your ego! You signed up for this, so make do. Once the dust settles you can take up your complaints with our host!”
“Oy, oy, oy! Easy there, Muchacho! You’re the designated boss-man for the time being but between you and me, our records paint a pretty clear picture. Get too snippy and I might just have to Tat d’écoup !”
“No you won’t.” Mustang responded confidently. “This job isn’t something you want. You can’t even be bothered to wear a proper uniform.”
“Hey, I’m just doing my part to support the cause, chief!” Deadpool glanced down at the small blue miniskirt he had stretched over his cowboy pants and spandex, “Gotta sport the team colors! This was your idea after all, don’t see what’s got your gloves in a knot.”
“Really? Because it sticks out like a sore red thumb to me.” Mustang stopped, turning to face the former champion. The mercenary met his stare, both holding it for a moment silently, refusing to back down. Deadpool’s hand twitched at his side then he uttered a long low whistle from behind his mask.
“Draw pard'ner!” Deadpool shouted, jerking his hand up suddenly. Mustang flinched but stopped as he realized that Deadpool was only holding up a finger gun. The mercenary laughed aloud.
“Relax Colonel Mustard! If you stay this uptight, you’re going to do something stupid and end up sulking about it on a mountaintop for the rest of your life!” Deadpool slapped a hand over one eye and hunched forward in mock dejection. Mustang’s brow wrinkled in confusion. The mercenary gave another insane cackle, then turned away, hand still held over his eye like a patch.
“Don’t worry! A lot of people like you better as an enlisted man!”
Deadpool wandered off, leaving Mustang bewildered. The officer rubbed at his face in irritation. Let the madman rave, so long as he continued to help them in the conflict. Mustang needed to focus on what mattered, getting this collection of rookies and green troops into a fighting force that could stand against the Unmaking.
“Lieutenant Mirage!”
The address came from a few tent rows away. Izaneus looked up from the campfire he had been waiting at. That was commander Mustang’s voice, he was pretty sure. They were only a few days out from the castle. There was no way they were almost to the front lines this early, was there?
The young mage’s curiosity drew him away from his seat, and he moved between the scattering of tents to see if he could catch a glimpse of the conversation. He lingered in the gap between two tents, listening to the group from a short distance away. Mustang stood in a close circle, speaking with Mirage and the mercenary woman, Violet. He was frowning at the apex pilot who only gave a shrug and a smile in response.
“I mean, I know how to fight, nothin’ going! I mentioned I won the Carnavale thingie right?” Mirage was explaining with his usual charisma, “But I’m not going to pretend I’m drill sergeant material! Well, I mean, now that I’m saying it out loud, I could pretend that I’m drill sergeant material. Although now I’ve said that out loud so… ”
Mustang crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “There are too many soldiers here for Lieutenant Uzumaki and I to handle on our own. I’m not asking you to train them to Markovian standards. We don’t have the time or the luxury for something like that. But these men are as new to their situations as most of us are to this command structure. Even the experienced warriors will need to learn the personalities of their new squad mates.”
The commander pulled at the glove on his left hand, neatening it. This one was simply white cloth, nor was it affixed with the transmutation symbol Mustang used to perform his flame alchemy. He tapped the side of his head with one finger as he spoke, brow furrowed in thought.
“They’re volunteers who signed on for a death game, sure. But in only a few short days those men will need to know they can rely on one another in the mayhem of a killing field. Some time spent now, drilling and learning to think as a unit may well save all of our lives down the road.”
The legend leaned back on his heels, placing a hand on his chin in a considering position.
“What do you think?” he asked, creating a hologram duplicate that mirrored his own pensive look. After a moment the duplicate just shrugged, then shattered into particles after winking at Mirage.
“Sure. I can give it a shot! How hard could it be?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure out how to handle the challenges.” Mustang replied levelly, “If you need additional help try to draft up a group of sergeants, maybe track down that idiot in the red to help. We’ve got far too many men to personally drill in this short a time. This doesn’t need to be handled perfectly, but we also can’t afford to march blindly forward and trust that providence will be there for us.”
“Uhhh… I won’t need to do any paperwork about this will I?” Mirage asked with a plaintive look. Mustang only sighed.
“I’m a celebrity. A bona fide staple of the genre! I can’t be waiting on the sidelines for a cast this big, what’s that going to do to my reputation!”
“Get over it.” Mustang barked, irritated at the mutate’s persistence. “I’ve got more important issues to handle than inflating your ego! You signed up for this, so make do. Once the dust settles you can take up your complaints with our host!”
“Oy, oy, oy! Easy there, Muchacho! You’re the designated boss-man for the time being but between you and me, our records paint a pretty clear picture. Get too snippy and I might just have to Tat d’écoup !”
“No you won’t.” Mustang responded confidently. “This job isn’t something you want. You can’t even be bothered to wear a proper uniform.”
“Hey, I’m just doing my part to support the cause, chief!” Deadpool glanced down at the small blue miniskirt he had stretched over his cowboy pants and spandex, “Gotta sport the team colors! This was your idea after all, don’t see what’s got your gloves in a knot.”
“Really? Because it sticks out like a sore red thumb to me.” Mustang stopped, turning to face the former champion. The mercenary met his stare, both holding it for a moment silently, refusing to back down. Deadpool’s hand twitched at his side then he uttered a long low whistle from behind his mask.
“Draw pard'ner!” Deadpool shouted, jerking his hand up suddenly. Mustang flinched but stopped as he realized that Deadpool was only holding up a finger gun. The mercenary laughed aloud.
“Relax Colonel Mustard! If you stay this uptight, you’re going to do something stupid and end up sulking about it on a mountaintop for the rest of your life!” Deadpool slapped a hand over one eye and hunched forward in mock dejection. Mustang’s brow wrinkled in confusion. The mercenary gave another insane cackle, then turned away, hand still held over his eye like a patch.
“Don’t worry! A lot of people like you better as an enlisted man!”
Deadpool wandered off, leaving Mustang bewildered. The officer rubbed at his face in irritation. Let the madman rave, so long as he continued to help them in the conflict. Mustang needed to focus on what mattered, getting this collection of rookies and green troops into a fighting force that could stand against the Unmaking.
---
“Lieutenant Mirage!”
The address came from a few tent rows away. Izaneus looked up from the campfire he had been waiting at. That was commander Mustang’s voice, he was pretty sure. They were only a few days out from the castle. There was no way they were almost to the front lines this early, was there?
The young mage’s curiosity drew him away from his seat, and he moved between the scattering of tents to see if he could catch a glimpse of the conversation. He lingered in the gap between two tents, listening to the group from a short distance away. Mustang stood in a close circle, speaking with Mirage and the mercenary woman, Violet. He was frowning at the apex pilot who only gave a shrug and a smile in response.
“I mean, I know how to fight, nothin’ going! I mentioned I won the Carnavale thingie right?” Mirage was explaining with his usual charisma, “But I’m not going to pretend I’m drill sergeant material! Well, I mean, now that I’m saying it out loud, I could pretend that I’m drill sergeant material. Although now I’ve said that out loud so… ”
Mustang crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “There are too many soldiers here for Lieutenant Uzumaki and I to handle on our own. I’m not asking you to train them to Markovian standards. We don’t have the time or the luxury for something like that. But these men are as new to their situations as most of us are to this command structure. Even the experienced warriors will need to learn the personalities of their new squad mates.”
The commander pulled at the glove on his left hand, neatening it. This one was simply white cloth, nor was it affixed with the transmutation symbol Mustang used to perform his flame alchemy. He tapped the side of his head with one finger as he spoke, brow furrowed in thought.
“They’re volunteers who signed on for a death game, sure. But in only a few short days those men will need to know they can rely on one another in the mayhem of a killing field. Some time spent now, drilling and learning to think as a unit may well save all of our lives down the road.”
The legend leaned back on his heels, placing a hand on his chin in a considering position.
“What do you think?” he asked, creating a hologram duplicate that mirrored his own pensive look. After a moment the duplicate just shrugged, then shattered into particles after winking at Mirage.
“Sure. I can give it a shot! How hard could it be?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure out how to handle the challenges.” Mustang replied levelly, “If you need additional help try to draft up a group of sergeants, maybe track down that idiot in the red to help. We’ve got far too many men to personally drill in this short a time. This doesn’t need to be handled perfectly, but we also can’t afford to march blindly forward and trust that providence will be there for us.”
“Uhhh… I won’t need to do any paperwork about this will I?” Mirage asked with a plaintive look. Mustang only sighed.
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“Let’s get to bamboozling!”
Another decoy dashed out between the obstacles on the field, making faces at the soldier standing at the far end of it. Shots rang out and hit a hay bale, barely missing the tricksters duplicate by a few inches. It ducked behind the bale of hay, looking over it and blowing a raspberry before taking off again, this time a bullet snagging its leg and causing it to fall over and fade out on the grass.
“Hey, not bad, at this rate you’ll probably be able to hit the real me! Who’s up next for target practice?”
“Aye aye, sir!”
The soldiers continued taking turns shooting the mirage decoy, slowly getting better at predicting his erratic, sometimes nonsensical movements. Meanwhile, Mirage was having a great time, not even breaking a sweat as he watched from the sidelines. The regular soldiers weren’t half bad. In fact, they might just be half good! After all, he still had time to slack off a bit and pull off some tricks before most soldiers managed to shoot him. Bangalore would probably pop his head out with a scout before he managed to even turn to wink at her. Still, he managed to catch her on the flip side more than one during the games. Good times.
Roy passed by and noticed the lieutenant lounging around on the side of the field. For a moment, he began to tense in frustration, before noticing what the man was doing. A line of soldiers were quickly drilling with the trickster, and it was actually quite ingenious. He was glad he had that gut feeling about the laid back competitor. Maybe this hot shot of a ally would continue to surprise him.
“Oh hey! Roy! Check it out I-” The legend began to strut across the field, oblivious to the next soldier that just took position and began to take aim. A burst of shots ripped through the air and nearly nicked Mirage in the shoulder.
“WOAH IT’S ME THIS TIME GUYS, HOLD ON,” he flailed for a moment after he shouted, falling to the ground before scrambling behind some cover, peeking over to make sure he was clear to move.
Maybe.
Another decoy dashed out between the obstacles on the field, making faces at the soldier standing at the far end of it. Shots rang out and hit a hay bale, barely missing the tricksters duplicate by a few inches. It ducked behind the bale of hay, looking over it and blowing a raspberry before taking off again, this time a bullet snagging its leg and causing it to fall over and fade out on the grass.
“Hey, not bad, at this rate you’ll probably be able to hit the real me! Who’s up next for target practice?”
“Aye aye, sir!”
The soldiers continued taking turns shooting the mirage decoy, slowly getting better at predicting his erratic, sometimes nonsensical movements. Meanwhile, Mirage was having a great time, not even breaking a sweat as he watched from the sidelines. The regular soldiers weren’t half bad. In fact, they might just be half good! After all, he still had time to slack off a bit and pull off some tricks before most soldiers managed to shoot him. Bangalore would probably pop his head out with a scout before he managed to even turn to wink at her. Still, he managed to catch her on the flip side more than one during the games. Good times.
Roy passed by and noticed the lieutenant lounging around on the side of the field. For a moment, he began to tense in frustration, before noticing what the man was doing. A line of soldiers were quickly drilling with the trickster, and it was actually quite ingenious. He was glad he had that gut feeling about the laid back competitor. Maybe this hot shot of a ally would continue to surprise him.
“Oh hey! Roy! Check it out I-” The legend began to strut across the field, oblivious to the next soldier that just took position and began to take aim. A burst of shots ripped through the air and nearly nicked Mirage in the shoulder.
“WOAH IT’S ME THIS TIME GUYS, HOLD ON,” he flailed for a moment after he shouted, falling to the ground before scrambling behind some cover, peeking over to make sure he was clear to move.
Maybe.
Tensions are running high in Resembool, as people whisper about the collapse of the Miniskirt Armada.
Fact? Fiction?
People are starting to bicker, and the once idyllic village life is quickly starting to come apart at the seams.
Fact? Fiction?
People are starting to bicker, and the once idyllic village life is quickly starting to come apart at the seams.
One night, the people in the village were resting peacefully.
And then the monsters came.
And then the monsters came.
***
Battle Statistics
Unmade Carnaval: 100 Soldiers
"Miniskirt Armada": 100 Village militia
Anyone in the UC or the former MS Armada can NPC write here if they deign to do so. This'll auto-resolve in about six-eight hours.
Battle Statistics
Unmade Carnaval: 100 Soldiers
"Miniskirt Armada": 100 Village militia
Anyone in the UC or the former MS Armada can NPC write here if they deign to do so. This'll auto-resolve in about six-eight hours.
The village smoldered, the stench of rot thick in the air.
***
Battle Update
The village has been ransacked and burned by the unmade forces.
About 20 unmade soldiers were destroyed in the fighting.
About 70 villagers were killed. 10 were taken alive. The remaining fled into the wilderness.
Battle Update
The village has been ransacked and burned by the unmade forces.
About 20 unmade soldiers were destroyed in the fighting.
About 70 villagers were killed. 10 were taken alive. The remaining fled into the wilderness.
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