Ordinis Sancti Percute

[Kadaeux]

Over the skies of Egypt; Hotspur 1
Kani, Jace, Arthur, Adrian, Han Van Helsing, Ituha
NPCs: Bill Fullerton, 1 Trooper named Carl​

The glider moved silently over egyptian airspace, the eight people occupying its cramped cargo space as Bill studied the briefing packet under a torches light. He looked around not entirely happy, almost all the pretty women were on the other plane, Julia had bundled them all aboard before he could say anything. But still. "Ok gents, whatever you are, and Injun." He said thinking. "Our job is to stop the Jerries getting some sort of Egyptian spellbook, or so the high-ups say. We're going to come to a less than soft landing about three or four klicks from the site according to the pilot, if all goes to plan Hotspur 2 will land nearby and we can move in together, if not, we're ot make our way to the great pyramid and wait for the others."

He looked out the windows into darkness. "Black enough out there I couldn't see my families servants standing on the bloody wing." He said louder than intended. "Ok, and when we get back this lovely injun," He said catching her under the chin with a finger before pulling away, "can come over to my place and wash up the dishes from last night."

He looked at the briefing package again. "So anyway, the high-ups think we'll have to worry about a Nazi Necromancer and his entourage... so any questions?"

Over the skies of Egypt; Hotspur 2
Yggdri, Nathanial, Elizabeth, Richard, Alcina, Calvin
NPCs: Julia Matrovka, 1 Trooper named Frank​

Julia was also studying the intel package provided by headquarters before sending them on this mission with an intensity that had continued from the moment they took off. "Comrades," She said, "Our mission is simple. The pilots are going to try and land us near the target, that they will land us is a certainty no matter how much they fuck up we would touch ground sooner or later. " She paused as Frank laughed for a solid minute with a nervousness that it was impossible to hide.

The look on Julia's face finally choked back his laughter. "Our objective is the Sphinx, the Thule Society have uncovered a secret series of passages beneath it that according to our intercepts lead to a chamber holding a genuine copy of the original 'Book of the Dead', something to do with Egyptian mythology, but reportedly, if true, the Nazi Necromancers could increase exponentially as a threat." She checked the map again.

"Our primary objective is to secure the book. Our secondary objective is to ensure the Nazis, should they have found it first, haven't made any copies, photographs or anything similar. Optionally we are given leave to kill all the Nazis. I am fond of the last part I confess. It makes the first two objectives much easier. According to intel they already have Necromancers working there. So consider them a primary target. Any questions Comrades?" She asked.

 

[Brovo]

Hotspur One - Ituha, Stone Oak​

Ituha merely tolerated Bill's lewd advances and commentary, making no sign of being either surprised or upset by such behaviour. Quietly, and gently, she reaches and grabs some of the papers in the briefing package to read through herself. "Collect the Book of the Dead, an Egyptian artifact which allows for the manipulation of corpses and possible spirits, but more likely elementals." Tossing the briefing papers back down onto the desk, she looks to her compatriots: She was surrounded by white men. As a result, she looked and felt even more reclusive than usual as she looked up at Bill. She narrows her eyes. "No questions. Just land as soon as possible. This artifact is too valuable to lose to people who would use it in the name of racial supremacy." Her gaze appeared accusatory for a moment before she looked back down at the briefing papers. There was nothing else she could add, and while the others around her might be talkative, she wouldn't be the one to initiate the conversation unless it held some kind of purpose.

Hotspur Two - Calvin D. Walters​

Sitting with a firm grasp on his thighs, Calvin had been quietly humming to himself throughout the introduction. He rubs his palms together and looks toward Julia when she finishes speaking. "Ma'am, I think you've already made it clear your intel is about as vague as it gets: An indeterminate number of men with an indeterminate number'a officers. We'll just have to wait until we land before we know how to tackle the situation." Calvin bows his head and pulls out his cross from underneath his shirt. The silver cross glinted in the dimly lit interior of the plane as he grasped it tightly and started quietly murmuring a prayer. "Our lord who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. May you watch over us, and shepherd those unlucky souls who won't make it home..."​

 

[Drallinix]

Of course I get stuck with this moron as a leader

Adrian was sitting against one of the walls as the flew in. His katana was laid in his lap and he had been cleaning and sharpening it for the last hour of the flight. Finally he stood sheathing it as he did so. He walked forward to where the others were and listened to the rest of the briefing. Finally the man took it to far putting his finger under the woman's chin and making a lewd comment. For half a second Adrian was tempted to draw his sword, but the woman tolerated it so he refrained from butchering the man in the confined space of the plane.

"I suggest you apologize bill wouldn't we all just HATE to see her powers magically fail when you need help. Of course it could happen at any time, but it does seem much more likely when the life on the line is a racist American moron."

As Adrian finished he glared at the man who had given the briefing. The man may be "in charge" however Adrian was a vampire and technically not even part of the military. He was hear of his own free will and volition and was not going to be degraded or see anyone else degraded for being different.

 

[Firemind]

Seeker Yggdri - Featuring Brovo, as Calvin Daniel 'Waltzy' Walters

[ * ]
​

Yggdri was not sure of what to think about the magical 'Glider' that they were all riding in. The way it jittered and creaked was honestly more than a little unnerving, and she longed to have her feet on the ground again. Egypt sounded like it would be a good place to work her Geomancy: Sand was mostly just eroded rock, after all. It would be like a play-pen for her!

…Except for the Nazis…and the zombies...

She tried to ignore the very likely fact that she would have to kill someone today and instead focused on the people inside the mechanical beast with her. The most obvious person to focus on was Julia: she cut an imposing figure amongst the group, as someone officious and powerful and honestly, a little scary. It was good to have someone like that in charge though: it would keep all the vastly different elements in the metal beast grounded.

Then there was American. He was the first to speak amongst the under-rankers, and he spoke out in his loud, brash voice and his loud, brash voice didn't really say much. He sort of confirmed what everyone was likely thinking: that they were going in far too blind for this to be a safe operation. What caught Yggdri's attention was what he did after he finished speaking. He fished out some small metal totem and, without a hint of mysticism, started to speak to it! Confused, Yggdri stared at the man, whispering to his metal totem. She tried to make out what he was saying, but couldn't over the loud creaking of the metal-monster.

When it looked like he'd paused, or finished, or just wasn't deep in concentration, Yggdri leaned in a bit closer and shouted out, so that her voice might be heard over the creaky metal death-trap. "Excuse me: Why are you talking to that metal thing? I was under the impression you weren't an Occultist."

"I'm prayin' to God, ma'am. You can join me if you like." He looks up at the ceiling of the glider and smiles faintly.

Yggdri pauses for a moment, looking at the stranger with a bit of confusion evident on her face. "Is that the name of your ancestral spirit? I don't think he would listen to my call either way."

"Uhh..." Calvin hesitates a moment and glances at her again. "It's the name of ou--... My... Lord and savior, and creator of all things."

"Oh..." Yggdri paused for a moment, realising that she'd probably just insulted the foundations of the man's beliefs: was the belief in 'God' widespread? She had not really had time to look into it, following the cramming of information she'd undergone since joining the Ordinis Sancti Percute. "...Uh, I guess he's kind of a big deal then. What will praying to him do? Will he whip up a sandstorm to help block our decent? Or maybe he'll cave in a catacomb the Nazi's necromancer is in? Ooh, ooh! Maybe he can get rid of the monsters down there!" The words, which from another's mouth might sound mocking, were full of a sort of curiosity normally reserved for the very young or the very naive. "Sorry, probably asking too many questions. I'm Yggdri, by the way."

"I know, I'm Calvin. Lots o' folks just call me Waltzy though. Err... God is... Well, he will... Support me in mysterious ways." He closes his eyes and continues to pray. "Lord please forgive our sins, as we press forward into the shadow of the valley of death..."

Yggdri pauses to let Calvin finish his strange incantations that sought the blessings of this strange creator that the young Druid knew absolutely nothing about. What kind of Spirit would only help the devout in 'mysterious ways?' There was no denying the gifts of the Mother Spirit: She offered food, shelter, sustenance, fertility and just about every bounty one could hope for. She was glad that she didn't need to make strange incantations for her blessings: If she did, when would she have time to enjoy them? "So uh…Calvin…or Waltzy, I guess…" She pauses, clearing her throat to try and clear some of the awkward tension. "Where are you from? I'm from Ireland myself, lovely place: especially in the winter, at least if you don't mind rain."

"You realize we're 'bout to land in a combat situation in which either dozens of Jerries or all of us are gon' bite it, right?" He turns and raises an eyebrow, his prayer interrupted. In reality, he intended to keep praying until they landed or he was ordered otherwise. Still, he smiled in a friendly way. "I'm from a small town on the east coast of the good ole' US of A. Where the sun shines and God loving men tame the wild countryside, and everybody knows their neighbours. Where freedom reigns supreme." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, likely about to resume his circular prayers.

"Of course I realise. It would be pretty foolish of me to board a strange flying metal monster if I did not know where it was going." Yggdri spoke out without correctly assessing Calvin's desire to return to prayer. "So it looks like you're a soldier: huh? I'll work on keeping us safe and covered, if you want to shoot all the…uh…'Jerries' for me."

"Don't worry ma'am. I'll do everything in my power to make sure you come home." Calvin said simply as he kept his eyes closed.

Yggdri smiled at the response. "Thanks Calv...Waltzy. I am never going to remember that." She pouts, deciding that she had bugged the American soldier with enough questions for now. She reached down to her side and brushed a finger against the Focusing Font, drawing a shard of the stored energy from the item and bringing it up to her shoulder. With the smallest of motions and the lightest of whispers in a language not quite English, but oddly similar, Yggdri let the shard of magic take the outline of a small creature. The light quickly faded, and took the form of a cat-like creature , with sandy-brown fur and over long ears. "Heya Sil, ready to spot for me?" The cat-like Caracal mewled at Yggdri, which caused the woman to pout. "What do you mean I owe you more food?"

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

Hotspur One - Arthur 'Dutch'​

Arthur had been sitting quietly listening to the mission briefing, he was wearing his fatigues under the expiremental body armor that the Krauts on their side had made for him. It fit well over his fatigues and made him seem a bit bigger than he already was. He had the standard military issue helmet on his head and was smoking a cigarrette while the glider flew through the skies. He was nervous, flying made him angsty. And when some young looking guy with a sword started talking smack it didnt much help Dutch's concentration on not freaking out.

"Save the fightin' for those death loving Nazi sonsabitches" Dutch started as he turned his head to face the guy, "He's our commandin' officer and we gotta do as he says."

Dutch clutched his gun as the glider rattled a bit and then steadied itself. He looked up and closed his eyes taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"Th'reason we're all here right now is to fuck up some of them dirty Kraut bastards and keep 'em from ending the war with a god damn book."

 

[dalecOoOoOoOoOper]

Well, today was different than most days.

Usually it was just a jump into the battlefield, like in Normandy. But he was in a glider. He wasn't specialised in gliders, nor was he wanting to join the Gliderborne. It felt strange, yet comforting and familiar. It was also not until Ordinis Sancti Percute came along. Swooped off the battlefield and into a newer stranger fight, he looked around his team. He nodded to himself, before looking at the CO. "Plain ol' pile of sunshine." Winters thought to himself, intent on keeping silent. Winters nodded at the Colonel, gave a formal salute, and looked back at himself. He looked inside his pocket, looking at the armband of the American flag, sliding it through his wrist to his shoulder as he looked at it carefully. He took out his torch light, putting on the red lenses as he looked at Calvin praying. Standing up, Winters walked toward him and sat infront of him. He bowed his head, closed his eyes, and spoke silently, the red torch illuminating both of them ever so gently. "
Lord Jesus Christ, I place myself at the foot of Your cross and ask You to cover me with Your Precious Blood which pours forth from Your Most Sacred Heart and Your Most Holy Wounds. Cleanse me, my Jesus, in the living water that flows from Your Heart. I ask You to surround me, Lord Jesus, with Your Holy Light..." Richard spoked silently as he extended his hand toward the other soldier. He kept his helmet on him, painted in tan as his OD camo was also exhanged for a British tan. "Captain Winters. You?"

@Brovo

 

[Thomas McTavish]

Jace Morteres - Hotspur 1 - September 23, 1940 - 01:36 hours - Somewhere in Egyptian Airspace

The air inside the plane was thick with tension and terror, fear of death, fear of pain, fear of failure. Basics. Jace didn't have to be a Mindshadow to sense it. The sheer dread was almost palpable. They were all scared, even if only just a little. Jace was no exception, either. I mean, come on, flying several thousand feet above the ground in a big metal can with wings on it, with the threat of being shot down by enemy AA guns or another winged can omnipresent. They all listened to the briefing, the illusionist conjuring a show of solidly shaped lights and smoky shadows to keep himself entertained.

Jace sat quietly, playing with his little illusion, resisting the impulse to drive the incredulously racist American insane. Not so much from respect of his rank or a hate of racism, but because he was quite tired of the whole 'white supremacy' shenanigans with Americans, and it's unnecessary frequency. White men feared just the same as any black man, yellow man, tan man, or "Injun" man. It made no difference to Jace. On the topic, his mind wandered to why the Nazis thought the Aryan race was supreme over the others. They had no real defining characteristics, no traits that made them better than anyone else. And speaking of Nazis, the main forces would be on the way to Cairo by now, with scouting and retrieval parties likely there already. The chance was heightened by the presence of a Necro Nazi, and a mission to retrieve the Book of the Dead. His only hope was that the Covenant would lock it away instead of destroy it. Necromancy was a horrid art, yes, but better to keep the knowledge retained to be referenced should necromancy be eradicated and suddenly pop up somewhere again, so it could be easily recognized and rapidly stamped out again.

"So, lemme get this straight, American. We drop in, hike it a handful of clicks to the hotzone, get it, make the Jerries shite their pants, grab the Book, and scram before it all gets banjaxed, yeah? And as for the Necrojerry, how're we to deal with him?" he asked, leaning forward, clenching his hand into fist and crushing his display into oblivion.

 

[Kadaeux]

Hotspur 1
​

"I suggest you apologize bill wouldn't we all just HATE to see her powers magically fail when you need help. Of course it could happen at any time, but it does seem much more likely when the life on the line is a racist American moron." The vampire remarked to Bill and Bill simply glared at the Vampire.

"Take. Your. Seat. I do suggest you rethink who you try and call moron you bloodsucking parasite." Bill said his voice cold as the grave and the BAR on his lap pointing his way now.

"So, lemme get this straight, American. We drop in, hike it a handful of clicks to the hotzone, get it, make the Jerries shite their pants, grab the Book, and scram before it all gets banjaxed, yeah? And as for the Necrojerry, how're we to deal with him?" the Illusionist asked, leaning forward, clenching his hand into fist and crushing his display into oblivion.

"Pretty much, as for the Necromancer, orders are to kill him if we get the chance. According to the report from HQ, grenade the body, though they say burning it is best, they recommend damaging the body irrevocably just in case it tries to get back up." Bill said plainly. The green light in the glider suddenly turned red. "Five minutes people."
​

Hotspur Two - Calvin D. Walters​

Sitting with a firm grasp on his thighs, Calvin had been quietly humming to himself throughout the introduction. He rubs his palms together and looks toward Julia when she finishes speaking. "Ma'am, I think you've already made it clear your intel is about as vague as it gets: An indeterminate number of men with an indeterminate number'a officers. We'll just have to wait until we land before we know how to tackle the situation." Calvin bows his head and pulls out his cross from underneath his shirt. The silver cross glinted in the dimly lit interior of the plane as he grasped it tightly and started quietly murmuring a prayer. "Our lord who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. May you watch over us, and shepherd those unlucky souls who won't make it home..."​

"We're not expecting heavy resistance. The Nazi's don't have any significant presence in Egypt at this time." Julia said preparing her weapon, a 1938 Mosin Nagant with scope, the light turning red. "Five minutes Comrades."

 

[dalecOoOoOoOoOper]

Winters nodded at the Colonel, checking down the sights of the M1 Garand and pulling the slide back, making sure nothing was jammed our out of place. "Clear." He spokebout gently to signify the chamber had no ammunition. He grabbed a clip of ammunition and slapped it in the port, sliding it closed as Richard began examining his Colt. "We're pumped up and ready to go Colonel." The Captain nodded at her, looking at the men and women inside the glider. "Good luck. God bless you... if you have a God."

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

Arthur 'Dutch'- Hotspur 1
​

Dutch smirked as he heard the five minute warning, soon he'd be on the ground and killing some Nazi bastards. He really hoped the Necro fucker had summoned up some extra dead bastards so he'd have some easy shooting. He didnt necessarily like killing, he was just very good at it, always had been. It made his life simple, and so long as he kept killing he kept living. He checked his rifle, standard military grade M1A1 Carbine, he had a full 30 round clip inside. He had his baby in a custom sheathe across his back, the Winchester Model 12 Trench Gun. He loved the weapon, from its smooth wood butt to heat shielded muzzle. He had his knife tucked into a sheathe in his boot, sharpened to a razor edge. Perfect for cutting Nazi windpipes.
​

"Ready" Dutch smiled taking a final long drag off of his cigarette, he tapped the ash off of it and then ground the bud into the rubber of his boots. He brushed the ash off then flicked the dead bud towards the back of the Hotspur and repositioned himself.

​

 

[Brovo]

Hotspur 1 - Ituha, Stone Oak​

Ituha's shoulders slump as she takes a deep breath and sighs. Retaining her tranquility, she turns to face the vampire in their company. A strange creature that the movies of the time were already starting to vilify, though their nature did seem prone to villainous acts: Needing to drain the lifeblood of another. Still, he had good intentions, and that meant that even if his heart did not beat, there was still some warmth there to be found for others. A smile graces her lips as she speaks softly. "It's okay, remain calm. He does not have to like or respect me to work for a common cause... Once this war is over, the collective good will be achieved. If it means he must tolerate one of my people, and I must tolerate his less than chivalrous nature, than it should perhaps be considered in the common good of all to simply accept things as they are, for now."

Pausing for a moment, Ituha looks to Dutch and nods with approval. Though his words were crude, she seemed to agree with the end result. "We can look to the future to resolve intolerance. For now, we can all agree on one thing: These men must be stopped..." She looks back to the vampire once more. "So let's focus on that, and when this is all over, we can change the hearts of men without chaos and violence." Her gaze finally returns to Bill, as she motions to the watch. "Good luck everyone." She says with a polite bow of her head.

Hotspur 2 - Calvin D. Walters​

Calvin opens his eyes at the end of Winters' prayer. The silver cross slips from his fingers and falls to his chest as he takes a deep breath and looks Winters' eye to eye. "Captain Walters, most call me Waltzy." He looks around the interior of the glider, and notes that they only had five minutes left. He remained seated, and looked around at the interior of the craft: Already his mind was racing through possibilities, weapons and tactics. Positions. They had an odd squad to be sure, but nothing that couldn't be handled... Even if he was inexperienced with the Occultists in the squad.

He clears his throat, and gives his tactical advice with a clear tone, managing to remove most of his hometown slang from his vocabulary... Most of it. He still had a hint of an accent. "Tree lady, hope y'don't mind if I call you Yiggy. You, Lizzy (Elizabeth), and Alcina do that magic stuff. That means our squad has a high concentration of support, options, but not a lot of straightforward firepower." He looks at Winters and nods. "Winters is a Captain. He knows like me that we'll need to coordinate our efforts as best as we can. From what I've been told, Occultists can do scary things if protected. So in firefights, we should focus on letting me and Winters' cover y'all. Simply tell us what you're going to do, and we can tell you whether to proceed or belay that."

He takes a deep breath once again, sharply inhaling. He was a little nervous, but he still left an inspiring presence. "If we can, we should see if we can't get a nice ride with a big gun on it for Zike. He's got the expertise to get us in and out quick. He's also an... 'Investigator', he can give us intel on the fly. At least, so far as I'm aware. With any luck, we'll all pull through this in one piece, and we can share a drink at the bar later. On me, of course." He holds onto the edges of the glider tight, ready for it to come to an abrupt landing. "Take care of each other, and God bless us all!"

 

[Serene]

It was a knock on the door in the dead of night that started it all. And then there was the voice on the other side, a familiar chime. Much later, when she was able to think and amply comprehend the things that happened to her, she would conclude that nothing was real except chance. Every cause and every consequence could be traced back, along the thin lines of thread spanning the universe, to that moment when the Father had blessed her in Grentham.

She answered the door wearing nothing but the peculiar, white rags in which she slept. The A.M. was not one of Elizabeth's strengths, although she wanted it to be. "Father McCoy?" she spoke with a rusty, crumbling voice, "what are you doing here?" The man of God had come to her humble abode, as per her request, as a wakeup call on the day of adventure and danger. "For a girl who remembers everything, you don't seem to remember your own will," he retorted. A frown emerged on Elizabeth's face, only to be removed by a following smirk. "Don't get smart, Father, I know why you're here—I was just messing with you! Come on in," she said and invited the elderly man inside.

"Do you want anything? The tea is coming right up."
"No, thank you, dear—I've already had my morning dosage."
"Don't let the Queen hear you say that. Who in their right mind passes on tea?"
"There's only one ruler in this country, and it certainly isn't the Queen."
Elizabeth chuckled. "Don't get me started on God."
"I suppose it's fruitless to…"
"Yes, it is," the girl interrupted. The pastor sighed.
"Well, perhaps this journey to Egypt will change your mind."
"I highly doubt it, but you know me; I have an open mind!" She said and they chuckled together. It was an old and cheesy pun, but it had brought the two together one more than one occasion.

*

Elizabeth was silently reading a dissertation that had been sent to her from Oxford. The paper concerned a structuralist interpretation of some of the spells found in the Book of the Dead. One of these interpretations assumed the arcane to be a possibility, which was of particular interest to Ms. Milton. She had never flown in an aircraft before, so the reading somewhat distracted her mind from the realization that they were gliding the skies in a metal tube. Some of the things that the dissertation processed, some of the spells within the Book of the Dead, were no joke, and Elizabeth sincerely hoped that the 'necromancers' Julia spoke of had not gotten their hands on anything, yet. However, Elizabeth thought it unnecessary to speak of these possibly horrid threats, especially so as not to break the spirits of those God adhering men amongst her.

She felt it rude to interrupt Walters, so she waited until after his little speech and spruce of tactics. However, after he was done, she spoke: "I beg your pardon, Mr. Walters, but I don't do any of that 'magic stuff', so I'll be staying far behind everyone until things are safe and sound," she said; her eyes, slightly hidden behind the thick reading glasses she was wearing, quickly flickering between each member present. Elizabeth had to admit to herself that she was a bit intimidated by the fierce flock, thus she cleared her throat and continued, modestly: "I mean,… I don't know of how much use I'll be up there in the front with you fine ladies and gentlemen," she said and rumbled through her bag of belongings. "I have this gun," she said and pulled forth some small caliber, revolver-type apparatus whose bullets flung all over the metal floor of the plane. Elizabeth gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh, dear! I'm so sorry!" The girl said and quickly began to collect the bullets.

This was certainly not a good impression or display of her usefulness—no, not at all.

 

[Kadaeux]

Hotspur 2​

Julia smiled. The girl was clearly out of her depth, but she'd find her way. Instead of letting her rely on the revolver she pulled out her own sidearm, a Tokarev and passed it to the young woman with a pair of spare clips, "Comrade, you use it like this," Julia showed her how to work the weapons action and reload it, "though please don't pull the trigger while on the flight, I'd rather avoid poking holes in this flying cigar."

 

[Drallinix]

Adrian's eyes narrowed at the word parasite. He gritted his teeth and for a minute he had the urge to actually show the man why vampires were feared, however he was soothed by Ituha. She urged him to forget it and to focus on the objective at hand. Adrian merely nodded before walking back to sit next to jace. He continued to glare at the man for a few moments before turning to the illusionist.

"While I am competent at range if you could not guess I work best in well close proximity to the enemy. You seem the most capable of providing me with that opportunity, If you can dazzle them or at least distract the majority for a few seconds then I can close on the Nazi bastards. When that happens all you should have to do is watch my friend, not many humans can best a vampire in melee combat."

 

[Goldmarble]

Hotspur 1; Kazumasa Gaul​

On the bench across from the access door, where headroom was at a premium, slouched the stocky figure of Kazumasa. He wore somewhat specialized boots which had lacing that fell out of the hooked metal catches, making it extremely quickly to remove them. The pants he wore were excessively loose, blousing around the tops of his boots excessively, even the crotch of the pants hung low, and strangely, at the front of trousers, excess material was folded over, and belted down to his waist. It almost gave him the appearance of a child trying to wear his fathers pants. The rest of his equipment seems fairly typical for a Canadian infantryman. Broadbrim, English style helm; standard webbing gear with four large, basic pouches; bayonet in the frog at his left waist, 1903 spade entrenching tool on his right, with his water bottle strapped over it's sheath. On his back he carried his haversack, with a spare large pouch lashed to it.

Strangely, Kazu was quietly sleeping, even as the glider jostled and rattled in a passing bit of turbulence. Yet, at the signal of 5 minutes, he roused a bit, looking up at the officer, and then scanning the rest of the crew idly. Levering the Enfield into is lap, he looked the weapon over, made sure it was loaded, but with an empty chamber, and then shifted himself to sit upright. He sat there in the back of the glider for the simple reason, that he was on the shorter side of the spectrum. He didn't need the headroom.​

 

[White]

"I am inoperative to assimilate the issue of what you call racism" Kani spoke with an accent that could be a mix of german and japanese, but also with a slight artificial tone. "I am a Kani" she added afterwards, still helpless and unable to understand the concept of racism. Afterall, where she is coming from a "WhiteBrownGreen" is automatically meant to become a soldier, a WhiteYellowBlue is a Farmer and a GreenWhiteWhite is a Leader.
"But I am contended that the hostile exchange has ceased."

"I am furnished with the facilities to face rebels. I am contented to battle unarmed and lightly armored enemies. Please do not get between my acquired target. Severe skin burnings of the 4th Grade are to be expected if the departure did not transpire."

Kani did not move a single bit of her body while speaking, nor looked at any of the people, simply kept staring onward at what was right infront of her, if it was a person, it seemed as if she was staring through him or her, if it was the planes hull, it would look as if she was drilling holes into the material.

 

[Thomas McTavish]

Jace Morteres - Hotspur 1 - September 23, 1940 - 01:41 PM, 4 minutes until landing - Egyptian Airspace near Cairo

Jace shuddered as Kani spoke. There was something... unnatural about what he assumed was a 'her'. It wasn't an unwarranted feeling, however. She was from an entirely different reality. Shaking his head free of the disturbance, he adjusted his gear for comfort, returning to his play with shadow and light. "I agree with the Windblood, we can bicker about colors after the Nazis are wiped out. For now, we focus on retrieving the Book and killing the Necromancer. Fullerton, specifics on approach? Or is that to be decided upon rendezvous with Hotspur Two?" he asked. Best to get details worked out now.

 

[dalecOoOoOoOoOper]

Captain Winters, Hotspur 2

Winters looked up around the group, tightening the jump mask so it wouldn't bob if they hit ground. He looked at everyone, and right after his speech, he spoke up. "Under any and all circumstances, assume the enemy is still alive even after one shot. If you hit him and he looks down, fire another shot to be sure. Keep your spacing around each other, if a gernade blasts in the five meter zone of each other, we are all dead. Try to have atleast ten meters. Aswell as what he said, you tell us what to do, we'll try to do our best to cover." After he finished, he nodded at the team. He looked at Elizabeth, who had spoke on how she doesn't do anything magical. "Well, miss, what would be your occupation for best use? If we can't use it in combat, then we'd have to have you in the back for cover." He gently coughed, looking on how she spoke about the gun. Almost immediately, once the gun was dropped, his instinct was to push his fellow Captain down onto the seat, eliminating risk as Winters fell ontop of him. "For Petes sake, we"ll be killed if that ever happens again." In secret, Winters gave a gentle smile at her clumsiness. He walked up to her, standing up slowly as to avoid any turbulence, picking up the bullets and holding them in his hand. The other amount remained with her. "Let me see the pistol." Winters spoke.

@Serene @Brovo

 

[Serene]

Hotspur 2​

​

Even if Elizabeth could remember Julia's graceful handling of the Tokarev—the way her thumb caressed the magazine release to check the magazine and its contents, how the harmoniously resonating chimes and clicks emanating from the barrel sliding back into place and the safety being applied, and the way the weapon seamlessly obeyed her every command—it was not quite possible for Ms. Milton to perfectly mimic her superior's expertise. "I know how to use it, ma'am, I just suffer from a severe case of butter fingers today, as it would seem," said Elizabeth and leaned back into her seating. "Yes, ma'am, I'll be careful," she continued and bagged the Tokarev along with the spare magazines.

She looked to Captain Winters with wide open eyes, with an expression of embarrassment and hopelessness, and removed her reading glasses. "I'm truly sorry, Captain Winters; it will never happen again, I promise," Elizabeth reassured. However, she felt slightly less abashed when she noticed his subtle, informal smile beneath the disciplinary toned words that had sounded from his person. She tucked a few strings of hair behind her ear and accepted the remaining bullets from his possession. "Thank you; that was kind of you," she stammered slightly, and gave the captain the gun to which the bullets belonged—it was a Harrington & Richardson 'Young American' Double Action revolver, with .22 calibers.

"They say it's an 'old lady gun', whatever that means," Elizabeth chuckled.

 

[dalecOoOoOoOoOper]

Hotspur 2​

​

Even if Elizabeth could remember Julia's graceful handling of the Tokarev—the way her thumb caressed the magazine release to check the magazine and its contents, how the harmoniously resonating chimes and clicks emanating from the barrel sliding back into place and the safety being applied, and the way the weapon seamlessly obeyed her every command—it was not quite possible for Ms. Milton to perfectly mimic her superior's expertise. "I know how to use it, ma'am, I just suffer from a severe case of butter fingers today, as it would seem," said Elizabeth and leaned back into her seating. "Yes, ma'am, I'll be careful," she continued and bagged the Tokarev along with the spare magazines.

She looked to Captain Winters with wide open eyes, with an expression of embarrassment and hopelessness, and removed her reading glasses. "I'm truly sorry, Captain Winters; it will never happen again, I promise," Elizabeth reassured. However, she felt slightly less abashed when she noticed his subtle, informal smile beneath the disciplinary toned words that had sounded from his person. She tucked a few strings of hair behind her ear and accepted the remaining bullets from his possession. "Thank you; that was kind of you," she stammered slightly, and gave the captain the gun to which the bullets belonged—it was a Harrington & Richardson 'Young American' Double Action revolver, with .22 calibers.

"They say it's an 'old lady gun', whatever that means," Elizabeth chuckled.

Captain Winters, Hotspur 2

He laughed gently, still crouched infront of her as he takes the weapon. "The gun was made arou need the 1800's. That is why." Winters took the bullets, and opened the "Spin" as he called it, inserting the bullets. Winters pushed it back in, spun it quickly, and left the hammer closed in case of accidental fire. "Under all purposes, never fire this gun. Use this as a last resort. Your better off using the Colonels weapon." He flipped the revolver, still speaking low. "What's your name, miss?"