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RP: The Silent Horizon [UNI-Open] From the Depths of Nightmares

Tysu's helmeted head turned down to observe Zhi'larra from behind that expressionless mask. Slowly, she reached up to the side of the helmet, opening a panel to remove a component and offer it.


Then it may be best to dispose of the body. I'll make it look like a Voidborn did it. It is good to meet you. I am Tysu Daran. Planetary Marines. Her Vesper was similar to her voice, low and growling like a rumble more felt than heard, but weak as though far away. She offered the object, her suit's body camera memory. Here. My helmet camera. Things are pretty bad right now. I got twenty trainees out there down two cadre. I'll talk to your Captain. But I need a weapon. All my gear is training or utility.

She reached across her body, pitching the corpse into the woods as though attacked by one of the creatures invading their shared home, her armor augmenting her strength to offer it distance before she double checked the grapple mounted on her wrist, showing a simple snare loop with a locking knot.
 
Perimeter

Zhi'larra tilted her head to look at the component briefly before accepting it into the palm of her hand.//"I think I have something for you, managed to grab a couple extra things. I am Zhi'larra Akhai, lets go see the captain and see what we can do to help you." //Zhi vespered to Tysu. She then watched as Tysu pitched the corpse into the woods, a pleasantly awestruck look on her face, that settled into a smile. Oh she definitely liked Tysu already, a worthy recipient for what was soon to be bestowed upon the large woman. //"Oh she's definitely one of ours. Planetary Marine instructor, was out on a trip with twenty trainees when shit hit the fan. Got separated from her group, we're heading towards you now Captain.// Zhi vespered to Jilae. "Follow me please, we're heading to meet the Captain. We'll stop by my gear on the way." she said to Tysu. With that Zhi'larra turned sharply on her heels heading back towards the communications tent.

Communications Tent

Quickly stopping where she had stored what little she'd been able to grap, Zhi'larra pulled up a niranium survival knife in its sheath. Then she pulled out an older PMR Artemesia, "Not much, but it is all I was able to grab on the way out. Will these do, for you?" she asked offering them to Tysu. She waited a moment to see if Tysu would accept them, then she walked the remaining short distance to their communications tent. Zhi'larra peaked into the tent, "Captain, whenever you have a moment." then she dipped back out to stand with Tysu.
 
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Tysu didn't show it, but the PMR was a godsend to her, and she gently took the knife, locking its sheath across her lower back so that the blade faced down, handle pointed out from her hip and easily drawn.

Then she took the rifle, almost reverently, but with the same casual ease that would have been expected, clearing the weapon as she loaded its capacitor into her armor to charge. Then she went through the functions check and pulled the pulse matrix to double check it before slamming it home and tucking the weapon into a low ready on her chest. "This will do nicely, Zhi'larra. Let us go see the Captain," she chose to speak aloud, rather than use Vesper. Likely because that use earlier must have been a near shout for her. Whispers were never her strong suit.

But she followed dutifully, and waited outside as Zhi went and got the Captain.
 
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As Captain Jilae Eitan stepped out from the tactical tent, her gaze settled on the imposing figure of the soldier before her. Standing at a modest 185cm, Jilae's presence was less about height and more about the authoritative air she carried effortlessly. Her duty uniform, though worn and frayed from the demands of combat and command, bore the signs of numerous battles ~ each thread a silent testament to survival and resilience.

"Welcome," she greeted, her voice carrying a mix of fatigue and firmness. Observing the soldier with a critical eye, she continued, "Good to see you survived, soldier. What is your name?" Without waiting for a response, she introduced herself, "I am Captain Jilae Eitan, and this," she gestured broadly to the encampment behind her, bustling with activity yet weighed down by the somber realities of war, "is our camp, at least for tonight."

She paused, her eyes briefly scanning the perimeter as if calculating the needs and numbers of her charges. "I’d offer you some soup, but I believe the last of it was consumed not long ago." Her gaze returned to the soldier, assessing her readiness for the task ahead. "There is a contingent of Iron Company soldiers en route, but they require an escort to meet us halfway. I need you and Zhi to handle this," she detailed the mission succinctly, the urgency underscored by her straightforward demeanor.

In the distance, the haunting rhythm of bombs falling on Vaalor City punctuated the air, a constant reminder of the war that raged on. Bombs meant there were still people resisting, meaning all was not yet lost.
 
"Tysu Daran, Shame of Jonas" spoke softly as she looked down at the woman, tilting her head before straightening into an attentive posture. "I've still got half of my suit's food and water. Thank you for your hospitality. Zhi gave me this rifle and a knife. I'll go get your errant Iron Company if you can spare one to recover my trainees. Or at least figure out what happened to them. They are not fully trained. But there's a chance for twenty three more fighters, three of which are instructors."

Following her eyes with her helmet. "We'll forage on the way. That was what my troop was training on."
 
Communications Tent

Zhi'larra listened to conversations being held between those in front of her, as well as bombs falling in the background. It gave her hope, even if it was not much, that there might be a chance. Though Tysu's introduction made her raise an eyebrow, "Shame?" she thought to herself. Whatever half baked squidling that saw Tysu as a shame could stand to lose a couple inches off their shoulders. If Tysu was willing to help them, she'd volunteer to help Tysu. //"I'd be willing to help recover the lost trainees after we recover the Iron Company. If that is acceptable? If they're trained in foraging, could be worth the extra stop.// Zhi vespered to Jilae.
 
("How much further?") One his fellows asked quietly as they maneuvered the hovercart along one of the backstreets; they'd had a close call a few times, but nothing had happened yet. Between that, and the sneaking around nerves their patience was wearing thin-though as much as they wanted to take on the exosuited bastards patrolling the streets, it was tempered by the knowledge that those norians needed the supplies they were bringing. There'd been some scattered radio chatter and the odd flare, but nothing too concrete to give any real indication of the large situation save for the fact it was all fucked.

Maybe they'd get lucky and happen upon one of the other cohorts.

("Shouldn't be too far to the rendezvous point now, but we've still gotta watch out for those patrols.") Well, that was something, if not a lot...just meant they might get to crack a few heads sooner than later...
 

South Nactlote Lake - Site G6​


Captain Jilae swiftly picked up on the undercurrent of shame radiating from the woman before her. She felt an urge to dispel the negativity that seemed to cling to her, having witnessed enough of the residual racism that still tarnished their world. Although she herself had never found solace in such prejudices, her experiences with the Company during their joint campaigns had left her all too familiar with the ugliness of such sentiments. "Zhi'larra here will accompany you; she's sharp and reliable," she asserted confidently. "You’re tasked with gathering these trainees, but stay vigilant ~ Craethel and other threats lurk out there. Even if they seem friendly, they must prove their loyalty before approaching our base. We can’t risk a voidic infiltrating and endangering the civilians."

With a reassuring smile, Jilae turned to return to the tent. Over her shoulder, she called back, firm and unequivocal, "And soldier, cast off that shame. You're alive, and that’s more than many can say." Her words carried a mix of sternness and encouragement as she disappeared back into the tent to join the radio operator.

Iron Company Position​


In the outskirts of Vaalor City, the remnants of what had once been bustling structures now stood eerily silent and desolate. Buildings that just a day ago had been homes and shops were reduced to rubble, their facades shattered and interiors exposed to the harsh elements. Walls had crumbled, leaving behind jagged silhouettes against the skyline, and glass from blown-out windows littered the ground like a carpet of diamonds under a harsh, unyielding sun.

The destruction was so complete and widespread that it gave the impression of a landscape forgotten by time, as if the city had been lying in ruins for decades rather than just 24 hours. Streets were choked with debris; overturned vehicles and fragments of what were once family dwellings now formed unnatural mounds of detritus. Every step through this desolation was a stark reminder of the attack's ferocity, with the silence amplifying the absence of the life that had once thrived here. The air hung heavy with the dust of obliteration, a testament to the suddenness and totality of the devastation.
 
"I shame my father by making everyone else proud, ma'am. I am someone's drunken shame, and not ashamed of it." Tysu stood tall and gave her salute before she started moving. As agreed, she would hunt the Iron Company down and bring them, then she would go after her trainees. She didn't expect to find any alive. But that was no reason to move slowly.

"Come, Zhi'larra. I hate to be in your debt, but I need you with me." She took off at a light trot as soon as Zhi indicated her readiness. The pair would have to move fast.
 
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South Nactlote Lake - Site G6

Zhi'larra found herself becoming disgusted with a person she never met. Specifically whoever had made Tysu feel as if she was a shame. A magnificent creature capable of untold violence and destruction, the kind of person Zhi would not mind hanging out with personally. Zhi offered a short nod of affirmation when Jilae noted that she would be accompanying Tysu and the additional specifications assigned.

When Jilae departed, Zhi shifted her weight from one leg to the other as she looked over her rifle. Then her eyes flicked up to Tysu, "Let's go bury the bastard in some shame." An understanding shift had occurred. What once might have been thought a negative thing turned into a good one, albeit in a way she did not expect. Without another word she readied her rifle at a relaxed position and followed Tysu.
 
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The devastation, no matter how impressive it seemed-was simply ignored by the trio as they guided the hovercart through the debris, aside from occasionally checking to see if anything useful could be scrounged-what rations that had been missed as panicked civilians fled for their lives, maybe some equipment left behind by them or even those who'd tried desperately to hold the line and died trying to save their home. Nothing else could be done save to say few words for those who died, and honestly, it was all the same to them-though Kraki had to admit some small part of him was concerned what would happen if the trio wound up having to confront one of those exos, let alone a collaborator. Shaking his head to dismiss such thoughts, the yeoman focused on more important matters at hand-that being making contact with the Norians.

("Rondevous point shouldn't be too much further out.") He said, checking the map again as they hunkered down behind some wrecked vehicles. His fellow nodded. ("Think this thing will make it?") The yeoman asked, indicating their commandeered craft-it was small, usally used to help offload cargo-they couldn't all ride on it ("Power cells had a good charge, but I'm not sure what the range on this thing is.") A shrug. ("We'll make it work.")

The trio got moving again, keeping an eye out for hostiles, or anything useful...
 

Iron Company Position​

The silence was strange...unnatural, almost oppressive. It was as if the world had exhaled and forgotten to breathe again. Every sound felt amplified: the crunch of boots against fractured concrete, the faint rustle of wind through the hollowed-out buildings, and the distant hum of something mechanical, though its source remained unseen. Not a single Craethel or collaborator patrol crossed their paths as they moved cautiously toward the rendezvous point, their senses sharp and alert in the eerie stillness.

Ahead, the remnants of a broken expressway loomed, its skeletal structure casting long, jagged shadows in the darkness. Then, piercing the gloom, a flash of blue light illuminated the night. It came in rhythmic pulses, casting brief glimpses of two armored personnel carriers (APCs) stationed in a defensive formation. The vehicles were positioned behind a series of makeshift barriers constructed from sandbags, scrap metal, and salvaged building materials. The bright white floodlights from the checkpoint cut through the darkness, creating an almost blinding contrast that left the surrounding areas shrouded in black.

A hand-painted sign, illuminated faintly by the glow, stood along the cracked road about five hundred meters from the checkpoint. Its simple lettering read: "Survivors Center ~ North 4km" ~ a beacon of hope, but one that demanded caution.

As they drew closer, the checkpoint came into sharper focus. The two APCs were heavily armed, their turret-mounted weapons scanning the area in slow, deliberate arcs. Positioned at the back of the vehicles were two Norian soldiers clad in camouflage field gear. Their armor bore signs of wear and repair, patches sewn over rips, and scratches running across the plates, telling a story of battles fought and survived. Each soldier carried an Artemesia Rifle at ready. It all just seemed a little too perfect.

One of the soldiers shifted slightly, the movement catching the floodlight's harsh beam and momentarily reflecting off the rifle’s polished metal. Their stances were disciplined, their eyes scanning the darkened road ahead with a mix of vigilance and exhaustion. Behind the APCs, a small makeshift shelter had been erected, its tarpaulin roof fluttering slightly in the breeze. The shadows of additional soldiers moved within, their figures occasionally silhouetted by the glowing terminals and equipment they worked on.

Small time skip - Have both parties rendezvous near the "checkpoint"
 
At her easy trot, Tysu kept low and quiet, her weapon at an almost easy low ready aimed at the dirt about three feet in front of her. But the uncanny thing wasn't the casual way her shoulders seemed to refuse to move relative to the ground, perfectly synced with her hips, or how her rifle was not the only tool she held armed, but it was the silence. The way Tysu's footfalls blended into the sounds of the forest even in her outdated and battlescarred armor. Or how she seemed to use shadows and light, the layers of grease paint making her armor seem dingy and impressive when standing in the camp broke up her figure moving like this, quickly tacking dirt and debris to itself to make the armor seem more a part of the environment. It was the way it seemed any lighting had been cut out with a knife, leaving her far more difficult to track. "When we complete this mission, I will need to rest. Can't sleep with my helmet on. If you're okay with it, I'd rather you be the only one to see me like that. Just... Makes things easier. And what of you? To whom do I entrust my life?"

Small talk, but something. At least until they came upon this... "checkpoint."

"Kay," Tysu spoke from her cover watching the checkpoint. "We can either sneak in and infiltrate, verify it's reality and talk to the CO. Or we can break it and steal the APCs. Or we can bypass and push to the Iron Company. I don't know about you, Zhi'larra, but I'm feeling lazy. The first two options would be difficult and dangerous. But we're in a position to come in from behind them, look like reinforcements or a patrol."

She sat against the brush, willing her armor's more advanced capabilities into being to scan for anything that would tell her of these soldiers. She felt like the uniforms were too ragged for how long they had been there, and too ragged for the discipline they were still bearing. Moreover, a large formation like this would have been noticed and engaged by now. And the weapons were still shiny. None of the heat and char and gunk of a protracted battle. None of the grease and muck that she trained her soldiers to cover themselves in to blend in. She didn't like it. It felt like a trap.
 
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