|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 6:38 pm
Corporal Meika Faust
>1841 Hours
>>Mess Hall
As she had been about to defend herself against the brute of a marine, Meika was surprised to see someone jump into the fight and onto the man. The two struggled, marine desperately trying to tear Formoe off of him, and the second one approaching to assist his "buddy". But before he got the chance, Meika picked up the tray and threw it at him. The crowd that had gathered around the four of them cheered again, eager to see more. Crouched down slightly, poised to throw herself at the second marine, a voice broke through the cheers and other noise of the mess, and she froze right where she was.
Finally able to throw the ODST off of him, the large marine stood up straight and shot a glare at Formoe. "You lucked out, you piece o--" He collapsed in a heap suddenly, the result of Meika nailing him over the head with another, already empty tray. Dropping it, she looked over at the man who had stopped the fight. Another ODST. And from what she saw, a veteran. Just to be safe, she snapped to attention. Hopefully she didn't look like the bad one here, or else she'd get her a** chewed out by her CO--hell, maybe even the ships Commander himself-- for the next few days.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 8:47 pm
::: Corporal Formoe, Cole T.
::: UNSC Iron Sunrise
::: Mess Hall.
Just as the marine managed to wrench away from his grip, Formoe heard a very distinct voice shout over the crowd, and faster than anyone could have thought possible for a man his size, he snapped to attention. Everything around him drowned out as background noise and he was left standing at attention, staring toward the doors to the mess hall where his First Shirt stood, more than obviously upset. He knew the unspoken rule that ODSTs and regular ground-pounder marines don't mix. Now he undertsood why; the marine he had just wrestled away from a disastrous fight could have tried to attack him just because the two different military persons didn't see eye to eye on the battlefield.
Unfortunately, during the struggle, the marine did land a lucky hit in on him and blood was now rolling down his chin from a split lip. Formoe didn't even feel the cut from the mass amounts of adrenaline pumping through his system but it was still there. Ever present like a red stone sitting in a pile of white rocks. Smartly, and tactfully, he didn't even dare speak up and try to voice some sort of an excuse for the First Sergeant to have to listen to. He just stood, awaiting the consequences and ready to be chewed out right in front of the entire mess hall. He had made a mistake, jumping into the middle of a fight, even with noble intentions, but he still had to pay for his mistake, one way or another.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 9:07 pm
1stSgt Mitchell, Scott P.
> 1842 Hours
>> UNSC Iron Sunrise
>> Slipspace
Mitchell was seven different kinds of pissed. He had expected to spend the next few hours cooling off. He’d spent the last week dealing with civilians and Marines who weren’t altogether pleased with their respective situations. And now this little ball of fun had been dropped in his lap. Things were bad enough without this bullshit. They had just lost Reach. Mitchell had watched as the Covenant had burned his home. He had watched as they turned its surface into smoldering glass.
”Formoe get yourself cleaned up. Briefing is at 2100. Now does anyone want to tell me what happened here?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 10:54 pm
Kumar, Whitney // E-5
> UNSC Iron Sunrise
>> Mess Hall.
Whitney was enjoying her meal, until the fight started. She watched it, wondering why these marines were dumb enough to waist perfectly good energy on each other. There is a gym idiots. But when Mitchell ended it, she ran over to him, eager to say her part on how idiotic the marines are. She ran to his side and stood to attention.
"Sarge! Formoe was trying to break it up. He is just a rookie, I thin he has already learned his lesson. Also, the only one that should be in trouble is this--" she looked at the insignia quickly then pointing directly at him, "--private."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Sep 25, 2009 1:19 am
»»»Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Continual Light; Naun 'Var Nnaolee
»»Flagship; Exalted Deliverance, Assault Carrier
»Hall to the Bridge
The younger of the two sangheili was being overly respectful for the mere age difference. No doubt from his time around the san 'shyuum. There were times he tired of their games. He acted like a fellow Zealot. Shaking his head, the Supreme Commander honestly had nothing for him. "There will be time for that. Unfortunately, the humans ships are primitive. It shall be long in coming before they arrive. Bearing that in mind, it is best we plan." He didn't leave any room for error when planning. Things happened on the battlefield, but they could prepare for the foreseeable.
"We have much to speak of. Tell me of your squad, to begin with." Yes, he was a bit unorthodox. That, in and of itself was proven by the fact that they were conversing in a hallway.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Sep 25, 2009 1:42 am
:/{ Hand of Perdition, Special Operations Officer; Zhar Vak 'Kuvamee
:/{ Flagship; Exalted Deliverance, Assault Carrier
:/{ Hall to the Bridge
Nodding respectfully, Zhar had no inkling of an idea that he might have appeared more aristocratic than like the warrior he was born, bred, and forged into being. With a simple gesture toward the length of the hallway, he motioned for them to walk while they spoke and once they had begun their slow-paced trek down the hallway, he began to tell everything he could to his newest commander. "As you already know, Supreme Commander, we are a Special Operations tactical assault team. Much smaller than most seem in the Covenant's display of trophy victories and tales of old. More than that, we handle assignments directly from the Prophets and Councilors who heed our assistance or call for my team's particular... skills, shall we say."
While he was explaining many of the finer details, Zhar continued to walk alongside Naun but just half a step behind to give the Supreme Commander the place of honor while walking. Stepping ahead of anyone meant you were more important or higher ranking, both of which he knew he was not in comparison to Naun 'Var Nnaolee. "I cannot speak of the nature of many of my team's assignments, but I was tasked to observe the might of this fleet and report it to the Hierarchs, most especially the Prophet of Mercy, who is quite interested in the operational capacity of your fleet, Supreme Commander. They have placed myself and my comrades under your direct control, and in any case that I am to be called upon for any service, I am at your command." Everything he spoke of, he did so carefully so he did not fully expose the Hierarchs intentions of him accompanying the Fleet of Continual Light. That mission was highly guarded by lies and secrets to keep the whole of the Covenant under control. Even his commander couldn't yet know of his intentions, yet even knowing what he knew now, he almot felt like a heretic. His own team wasn't privvy to the finer details, and he knew that they would never believe a word he said unless a Prophet would concur with his accusations.
Nevertheless, Zhar didn't stop himself as he continued to explain the Hand of Perdition. "Supreme Commander, my team has performed assassinations, tactical assaults, aided in the effort to quell various rebellions and uprisings, and now..." He said, hesitating for just a fraction of a second, too long in the eyes of a sangheili who would recognize this as some sort of bad news about to surface, "Now, I must not allow you to extinguish these miserable humans from existence. The Prophet of Mercy firmly believes they possess caches of information which could greatly benefit the whole of the Covenant. I have been instructed to allow you to cripple their vessels, but not destroy the ship systems or data archives. The humans may die, every last one of the filthy creatures. But their ship must be salvaged." He said, doing something that he could only get away with by using the dictation of the Prophets to cover his back- he stopped walking and left the Supreme Commander's side. A sign of great disrespect among warriors, he would normally only leave once told to, but felt that Naun needed a moment to let everything sink in and walking would only amplify the confusion and agitation this news might have caused.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Sep 25, 2009 2:39 am
-Private Kriston Pindros
-UNSC Iron Sunrise
-Drop Deck Seven
After being dismissed, Kriston promptly stowed his gear, and headed for the Mess Hall. Upon arriving, Kriston noticed his CO, and a Corporal who he guessed was in his squad. Kriston got into the line, grabbed his meal, and sat down in a little corner far from the fighting area. Once he was finished, he headed for the gym, but once he arrived Kriston just sat in a corner by the pull-up bars. Kriston did about two hundred push-ups, and about fifty pull-ups before he got tired. He had no idea what to do now, so he went back to his locker, and checked his gear. Kriston sat down in front of a bench, and disassembled and reassembled his gun about twenty times.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Sep 25, 2009 5:16 am
Corporal Meika Faust
>1842 Hours
>>Mess Hall
"Sir, I will take the punishment for this fight. Apparently my complaints about the food got these two--" Meika nudged the larger marine with her foot, and motioned towards the other with a nod of her head.
"--riled up." Sure, she really had done nothing wrong, but felt she had started everything with her comment, and at least could have done something to stop it sooner. Noticing the ODST that had helped her was bleeding, she was about to speak up for him when yet another ODST--female-- entered the area as well, and defended her comrade.
"She's right, sir. No need to punish him for wanting to help." Looking around the crowd that had gathered, her eyes narrowed. "Unlike the others here that felt the need to just watch, he was brave enough to try and help me." It was a shame, knowing that even if someone saw a woman in trouble, most of the soldiers that stood nearby wouldn't bother helping. Meika--despite being Demolitions-- wasn't exactly strong. She just liked blowing things up. If the ODST hadn't jumped in, she'd probably be a bleeding heap on the ground at this very moment, like the larger marine that was collapsed at her feet. What was even worse, was the fact that she'd probably get stuck in a squad with at least a few of said marines.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Sep 25, 2009 1:53 pm
>>Corporal Romwell, Sebastian K.
>> 1842 Hours, Day 2
[UNSC IRON SUNRISE]
:: Ship Mess
The ruckus that had been caused, did indeed die down, not as suddenly as it started, but relatively quickly. Good thing someone else stopped the altercation, and not Sebastian. He would have decked both participants, and from what he observed, it was an ODST altercation, even better to smack one, be it male or female. "Hmph, dumb a** kids." he said as he took his seat again, looking at his tray and drink, suddenly not as hungry as he thought he had been before.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 12:21 pm
1stSgt Mitchell, Scott P.
> 1842 Hours
>> UNSC Iron Sunrise
>> Slipspace
”Get him off the floor and report to your commanding officer. The rest of you get back to your food.”
The First Sergeant allowed himself a moment’s pause before moving to the chow line. Mitchell couldn’t help but wonder about the future now that Reach was gone. Perhaps this loss would motivate everyone to fight just that much harder. Of course, it could also cost humanity the war. There was only one more secret held by mankind. The location of Earth, and if she ever fell… it would mean the end of all mankind. There were no other colonies. No other fields of battle. But enough about the war, the First Sergeant’s stomach was getting ready to start an insurrection of its own if it wasn’t filled with delicious foods. Mitchell didn’t understand why most men and women didn’t bother to actually select the food they wanted. This Mess Hall was completely automated, with food fed to dispensers via internal conveyors from the Galley. There were also proper mess halls with human cooks, but they couldn’t handle such a large capacity. In addition, there were beverage dispensers scattered across the entire ship. Sometimes you just needed a cold something to pick you up. As for the menu choices today, they had a Roast Beef Sandwich, Tomato soup, Pork chops, burgers, assorted salads and sides including a veritable rainbow of potato choices and assorted fruits, and for desert everything from ice cream to a fudge-filled brownie. Mitchell hit the tab for the Roast Beef sandwich and a fruit salad. He knew that a good deal of the produce was grown aboard the ship in special compartments near or inside the Galley, but Roast Beef was a downright delicacy!
The sandwich and fruit slid out of the dispenser port and Mitchell placed them both on his tray and finally ordered fresh squeezed grapefruit juice. Admittedly, the last option for a meal was the quick and easy choice. The combo platter! As a rule, he stayed far away from the combo. What sounded like an appealing meal was generally just an amalgam of different proteins and vitamins that the human body needed to function properly. Throw in some food coloring and flavoring and BAM! Instant slop! Mitchell took his tray and sat down with the other Troopers. He had learned long ago that Marine regulars distrusted ODSTs. There was a stereotype of a psychopathic marine dropping out of the sky to kill everything and anything that got in his way. The truth was that most Marines weren’t familiar with the uses for a team of ODSTs. Deep reconnaissance, supply line disruption, unconventional warfare, assassination, the ODSTs were able to get in fast and operate silently. Apparently the Marines didn’t know, or appreciate this. Then again, when used in combined ops, the Troopers DID tend to kill every last hostile unless otherwise ordered to. He shrugged internally and took a bite out of his sandwich. The Roast Beef was better than he remembered. Maybe that was a sign that things were going to start turning around soon. Maybe mankind was going to wind things after all. Or maybe it was just a really, really good sandwich.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 11:01 pm
>>Corporal Romwell, Sebastian K.
>> 1842 Hours, Day 2
[UNSC IRON SUNRISE]
:: Ship Mess
Now a little more, calm settled upon the mess, and Sebastian could continue messing over his mystery slop. "I wonder why I didn't get a sandwhich like the rest of my squad?" He thought to himself. "Oh yea, you just have to be different don't you King?" He answered himself aloud as he drank the beverage he chose with his meal and sighed . "******** I am bored..." He thought again, looking around to see if there was anyone else who even looked like they were about to fight.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 11:06 pm
1stSGT Compton, Nathaniel
> 1842 Hours
>> UNSC Iron Sunrise
>> Slipspace
Compton did not waste anytime getting through the mess hall lines, and thankfully he wasn't forced to wait. many marines stepped out of his way, and even a couple of ODSTs stepped aside for him. As the food slid out and onto his plate he quickly turned and made a bee line towards his squad mate and fellow NCO Mitchell. The scene that had just unfolded was more than juicy enough to get even this not so gentle giant to gossip. He slid into the seat opposite of the clearly agitated trooper with a somewhat smug look on his face. Certainly things were interesting, but it was also troubling. The UNSC's most heavily defended colony void of Earth had just fallen to the Covenant onslaught and we couldn't even get our act together for ten minutes.
" How in the hell are we supposed to fight with this? " Compton sighed, tearing into the food like he always did, carefully, precisely and exemplary. He had to set a civil example for the rest of the soldiers there, especially after a scrum like that, lest he look bad and make them believe that this sort of thing wasn't frowned upon. The last thing Compton wanted was to lose respect, especially with how hard he had to work for it. Sure he had the intimidation factor going, but when it came to giving troops orders he always had the type of men under his command that would regularly act up like teenagers trying to fight their parents. It was pathetic, so he really couldn't afford to joke about the fight, even if he wanted to.
" The lot of them should be standing in the COs office right now, including Sergeant Kumar, " Compton's words were tinted with a poison sting to them, he was so clearly displeased with the soldiers that he may have been laying it all on too thick, " No need for snitches in our squadrons. " And before Mitchell could call him out on his own cover he chuckled, " That was quite a good fight though. "
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2009 12:47 am
Kumar, Whitney // E-5
> UNSC Iron Sunrise
>> Mess Hall.
Not having to stay at the CO's office for only a few minutes, Whitney got back to the mess hall. She had only had soup before, and she was still hungry. She made her way through the line, she thought over what she wanted. As she got to the buttons to select the food, she picked the BLT burger, which she hasn't have for a long time. She put it on her tray when it came out of the dispenser, and carried on the desert and drink selection. She got a piece of carrot cake and apple juice. Whitney then made her way over to her squad's table, which seemed to be missing some people. But hey, she got the two tall hunks to herself.
She sat down and delicately ate her burger. Whitney realized they were in their own world of gossiping, which she found pretty funny in her head. She took her time, eating the burger, really enjoying it. The more she ate, the more etiquette was lost in the voice of her stomach. She drank some juice to wash down the burger and burped a little.
"Oh, excuse me." She then finished off her burger and started on the cake, which didn't last that long either.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2009 1:00 am
1stSgt Mitchell, Scott P.
> 1843 Hours
>> UNSC Iron Sunrise
>> Slipspace
Mitchell glanced at the obscenely large man sitting opposite him and shrugged.
”They’re either replacements or greener than grass Nate. What did you expect?”
The First Sergeant took a few more bites out of his sandwich then poked at the fruit salad with his fork. He took time to skewer a sliced Strawberry on the metal prongs and studied it briefly before consuming it. Compton’s demeanor seemed to take a turn for the worse as he mentioned Sergeant Kumar. Mitchell could tell there was something there that wasn’t in either of their files. Before he could get a word in, Compton unleashed a rumbling chuckle and praised the fight. Mitchell let it slide and turned back to his food. The First Sergeant poked around before looking back at the behemoth seated opposite him.
”I’ve been in better."
He took a swig of the sour juice and swashed the grapefruit juice around a few times before swallowing it. The juice was bittersweet, and packed with vitamin C, the perfect choice for Mitchell.
”What do you think of the Rookie? Mitchell inquired, ”He seems like a good kid. Record’s pretty damn short, but he qualified to be a Trooper right out of basic. That counts for something in my book.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2009 7:33 pm
-Private Kriston Pindros
-UNSC Iron Sunrise
-Drop Deck Seven
After about the twentieth assembly, Kriston bored of this mindless task, and stowed his new toy back in his locker. 'Damn, I'm hungry...' Kriston stood up and left for the Mess Hall. Upon his arrival, he noticed his squad leader sitting at a table with another First Sergeant. 'Hmph, must be another squad leader.' Kriston grabbed a tray and slid it in front of the machine, hit the tab for Pork chops, and watched the peace of meat fall onto his tray. After seeing what there was for sides he decided against it, but did pick up a glass of water.
Kriston found a seat at the same table as his squad leader, and pretty close too. The other ODST's looked at him funny for a second, and Kriston guessed that there was some sort of rate thing. The lower you were, the farther down the table you sat. Kriston didn't care. The best way to keep away from the lead position was to suck up to your squad leader so you weren't the one getting plastered to a wall by a Brute. Kriston's life sucked, that's why he joined up, but he sure wasn't going out without a fight. "First Sergeants." He said, acknowledging he saw them.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
