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Region: Tsumonrin

Helgryce wrote:Catrin paused, considering this for a while, before giving a solemn nod, clenching her hand into a fist, "I'll be honest here, as much as I'd love nothing more than to charge into a machine gun nest while singing the Internationale and get mowed down 'for the cause', you're right. There's no sense in dying like that. My friends'll be killed, my hometown bombed and burnt and turned into a warzone, my family gods-know-where, but at least I'll still have my life, and I'll still own wherever I'm standing. With that message delivered, I'm free anyway, no one expected me to come back after. The survivors from the initial attack'll probably launch a guerrilla campaign with whatever they've got left, set traps and ambushes throughout the forest. I suspect a few'll make their way here eventually, but don't expect any significant numbers. The camp was pretty dead-set on this being our best shot to win the war when I left, and they're a stubborn lot, to their own detriment a lot of the time. I hope they make it out, of course, I left a lot of good friends in that camp, they're an entire community. But I'm trying not to think about it too much, they've made their minds up, and I mine." She stared off at the ground for a few moments, trying to clear her head of the subject.

"It was my birthday... you know... Quite the present, to learn all your friends'll be killed and your camp overrun, your way of life stamped out. That's what got me the job of messenger, a final gift from the camp, a second lease on life. I'm extremely grateful for it, but, it just... Hasn't really sunk in yet, to be saved by some fluke of when I was born. I was as ready to die as any of the rest of them, but fate seems to have had other plans. I don't suppose you lot're looking for a new rebel from Vystland, are you? Because I don't really have anywhere else to go; I can't go back, I'd die, and I can't go elsewhere, no country wants an anarchist, nor I any country."

Staalinov put a hand on her shoulder, "I'm sorry. I understand... really. Before the uprising in Staalkastel, my family's farm was blown up in mortar fire. I was the only survivor. I laid under the rubble covered in blood and splinters for who knows how long before a neighbor finally found me and took me in. Unsure who dropped the mortars on us, Wielbelkia or Pradonia, not that it really matter whose shooting at you. Funny enough that neighbor became something of an important figure in radical circles up until the uprising, one Mr. Adolphus Gregorson. Lead a militia straight into the royal palace and killed Duke Ahren in his bed. I was his aide. The point of all of this however is that I understand."

He pulled out a cheap piece of tin metal out of his pocket and handed it to her, "Here. It was given to me by Adolphus. He didn't like having things like this in a museum. Meant to be a medal for "Heroes of the Agrarian Socialist Movement" or something like that. What it really means is that I stayed alive long enough to be given a shiny cheap piece of medal. What makes it worth it though is that when he gave it to me he told me, 'well son, now everyone is going to take you as a hotshot military commander.' Lo and behold, I'm the commander of an operation that may be the difference between life and death for millions of people. No pressure." He waved down a soldier walking by, "Joker, you're with the syndicalist regiments, right?"

"Let me ask my general secretary and I'll get back with you." The soldier had black hair, green eyes, seemed to be in his mid to late twenties.

Staalinov turned back to Catrin, "Now you see why we call him joker. That also means he's either going to be the first or last person to die in this operation." he turned back to Joker, "This is Catrin Ness, I'm attaching her to your regiment. Get her equipped. If we get anymore Pradonian soldiers I want you to make sure Weller puts them under her command. Got it?"

"Aye aye cap'n. C'mon Miss."

With that he led her to a campsite in the trenches where a group of men and women in red and black uniforms would be smoking cigars, playing cards, listening to the radio and even one fellow playing old union songs on a piano, "Over there is our quartermaster. He'll get you suited up with a gasmask, rifle, firestorm gear, sidearm, and other materials. If you want a specific color for your rifle or decals let one of the quartermasters know and he can try and put something together. Unlike most armies, we have multiple armorers because we don't like the idea of having one man be stuck making sure over several thousand rifles are gauged in a year. Water is available at the pump there, commissary there, and once you are acquainted you can find Weller over at the piano."

Wielbelkia and Helgryce

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