Post

Hey Wait, Why Am I Here?
August 2nd, 1911
Middle Ossaran Sea

Oliver Lehmann squinted as he regained consciousness in the bowels of the Eisenhaut. His senses were assailed with the stench of the cells, and he groaned as he began to gain his bearings. All around him, bloodied prisoners of a war he had thought himself above. He smacked a rat away as it nibbled at his hand as he was collecting himself, it squeaking and scurring out between the bars of the cells as the ship rocked to and for. He rubbed his head after his successful attack upon the rat menace. He didn't quite remember how he got here, but it was coming back to him...

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Qanteng

Oliver, a pencil in his hand and an cap on his head, moved through ruined buildings in the city of Qanteng. He had neglected to take a firearm, which he was quite regretting right now, as the din of battle was heard nearby. He worked his way to it, where Elodians were pinned down by machine gun fire, tan uniformed soldiers corralling them towards it on either side with rifle fire. It was an impressive display of tactics at this scale, and he ferociously wrote in his little notepad. He pushed up his spectacles as he moved slightly closer, an Elodian hitting the ground as a bullet hit him when he went to peak the enemy. After further scribbling, he decided to approach the commanding officer, who was marked out by his officer's cap and saber at his side like a Valmerian general of old. He was relaying some orders to a subordinate when Lehmann, obviously ignoring the fact it was a bad time, approached, keeping low and behind cover.

"Hallo, sir! Would you like to give a- oh, heavens-" A bullet whizzed over head and he ducked a little further. "Statement? Im with the news!"

The officer turned and looked at the obvious Reichskrieger with the most confused expression. "Pardon??? What on this planet are you doing here-"

"The best place to get a feel for what's happening is from the man on the ground, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm preoccupi-" He started before a bullet struck him from a rifleman's gun. The officer fell to the ground and the journalist awkwardly backed away from him. He then began slipping through the battlefield, towards the backline where reservists would be to hopefully get their opinions. Opinions that wouldn't be cut off by this whole battling business, anyway. As he moved he flipped through his notes and nodded to himself before running square into a soldier who was marching up to the frontlines. After recovering quickly, he found himself on the business end of a barrel. He raised his hands.

"Wait, im a uh- journalist! Writing story about battle!" He got out, seemingly in time to stop the soldier from gunning down this foreigner. "Would you like to give a-" he began before the sound of gun fire drew closer. Both men turned to what it was, and that was the counter charge of the Seebatallion. Wait, the Seebatallion? Damn! the journalist thought, having specifically come here to avoid the battle but seemingly back in the thick of it. Quickly and tactically sliding away from the open, he attempted to get out of there as the reservists he was just about to interview got slammed into with bayonets. As they did, he found himself facing the barrel of a gun again. He really had to stop seeing them like this.

"Not soldier, journalist! Reichskrieger!"

"You betray your country by spying for the enemy!" The soldier barked. Before Oliver could say 'wait' he felt his face get smacked by the stock of a rifle.

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Upon remembering the blow, he took off his glasses whom are in barely usable condition. These were going to be the longest days of his life.