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Post by SERGEI ZAHAROV on Mar 21, 2012 21:28:56 GMT -5
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[style= margin-top: 50px][style= float: left; text-align: left; font-family: impact; font-size: 30px; margin-top: 10px; color: 000000; letter-spacing: 2px; margin-top: -55px; margin-left: 10px]i came, i saw[/style]
[style= height: 100; width: 100px; margin-right: 10px; float: right; margin-top: -24px] [style= height: 350px; width: 90px; font-family: verdana; text-align: justify; font-size: 8px; padding: 5px; border-top: 10px solid C11B17; color: 000000]TAGS
you.
COUNT
number.
NOTES
blah blah.
SONG
burn in hell.
coded by
JIN of PRE & OTE[/style][/style]
[style= margin-top: -50px; width: 430px; background-color: 4F4F4F; border-top: 10px solid 000000; border-right: 10px solid 000000; border-radius: 8px 8px 8px 8px][style= width: 280px; height: 350px; padding: 20px; font-size: 9px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; color: 000000; border-right: 10px solid C11B17; border-top: 10px solid C11B17; overflow: auto]The ship silently crept up the river, close to shore.
Meters from the side of the ship, to the right to be exact, cherry blossoms bloomed as the beautiful view of three buildings appeared, each one looking like a dojo, and rightly so. Sergei stood at the deck of the ship, hands on the side of his ship as he watched the three buildings get closer. Things were about to start.
Sergei had planned it well. The river they were going up was directly connected to the ocean, and thankfully deep enough to accommodate his ship's size. He knew that the Crime General was in one of those three silent dojos. Deep inside, training the next batch of assassins to be sent out to aid the renegade cause. These worthless, pathetic beings had to be destroyed.
They moved along silently, and at the command of Sergei's - a raised hand - the ship stopped. The right side was directly facing the first of the three dojos. One was directly opposite them, while two were arranged in such a way that they formed a triangle, one of the points facing Sergei's ship. He was deep in thought, before he snapped out and silently ordered the crewmen.
"Drop anchor. Prepare starboard cannons. Prepare your men."
The third command was more grim than the other two, as the actions were done. Sergei, ready to fight, approached the drawbridge as it was pushed out and down onto the sandy-and-grassy shore, one meter from the start of the beautiful green grass. The plain was littered with sparse cherry blossoms, littering the ground with pink leaves. They stood only fifty meters from the first dojo. Within firing range of the cannons.
And scary enough, definitely within range of their sight.
"Men who are coming with me. Assemble yourselves. We attack in three."
Sergei silently spoke to his trusted men, those he decided fit enough to fight with him. These men consisted of higher ranking officers of the Marines, their navy suits contrasting with the green, pink-littered grass below them. Sergei reached behind him and lifted up the two large Riot Shields he had in both hands. The officers withdrew their own weapons, and the commanding men took their own, if they did or could or had to.
The strategy was a siege. Upon initial contact with units on foot to the dojos, they would engage, and Sergei's war cry would signal the ships to open fire with their cannons. Sparse men littered the ship, so only limited amounts of shots can and could be fired. Aim had to be true and fair. The blasting of the three dojos, which would start with the two further away ones, would surprise the enemies, and force the remaining opponents out, and either into battle or into the remaining dojo.
The final dojo would remain intact. The leader was probably, hopefully, there. That was their target. All the rest were casualties of war. These men deserved death for aiding and abetting criminal scum like the mercenaries, pirates, and thieves. Assassins working for the Crime Warlord were to be put to death. So why not Sergei show them just how the 91st Fleet takes care of enemies? The best way possible.
"We attack in one." [/style][/style]
[style= float: right; text-align: right; font-family: impact; font-size: 40px; color: 000000; margin-top: -15px; letter-spacing: 2px; margin-right: 10px]I CONQUERED[/style][/style] |
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Post by FLIK PHENEX on Mar 22, 2012 10:40:55 GMT -5
It was time. The Fishman stood upon the deck, his posture relaxed and composed, as he stared out simply into the sky. The only part of him that moved were his eyelids, as the two sets of flesh closed in on his pitch black eyes, leaving behind a thin layer of moisture. He had recently just enlisted into the fleet, and this was to be his first mission among the ranks of the Ninety-First, and the man was eager. Not because he wanted to impress his superiors, no. He simply wanted to appease his thirst for justice, for action. The man was a strong believer in the rule of the Marines, and he believed that true order could be achieved under their banner. He also believed that action was most effective way of bringing such a future to realisation.
"Drop anchor. Prepare starboard cannons. Prepare your men."
And the man's voice rang through the whole ship, whether from his own mouth or the echoes of other officers. Flik participated not in such a task, though, the Fishman simply lowering his head as he reached up, pulling on the collars of his black and red overcoat. He was donned in a different attire than what he was usually seen in. A black and red body suit, and following that would be his overcoat. Simply, really. There was no need to dress up for such an occasion. This was a battlefield, not a ball.
He took a deep breathe, and awaited for his call.
"Men who are coming with me. Assemble yourselves. We attack in three."
And there it was. Among those that had been handpicked for such a task, Flik was the lowest ranking among the officers, he understood that. He acknowledged the fact that he was the one to be following orders, not giving them. And he embraced the heirachy of authority well. The Fishman paced forward, moving to stand a few feet behind Sergei, as he reached towards his right thigh. While the other officers checked upon their weapons, the Fishman would lower his head once again, closing his eyes as he grasped the pendant that hung around his neck. And in a soft mutter, he prayed.
"I call upon thee, Milevan, for forgiveness, for once again I ride into battle. May you carry the souls of the departed worthy to your realm, and my own if you deem my time to be."
It was a personal prayer, and a personal belief. And with that done, Sergei gave one final announcement, and Flik raised his head, lowering his hands. Clenching his fists, before releasing them again, he readied himself for battle. |
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+ODIN
New Member
[M:0:0:]
There WILL be Order
Posts: 4
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Post by +ODIN on Mar 23, 2012 14:01:21 GMT -5
Silently preparing, Odin stood at the edge of the ship. Holding the railings he looked off surroundings. How evil could congregate in this area was beyond him. If they let it continue, their blight will spread across the land, these bright colors will turn to brown, and all life would end. That was how chaos works. He refused to let the beautiful region turn into anarchy. He noticed another man next to him, smaller and younger, he identified him as a unit in his command. Odin's mustache pivoted back in forth as his rocky mouth began to ask "Matthew, what are you staring at?". The man known as Matthew was a recent addition, but trustworthy none the less. He young soldier said he was looking at the leaves and how beautiful it was. He continued to say that he would love to live here someday. Odin took a deep breath and straitened his body. He turned away from the scenery and stated in a firm voice "Do not be distracted by its beauty, for underneath it lies corruption and decay. We are here to eradicate the evil that plagues this land, and bring it to its former glory. Law will shine down upon these anarchists"
"Drop anchor. Prepare starboard cannons. Prepare your men."
Odin walked away from the soldier and toward the large area of the deck. He saw the targets in distance and took this time to prepare. He stopped and cupped his hands around his mouth and with a booming voice he called "Order yourselves like we practiced, this is not a drill, we will be exterminating these vermin at any cost". A small group of men lined up in front of them, each of them ready and able to fight. They stood strong and true, without a single sign of fear or worry. Odin raised a hand and his men went into 'Attention'. He turned to face Vice Admiral Zaharov and spread his legs with his hands cross behind his back. His mean followed suit become 'at ease'. He stood without any movement, without any voice, waiting for his next order. The chain of command was an honorable tradition followed by soldiers willing to give their life in the order of the superiority. He did not take this lightly, he worked hard for his position, and he treated all the soldiers aboard this vessel with the very same idea.
The next order was given ""Men who are coming with me. Assemble yourselves. We attack in three."
Odin nodded and raised his hand. Behind him he could hear a unified thud as his men went back into attention. With his hand becoming a fist, he heard another symphony of clicks as all his men raised their weapons turn cock their guns or unsheathe their blades.
Odin cracked his knuckles and then his neck. He was ready. |
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Post by GABRIEL HAWKE on Mar 26, 2012 11:27:39 GMT -5
It wasn't long before Gabriel could feel the progress of the ship coming to a dead halt in the middle of the night. He had chose to remain in the very pits of his cabin until they made it to their destined location to carryout the marine assault. In times like these, he assuredly preferred the silence of the seas over the idle chatter of men. And the fact they were heading into battle only bolstered his claims. So with intentions ready for battle, the commodore grabbed the very black gauntlets that he had trusted time and time again and headed above to the deck of the ship. Once he emerged he found that his thoughts were right. Preparations for a assault was being made and this island would be the very location of Sergei's fury.
A simple drawbridge detached itself from the ship and lowered to the ground with a light thud. Beautiful grass and cherry blossoms marked the innocence of the mass of land. Gabriel wasn't sure if a ounce of blood had been stained on the island. It looked to be a piece of Mother Gaia's rarest collections that had gotten lost in the age of men. It was truly a shame to see such a place fall to shambles. The will of justice employed by the Marines didn't have a eye to save that which meant little. It was most akin to a dominating religion in the manner that it spread and took over the land forcibly by those who preached it.
As Sergei called the very main force of the mission to his side, the most peculiar marines quickly came to his aid. One was burly in size and voice, rivaling Sergei's own rather enormous form. While the other was a fishman that muttered something that sounded mostly like a prayer. Gabriel slowly but surely entered the fold of men with his gauntlets in hand. "Tsk." His teeth clicked as his eyes danced over the pink leaves strewn across the ground. It was such a waste of land, but in the end nothing could be done without losses.
The black gauntlets were quickly fitted over each forearm. It took Gabriel little time to get ready as he awaited the next orders that would thrust them into combat.
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