Searing 30th 121
Taking a breath in and exhaling slowly through her nose she calmed herself as she fought away the tingling jitters of stress and anxiety being in the public eye. She wanted to turn tail and hide in a bar but had spent her money on a pistol instead. A lady needs protection after all. When out In civilian life she preferred to conceal carry using her cloak to hide the tell tale bulge of the firearms handgrip.
But even if the young soldier wanted to cut tail and run she could not. Terra was trapped in rank and file as she and her peers marched through the streets. There was a sense of pride that lingered despite how anxious she felt out in the open. Terras hand squeezed the leather strap of her musket in anticipation as they kept on keeping on.
There were large crowds of people cheering them on and she dipped the lip of this military cap to conceal her bark brown eyes that were filled with patriotism. The young woman was a member of the defense corps, she was a defender of the realm and had several praises from high command as a talented marksman in the making. Her goal was to make it to specialist the soldier wanted her stripes and pins. Now that she mentioned it there were a lot of humans with the drive, ambition and determination too succeed and climb the ladder. It was just a pity the other races didn’t share the same sentiment of hard work pays off, it steamed her core the more she thought about how they just got by on the backs of mankind they were a burden that always felt they were owed something. The Hytori were the worst though they caused the biggest calamities and still expected to be treated as equals even after they got bailed out. She held certain sentiments about the races and while she did not voice them outwardly she did hold judgement as she’d bite her tongue in contempt. Them and magic it’s why they lived in a world like this, Terra didn’t have some spoon fed life she grew up in poverty and was lucky to have been recruited by the military else she’d be some slam pig in a brothel. She knew where her loyalty was and who was deserving of it, hate it was a powerful motivator to keep her clawing her way to the top to finally pull herself out of the dumpster they called the knob.
It was a fact that even as a lowly private in the famed Zaichaer military she was never really alone. The silliest thing gave her some form of comfort, a whistle. Nothing fancy just standard part and parcel of being on patrol but so close to the barracks whether by obnoxious high pitched shriek of that piece of metal or by her voice alone her brothers and sisters in arms would heed that call. The thought of comradeship danced around in her mind as her free hand gently played with the object as if something precious or special like a pendent draped around her neck. She belonged somewhere it was a powerful sentiment.
The march was over it was time to showcase there ability on the stage as several other selected infantry officers ascended and set up there rifles and observing there targets down range.
Smooth bore musket raising as she brought the barrel to eye level resting the stock on what she though was a burlap sack of coffee beans, she was a natural and fancied herself a reliable shot especially from this distance. It was amateur hour, she was going to be a headhunter from where she was standing. The center of mass was always a strong option, she reckoned it couldn’t get much worse then having a piping hot fifty caliber slug collapse a lung and leaving a smoldering meat crater the size of an orange as it blew out your back. But it lacked a that wow factor and she was expected to put on a display of showmanship not practical lethality.
Down the barrel she had become aware of involuntary trembling. The driving force of this was fear of failure and adrenaline kicking her senses into overdrive as her focus intensified. The marksman was making adjustments based on the wind and distance as if her life depended on it regardless of it being theater.
The time tested tactic she used to brush away the inhibition as she took yet another deep nasally breath in then exhaled to calm herself and steady her aim as her index finger reached out and pulled gently on the trigger picking up the slack. Waiting for that moment between the breathing cycle after the release but before the breath was drawn was when she was at her most stable.
The line of barrels erupted with a resonating boom and a plumes of wafting smoke as the bullets thwacked into the paper silhouette of various enemy targets headspaces. Hers wasn’t a spot on dead center shot but a bullet in the head was still a game ender regardless. Everyone in the group had hit there targets each one individually hand selected to get the job done in a way that demonstrated a certain level of finesse.
It was a relief it was over with as she started on the arrival of people. Some had never seen a gun up close and this was her chance to familiarize the public and gains its interest. Pamphlets were being handed out by other cadets while she was a giving opportunities to shoot the rifle. The tedious basics of reloading the gun with sand horn cloth square and round ball being pushed down by the ram rod that was retrieved beneath the barrel. Studious attention to the flash pan as it was opened and some sorcerers sand was poured within it before closing the mechanism and cocking the flint hammer back, before allowing a civilian to take a seat with the weapon system as she went over the long gun and how to appropriately shoulder the stock to absorb the surprising recoil.
It had gone on for a while as people shot her musket, some were good some sucked some were outright dangerous and had no business going near a firearm.
Whenever she got a chance she would always say the same things aloud like she was rehearsing catch phrases. Nice shot, or good try, maybe a little more practice in the defense corpse! She felt like she was just on repeat going through the motions to just get through the rest of her day while who knows what was putting there grubby mitts on her gun leaving greasy streaks on the wood and utterly disrespecting it with disregard as they dumped it on the table after taking there shots. It’s not like that wasn’t the tool of her survival or anything.
Luckily the minor nuisance had ended and the relieved sniper in training could sling ol Kindness around her shoulder so she could focus on what was important. Finding recruits for the Zaichaerian war machine. It was her turn to hand out fliers and she was a little apprehensive about going into public dealing with people she had never met before. She’d been trained to move silently in the shadows shoot and hide and now she was just out in the open exposed.
The windows unnerved the soldier the most especially the ones that were up high and were dimly lit. She knew she was being irrational but the chest tightening anxiety was very real, in a real conflict she knew what could be lurking just behind the curtain in the shadows. She preferred not to be dead center in an ambush but maybe it was just how her mind tactically worked or maybe that was a white lie she’d tell herself to smooth over a deeper internal problem something ugly she didn’t have the courage to face just yet. Like some kind of post traumatic stress disorder but she just could not shake the feeling that something out here was watching her and it made her skin crawl as every so often her chocolate brown eyes surveyed the scene in search of danger that was never there or hadn’t the courage to expose itself.
The only thing that should have been on her mind was handing out flyers and getting good folks interested in joining the defense corps although in the back of her mind the thought was looming about why the sudden surge it made her wonder what was yet to come as the young private was finishing up handing out the last of the flyers.
Terra felt like maybe she was all over the place especially when she started trying to think about things that were way above her pay grade. Only thing this bitch needed to worry about was cleaning off the table and finding some shit hole bar in the knob to hide away and get drunk in. After all that was her time proven strategy to survive the monotony of a hard taxing day of work
Permission Granted By MirageTaking a breath in and exhaling slowly through her nose she calmed herself as she fought away the tingling jitters of stress and anxiety being in the public eye. She wanted to turn tail and hide in a bar but had spent her money on a pistol instead. A lady needs protection after all. When out In civilian life she preferred to conceal carry using her cloak to hide the tell tale bulge of the firearms handgrip.
But even if the young soldier wanted to cut tail and run she could not. Terra was trapped in rank and file as she and her peers marched through the streets. There was a sense of pride that lingered despite how anxious she felt out in the open. Terras hand squeezed the leather strap of her musket in anticipation as they kept on keeping on.
There were large crowds of people cheering them on and she dipped the lip of this military cap to conceal her bark brown eyes that were filled with patriotism. The young woman was a member of the defense corps, she was a defender of the realm and had several praises from high command as a talented marksman in the making. Her goal was to make it to specialist the soldier wanted her stripes and pins. Now that she mentioned it there were a lot of humans with the drive, ambition and determination too succeed and climb the ladder. It was just a pity the other races didn’t share the same sentiment of hard work pays off, it steamed her core the more she thought about how they just got by on the backs of mankind they were a burden that always felt they were owed something. The Hytori were the worst though they caused the biggest calamities and still expected to be treated as equals even after they got bailed out. She held certain sentiments about the races and while she did not voice them outwardly she did hold judgement as she’d bite her tongue in contempt. Them and magic it’s why they lived in a world like this, Terra didn’t have some spoon fed life she grew up in poverty and was lucky to have been recruited by the military else she’d be some slam pig in a brothel. She knew where her loyalty was and who was deserving of it, hate it was a powerful motivator to keep her clawing her way to the top to finally pull herself out of the dumpster they called the knob.
It was a fact that even as a lowly private in the famed Zaichaer military she was never really alone. The silliest thing gave her some form of comfort, a whistle. Nothing fancy just standard part and parcel of being on patrol but so close to the barracks whether by obnoxious high pitched shriek of that piece of metal or by her voice alone her brothers and sisters in arms would heed that call. The thought of comradeship danced around in her mind as her free hand gently played with the object as if something precious or special like a pendent draped around her neck. She belonged somewhere it was a powerful sentiment.
The march was over it was time to showcase there ability on the stage as several other selected infantry officers ascended and set up there rifles and observing there targets down range.
Smooth bore musket raising as she brought the barrel to eye level resting the stock on what she though was a burlap sack of coffee beans, she was a natural and fancied herself a reliable shot especially from this distance. It was amateur hour, she was going to be a headhunter from where she was standing. The center of mass was always a strong option, she reckoned it couldn’t get much worse then having a piping hot fifty caliber slug collapse a lung and leaving a smoldering meat crater the size of an orange as it blew out your back. But it lacked a that wow factor and she was expected to put on a display of showmanship not practical lethality.
Down the barrel she had become aware of involuntary trembling. The driving force of this was fear of failure and adrenaline kicking her senses into overdrive as her focus intensified. The marksman was making adjustments based on the wind and distance as if her life depended on it regardless of it being theater.
The time tested tactic she used to brush away the inhibition as she took yet another deep nasally breath in then exhaled to calm herself and steady her aim as her index finger reached out and pulled gently on the trigger picking up the slack. Waiting for that moment between the breathing cycle after the release but before the breath was drawn was when she was at her most stable.
The line of barrels erupted with a resonating boom and a plumes of wafting smoke as the bullets thwacked into the paper silhouette of various enemy targets headspaces. Hers wasn’t a spot on dead center shot but a bullet in the head was still a game ender regardless. Everyone in the group had hit there targets each one individually hand selected to get the job done in a way that demonstrated a certain level of finesse.
It was a relief it was over with as she started on the arrival of people. Some had never seen a gun up close and this was her chance to familiarize the public and gains its interest. Pamphlets were being handed out by other cadets while she was a giving opportunities to shoot the rifle. The tedious basics of reloading the gun with sand horn cloth square and round ball being pushed down by the ram rod that was retrieved beneath the barrel. Studious attention to the flash pan as it was opened and some sorcerers sand was poured within it before closing the mechanism and cocking the flint hammer back, before allowing a civilian to take a seat with the weapon system as she went over the long gun and how to appropriately shoulder the stock to absorb the surprising recoil.
It had gone on for a while as people shot her musket, some were good some sucked some were outright dangerous and had no business going near a firearm.
Whenever she got a chance she would always say the same things aloud like she was rehearsing catch phrases. Nice shot, or good try, maybe a little more practice in the defense corpse! She felt like she was just on repeat going through the motions to just get through the rest of her day while who knows what was putting there grubby mitts on her gun leaving greasy streaks on the wood and utterly disrespecting it with disregard as they dumped it on the table after taking there shots. It’s not like that wasn’t the tool of her survival or anything.
Luckily the minor nuisance had ended and the relieved sniper in training could sling ol Kindness around her shoulder so she could focus on what was important. Finding recruits for the Zaichaerian war machine. It was her turn to hand out fliers and she was a little apprehensive about going into public dealing with people she had never met before. She’d been trained to move silently in the shadows shoot and hide and now she was just out in the open exposed.
The windows unnerved the soldier the most especially the ones that were up high and were dimly lit. She knew she was being irrational but the chest tightening anxiety was very real, in a real conflict she knew what could be lurking just behind the curtain in the shadows. She preferred not to be dead center in an ambush but maybe it was just how her mind tactically worked or maybe that was a white lie she’d tell herself to smooth over a deeper internal problem something ugly she didn’t have the courage to face just yet. Like some kind of post traumatic stress disorder but she just could not shake the feeling that something out here was watching her and it made her skin crawl as every so often her chocolate brown eyes surveyed the scene in search of danger that was never there or hadn’t the courage to expose itself.
The only thing that should have been on her mind was handing out flyers and getting good folks interested in joining the defense corps although in the back of her mind the thought was looming about why the sudden surge it made her wonder what was yet to come as the young private was finishing up handing out the last of the flyers.
Terra felt like maybe she was all over the place especially when she started trying to think about things that were way above her pay grade. Only thing this bitch needed to worry about was cleaning off the table and finding some shit hole bar in the knob to hide away and get drunk in. After all that was her time proven strategy to survive the monotony of a hard taxing day of work
