Saving Private Bryant

Leonhardt was half way through removing his coat, revealing part of the maroon sleeveless turtle neck that was common for Second Class SOLDIERS, before a clamorous racket suddenly erupted out behind him. He was going to get a gun pointed at-

“On the deck!”

And there it was. Commands being yelled, the feeling of hair raising on the back of his neck, the spike of adrenaline. Leonhardt breathed in and exhaled and continued to remove his coat, disregarding the orders. He folded it slowly and neatly before placing the fabric atop the backrest of the seat. He slowly lifted his arms up and turned around.

“Blake. I know you’re nervous and scared, but I need you to calm down, my friend.”

He spoke loudly, but calmly, his voice ringing over the sounds of struggle on the church floor, echoing off the walls like thunder. His face was seemingly uninterested, but Leonhardt’s eyes were fixated on the Sargent in front of him, grateful that he was the center of the man’s focus.

“Everyone needs to. Calm. Down.”

---

Sergeant Oswald

Oswald wasn’t the type to shoot too early, but the man had ignored his command and the room was getting chaotic. The man started yelling for everyone to calm down, which would have been nice. If they would have complied then everything could have been sorted out. Now his idiot was calling his name, the suspicious man that he guessed had kidnapped him was wriggling out of the grip of Theodore Connelly and resisting arrest, and his other man…

Private Benson rushed towards Blake Jones pulling a baton. He pulled his arm back and if unabated he would crack the slummie in the ribs with it. Things were not going well, and his heart started to race with adrenaline.

Oswald had to take control. Both the men here were suspects now.

“I said get on the %#@$ing ground, right now!” Oswald barked, resting his finger lightly on the trigger. “I will shoot you.”

This was the last warning. Anything other than immediate compliance and the bullets would start flying out of the chamber towards Leonhardt.

The thick blubbering of the man that was grappling him from behind disturbed Blake more than the baton that was coming his way. He hadn’t intended to hurt the kid. He just wanted out.

As he stared up at the ceiling he caught sight of something odd. There was someone crawling around up there. He cocked his head to the side as he watched them with curiosity. His savior dropped down to guard him from the baton and a blade came whizzing over his head from Leonhardt’s direction at about that same time, maybe just a second or two later. Blake assumed that Leonhardt had been attempting to protect him as well.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Blake would shimmy up over the private’s face and slip out of his grasp, leaving only a pair of distressed jeans in Theodore Connelly ’s hands. The vagrant would flash a pair of yellowing long johns as he went skittering off to hide behind a pew near his friend and began preparing to cast a healing spell.

2/2 ATB

Next up: Sergeant Oswald

Today was one weird, scary day for Theo, to the point he wasn't sure he actually wanted to get out of parking lot duty ever again. 

He was lain flat on the floor, his mouth bleeding profusely after an accidental headbutt drove his teeth straight into his flapping tongue; and there was a pair of (really nice lookin'), pissed on pants in his hands and face, the man and Sergeant Oswald he had been trying to keep down having managed to slip away.

Oh, and he was in a perfect position to see a murderous looking man descend upon Benson like the wrath of god inside his house, looking about ready to sever Benson in two.

Luckily (?), a sword came flying right out of nowhere, seemingly forcing the man to reconsider his priorities. So Benson lived.

He simply nearly lost an arm in the process. Where it not for his helmet, there was little doubt that Theo's eyes would have damn near popped out of their sockets at the sight of the gore before him, watching the crimson lifeblood of Benson spill onto the church's floors.

"BENSON!" Screamed Theo as the Sarge's rifle rang through the air, its bullets flying and throwing the youthful soldier straight into bootcamp mode. His hand snatched his rifle before training its sights onto the bastard that had injured Benson, anger drowning out crippling fear and panic.

"GET OFF HIM!" He roared as he unloaded his entire clip upon Quiet, intent on turning him into swiss cheese.

Despite all signs pointing towards him being an incompetent coward- as it turned out, when the chips were down... he was still a damn good shot.

As the weapon left his hand, Leonhardt knew his plan would work. People would, at the least, walk out of here alive. The roar of full-auto, and cracking of stone, as pebbles and debris peppered him from the side from the pillar and wall, violently reminded him of the cost needed for that success. In instinct he crouched and tucked his head down, jumping to the side to find cover and concealment behind the wooden pews. From the floor, he could see Blake had managed to force his way free and crawl away.

The sudden pain and wet warmth in the lower left side of his abdomen was worth it. On instinct, Leonhardt covered the wound with his left hand, and noticed a sizable splatter of crimson against the wall, where he was standing not a moment ago. The sudden ‘clang’ of metal on metal signaled his his success. It was time to begin the second part of his plan.

Leonhardt held up his right hand, palm up, allowing a small green light, wispy and ethereal, to begin to manifest in the palm of his right hand. Small grains of sand began to pool in his palm, eventually overflowing and disappearing into nothingness. From his place on the ground, he could see the feet of the trooper pinning him down. It was enough. Rolling onto his left, and gritting his teeth as he agitated his wound, Leonhardt aimed, and cast his spell, in hopes of putting the sergeant to sleep.

---

ATB 1/2 —> ATB 0/2
Blake Jones

Oswald’s trail of fire followed Leon as he ducked behind the pews, and the satisfying sound of wood cracking and flying about filled the room. He stopped firing again for a moment and rolled behind a pillar himself and ejected the magazine of his rifle and quickly jammed another in. In the delay there was something strange happening, a green light following strange sparkling grains of sand in the air around him. Suddenly there was a wave of exhaustion that struck the sergeant, his eyes felt heavy and his limbs were weak.

He grit his teeth and watched with mild confusion as Bryant’s abductor started healing Benson. In the haze he took a moment to think before pulling his weapon out. He began shooting towards the pillar that @quiet had ducked behind to provide suppressing fire.

“Oooh yea!” Benson said flexing his new arm and pulling out a pistol from his belt. Bryant had his rifle after all. He used the suppressing fire to back pedal away from Quiet. The goofy private wasn’t sure what was going on anymore at this point, but he saw Leonhardt cast the spell on Sgt. Oz. He began squeezing the trigger as he ran.

“What the %#@$ is going on?” Bryant yelled desperately as he continued to shoot towards Quiet’s position, looking to his leader and even Theodore Connelly for some sort of sign or direction. Oswald’s eyes closed for a moment as he continued firing.

“Just… do it,” Oswald muttered to low for any of his charges to hear.

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[attr="class","fas fa-battery-quarter"] Exhausted: Exhausted (sometimes refereed to as sleepy) characters have their strength and speed hindered. If Magic Tier 2 sleep is cast on them they gain the Sleep condition.