Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 11:14:30 GMT -5
The Golden Oak, Dolderman City
January 14, 2510 - Odin
7:39 P.M Local Time
11:42 P.M A.S.T
”See, that’s what I love about these Alliance types.” Morse said, a cup in his hand pointing at a group of people off in the corner. There was three men and a woman, and they were throwing small sticks at a square on the wall. They were fairly loud as each one of them would go, but that was common amongst players of Shǎn Liàng Bàng. Morse took a short sip off of the cup, and continued. ”See they have such a bombastic attitude, they’ll make a large public display… of losing.” Morse said in regards to the fact that the current person who was making the most noise was clearly losing. The score was in favor of the woman, which Morse found ironic since there weren’t many who were prone to playing that game. But Morse spoke more blatantly on a commentary of the current conflict which was engulfing the galaxy. In his mind things were still going fairly well. It seem like all that much was different from that point and the start of the war other then the fact that people were just used to it. To him neither side seemed to be winning, but at the same neither was losing. Both sides had their advantages, and fortunately he seemed to be on the one with more tactical smarts.
Seated next to him there was a man with a brown cowboy hat. He had dusty brown coat, but it wasn’t uniform. No doubt it represented affiliation, but this wasn’t a moment for people like them to be flaunting their colors. ”Well they probably can afford because they got plenty of food and money in em.” The man replied.
By this point Morse had already forgotten what his name was. He’d only been in there with him for about half an hour, and he passed the introduction he had no use for remembering his name. The only thing Morse was able to remember with any degree of accuracy was where he said he was from, and he’d opted for calling him by it. ”See Mr. Meadow” Morse said, which might as well have been his name as far as he was concerned. ”You’re looking at it from the statistical point of view.” Morse said, spinning on the stool to look at the man next to him. ”That’s the kinda stuff that makes the Alliance lose all the time.” Morse pointed out.
Mr. Meadow took a drink from a bottle that was his hand hearing that. ”You wouldn’t know it if you were the one on the ground.” He said revealing the flaw to Morse’s logic. He knew that Morse was with the cavalry, but he had been running through trenches for the last few months, often in deadlocks.
Morse opened his mouth to keep going. ”Think of it this way.” Morse began again. ”About a month ago my ship dropped off on Gonghe.” Morse held his middle finger and thumb together out in front of him as though he was pinning it on a map. ”Smack dab in the middle of the fuckin’ core.”he said. ”We picked up a four battalions worth a guns and ammo to go.” Morse remembered it fairly well, as it was so recent. ”Right out from under them, walked off no problem.” Morse’s face went from flat to that of a snide hilarity. ”But right before we left, I realized we were about five miles away from a factory, the same factory that had made all of it.” Morse pointed out. ”They were loading up a ship that lifted off just before ours, three times our size. And just after it lifted off, another one came in.” Morse remembered thinking at the time that it was almost pointless what they had done, but he wasn’t finished. ”After that we dropped off our load at Greenleaf, and helped break a siege at some city out there.” Morse seemed very pleased with that outcome. ”Point being, them being overly supplied isn’t helping them worth a damn, when we’re the ones winnin’ all the battles with half the stuff.” He finished.
Morse held an optimism about all that was going on around the verse’, but it wasn’t entirely so. He was really just going off the fact that they weren’t losing. So long as they weren’t losing, he considered it winning. But he’d been in plenty of places where things had gone terribly. He liked to think though that the Independents had figured it out. ”How much longer are you out here.” Morse asked changing the subject.
”About three more days, I just got here. You?” Mr. Meadow returned.
Morse thought a moment, he couldn’t remember off the top of his head when he arrived. ”I got here about a week ago, but… I don’t leave for close to a week.” Morse said.
”Two weeks!?” Mr. Meadow exclaimed. ”How’d you pull gettin’ two weeks?” This was quite a shock to him, as he was really pushing it even getting four days.
Morse’s snide smile hit him again as he came up with his reply. ”They let ya out for good behavior.” Morse said. The implication that being a soldier was like being in prison wasn’t exactly too far off. The only real difference between being a soldier and being a prisoner is you were fed better and weren’t at risk of dying all the time as a prisoner. But Morse’s situation wasn’t nearly as bad as many other peoples. He just was a victim of extremely fortunate circumstances. Not everyone got R&R for that long, only Generals and people that decided to go AWOL for a while. But Morse, knew enough to take a good opportunity when it came up.
Morse finished the cup, and looked at it. He spun in the stool once more forward. ” Lìng yīgè lìng yīgè. Morse repeated, emphasizing that he wanted another drink. It wasn’t even really alcoholic. It was Homebrew. As nasty as it was, and as much as everyone resented it, Morse couldn’t seem to get enough of it.
As Morse held the cup out there was a sound outside. A slight clicking, that seemed a bit far off. Before he could turn around there was a bright green light, and a loud bang. It shook the ground, and the windows shattered. The force field that was the windows reformed within moments. Morse had dropped the cup and looked up with surprise as did many others. He and said something of a similar effect as did many others. ”What the fuck was that!?”
January 14, 2510 - Odin
7:39 P.M Local Time
11:42 P.M A.S.T
”See, that’s what I love about these Alliance types.” Morse said, a cup in his hand pointing at a group of people off in the corner. There was three men and a woman, and they were throwing small sticks at a square on the wall. They were fairly loud as each one of them would go, but that was common amongst players of Shǎn Liàng Bàng. Morse took a short sip off of the cup, and continued. ”See they have such a bombastic attitude, they’ll make a large public display… of losing.” Morse said in regards to the fact that the current person who was making the most noise was clearly losing. The score was in favor of the woman, which Morse found ironic since there weren’t many who were prone to playing that game. But Morse spoke more blatantly on a commentary of the current conflict which was engulfing the galaxy. In his mind things were still going fairly well. It seem like all that much was different from that point and the start of the war other then the fact that people were just used to it. To him neither side seemed to be winning, but at the same neither was losing. Both sides had their advantages, and fortunately he seemed to be on the one with more tactical smarts.
Seated next to him there was a man with a brown cowboy hat. He had dusty brown coat, but it wasn’t uniform. No doubt it represented affiliation, but this wasn’t a moment for people like them to be flaunting their colors. ”Well they probably can afford because they got plenty of food and money in em.” The man replied.
By this point Morse had already forgotten what his name was. He’d only been in there with him for about half an hour, and he passed the introduction he had no use for remembering his name. The only thing Morse was able to remember with any degree of accuracy was where he said he was from, and he’d opted for calling him by it. ”See Mr. Meadow” Morse said, which might as well have been his name as far as he was concerned. ”You’re looking at it from the statistical point of view.” Morse said, spinning on the stool to look at the man next to him. ”That’s the kinda stuff that makes the Alliance lose all the time.” Morse pointed out.
Mr. Meadow took a drink from a bottle that was his hand hearing that. ”You wouldn’t know it if you were the one on the ground.” He said revealing the flaw to Morse’s logic. He knew that Morse was with the cavalry, but he had been running through trenches for the last few months, often in deadlocks.
Morse opened his mouth to keep going. ”Think of it this way.” Morse began again. ”About a month ago my ship dropped off on Gonghe.” Morse held his middle finger and thumb together out in front of him as though he was pinning it on a map. ”Smack dab in the middle of the fuckin’ core.”he said. ”We picked up a four battalions worth a guns and ammo to go.” Morse remembered it fairly well, as it was so recent. ”Right out from under them, walked off no problem.” Morse’s face went from flat to that of a snide hilarity. ”But right before we left, I realized we were about five miles away from a factory, the same factory that had made all of it.” Morse pointed out. ”They were loading up a ship that lifted off just before ours, three times our size. And just after it lifted off, another one came in.” Morse remembered thinking at the time that it was almost pointless what they had done, but he wasn’t finished. ”After that we dropped off our load at Greenleaf, and helped break a siege at some city out there.” Morse seemed very pleased with that outcome. ”Point being, them being overly supplied isn’t helping them worth a damn, when we’re the ones winnin’ all the battles with half the stuff.” He finished.
Morse held an optimism about all that was going on around the verse’, but it wasn’t entirely so. He was really just going off the fact that they weren’t losing. So long as they weren’t losing, he considered it winning. But he’d been in plenty of places where things had gone terribly. He liked to think though that the Independents had figured it out. ”How much longer are you out here.” Morse asked changing the subject.
”About three more days, I just got here. You?” Mr. Meadow returned.
Morse thought a moment, he couldn’t remember off the top of his head when he arrived. ”I got here about a week ago, but… I don’t leave for close to a week.” Morse said.
”Two weeks!?” Mr. Meadow exclaimed. ”How’d you pull gettin’ two weeks?” This was quite a shock to him, as he was really pushing it even getting four days.
Morse’s snide smile hit him again as he came up with his reply. ”They let ya out for good behavior.” Morse said. The implication that being a soldier was like being in prison wasn’t exactly too far off. The only real difference between being a soldier and being a prisoner is you were fed better and weren’t at risk of dying all the time as a prisoner. But Morse’s situation wasn’t nearly as bad as many other peoples. He just was a victim of extremely fortunate circumstances. Not everyone got R&R for that long, only Generals and people that decided to go AWOL for a while. But Morse, knew enough to take a good opportunity when it came up.
Morse finished the cup, and looked at it. He spun in the stool once more forward. ” Lìng yīgè lìng yīgè. Morse repeated, emphasizing that he wanted another drink. It wasn’t even really alcoholic. It was Homebrew. As nasty as it was, and as much as everyone resented it, Morse couldn’t seem to get enough of it.
As Morse held the cup out there was a sound outside. A slight clicking, that seemed a bit far off. Before he could turn around there was a bright green light, and a loud bang. It shook the ground, and the windows shattered. The force field that was the windows reformed within moments. Morse had dropped the cup and looked up with surprise as did many others. He and said something of a similar effect as did many others. ”What the fuck was that!?”