It wouldn’t take Tarja long to get her tent set up with the woodland camouflage on the outside of it’s reversible canvas, with her then collecting some water from the solitary tap by the timber shed that contained a rudimentary toilet, and putting the kettle on her camp stove to boil.

It was as the water was heating up that Tarja would settle down on the grass with a pad of paper and a pencil and begin sketching the view of the valley beyond with only the sound of birdsong for company as she waited for trooper Charles to arrive. With her already finding herself beginning to relax and decompress as the stress of the last few days melted away.

< Blue Moon Space Port >

Rip had expected more of a hassle and drawn-out exchange with the Customs, but being a Trooper for the ESN was paying off.  He glanced at the coordinates and information about where to meet Corporal Vanska.  His skin paled as he stepped out into the streets of Blue Moon.  So open.  So widely open.  It almost made him want to dive into the nearest subway/metro system or sewer pipes.

Rip was not one to cower in fear, ever!  But without a confined space and a solid mass of rock above his head, he felt like he would float away from the loose dirt surface of this world.  His breathing became labored and forced.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he worked to calm himself.  The images he sought to center himself, working.  Rip opened his eyes, newly driven and his self-confidence iron-clad.  His eyes glanced around, his hand raised, he hailed the first taxi air-car to take him to the drop-off point at the ranger station.  The furthest it would go.  He used the chip that Morris gave him, leaving a big tip.  The ESN could bill him if he was out of line, but he would not dare start falling back into his old ways.

< Remote Ranger Station before the hike to Tarja's campsite. >

Rip glared at the log and timber house for a moment.  He had heard people use to make houses out of them, but he always thought they were draft.  A handsome, if older Angel in the ranger uniform of their Natural Preserve Service actually stepped out to greet him.  Again, Rip got a good few stares at his Tattoos and scars that didn't register.  Though he did fight not to spit right in front of the Ranger.  Angel or not.

"How can I help you?"  The Ranger asked.

Rip looked around for a moment, rolled his neck, and met the Angel Ranger's eyes.  "Be looking to Corporal Vanska's camping-site.  She beamed me direction to'p here, and the cords for de hike."  Rip's guttural voice was more evident in dealing with the Angel than before.

The ranger eyed him for a moment.  Noting he wasn't armed like the other.  But then pointed in one direction and nodded his head.  Rip nodded back and looked at the Sun, noting he would have to really move his long thick legs before nightfall.  He only hope he didn't end up taking forever to get there and the sunset.

He tossed the small sack of provisions, and change of clothes over his back and began the march.  His hand reaches into his uniform pocket and pulls out his pack of smokes, smacking the end to knock a cigarette loose and flip it into his mouth.  He also mentally kicked himself, hoping he didn't run out by the time he could get back aboard the Hermes.  It was going to be a good hike.  At least that was what he kept telling himself.

When Rip finally entered the clearing he would find Tarja sat on the grass in front of a low, single person tent sketching something on the pad resting in her lap. Dressed in T-shirt, jeans and a flannel shirt it was clear that she was more aiming for practicality and comfort than style ”Trooper Charles I presume?” she said, looking up at him with a pair of dark eyes. The pale skin of her face framed by dark, straight hair that fell just short of her shoulders. It would also be hard to miss the white washed assault rifle propped up within easy reach by a tree and her hand resting almost casually by her hip where there was presumably a sidearm hidden beneath the tail of her flannel shirt. Although she wasn’t a small woman by any stretch Tarja was under no illusions that if the trooper meant her ill then she would lose, and so was understandably a little cautious.

However once he had confirmed that he was indeed who she was expecting, Tarja would relax and wave a hand towards the camp stove ”Come, sit…would you like coffee?” she said, inviting him to join her before proceeding to ask ”…how did you find hike? And what interested you in my unit?”

< Before Tarja's camp >

Rip realized quickly how much of a mistake it was to hike in uniform after a few minutes.  Pulling his top to his waist, tying it around his waist by its sleeves.  Leaving him in a white tanktop, his arms free to instinctively flex as he trended carefully on the path.

Halfway to the coordination, he heard a howl of something feral in the distance.  His hand reflexively grabbing for his strapped K-Bar at his leg.  His eyes narrowed as he scanned the trees and bush around him.

After a moment, he got up from a kneeling position, confident nothing was around.  Hiking on, his knife occasionally tapping against his chest.


<Tarja's camp >

He saw what had to be the clearing where her camp was a few hundred feet off.  But unsure, he kept his knife ready, tucking it in the tied folds of his uniform sleeves.

Hands out in front of him, holding his small sack, his grayish-green eyes spotted the rifle in easy reach.  His lips breaking into a sly grin of approval.  He took a moment to respond to her question of whom he was.

A fool would dare to take liberties with this woman, he thought to himself.  She was a soldier.  Built solid, which didn't bely her own feminine charms.  Even dressed casually in a fannel shirt she was ready to defend herself.

He wondered how he looked to her.  Nearly a foot taller then her, by his estimation.  His muscular arms covered in faded tats, many overlapping older ones.  His sister and niece's names scripted almost flowery on his neck.  The chain necklace which held his father's battered dogtags hidden under his sweat soaked white tanktop.  His hair shaved from the side of his head to end in a white tipped short dirty brown mowhawk.  A scar under his left eye hooking back to his ear.  The battered chin from constant fighting.

He bet he was not her idea of a proper soldier.  But one way to find out.

"Aye.  But call me Rip.  if you please, Corporal Tarja Vanska."  His voice was gravely, deep, and showing respect to her.

At her indicated gesture he tossed his sack to the ground, and knelt beside the stove, keeping it between them.  He shook his head no to the offer of coffee.  Instead pulling a bottle of water, splashing some on his face and taking a big mouthful, emptying the contents and sighing.

"I  bet it.... it eye opening.  Spent me life underground.  Not... Hating it.  was good for'p de legs."  He revealed.  Keeping his eyes on her own.  He did note the bulge of a sidearm at her hip.  His grin slyly approving.  He wish he had thought of that.

He barked a laugh.  His eyes breaking with hers to glance around the campsite.  Straight to the point.  He approved of her forwardness.

Nodding, he rematched his eyes on her own.  "Simple be tip of de edge of truth.
Aye , me, be wantin' tee smash more Tankards.  They Demon-ilk destroyed me home.  Be trype tee kill me sister.  Me niece. No." He shook his head and spat behind him.  "Not on me watch.  Aye.  Be wanting to prove me good atas you Heroes abroad the Hermès.   You'p AI git me de chance."

He stopped as he met her eyes again.  Eyes like a ready flint to spark a fire.  His voice almost edging to begging. But still leveled.  Showing hate for the Demons, and respect for the crew of the Hermès, all in the same tone.  "Just test me.  Challenge me'p.  Aye be ready to prove me-self."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:02, Thu 10 Aug 2023.

Her eyes would widen ever so slightly as the man calling himself Rip drew closer; nearly a foot taller than her and with broad shoulders the guy was a veritable tank and would no doubt be a welcome addition to the either the marines or an American football team. Covered in scars and tattoos it would be very easy to dismiss the guy as a thug, however the way he endeavoured to remain polite led her to suspect that there was more to him than meets the eye ”Likewise, call me Tarja” she said as he took a seat on the grass

As he spoke of his hike up to the campsite a slight smile would briefly appear on her lips before giving him a curious look at his mention of growing up underground ”I grew up in countryside, lots of mountains, pine trees and lakes…I try to get out into country whenever I can, breath fresh air, feel grass under fingers…relax” she replied, which perhaps explained why they had met here rather than in a bar.

Sipping her coffee, Tarja would listen as he explained why he wished to join the AI, though it was clear that she was having to concentrate in order to understand his strange accent and phrasing. Despite this there was no denying that he enthusiastic enough and seemed to have the attitude she was looking for ”You have combat experience, yes…” she said, speaking the words as a statement rather than a question before continuing ”…do you have any experience with mechs or heavy armour? Any skills you think will be asset? Also how tall are you?” she asked running a critical eye over his muscular physique before taking another sip of her coffee.

Rip took note to call her Tarja.  At least in private.  The PR folks would have a field day, if he was brought up "disrespect of the chain of command" charges or the sort.  They had worked hard to make sure he would be semi-representable.

He couldn't deny that the tress, views, and air even, were breath-taking.  She had a point, even if nerve-wracking to his preference and self-being.  "All de same.  Aye like tighter spaces.  Aye be feeling floating away."  He grumbled.

He sighed out loud at her question about experience, his eyes downcast as he stared at a patch of grass that flowed back and forth with the breeze.  He knew this was the hardest part of his request.  The PR folks had always acknowledged, if down played his former occupation.  She must be able to tell he knew his way in a fight.  But must not have heard about his defense of his Colony.  At least perhaps not fully.


His eyes closed, the image of his sister, her husband, and his niece, all waving goodbye as they boarded the transport to Earth.  A better life.

"Aye, I have fought the Tankards.
In stolen, forgotten, modified mining mechs.  Aye learned de work them, for me gang.  Bypass de lock-codes.  Make them fit 'ound me body.  To'p... keep 'em operating.  Not de standards you'p have't."  He open his eyes part way through his explanation.  He met her eyes again.  Might as well be up front as possible.  "Aye was boss of criminals.  Hap de making me own'p way in life.  But-"   He held a finger up.  "That was'p then.  Now, Aye new man."

Tarja would silently listen as Rip spoke of his previous combat experience and how he had been a gang leader, with her seemingly thinking over what he had said before slowly replying ”o-kay…just so I fully understand…you fought demons in mining mech with safety protocols you overridden?…I think we can find position for you in team, if you want it” she said, clearly impressed that not only had he used an industrial mech in combat but had survived the experience. It would also appear that he had some leadership skills should the need ever arise though it did mean that she needed to address the elephant in the room ”…of course I will expect you to follow orders and not cause any trouble for either myself or the team, I also expect a certain level of loyalty from my people” she said, fixing him with a cool look that said she didn’t care how big or mean he was and that she would put him in the hospital followed by the first ship to the colonies if he didn’t play the game and do as he was told.

Rip's lips tighten.  His eyes matching hers.  He nodded, without breaking eye contact.  He could tell she was a woman of her word.  He pulled out his knife from the sleeves of his torso uniform wrapped around his waist.

It was a slow movement, not to show any sign of hostility, he keptthe tip pointed at his neck.  Fluid in handling,  tossing it to catch the K-Bar by its blade, he offered the handle to Tarja.  His grip tight.  She would slice his palm if she accepted.  But the trust and submitting to her was unspoken.  It was his way of a blood pact.  Blood spilled, to accept her as Boss.

He would wait to see how she reacted.

If she was worried by Rip producing the rather large knife, she didn’t show it with her instead giving him a questioning look as he offered the blade to her handle first. His intention implicit. With a sigh that seemed to say ok, so we’re doing this are we? with her feeling it to be a touch dramatic she would take hold of handle and look him in the eyes as she said ”If you follow my orders and fight like devil himself, I will have your back and do upmost to bring you back alive” before pulling the knife out of his hand in a single fluid motion, hoping that she had correctly interpreted what he was after.

Rip didn't winch, but he did grunt, as his grayish-green eyes stared back at Tarja, and nodded as she finished pulling the knife.  He clenched his hand and dripped some blood over the spot.  It was dramatic, and not necessary, but in many ways, it was as if Rip was giving up the last of his former life as blood was squeezed from the cut on his hand.


"You da boss.  Boss."  He smiled happily.  "You point, Aye charge."  Rip reached over to his sack to grab a piece of cloth from it.  Wrapping it around his hand he stood up and looked around.  Confused for a moment now.  Now what would he do?  He wasn't a camping person.

Waving Rip to sit back down as he reached for his bag, Tarja would crawl halfway into her tent and a little rifling around would come back out and toss a small first aid kit over to him that would have some plast in it for his hand ”We’ll get the paperwork signed once we’re back on the Hermes then we’ll get you and the other new guy started on basic training” Tarja said, quietly happy with how her little unit was growing I’ll get a whole platoon at this rate!

Seeing the slightly confused look on Rips face as if he’d just realised that he was in the middle of a forest that was rapidly growing darker, Tarja would speak up feeling that she should help him out ”I can walk with you back to rangers station and wait for cab if you like?” she offered, recalling how he wasn’t used to being in the countryside and would probably prefer being in the nearby town instead ”…or failing that you can share tent until morning…I plan on heading up to Steel Crag for a bit before going into town and meeting up with team” she continued, just in case a cab wasn’t willing come out here at this time of the evening.

Rip bent his knees, squatting not far from Farms as she looked for what turn out to be a first aid kit.  He stared at his cloth-bandaged hand, not wanting to let his eye wandered, as she searched her tent.  Unwrapping the cloth, he caught the first aid kit, and fished the plast-applier out.  He looked back at his new future boss, nodding in understanding about the paperwork.  Ever since he signed up, the ESN seemed to thrive on it.  The training, he looked forward to.  He needed to do something.  Physical, mental, demanding.

Using the plaster on his hand, he sighed.  If only he had something like this when he was growing up.  Well, he was proud of his scars.  His eyes off Tarja when she offered to walk him back to the Ranger Station, he balked at the thought.  "Nah.  Just not use to any freedom... Errr free time.  At best nope in the forest.  But, might learn what to do, be limited."

His eyes did dart at the tent, sizing it up, back to Tarja, and he smirked.  Not sure if the two of them could share the tent together without rubbing against each other or knee the other in the face.  It looked far too small for one, let alone two, his hand instinctively grabbing at his pack of cigarettes in his pocket, his mind wandering.

Pack shook, raised to his mouth, loose cigarette pinched between his lips, eyes glazed over in thought, when he realized he was being rude. Offering the pack to Tarja, he grumbled "No to the walk back down.  No to... Let be saying, Aye am a roller when sleeping.  Nah, I sleep..."   His other hand took the unlit cigarette out of from its perch between his lips as he thought how to answer.  "What they say?  Under them stars?"  He did shudder at the thought.  "Got be use to this.  No good for you, aye not able to rough it."

He stared at his unlit cigarette for a moment, clasped between two rough mutt digits.  His eyes rose back to Tarja and the pack of his coffin nails he held towards her.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:27, Tue 15 Aug 2023.

She would give an understanding nod when Rip turned down the offer of walking down to the ranger station, with her not really blaming him as she didn’t really fancy the idea of walking through the forest in the dark herself.

She was a little surprised by his suggestion that he sleep under the stars, but that was again understandable as the tent wasn’t particularly big and it would be a touch cramped, especially seeing as they had only just met ”To be fair I would probably try to kill you in sleep” Tarja sighed, looking down at the plast covering the knuckles of one of her hands before realising that perhaps a little context was needed ”…I…um…having the reoccurring dream, it causes me to wake at night and sometimes lash out…I was trying to get it dealt with but my shrink caught bullet” she explained, frustrated that she was back to square one.

At the offer a cigarette, she hesitate a moment before taking one, with her leaning forward so he could light it up ”I don’t normally do the smoking…usually only when on session with friends but…fuck it…I have rough morning” she said as she leaned back onto the grass ”also I not know what climate like on planet, so if it get really cold or rains offer to share tent is still open” she said in a tone of voice that said she would endure a little discomfort if it meant he didn’t catch hypothermia ”so…this is first military posting, yes?”

Rip grinned as Tarja fought over whether she would take the cigarette or not.  Putting his back between his lips and pulling out his lighter.  Giving Tarja a wink as he flicked the stub that brought the orange little flame to life, waiting for her to take advantage of one of mankind's best creations.  At least in his opinion.  His eyes dart to her plast-covered knuckles as she spoke of dreams.  He wouldn't ask about that.  His own nightmares haunted him, so he understood.

"Aye bet you be able to pummel me'self awake or asleep Boss."  He muttered around his own cigarette.  Bringing his lighter to his own lips, he inhaled and took a long moment to enjoy the smoke in his lungs.  He almost did comment on her shrink catching a bullet, but just nodded his head in understanding.  He wasn't one to openly share his feelings.  At least not before he woke up on the med-tech ship.  He exhaled away from her.

"These nails, do help clear me mind they do."  Taking another long drag.  "Just sounds like you be needing to punch something.  Need a punching bag, Aye got me a large body, another handful of bruises won't make big dif."  He chuckled.  He did side-eye her bringing up the request to share the tent.  "Welp, Aye need it, be sure toot tie you'p so'p you'p don' kill me."

Changed from his squatting position to sitting flat on his ass, his legs kicking out wide and taking up room.  "It be.  Starting late, have lot catching up with."  Rip responded to her question about military posting.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:24, Wed 16 Aug 2023.

”If you lucky…” Tarja said, pausing to take a drag of the cigarette and slowly exhale before continuing ”…I may pull knife on you instead…have done that before” she said with a wry shake of her head, hinting that military training and flight or fight responses were a bad mix, especially in the dead of night.

It was then that Rip simply suggested that she needed to hit something…or someone, with him even going so far as to offer himself up as a punching bag. Taking another drag it was clear that she was thinking over the concept ”maybe…” wondering whether he may have a point, not that she was going to start beating her own teammates in an attempt to deal with her own problems. Although it did appear Rip had a solution for having to share tent with her, with him managing to crack her usually cool and reserved demeanour as she burst into laughter.

It wasn’t the fact that she thought being tied up was particularly funny, it was just the way he had said it along the sheer randomness of the comment ”yes…you…you should do that” she said between gales of laughter that she would fight to control before she asked whether this was his first posting, with him confirming that it was ”This is my first time serving on ship too…previously I served on frontline in Second Winter War, but that was nothing like Hermes…tomorrow if you like I will try and introduce you to Meari and the team, or at least those I can find” they were on RnR after all.

Rip grinned, his cigarette still betweenhis lips.  Her comment about pulling a knife on him.  His thought that she would make a good member of his former gang, running through his head as he inhaled on his death stick.  He pulled the 'nail' from his lips to exhale and shrug to her maybe comment about letting her pummel him.

He was use to violence, pain, able to take a punch as well as dish it.  And he harbored no disillusionment about how hard she might be able to punch him.  He suspected the other members of the AI unit could also twist him into knots.  He was a brawler, but he lacked their years of experience.

Rip's grin widen, and he joined Tarja in laughter.  His a deep chested, horse gaggle.  If it was one memory he could keep forever, it would be of his ability to make his sister laugh.  Before they grew apart because of his criminal ways.  Something he did, if only to keep her safe.

"Welp.  You and your knife..."  He spoke through a cloud of smoke as he took his K-bar back and strapped it to his leg.  His eyes imagining her eyes filled with murderous intent if he did try and tie her up.  "Most likely cut through me bindings before I fall asleep."

Rip felt the laugh was much needed from his new, if unofficial for now, unit boss.  Plus he wanted to stay on her good side.  At least until she took a boot to his neck to make him into a proper soldier.  He shook thoughts away about other reasons she may pin his thick neck to the ground.

"Was just me, and me gang, against the Tankards.  The piss poor Break-Sticks scattering right as they invaded.  Had to smash some heads in-"  Rip's eyes clouded over with how brutal he was with some of the knocking of heads he did. "-Be good to have... a family like that again."  He said his eyes watch a bellow of smoke as he pictured his former gang.  The cigarette reaching the filter, burning his lip, causing Rip to grunt and spit it to the ground.

”I could if I needed to…but it would stop me hurting you while I woke up” Tarja replied, confirming that tying her up was only a temporary and most likely limited measure.

Along with the burst of laughter, the tension within her seemed to fade away as she relaxed on the grass with her seemingly deciding that she quite liked the scarred giant and felt they were going to get along just fine, with him going on to talk about fighting the demons and he hoped to regain that feeling of family he’d had with his people ”I can understand that…I was close to squad during war…very close to some of them…sitting in frozen foxhole waiting for Ruskie rocket to hit and end it all “ she said taking one last drag of her dying cigarette before grinding it out ”is still early days but current team are pretty solid…well most of them” she said with a brief flash of something, anger perhaps? Entering her eyes before disappearing just as quickly.

Rip reached over to smother the cigarette butt with his boot.  After a moment of staring at it, he picked up the smoshed remains and slide it into his pack.  Something about being out here in nature like this conflicted his usual don't care attitude.  He felt the need not to leave his presence like he use too.

Rip nodded as he went through his sack to find his water bottle again.  He wondered how much Tarja said about hurting him was in jest, or serious.  He looked at her as he took another drink of water, debating how he would respond.

"Could just use me as a pillow.  You don't want to be attacking your pillow?"  He jabbed back.  "Me sis use to do that..."  He mumbled the last part and sighed.

Rip watched Tarja's lips and then back to her eyes as she furthered her description of her war experience.  He decided not to further his.  But it felt very much like the two could relate.  Different backgrounds, different situations, but still feeling the weight of what they went through.  He tapped his chin, reminding himself to look into what went down on Earth and the "Ruskies."  His knowledge of history was not the best.  So he nodded for to go on.

Rip almost missed that flash of something.  Someone on the team an issue?  He didn't like that.  "Whelp, best we, I, work hard to fit in.  I be betting things will be not easy for us and Hermès crew.  I don't usually get along with others.  But I be trying.  Life too easy to go Dark."

Rip, having eaten many burgers just earlier aboard ship, felt his stomach rumble.  Damn his large body.  He only brought a few energy bars.  And he also felt the need to put on something for more comfortable then his uniform.  He grabbed his spare set of pants and one of his energy bars.  "Err, I go change me pants."  He muttered through ripping into the energy bars packaging, and standing up.

”It wouldn’t matter…” Tarja started in a melancholy tone ”…shrink said it was more like hallucinating than dreaming…I wouldn’t realise I’d woken up and just see Ruskie and then try and defend myself before brain has chance to say differently” she explained, anxiously running her fingers through her dark hair as she did so. She did hear him add something about his sister but not knowing whether she was alive or not, Tarja decided not to pry just yet. Instead letting him talk about fitting in with his new unit and how he didn’t normally play well with others with her hoping for his sake that he would make the effort as she didn’t think Meari in particular would react well to him causing trouble.

As he got up to change, Tarja point across to a timber shed at the edge of the tree-line ”theres a toilet block over there if you need privacy” she said in a voice that said she’d seen it all before so wasn’t concerned if he changed there or not.

Rip nodded in response again.  He was no shrink.  He doubted he could add anything.  Not that he didn't feel a need to help.  Like he use to for his sister.  But he just huffed, giving her a look that she was strong.  She would get through this.  He could tell she was a survivor.  His face, normally unreadable, showing understanding.


He looked at wooden shed, the one pointed by Tarja.  He huffed again.  He glanced back at her, knowing she must have seen men undress before.  If they were going to be a unit, might as well get use to it.  It wasn't he was shy, he had undressed before women, gang members, lovers, or whoever, many a time before.

But he was debating in his mind how he should act in the civilized world.  Screw it.  This was the forest, and she would most likely see it anyways.  He stepped only to the side of her tent, unwrapping the sleeves of his upper uniform.  Turning his back to her as he dropped his uniform pants.

Tarja would see the faded Neon Bulldog tattoo on his right back shoulder, half covered by the white tanktop he wore. It's snarling face ripping an arm off someone.
 Along with a deep scar running from his left shoulder to the center of his back, partly covered by the tanktop.

His black underwear was tight, but modest in how it covered his backside as he bent down to pull his boots off.  Followed by his pants around his ankles.  More scars, many overlapping more faded tattoos, most just random tribal markings he had no idea of their meaning, done in black ink.  The scars, if Tarja looked and could tell, were caused by acid or industrial waste products.  Heirlooms of his poor upbringing living in the mines.

Like the rest of Rip, his legs were muscular, thick, and long.  He didn't skip leg day.  He grumbled as he fought to get the gray, tight fitting cargo pants past his calf muscles, loosing his balance, tripping in a hopping attempt to get his pants up his legs, going face first into a bush.  "Ah, fuck!"  He muttered.

Although she would try not to stare, with her taking the opportunity to tidy away her sketch pad and dig out something to eat, she couldn’t help but notice the scars and tattoos adorning the large man’s body. The fact that he had scars was no real shock, after all she had several of her own though they were mainly the result of gunshots and shrapnel, it was the shear quantity that caught her attention. Confirming her suspicions that he seen his fair share of combat over the course of his life.

It was as she was setting up one of the American style ration packs that she would hear the thump and crackle of branches, followed by indistinct swearing. Getting to her feet she would walk around to find Rip sprawled in a bush ”need some help?” she asked in the same cool, emotionless voice she always used, however it was impossible to miss the look of amusement in her eyes as she moved to help him up if he needed it.

With a bush leave up his nose, Rip turned to look back at Tarja.  His face screamed unpleasantness.  Fueled by both his current predicament, Tarja's laughing eyes, his boxer covered butt sticking up in the air, and that he hadn't checked to see if the issued pants would fit, he kicked them off and struggled for a moment to right himself up.

He failed.  "Yes, I could be using a hand."  He admitted in grumbled defeat.  The bush having him tangled up, he was able to get his left hand out to reach to Tarja.

He bit his tongue to block an ever seething torrent of curse words.  His pale, slightly gray skin, boiling an embarrassing shade of red.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:21, Sun 20 Aug 2023.

Finding Rip tangled up both in his own pants and the bush he had fallen into, Tarja; a girl that had grown up in the countryside, found the entire scene to be rather amusing including the irate look on Rips face. However to her credit she was good enough not to laugh or tease him as she offered him her arm.

As he took her arm he would be able to feel the muscles hidden beneath the flannel shirt, and the strength of her own grip on his arm about which her fingers were unable to meet ”ok, on three…one…two…three” Tarja said before trying help pull Rip back onto his feet. Had anyone been watching the result would have been quite comical as Tarja, discovering that Rip was about as heavy as he looked, managed to get him about halfway up before she overbalanced and was dragged into the bush with a startled cry, though luckily for her she had a relatively soft landing in the form of Rip.

After much thrashing around, swearing in both Finnish and what Tarja assumed was street slang, and awkward apologies for poorly placed hands the pair would manage to extricate themselves with Tarja proceeding to remove several twigs and leaves from her hair ”Well…that did not go to…” Tarja’s words suddenly stopped dead in their tracks as she saw the sleek shapes of several animals close to their camp.

With blueish grey fur, they were fox like in appearance but without the bushy tail and were closer in size to a German Shepherd. A quick glance would quickly tell her that she would be unable to reach her assault rifle before they got to her ”please tell me you brought sidearm? she whispered to Rip as she slowly drew a whitewashed Sig Sauer from its holster as six of the animals cautiously approached their camp, though she was pretty sure she could now hear movement off to their right as well leaving her uncertain as to whether she could win if it came to a fight.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:45, Sun 20 Aug 2023.

Rip would have to thank his new unit boss later for not overtly laughing or poking fun at his current misfortune.  He would have been laughing and throwing jabs at any of his former gang members, if he had come upon them in a similar situation.  Good thing Tarja was not Rip, and he would have to remember to be similarly patient with any crew members if he found them in an unfavorable position.

She had some steel under her skin.  Rip thought to himself as he grabbed hold of her arm.  Once again reminded that she wasn't just a woman, but a well trained soldier.  "Alright, on three... one, two, three!"  He valiantly pushed with his right hand, was halfway upright when his feet slide on his now discarded pants.  He pulled Tarja back down with him, having her almost bounce off him.

It was a jumbled mess of bodies and bush, Rip grabbing onto parts that wasn't acceptable in civil society, with Tarja doing the same to him.  He spat off a string of muttered words as she spoke in a language he couldn't even begin to describe.  "Gat-spit!  Muck-stain!"  And other words that were only strung together back on his former colony.  He did remember saying sorry at least twice as he pulled his arm or leg away from her.

He was panting, and hanging his head in shame, as he and Tarja, together, pulled themselves out of tge bush.  Some of the leaves leaving fresh scars on his face and arms, he heard her speaking for a bit only to trail off.  He looked up, but it was a snarling growl that focused his eyes on the shapes of blue and gray furred things.  He had never laid eyes on anything like it.  Sort of reminding him of a stuff animal his sister use to have.

"No.  I be left it aboard Hermès."  He whispered back to her.  His breathing steady, no longer huffing, kneeling beside Tarja, his hand went to his right leg, and he bit off a curse.  His uniform pants still held the knife and strap.  Luckily it was only a few inches away, sliding his hand around behind Tarja, Rip gently pulled them closer, and slowly pulled his knife free.

Holding his knife up, he noticed she had her pistol in hand.  But the rifle was too far away.  "I do be hoping this be not a black mark on me ready-to-fight report Boss."  He whispered again.  One of the sharp fang furry beast was sniffing at her ration.  The other 5 looking at Rip and her.

He glanced to the side, hearing a sound in the underbrush, they were being surrounded.  "If I bullpop them, you be getting the rifle?"  He again whispered, holding the palm of his left hand over the butt of his knife, his right hand gripped firmly around the handle, the tip aimed away from him, ready to spring at the hungry forest dwellers.  He did not move until Tarja gave an order, or some other command.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:55, Sun 20 Aug 2023.

After giving Rip a sharp look as he confessed to having left his sidearm behind Tarja would turn her attention back to the animals, one of which was taking a keen interest in her rations whilst a couple of others were sniffing her pack and the entrance to her tent leaving the rest of them to watch the pair of humans that had dragged themselves out of a bush. The fact that they hadn’t attacked already led her to hope that they were just as wary of them as they were.

Hearing Rips whispered plan she would consider it for a moment before shaking her head ”no, you go for rifle…I try and scare them with pistol shots” she suggested instead, hoping that a couple of shots would scare them off…if it didn’t then two people with guns would fair better than one.