Turn 1: Where It All Started

[Jpall]

"And I am sure whatever happens here, he will get all the credit," Heinrich added in with a sigh, his mild German accent skewing his words. "Regardless, I am somewhat... excited to see the truth of The Pock," he says, using the planet's nickname for the crater.

"As children, we heard the wildest stories about it. For years and years after the blast. People going in and never coming out. People coming out with strange stories about what they saw before they got too scared and turned back," he says with a shrug. "Scavengers, all of them, and hardly trustworthy. Still, we always suspected there was more than the official story."

[Bullet42]

Torres trudged alongside the rest of the Marines, his boots sinking slightly into the unfamiliar terrain. The air was tinged with faint, unplaceable odors—alien yet strangely mild. This planet was unlike any he’d set foot on before, and the scents alone hinted at a world he would need time to acclimate to.

His eyes scanned the approaching natives, their expressions warm and welcoming, as though salvation had just arrived in military fatigues. Their eagerness was almost disarming. Torres found it curious that they spoke German—a language both sharp and familiar against the backdrop of this colony. He listened idly as the Lieutenant exchanged words with a figure who seemed to command respect among the locals. Politics were predictable, repetitive; Torres had seen these patterns play out on countless missions before.

Then, two words floated to his ears: "free" and "drink." A faint smirk touched his lips, and he leaned toward the Marines closest to him. "Maybe we’ll get a proper German vacation out of this," he muttered. "You know, some real stout, after all this blows over."

But as the thought lingered in his mind, a whisper of unease crept in. Something about the ease of it all felt too perfect, too routine. Torres brushed it off, telling himself they'd be back aboard the USS Heimlich in no time. Still, the air carried a weight he couldn’t quite define.

[BarbarianMathematics]

Private Ava Blake felt the subtle hum of the USS Heimlich's engines as the ship made its descent, her fingers drumming lightly against the comm console in front of her. She had been in the thick of things before, but there was something about the stillness of this planet that made her feel uneasy. Her brown hair was tucked neatly beneath her beret, and her green eyes scanned around. Ava knew she'd be getting calls soon, possibly scrambling to patch in encrypted messages or something else they requested on duty. However, listening to the rest of the crew, she decided to just get ready with things and get her stretches in before the mission at hand, though eyes the Lieutenant and gives a smirk at the banter she hears the group mentioning about the Lieutenant. However, for now, she keeps quiet.

More or less, she's fairly new to how the Devil Dawgs' worked, having just been assigned with the mission.