!!etjUP7/V3a6 08/09/11(Tue)04:53 No.15874983|
Marks stood over the bodies of Chester and Otto, and gritted his teeth.
He knew not why the Gods mocked him so, that those around him should die again and again, and he continue on, but continue on he would. He must, for to do otherwise was to fail his nation, and his family.
The sun beat down just as mercilessly as the Vossian shells had a mere hour before. Marks was not overseeing the security of the Prisoners. As ever, his job was to tend the dead, and the heavily wounded. Here his touch was gentle, his rage and strength saved for the heat of battle.
He hoped that what they had found of Mana could be reconstructed, and while he could not find the body of Captain Iceval, he hoped for his continued existence as well. Gunther had pointed it out mid-battle, but it bore repeating: the rapidity with which men rose in this unit was terrifying, mostly because it implied the new rank had just been vacated.
If Mana and Iceval were too far gone... That made Gunther Senior Officer, with Rip an equal rank, but with the unit far shorter. Marks wondered if one day he'd survive them, and young Willhelm as well. If his destiny was to one day be the undying Captain of Helghast, watching brave men and women die for their country, and having to tend to them when they were gone. He prayed he had not so offended the gods.