Another Day, Another Breach of the Gates [Open to MP]

[Marko Iliev]

It had been as simple as waiting until they were shitfaced enough for him to slip a Jack unnoticed out of the pile.

“Straight flush.” He'd set his cards down (along with the stolen Jack tacked on the end of the hand), half-smiling as he reached for his own pouch of wine, doing his best to ignore the reek of alcohol from the other three as they festered groggily, groaning; one of them with his face flat on the surface – whether he'd been asleep or not was a different question.

That had been five minutes before a cadet had stumbled into the room and started frantically spluttering nonsense about a riot at the gates of Sina out. Supposing enough was enough and his pockets had been lined with plenty of 'winnings', Marko took his leave in order to pull his squad together... His only regret was that he hadn't finished his wine.

Riots weren't uncommon, but some were more predictable than others. Today's... Well, no one had said anything about one approaching any time soon, which meant no one had any inkling of it happening at all. Firearms would suffice; he made sure each of his squad had a rifle at hand... Not to be actually fired, unless push came to shove, of course – the blunt end would be more than enough force to use.

The sky outside was blue and fresh and it might have otherwise been a nice day, were the Stohess gates not currently getting clogged with rowdy citizens from within Wall Rose. The closer he and his squad drew to the gate, the louder the noise was getting. With a sigh through his nose, Marko licked at his lips, tasting the remnants of the wine on them, as he craned his neck so he could glance about the gate area and take note of where the other squads currently were – not an easy feat, for someone with less than average eyesight.

“They're in there, sir.” One cadet pointed out, noticing this. “And up there; they're trying to close the gates.”

Which looked to be three, perhaps four squads at most. The rest? Well, that was anyone's guess – maybe they were taking a nap, or were currently just as drunk as the guys Marko had been playing with before.

“Go to the middle. Try breakin' the madness up.” He said, plainly, whilst turning towards his squad. “Use force if you have to. Just don't get yourselves crushed, by the gate or anything else.” He shot them all a crooked smile. “Gottit?”

[Lars Van Dyke]

"Please, Commander. Have mercy."

If Lars had a copper coin everytime he had heard that line, he would be an incredibly rich man. Well, richer. Upon his arrival from his Commander Meeting, he patiently awaits at the gates with his fellow squad members; coming to the familiar site of nameless men and women sleeping alongside the Sinaian gate for miles on end. They always wait for the rare opportunity of rushing into Sina (as if the gates opening are some kind of godsend), although everytime their efforts prove useless and not even one Rose citizen manages to step foot in the Stohess District. It is the kind of blissful ignorance of human determination that even when knocked down over and over again these people still believe their pointless dream to be achievable.

It's poetic in some sick way, Lars supposes.

There is just one man in particular, however, that deems it a good day to chat Lars' ear off about his tragic, personal problems. How he and his family have not eaten in days, how they have not had a home for one month now, how he has so much trouble finding work, and so on and so forth.

The ash blond spares the beggar a glance by turning his head to the side, and he sees that behind the other male is a little girl who could be no more than ten years old, wearing filthy drapes to be considered proper clothing, and his wife who has obviously been pregnant for some months now. He raises a curious eyebrow at the family, and although he expects pity to build in his stomach, the only thing that manifests is anger and pure impatience.

"Please, sir. I'm begging you. Please! Do you not have any heart left in you? Look at my wife, our baby won't survive under these conditions"


"Perhaps if you did not selfishly drag your family here to sleep by the Wall, and instead devoted more time to finding proper work, you would be in such a hopeless situation." Lars replies rather bluntly; and in that moment he can physically see the hope in the man's eyes fade to nothing. The small girl lowers her head, clutching the bottom of her mothers' dress with shaking shoulders.


Lars releases a sigh and rolls his eyes rather obviously. If he had a copper coin for every time his MP Captains were late to open the gates he would also be richer. "Let us in!" Suddenly Lars' arm is grabbed by the beggar, his nails digging into his Military Police emblem. The Dutchman widens his eyes, really caught off guard but does not take long for his Cadets to retaliate and pull the man off of him. It is not as if Lars cannot fight his own battles, but he does appreciate the help.

He narrows his eyes down as they restrain the man, and the ash blond pulls out a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe the smudged fingerprints off of his shoulder.

The display does not go unnoticed by the other Rose citizens, and slowly they stand...approaching the Military Police like heartless zombies; the utterances of 'please', and 'have mercy' suddenly multiply into one universal sound as they slowly come closer to the squad. .

He assumes Commander mode, and lowers his voice a bit to project himself. "I am going to ask all of you to kindly step back. We do not grant access into Sina lest you are an official Member in the Military Police legion, Chosen by the King, or born within these walls. So once again, I --" Lars can feel his hand grabbed again, and he immediately shoves off the person.


The Dutchman swallows rather nervously and grits his teeth, if he had to break up another riot, it was going to be a long day.

[Eiríkur Styrsson]

Going out of the wall... What an almost surreal thing.

The very wonders outside of the inner wall were almost as mysterious as the things that go on in the even outer wall. The only time Eiríkur had really experienced something like this would be when he had first left home to go to the training corps. Well, the only difference would be that he was returning back in a shorter amount of time rather than the 4 years he was training.

The amount of people that lined up against the wall was almost impeccable, making him wonder if this always seemed to be what happened when Military Police left the wall, or was this on a normal basis...? This was quite worrisome to the young Icelander as he walked at a slow place beside the Commander Lars Van Dyke. He had hardly known him, yet he was asked about assisting on this little outing.

To be honest, the sight of seeing these people as they are sent a lot of pity through the young cadet. If only he could do something to help them, rather than just walking past them and upturning his nose and pretending they weren't even there to begin with. He felt the Military Police as a whole did this, and it sickened him to no extent that they let something like this slowly begin to build.

Riots were expected when people sat like this in wait. Anticipation does that to people... Especially when they are in need of help.

Being stopped, Eiríkur looked to what was the result of it. And of course, it was the gate. Why wasn't it open for them? Out of the corner of his ear, he heard it...

"Please, Commander. Have mercy." came the voice of a man, a beggar. He sounded so desperate, so needy. It was hard to listen to what Lars had said to him, and the amount of disdain that was apparent in his voice... But then again, this was expected, he was a corporal, and he had to keep order, no matter the circumstances. The man was just in the way anyways, he was going to have been told one way or another the truth of the matter.

Just about to open his mouth and speak, that was when someone grabbed onto his arm, looking at him with eyes so desperate it sent shivers down his spine. He had heard of how these riots started, it was a terrifying idea as it passed through Eiríkur's brain. He didn't want to get caught in the midst of a riot!

He pushed the person off, though as gently as he could as to not hurt them (that was the last thing he'd ever want to do... Hurt someone that wasn't intentionally trying to hurt him) and moved towards his Commander.

"C-Commander... I think this is starting to get out of hand..." he basically squeaked out, his hands shaking as he gripped onto the folder of papers that he had been instructed to carry. This was all starting to go downhill, and he knew it was. The severity of the whole situation was quickly dawning on the Icelander and all his rationality was almost thrown out the window. He was probably shaking like a small dog about now, considering how he was so unsure of how to act or what to do in order to keep the slowly forming riot from actually getting too out of hand.

[Marko Iliev]

His squad sprinted ahead, but Marko himself took a more leisurely pace as he made his way towards the gates. It wasn't long before he spotted the tall head of the Commander above the crowd; he quickened his steps a bit as he approached him, sliding his rifle off his back and taking it in both of his hands.

The situation didn't look like it was going to improve, any time soon... The citizens were just getting more and more riled up by the minute. Marko glanced left and right to make sure he knew where each of his men had gotten to; they'd done as he'd told them, adding to the barricade of Military Police preventing those from the other side of the wall from passing. It only took a moment of him standing at the edge of the commotion, even though he was half a foot behind the Commander, for a grappling hand to be extended in the space beside his leg, brushing against him. Flinching, he smacked it away with the handle of his rifle, more out of impulse than finding it an actual threat... By now, the people were getting evidently more desperate; that hand had come from a beggar crawling along the ground, apparently trying to sneak in through a gap in the barricade.

“Commander.” He said, ignoring the man (who another cadet seemed to now be dealing with) for a moment so that he could lean over Lars's shoulder, his voice lowered a little. “What're your orders?”

[Lars Van Dyke]

When Lars hears the familiar voice of Marko Iliev behind him, he isn’t necessarily surprised that irritation is the first emotion he feels rather than comfort or relief. He turns on the heel of his boot, eyebrows narrowed with a look of pure murder on his face at the Captain in front of him.

”So nice of you to make it, Captain Iliev.” He bitterly spits out. Lars would be a liar if he said he wasn’t absolutely livid with his legion at the moment, but as of right now punishing one of his many Captains was the last of his priorities ”Later tonight, we’re going to have a talk about the importance of being on time.” The Dutchman growls a bit, now turning away from him so his back faces Sina’s wall.

He tries to think of the situation rationally and strategically, looking in all directions and trying to keep a safe estimate on the riot. At the moment he counts forty, maybe fifty people, and even though his own squads are much fewer in numbers, Lars figures a crowd of this caliber would not be so hard to maintain. Most of them are men of course, who seemed to be in malnourished states of starvation or some even missing limbs (Which Lars could safely assume they were veterans). They were barely in any position to fight each other, let alone a trained legion who’s main weapon of choice were rifles.These people did not expect to win this, did they ?

“As of right now, stabilizing the crowd is our main precedence. They’re angry, but they’re disorganized too. “ He continues surveying the crowd with slight uneasiness, watching them push and shove at eachother like a flock of flightly sparrows.

“We can’t get in either, at this rate. The gates close too slowly. There is no bargaining with these people either…” He cannot offer any financial handouts considering it would be incredibly time consuming to satisfy each and every protester. Even under the circumstances, money was not what these people wanted, but the glorified safety behind Sina’s walls.

“Iliev, I want you and your squad to hold the barricade with tear gas at the ready, here and here.” He extends his pointer finger to his left, and then his right. “Don’t open the gate anymore than it is now. Make sure there are not any gaps. And Keep your rifles down.” Lars puts emphasis on the last word, eyes immediately traveling to the gun on Markos’ hand.

“If someone tries to hit you, use the blunt end. No force against women or children.” Lars was annoyed with the situation, but he was not absolutely heartless. He nods at his Captain, a silent indication of their understanding of his orders. “As you were.”
The Dutchman turns away from Marko, before passing a glance over at a younger, shaking Cadet with snow-white hair who has found a comfortable spot of protection next to Lars’ side. Why did he invite him again? Oh, right, they needed somebody to document what was talked about during the meeting.

’Brilliant deduction’ he resists the urge to snap at him.

“Erika, I need you to focus. These people are just as afraid as you are. Mount your house and keep distance at the barricade. These people will find the most minimal of passage ways and the smallest of crevices, the horses will help.” His voice remains low and stern as he narrows golden eyes at the trembling cadet. “If someone tries anything on the way there, you know your orders. Go.”

With that, he steps away from Erik… or whatever his name was to stand a few steps in front of his men. Even they seemed rather terrified by the rowdy mess of desperate people, digging, scratching, grabbing, and clinging at the Military Police; but somebody had to remain level-headed in this situation.

“Listen to me, men!” The Dutchman realizes he has to raise his voice a few more decibels since the crowd has gotten louder this time, and he can swear more people have shown up out of nowhere, multiplying at a rapid rate, which was definitely not a good sign…
“Not a single person is going to step foot in Stohess that does not belong there. Use force only when necessary.”

With that, Lars spares no time using the blunt end of his rifle to shove off the beggar from before as a perfect example.

[Eiríkur Styrsson]

The exchange between commander to captain was something unlike Eiríkur had ever seen. In fact, he had expected something a lot less... Stressed, or that's what it seemed like to him. In all honesty, the cadet had little to no idea as to what he should do, and the slowly increasing number of people and desperation was frightening him more. By this time, he had almost completely forgotten about the commander and captain speaking to each other only until he had been address.

Of course, it was of the wrong name... Again. How many times would he have to correct the commander until he got it right?

"It's Eiríkur sir..." he then whispered, though it was completely inaudible with the ruckus of the crowd around them. His small correction was quickly tossed aside as he looked at the Dutchman with a look of sheer terror. He didn't know what he could possibly be doing, but all he knew was that he would do as told and get on his horse, whom had been lingered towards the front of the group, a bit a ways away from the initial start if the riot.

"J-Já! Right away sir!" With that, he finished speaking with the commander with a quick salute, heading right over to his horse. Placing the folder into the small side bag that was on the horse's saddle, he mounted, lifting himself up with a small oof, settling himself down in the leather seat, holding onto the reins enough to pull the horse towards the crowd. He had his riffle at his side, but he knew he probably wouldn't use it, he was on horse back anyways.

Hands shaking ever so slightly as he pulled the reins of the auburn horse, Eiríkur took in a small breath, looking out at the people that seemed to just flow to him, trying to either pull him off the horse or attempt to plead to him for help, gripping onto his legs rather tightly. His horse, not used to being crowded by so many people, was already letting out snorts of unease, especially since its rider wasn't even calm in the first place.

Looking over the mass amount of people, his eyes widened a bit, fear quickly gripping at him. This had to be a dream, there was no way there could have been that many people... They just seemed to keep coming, flooding the small area in an attempt to push through the small defenses and right through the gates.
I cannot let this happen... I have to do my job and help push them back... The commander said use force if necessary... Biting his lit, he looked down at the rifle of which he carried, thoughts running through his mind before he pulled it off his shoulder to hold it in one hand, reins in the other.

"I have to do my job... I have to do my job..." he quietly chanted to himself in an attempt to just press a little confidence into him quivering body. The thought of hurting people was terrifying... But there seemed to be no other choice as of now.
For the first time in a long time, Eiríkur felt he could do something and actually succeed in it.

"Please! Everyone get back! We do not want to hurt you!" he shouted at the people, using his horse to try and push people back, especially since he knew people didn't want to get caught up in the legs of such a huge beast, lest they wanted to get stomped on. When some men got a bit too close and started pulling on his leg, he gripped his rifle, taking in a small breath before bringing the blunt end down on them, in an attempt to get them off.
This is all for my job... Just my job... He thought to himself, pushing and hitting people as best he could. He didn't know when that tear gas was coming, but he hoped it would be soon, he didn't know how much longer he could push people back until they got completely fed up and just pushed him off his horse...[/span][/font]

[Linh Nguyen]

It was occurrences like these that really tested Linh's humanity. And, though she would hate to admit it, it was clearly so bent that the lines between right and wrong had long since become blurred. She stood close by Lars, watching with empty eyes as the man grovelled before him. Considering her background and upbringing, Linh should've sympathized with the people; but she didn't. Perhaps it was because she saw herself as a fine example of survival of the fittest––she who came from nothing was doing more than well off now. And thus, she felt no pity for these people; and where pity should've been, she only felt impatience. Her eyes slowly trailed over from the man to the commander as she held a person back with the rifle tight in her hands. Frankly, she was eager for some official orders so she could at least do something about the people surrounding her. Linh, suddenly having to put forth more effort to hold the man back, turned her attention away from the commander. With a quick and forceful shoved, she finally got the man off her but it was clear that, along with her, they were only growing more restless and irritated.

Her grip only tightened on her rifle, knuckles flushing a pale white as she locked eyes with the man getting ready to charge at her once more. "You heard the commander, no one is getting in." If these people wanted a fight, she would gladly give them one. Linh braced herself as the man shoved at her once more, this time backed up by a boy who resembled him enough that she could assume it was his son. Blocking him back once more with her rifle, she ground her teeth together as she fought to hold him off while other people pushed him forward.

Nerves began to twist her stomach into knots as more and more people began to push forward and the man gripped onto her rifle. If anything, Linh wanted to keep herself from fighting back as long a possible seeing as her aggravation had no bounds, but it was clear that something had to be done. "Do your job and hold them back!" she yelled, turning her head to a nearby cadet––only leaving an opportunity for the man to push her back a few inches. Somewhat startled by the sudden offence, Linh could only act off impulse as the man attempted to pull her rifle out of her clutches. With a quick strike to the chest, Linh finally pushed the group back enough to get the commander's attention, seeing as no one else was making any attempt to hold the rowdy ones back.

"Commander!" She barely had enough time to get his attention before the man grabbed hold of her rifle once more, attempting to wrestle it from her, even more people cheering him on now. To preoccupied to ask for further orders, Linh dug her feet into the dirt as she fought to hold the man back.