Scenario:Ilsa - Responsibility & Resolve

Responsibility & Resolve

Ilsa leads her trainees to defend a town from a monster invasion. The monsters' fixation on Ilsa suggests they were sent by the Foe, who want Ilsa's seal weapon, Nybeth. Falling asleep at her desk that night, Ilsa remembers how her cadets, with nowhere left to go, begged to accompany her into hiding.

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Ilsa: You missed again! How many times do I have to tell you to keep your eyes open when you fire? Did you wet yourself so hard the splash startled you?

Cadet 1: I'm sorry, Sergeant Ilsa!

Ilsa: Then get your sorry ass moving and reload! Try aiming this time! Miss again, and I'll have you on KP and mucking out latrines till you're old and grey!

Ilsa: Aim! Fire!

A force in black armor attempts to turn back the tide of monsters overrunning this once-peaceful town.

Ilsa eggs on her students with her usual sharp-tongued commands, a weather eye on their surroundings all the while.

Cadet 1: W-we did it! We got 'em!

Ilsa: (Is that the last of the monsters that came into town? Guess that's it for today's field training.)

Ilsa: I need a head count. Form two lines and—

Mysterious Roar: Grrraaaoooar!

Cadet 2: Huh? Did we miss one?

Ilsa: (That species isn't native to this island. Which means this series of monster invasions is no coincidence...)

Cadet 2: Ngh... B-bring it on, beakface! You're going down!

Ilsa: Don't break ranks, you idiot! Get back here!

Cadet 2: Huh?

Huge Monster: Graaahhh!

Ilsa: (Here it comes!)

Ilsa: All units, scatter! Retreat!

Huge Monster: Graaaooohhh!

The beast's claws gouge the ground as it lands, bloodlust clear in its every movement.

Ilsa: (That feathery bastard didn't even glance at the cadet. It's gunning for me and has no intention of hiding it.)

Ilsa: Field training is over for today. Rendezvous with the Third Squadron and stand guard over the evacuees!

Cadet 1: If you're going to fight that thing, Sergeant, I'm staying with you!

Ilsa: You'll comply with my orders, you sniveling, snot-nosed simpleton! I'm running out of paper to wipe your ass with!

Ilsa: I'll lure this thing out to the fourth district then finish him. Don't let so much as a rat scurry in that direction. And make sure you keep those civilians safe!

Cadets: Yes, ma'am!

Ilsa: Over here, birdbrain! This way!

Ilsa: (This should be far enough that I can let loose without involving any innocent bystanders.)

Huge Monster: Gyaarrrhhh!

The monster which has pursued Ilsa to the outskirts of town peers intently at the guns clasped in her hands.

Ilsa: Gun of Arbitration, Nybeth! Show your power!

Ilsa: Burst Removal!

Huge Monster: Gyuuurgh...

Ilsa: (Did that do it?)

Ilsa: (These disturbances are getting worse by the day.)

Ilsa: (Whether they've figured out where we are, or these monster attacks are just a coincidence, I need to keep a close eye on this situation.)

Ilsa holsters Nybeth, her beloved seal weapon, and heads toward the designated evacuation point to rendezvous with her cadets.

Ilsa: (All right. I should get my daily report written before it gets any later.)

After sending the evacuated citizens back to their homes, Ilsa returns to the temporary base she has set up and listens to her cadets' reports.

That done, she dismisses her soldiers and patrols the perimeter, then makes sure the base is locked down for the night.

There is still no time to rest, however. Ilsa returns to her quarters and immediately sits down at her desk to record the details of this afternoon's monster incident.

Ilsa: (Even considering the collapse of the Society, the way we get embroiled in monster attacks on every island we visit is suspicious.)

Ilsa: (In none of these cases has there been a clear cause of the monsters' behavior either. These look like Foe tactics.)

Ilsa: (I can't imagine how they trained it, but that overgrown feather duster was coming after me—just me—full tilt.)

Ilsa: (The Foe really seems to be drooling over Nybeth. This is no way to train my recruits.)

Ilsa: Yawn...

Ilsa's pen chases her racing thoughts across the page as she struggles to suppress her exhaustion.

The Society to which Ilsa once belonged was founded long ago by one of the surviving members of an expedition from the moon to the Sky Realm.

With its founder, Yatima, out of commission, the Society has essentially fallen. This represents a major upheaval in Ilsa's affairs.

Without the Society to stand in its way, the Foe seems to be pulling out all the stops in pursuit of the seal weapons.

Since Ilsa herself carries one of those seal weapons—the gun called Nybeth—she has been moving from place to place to evade the Foe.

Ilsa: (It's been twenty days since we moved our base here. It's only a matter of time before they locate it.)

Ilsa: (Where should we move next? We'll need to procure an airship without... drawing the Foe's... attention...)

Ilsa: ...

Ilsa: Crap!
This is no time to be nodding off! I have to get this report done while the events are still fresh in my mind.

Ilsa slaps her cheeks, as much in self-reproach as to wake herself up, and refocuses her attention.

Ilsa: (Living on the run like this seems to have toughened up the cadets though. They do say people adapt to their environment.)

Ilsa: (The squadron leaders have been doing their job keeping everyone in line. I hope they'll all continue to grow the way they have been so far.)

Ilsa's hand slows, and her eyelids sag despite her best efforts to remain alert.

Ilsa: (Seal weapons... Contractors... Monsters... The Foe...)

Ilsa: (I have to... do something... We can't go on like this...)

Ilsa: Now you know what's become of the Society. They won't be paying your salaries anymore, so your best option is to cut all ties and get the hell out.

Cadet 1: Wait! What are you planning to do, Sergeant Ilsa?

Ilsa: As you know, I've made a contract with Nybeth.

Ilsa: As long as I carry this weapon, the Foe will be coming for my head, so I've got a fight on my hands whether I like it or not.

Cadet 1: If you're going to keep on fighting the Foe, Sergeant, take me with you!

Ilsa: We don't even know how large of a force the Foe represents. All we do know for certain is that they're coming for me. I don't have time to be babysitting you.

Cadet 1: I lost my parents and my little sister to the Foe. I joined up with the Society to get revenge. Everything I've done since then has been to strike back at my enemies!

Cadet 1: So please, Sergeant, let me fight alongside you!

The cadet draws himself up and salutes, refusing to budge.

Ilsa's trainees step forward one by one to add their voices to his, begging her to take them along.

Cadet 2: Sergeant, I don't have any surviving family, or anywhere else to call home. I want to come with you!

Ilsa: What is this, a group therapy session? Shut your mewling yaps!

Cadets: !

Ilsa: (I suppose it would be hard to let go of a vendetta like that just because the Society collapsed.)

Ilsa: (Left unchecked, those feelings will only fester. We'd have a whole flock of Armored Chickens on our hands.)

Ilsa: (As their drill sergeant, I guess I can't just toss them out to fend for themselves...)

Ilsa deliberates, with the young soldiers' earnest gazes fixed on her. At last, she comes to a decision.

Ilsa: I'm leaving at sundown. If you're bound and determined to come with me, get your things together and be waiting at the back gate.

Ilsa: This isn't going to be a walk in the park like the training you're used to. This'll be like crossing a frozen lake in North Vast.

Ilsa: There's no telling when our own weight will crack the ice and drop us into the freezing depths to drown in darkness. The more of us there are, the more likely the ice is to crack.

Ilsa: Even if we cross where the ice is thickest, the enemy may shoot it out from under us. That's how it's gonna be.

Ilsa: I don't want to see you at that gate unless you're sure you can survive under those conditions. I suggest you think hard in the time you've got, and make a decision you can live with.

Cadet 1: Thank you, Sergeant...

Ilsa: (And they followed me anyway. I can't let them down.)

Ilsa: Nh... Is it light outside?

Ilsa's report ends midsentence. She sighs, realizing she fell asleep at her desk.

Ilsa: Pathetic.

Ilsa: (It was my decision to protect both Nybeth and those idiots with everything I've got. So let's get on with it.)

Ilsa stretches her stiff shoulders and finishes off her report. Her chair scrapes back over the floor, and the door closes behind her as she heads out on her morning rounds.