NAME: Anzo Ayers
RANK: Lance-Corporal
BORN: Sebek, Sebekid Province
RACE: Nenn
D.O.B.: 10/10/14,475
AGE: 32
HEIGHT: 6 ft 4 in
WEIGHT: 230 lbs
Sloppy
Quiet
Lazy
Serious
Mean
Quiet
Lazy
Serious
Mean
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Neat
Outgoing
Active
Playful
Nice
Outgoing
Active
Playful
Nice
As to be expected, Lance-Corporal Ayers has been appropriately decorated for his years in the line of duty. He has earned a Knight's Sigil for a grievous wound sustained during the Third Battle of the Meize, but he is most known for his Star of Gallantry, earned in the Second Battle of the Meize wherein he fearlessly carried an injured Captain C. Titor out of hostile territory.
Anzo Ayers is regarded by his peers as a quiet, introspective man with a warrior's reflexes and the work ethic of an ox under the plow. He is known to spend his quiet moments deep in thought, and he has the reputation of a man of sound judgment and incredible foresight.
Now we must ask, what are the inner workings of such an accomplished soldier? Let us shine the Frontline Spotlight on the man himself.
Thank you so much for sitting down with us. I know spare time is at a premium this close to the fray, so your time is much appreciated.
"My lieutenant said I was the man for the job, so let's have at it."
Can you describe your role in the 328th?
"Well, I'm a Lancer, which means I'm a specialist. I'm trained on the volley-gun in particular, which is a high rate-of-fire machine weapon. I'm meant to provide suppressing fire and keep the enemy from approaching vital positions. The model of gun I've got right now is a MESC-02. The current model is the '04, but this one still does the work, I suppose."
The MESC volley-gun is a significant improvement from its pre-war predecessor, the HNT-K3. How does it feel to be working with the peak of modern Valbaraan military technology?
"It's alright. I'd prefer to be a rifleman. I think it'd be easier on my conscience. (Editor's note: Cut this.) Plus this thing is more than 40 pounds, it's a pain to march with. But uh, it's a two man machine. I'm the A-gunner, the one who fires the gun, and my petty gunner is in charge of feeding the ammo belts in. I could do both if I really had to- and I have- but not very well. You want two fellas working on this to keep it from jamming up."
You've spent the majority of your tour in the south, on the Kenoran front. How would you compare that to the situation in Tirkau?
"They almost feel like different wars. We spent all our time down in bunkers, and it was a big deal if we broke through a hundred yards. The first few months under constant shelling can break a man, but you get used to it after a time. You could expect to sleep in the same bed day by day, steady meals, that sort of thing. It wasn't so bad, in that regard.
"Up here, it's a different matter. If you're on the line, you're digging a hole to sleep in. You're marching to follow the action, you're taking fire in the middle of the ████ night. We take a village, we lose a village. Meanwhile, all we get for materiel is cast-offs, stuff not fit to send south. Rations are less than what I'm used to. Mail takes longer to deliver. But in a way, I like it better. It's prettier up here. The weather's nicer, and there's not that constant rotting corpse smell." (Editor's note: Too morbid. Cut.)
You're a highly decorated veteran, so you've certainly earned your bragging rights. Would you care to tell us about the medals you've earned?
"Oh, those. Yeah, I got one for being shot. Wouldn't recommend it. I caught a bullet right in the collar bone, which hurt as much as you'd think. Better than catching it in the neck, I suppose. Took a couple months and a surgery to heal up. Couldn't so much as move my arm until they put the rod in. Nasty business.
"The Star? I don't care for that one. I found Titor out in the mud, but I wasn't looking for him. Couldn't rightly leave him out there, so I threw him on my back and crawled us both to the Valbaaran trenches. I guess that's the stuff heroes are made of. But I wasn't looking for him. I was looking for my friend. Went back out into the deadlands after Titor was being tended to, but no one ever talks about that. Never got a medal for finding Jan Blythe, who was pinned down by a Kenoran sharpshooter. Got him back in one piece, and the only people who ever cared about that are all dead now. Doesn't feel right. Doesn't feel like anything worth bragging about.
"I never knew Titor. I can't tell you how many captains we chewed through in those early days of the war. Officers dropped like flies, same as us peasant folk. I wasn't looking for Titor when I went out into the deadlands, but I found him, brought him back. Seems that's made me a hero. Can't say I feel like one. I just did what anyone would've done."
Have you got anybody waiting for you back home?
"Back home? No, nothing like that. I've got a lover, if that's what you're asking. He's staying local these days, in Limott. Uh, his name's Huxley. We met down south, down in Eirmagen. He's, uh, he's pretty great."
"I think we fit real well together. He does the talking much better than me. Very clever, very good with words. Uh, I think that when the war's out, we'll get married."
Is there any reason not to get married now? More people than ever are tying the knot in the face of all the uncertainty that war brings. What made you decide to wait?
"Uh, I don't think I can do that in good conscience. On account of, well, if I don't come back. I don't know what I'd do if Huxley found himself married to a dead man. I suppose I'd be dead, but I don't imagine I'd rest well about it. He's got some other thoughts on the matter, but I don't know. It doesn't sit right with me. Can we talk about something else?" (Editor's note: Too morbid! Cut this.)
How did the two of you meet?
"It was when I was on leave in Eirmagen, that first year of the war. Summer of '503, I think. I was in a busy tavern, and he ended up spilling a drink on my trousers. He told me later he thought I was gonna wallop him for it, but I'm- I'm really not that sort of man. Besides, he was too pretty for me to get upset. Huxley ended up treating me to dinner by way of apologizing, and, well, one thing led to another. You can uh, use your imagination from there."
Do you have a lot in common?
"Well, we're both from Sebek. Different boroughs, though. We had different upbringings, but there was a good amount of overlap, you know? But aside from all that, Huxley likes to cook and I like to eat. Used to be that I'd visit him while he worked, help him chop up vegetables and shell shrimp, that sort of thing. Got plenty of free meals out of the arrangement. He has a lot of fun in the kitchen, and it shows. These days I don't really get to bug him at work anymore, but he still likes to cook for me when he can."
If you met in 14,503, then the two of you have been together for over four years now. Has the distance caused issues in such a long-term relationship?
"Hmm. I mean, there's a lot to be said about that sort of thing. Most of our relationship has been through letters at this point, so you've got to be patient when that's the nature of things. The mail was real quick down on the southern front, but up here I'll be waiting a good couple days before I get a reply on anything I send out. That can get frustrating. And I haven't been getting as much time away from the front as I used to, so we can only see each other every so often. The time we spend together is always great, though. I just wish we had more of it."
Any closing remarks on the subject?
"Do you suppose he'll read this? Hi, Huxley! I'll see you soon, I hope."
Tell us about the friendships you've made in your tour of duty.
"Well, most of my friends are dead. Maybe ol' Schmidt is still alive. He was always a crafty one. Or maybe he's died by now. Hard to say." (Editor's note: Too morbid! Cut!)
Truly tragic. And what of your living comrades?
"Oh, I suppose there's some good men in F Company. Sergeant Sterling, for one. Seems a bit weird to be this chummy with my superior, but he's very personable. I'd like to think the two of us are friends. My platoon is mostly kids- new recruits- and then there's Murdoc Orrick. He's- We don't mix very well. The less said about him the better, I suppose. Then there's my petty gunner, Eugene Crozier. He's, uh, well he's real young. Quick learner, though. He's kinda latched onto me like a little brother. It's a bit flattering, when I say it out loud.
"Then there's First Lieutenant Yves, who's head of my platoon. And all of F Company, really. We still don't have a captain. But uh, he's a bit... He can be intimidating. Sterling says he likes me, but I'm not sure about that. Yves says a lot of things he doesn't really mean. Calls me a big dumb animal then comes apologizing about it a day later. He's not wrong, I suppose."
"It's just- there's a world of difference between us, you know? He's nobleborn, been through proper academy training and all that, and I'm just some ███████. Two different worlds, you know? But he's a good man. Smart as a whip, always thinking a step ahead. Leads from the front of the pack, and all that. Which is what you want in a field officer, I think.
"The 328th is headed by Commandant Fitzroy. Real old fashioned type, from what I've heard. I think Yves said this is the third war he's fought in? Couldn't imagine. Frankly, I don't envy the man. He's got to try and make this situation work without enough men or materiel. Seems like he's being expected to work miracles. Not a job I'd like to take on." (Editor's note: Pessimistic implications. Cut.)
"Can I go off the record? Fitzroy scares me. He's got that look, where you can tell he sees right through you. Eyes of a lion on the hunt. Gives me the creeps. Not to mention he took my discharge papers. I had a medical discharge in '506, but the Commandant didn't agree with it. And what he says, goes. Also uh, I'm- I'm pretty sure there's something going on between him and Yves. They're on a first name basis with each other, they spend an awful lot of time together and, well...
"Don't- Please don't write that down." (Editor's note: ABSOLUTELY NOT)
You mentioned receiving a medical discharge that was later revoked. Was this related to your injury in the Third Battle of the Meize?
"Ahh... Right. Yeah, I got shot. Bullet to the collar bone during the frontal assault. Lay in the mud for about two days before high command called a temporary ceasefire to collect the wounded. Couple months recovery, then I got spat out in Tirkau. Been pulling the plow ever since."
If you've made a full recovery, then what was the reason you were discharged?
"Well. See, my body's fine, I recovered well enough. But there's, uh, there's something wrong with my head. The doctor called it neurotic fatigue, said I wasn't fit for combat. Commandant Fitzroy said my body was fine and I ought to keep my head in my head. I've been trying." (Editor's note: He's lying. No proper officer would do something like this. Cut all of this.)
Are things really so desperate on this front that we've got to resort to enlisting the medically unfit? With all due respect, of course.
"In so many words, yes. If a man can hold a rifle, he's got a place on the line. I don't take the Commandant's decision personally, I was the first volley-gunner they'd been sent in months. Even now, the battalion is operating at fractional strength at all times. If we were in Kenor? We'd be pulled back until we were properly outfitted. Probably combined into another battalion to fill in all the gaps. But we'll be back on the firing line within the week, just watch." (Editor's note: This man is ███████ LYING)
Do you have any plans for after the war ends?
"Not really. I'm going to marry Huxley, and I'd like to have a family with him, but that's all I know. I haven't made my mind up on where I'll go or what I'll do. That's all assuming I make it through, of course."
You don't plan to return to Sebek? What about your family there?
"Back to Sebek? No. Absolutely not. There's nothing there for me. I was born in Stocktown. So, y'know, the slums. Me and my whole family worked the abattoir and things were very hand to mouth for what, three decades nearly? I enlisted to get away from that rot. My family either died there or scattered to the wind. I don't know where any of them ended up, but I pray it's somewhere other than that ███████ slum. My family never wanted to be in Sebek anyway, it's just that that's how life worked out."
If not from the capital, then where does your family hail from?
"Uh. Here, actually. Not right here, but- We're from Tirkau. My parents, my aunts and uncles, my grandpa… I was the first person in my family to ever be born somewhere else. We were, uh, my family lived southeast of here, in a village called Sevedora. I- I've never been there. And I really hope the war doesn't take us there. I don't know what I'd do."
Do you feel conflicted fighting against the independence of what is essentially your ancestral homeland?
Despite being an indisputable part of the nation of Valbaara, the people of Tirkau maintain a distinct culture from the rest of the Empire. As the child of Tirken immigrants, do you find yourself aligning more with the culture of your kin, or the culture you were born into?
"I'm- I'm still trying to figure that out. It's a bit of both, and neither. I'm not sure how else to describe it. I don't fit well anywhere, really."
Has this cultural dissonance caused issues for you with your peers during your time on the northern front?
"A bit. It's kind of funny, actually. Not proper funny, but funny in a cosmic way. None of these fellas would know anything about my heritage, except I've got this tattoo, see? I didn't think much when I got it done- over a decade ago at this point- but it's caused me some issues since I've come up here."
"I got it because my grandpa had it, and it seemed like a good way to honor him. He always used to say, 'The sun will rise again.' It felt inspiring to me, like the dark times wouldn't last forever. Turns out that's some sort of nationalist motto up here. Tirkau gets taken over, then they gain independence again. Cyclical, like sunrise and sunset. So it turns out the tattoo I've had for twelve years is on rebel banners all the sudden.
"The whole thing's raised some questions about my loyalty, which- I mean it isn't great. I could do without all that. But when you step back and think about it, you've got to admit it's kind of funny. In a cosmic sort of way."
(Editor's note: There's half a million soldiers deployed to the northern front, and THIS is the man you chose to interview? You are treading on my very last nerve, Gunter. There is no excuse for any of this.)
concept sketch w/ the MESC
uniform concept (kenoran front)
cognitive dissonance
*turns him into a bori*
haha no big deal the camera just went off
Anzo and Huxley :)
by Cian / vsleo
by Kougie / spazillah
by Panksage (offsite), featuring Huxley
by Tiki / hibiscus_palmtree07
Thank you for your time, Lance-Corporal. Would you like to share any parting thoughts?
"I'm tired. I'm so, so tired. I just want this all to end. I just want to rest."
Thus ends our look into the life of one Lance-Corporal Anzo Ayers, a man who has spent his thirty-two years bearing the plow without complaint. Behind his tired eyes lies a deeply rooted sadness that I fear he may never find the words to express. Above all else, I met a gentle-hearted man who fights for a kinder world. Though the trajectory of the northern front promises darker days to come, one can only hope that soldiers like Anzo will one day find their way home.
-Gunter Weekes, War Correspondent
EDITOR'S NOTE: God's bones, where did you find this loon? None of this is salvageable! The people at home need to read about heroes fighting an honorable war, not whatever this basket case is jawing on about! This charlatan clearly doesn't know what he's talking about, and I don't know why you wasted the ink writing it all down!
Listen Weekes, you've got the photographs, just make something up. Scrap the interview, because none of this is making it to print. And don't even think about asking to extend the deadline, because you've only got yourself to blame for all of this. Make it work, or don't bother coming back.
Fellow Sparkledog Winter '25 Bootcamp Alumni
Background by YersiniaP at colourlovers, edited by me
Art gallery coding cannibalized from Nex
Character, lore, story, etc by me
Based on a novel that I swear to god I'll finish one of these days