greenjacketed | SHARPE'S AMMO ⚔ VOICE

[ despite muddy vowels and yorkshire drawls, sharpe's voice is remarkably calm when it bursts across the journals in the morning. he needs something to take his mind off other aspects of his life. and so -- this is the major speaking, not just the man: ]

Good day to you -- to the New Feathers and the old alike. My name is Sharpe. And as I understand it, ammunition is scarce in this place. For any in need of bullets, I'll have a pretty pile of cartridges as soon as I'm done rolling'em. I don't much mind sharing. [ a pause. ] They're 0.61 inch lead balls with a greased patch. But if that won't do, missions are a fine way to requisition more shot. The points are worth spending. A soldier can hoard his ammunition if he likes, but all the bullets in the bloody world can't improve a piss-poor shot. For that? Practice is what's needed. [ and practice is what he wanted.

oh and he might as well ask: ] Any soul got an axe I can make use of? Only for the day.

[ after bungling his way through any on-book communication, he'll get to work; with certain social turmoils still troubling his soul, he certainly needs the distraction. first, he'll be keeping busy behind the barracks. stripped down to his braces and cavalry trousers, he clears excess brush from the treeline and puts to good use some of the trees that were downed by the recent storm. moran mentioned a firing range and sharpe wants to see this dream realized.

the afternoon brings a small change of scenery. he will later be sitting by the fountain, rolling cartridge shot. the powder can get messy; as such, it's a job he prefers to do outdoors. the added ability to people-watch doesn't hurt, either.

hell. if you're lucky? you might even catch him humming. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[~~Harry, yes? >:3~~ Matter-of-factly:]

It might interest you... should you find yourself in danger of losing a limb. Or at death's door, Heaven forbid.

It wouldn't be the first time a man's been so hurt. And I doubt it'd be the last.

Edited 2012-07-09 14:53 (UTC)

[Can't argue with that.]

Do you mean to say that you would rather suffer or die than to accept aid?

[His smile broadens slightly.]

Or is the thought of finding yourself indebted to me that... bothers you?

I mean to say I've managed injuries on the field without much help from anyone but own Chosen Men.

[ not even touching the last bit. ]

What would happen should the wounds be beyond your own expertise... and that of your... chosen men?

You'd die, I suppose. Happens all the time on the field.

And what soldier would you be if you feared death?

[A rhetorical question. He chuckles lightly, as if fighting doesn't matter much at all to him.]

A sensible one. That's what.

[ he's not so idealistic as to think otherwise. ]

Not if you were the sort to run about like a headless chicken.

[What? It's an amusing image to him.

He'd seen a few creatures who'd thought to bail in the midst of battle and were promptly done away with. A part of following Lord Dracula's orders, of course - but Isaac would be lying if he claimed not to have taken a sort of delight in ending their lives.]

Edited 2012-07-12 03:17 (UTC)

Nah. A sensible soldier fights with strategy, not with stupidity.

[ except the poor buggers in the line. sharpe had the benefit of being a skirmisher. he was permitted to think for himself. ]

Perhaps one day I shall see you fight. 'tis quite possible... should the Malnosso think to draft us both.

I'm no dancing monkey. [ that is, he doesn't appreciate the fact that isaac seems to be referring to it as a performance. ]

[The expression's completely lost on him, but he's amused all the same.]

A what?

I don't fight for the entertainment of others.

I did not take you for a gladiator.

[He'd have expected someone with more heavily muscled build, had that been the case. Then again, he hadn't much of a sense of how Sharpe looked underneath- - ahaha. ...Well. A Forgemaster can imagine, can't he?]

...What, then?

A man whom may have been worth challenging, perhaps... if he used more than his rifle.

[Barely out of the clinic and he's already itching for a bit of fast-paced fun.]

Edited 2012-07-16 14:37 (UTC)

Challenging? On what grounds?

'tis quite simple. You are a soldier... [A pause to wet his lips.] As was I, once. 'twould seem you possess some strength of will if I am to trust your words.

[He'll leave out the part about fighting being nearly as thrilling to him as sex could be.]

I have every desire to keep both my spear and my skills at their sharpest, you understand. Doing battle with mere phantoms in the Battle Dome... does not satisfy.

[Not that he tried - it simply doesn't interest him. It's the flesh, it's carving open wounds and being hurt himself that makes him feel alive.]

SHARPE'S AMMO ⚔ VOICE | ACTION

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