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November 28, 1640
Veirakal Forest, Malmund Grasslands, MuThe crackle of fire and the laughter of bantering soldiers permeated the otherwise empty forest, bringing life to the bleak environment of bombed-out dens of local fauna and scorched, leafless trees. Although the horrors of war had already beset them, their camaraderie and patriotism urged them onward. With their faith placed in the hands of their American benefactors and the advanced technologies they provided, there was little that could shake their resolve.
Jonas Challinor was no different; he too believed that Mu would reign victorious, whether it be the next month or the next year. Perhaps it was his youth talking, or the overwhelming confidence exuded by his friends' hardened, yet optimistic expressions. His mind wrapped up with thoughts of conflict and whispers of doubts, he barely realized that someone was calling out his name.
"Jonas! Jonas!"
He looked up to see the faces of his friends, sitting around the campfire. They had all gathered around him, looks of concern plastered on their faces. "Yeah?" Jonas managed.
"You alright there, mate? You've been cleaning your rifle for a good minute," the group's lone ginger explained.
Jonas brushed off his friends' concerns, replying with a voice laced with exhaustion. "Yeah, yeah. Just a bit knackered, Mylan. Can't seem to shake off this..." he paused, almost revealing his fears about fighting the Valkies, then decided to play it safe, "this bleedin' fatigue."
Mylan gave an understanding nod, placing his hand on Jonas' shoulder. "Ah, I know the feeling mate. It's this cursed war, I tell you. Takes its toll on a man."
"Aye, it does," said a man with a distinct Otaheit accent. He raised his canteen as if to accentuate his intention, "But we gotta keep our chins up, eh? The enemy won't wait for us to catch our breaths, and we've got a bloody home to defend!"
Jonas looked at the Otaheit native. It was no wonder that he was especially determined; he must have been keen to pay the Valkies back for the threats they had bared upon the nation's capital and his very home. Although Jonas was from the peaceful countryside across from the Malmund Mountains, he understood where his friend was coming from. "Yeah, we do, Theo," he gave a weak smile, life returning to his eyes.
"The Valkies have got nothing on us," Mylan said confidently. "They've got nothing on these American weapons," he said, patting his M16, "And they've got nothing on our resolve! We'll show these sods just what we're made of."
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Summoning America
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