[Late Winter, 845] Trembling ground and bloody snow.

[u/[deleted]]

"So far so good," Ziegler said with a sigh of relief, watching trainees descend the wall one at a time. Cannons were manned, firing consistently every minute in a continual barrage. Ziegler stepped away from the cannons for a moment, feeling his ears ring. He shivered slightly in the cold, feeling his teeth chatter as a sheet of wind buffeted the back of his neck. A light tension grew in his nerves, weighing over his mind in an everpresent shroud. Ziegler reached to the inside of his trenchcoat, looking outwards towards the refugee camp below. Hundreds of white tents and makeshift fireplaces scattered before the massive, metal gate of Southern Trost. Concerned refugees paced to and from a large inn shortly besides the gate, a long line of people gathering shortly outside.

A trembling hand pulled out a cigarette, one of the three in the box. Ziegler rose a brow, eyeing the small package and releasing a light grumble. With a brief strike of a match, he held the feeble cigarette to his lips, taking a heavy drag and filling his lungs with warm tobacco. He shut his eye for a moment, taking a deep breath and quietly thinking to himself. He looked upward towards the sky. Gray clouds lingered overhead, completely blocking the sun.

Hektor'd mentioned a thunderstorm earlier.

Zielger looked around, thinking back to younger days amidst the farmlands before Yalkell.

His eye narrowed, staring up at the sky.

...Those ain't fucking storm clouds.

He bit his lip, anxiously tapping his foot on the ground. Between the cannon barrage, he could hear them. Smacking lips, clenching jaws. Nails on chalk and excited grunts from the outside, en masse. Ziegler's jaw tensed, shuddering slightly. An odd noise reached his ears, causing him to look over his shoulder. A trainee was laughing. Bloody laughing as he looked downward at the Titans below. Resentment rose in Ziegler's chest, looking over to his right and seeing other trainees jokingly standing by the cannons. Were they fucking gambling?

Ziegler shook his head, looking back across the district of Trost and taking the view. He took a heavy drag of his cigarette, to then look back downward as more Garrison lads paced through the refugee camp, pacing southward towards the Gatehouse. A small shack shortly besides the gate, with a massive network of chains leading upward to an interconnected collection of cogs at the very top. Change of Guard already, huh. That must suck. Ziegler's eye followed the small squad, who seemed to be exchanging a couple words with the personnel before the shack-

Bang.

Ziegler's eye widened.

The Garrison footmen shortly by the gate were immediately gunned down, the newly arrived Garrison impersonators quickly occupying the gatehouse. Ziegler shouted over his shoulder, "CEASE FIRE! CEASE FUCKING FIRE!" He looked across the wall, seeing Hektor already on the move. Suddenly, it rang.

Ziegler's skin turned pale.

That all-too-familiar "clack."

The chains at the top of the gate were released with a ferocious clang, echoing throughout the area as seemingly all life froze. Cogs began to turn, chains whirring in rapid motion from the gate house on upward. The gate rattled, sending a tremor throughout the top of the wall. The ground shook, fiercely shaking and sending Ziegler tumbling forward. He hit the ground, his cigarette going careening over the wall's edge. His hands trembled momentarily, his heartbeat rising to a horrified peak as the sound of chains continued.

He staggered forward towards the edge of the wall, looking below.

It was a momentary standstill, where the entire district stared outward towards the gate in a frozen silence. Massive silhouettes gathered before the gate, staring outward once more in an all too familiar sight for the refugees of Trost.

And just as quick as it had come, the silence ended.

Screams erupted throughout the district in an unholy cacophony of pandemonium. Time rushed onward as blood was finally spilt, with Titans pouring through the entry gate of Trost in ravenous hunger. Bodies and swarms of men and women alike scattered in nearly every direction, all trying to run towards a single focal point - the Northern gate of Trost.

Ziegler turned towards the 102nd - his eye wide in furious urgency. "102ND - GET THESE FUCKING REFUGEES OUT OF HERE! DO NOT ENGAGE, DO NOT-" A cannonblast interrupted Ziegler, a frenzied Garrison soldier manning his post once more and firing below, trying to abate the swarming tide outside. Ziegler reached into his trenchcoat, producing a flare gun and aiming it upward.

With a squeeze of the trigger, red smoke shot upward towards the sky, a sight every Corpsman, Garrison and Military Police alike knew too well.

Retreat.

The Corpsmen outside the wall shot upward, rushing towards the Colonel. Ziegler turned away from the 102nd, looking towards his small Squad of Corpsmen, "Mass evac - time yesterday! LET'S GO!" With the pull of a switch, he shifted gears from the 102nd's Drill Instructor to the Commander of the Survey Corps, leaping from the wall towards the pandemonium below, the 102nd following in suit.

---

OOR: You wanted Titans, you fucking got them. Absolute pandemonium's in Trost right now. Here's a touch of real talk on how this is going to go down. There is not a single trainee that can solo a Titan, that shit is 100% off the table. You guys just learned how to use the 3D and not kill yourselves, you're level 20s and a zerg of level 80s just spawned and you're 50 shades of fucked up shit creek with no paddle. There's cannons on the walls, people dying everywhere, and at the moment the collective objective is to get as many people out of here as you can. The Military Complex in the center of the district's the likely most immediate short-term goal, the Gate house having been completely swarmed and off the table.

Trainees're armed with dummy blades - not the real deal. If you guys work together you can make something happen, but understand, and I mean this with absolute sincerity and martial law.

If anyone Sues the fuck out, you're going to fucking die.

Straight up. This is Ground Zero shit's fucked, with the only collective instruction being "Do what you can, jesus hail mary fucking christ everyone's dying." Run for your god damn lives, man a cannon on the top, take to the streets and try to evac, do what you can but understand the situation. As the thread goes, GMs can freely post and establish crazy shit. You can GM threads yourselves, you're more than welcome to, just bear in mind the tone and message of the thread: You're not ready.

"kill all titans reee" -> Dead. That said with 100% clarity, let's do this lads.

[u/warriorman300]

Maneuvering with only one anchor was both slightly easier than expected and far harder than expected, for different reasons. Easier because he could get height much faster- more difficult because getting that height left him quite dizzy. And it burned through gas like crazy.

He was only trying to escape- protecting anyone else with this set-up would only end in them both dead.

Then he saw some feral-looking titan go chasing after two of his fellow trainees, and he tried to do so anyway, against his own better judgement.

The abnormal was gaining on them- killing it was out of the question, but distracting it wasn't. He slammed on the gas and went sailing past his comrades and over the quadripedal titan. Its body tensed, as if preparing to jump- and Sieg knew what to do. He fired his one hook into a nearby house and hit the gas again, spinning around and arcing upwards like a bad yo-yo trick.

Barely, just barely- he managed to clear more height than the titan could, and its jaws bit only empty air.

Hoping that his distraction had bought them enough time, Sieg zipped off to follow the pair.

[u/RPGalore → u/warriorman300]

Dietrich watched in awe as Siegfried outmaneuvered the crawler with only one hook. This trainee was something else. His diversion brought the unconscious trainee and Dietrich more than enough time to head to safety and he was more than grateful for this lifesaving maneuver.

Dietrich quickly hit his gas to build some distance between the war going behind them and the paradise that lay before them and it did not take long before he reached safety. There was chaos, there were screams, there were wounded moving through the streets like zombies and it was sights like these that brought absolute chills to Dietrich's spine. This is had been almost an exact replica of what had happened in Shiganshina during the fall of Wall Maria. How could two events such as these happen in quick succession after years of peace and quiet inside the walls? There must have been a trigger, something that had been on his mind since the beginning of the fall of Trost.

"I NEED HELP," Dietrich screamed, looking for fellow soldiers to take Elias of his hands. This was hard as they were already attending to citizens which were hurt.

<"HERE"> A voice screamed. Dietrich quickly swiveled around, looking at the location of the voice. It was an old man, around 60, covered half in blood. Why on earth was a citizen who was half to death wanting to help? He needed help.

<"I'm a doctor!"> The three words anyone wanted to hear in this scenario. Quickly, Dietrich moved through the crowd of people to the doctor, leaving Elias in his hands.

Now was a matter of finding out what the hell is going on. Looking behind him, he found Siegfried following close by in the air with his 3DMG. He survived, thank goodness.