Exo-Force RPG

[Geardirector]

IC: Ratchet Gordon (Hangar)

 

"Somebody grace my ears with talk about coffee?" came an echoing yell from the other end of the hangar, where a scrawny, sweating kid exited from a door to one of the smaller workshops.

 

"And for that matter, heeeey there" he said to himself upon noticing the scarlet-haired girl, before continuing.

 

"And while you're at it, don't bother with Tyler's Coffee Cube, she did put landmines around it, I checked"

[Void Emissary]

OOC: I've been informed that some of the details regarding this post were mistaken on my part; therefore, to maintain continuity and (the best possible) scientific accuracy, (not to mention keeping my character and I from looking like morons) I've edited the last portion of this post. My apologies for any inconveniences which my negligence may have caused.

 

IC:

 

I clambered back onto my feet in an instant, grabbing the coat cuff on Abe's outstretched arm and (once again) dragging him along with me; a feat which turned out to be slightly more difficult amongst the rocky outcroppings at the bottom of the gorge than on the smooth metal flooring back home. Over there, you could just slide anywhere you wanted to go, without having to jump and hop and climb and tumble and, oh God have there always been this many rocks outside?

 

Eventually, after navigating through plenty of trees, shrubs, boulders, wreckage, and quicksand (don't ask), the wrecked prototype machine lay before us. It was smaller than I'd expected; it seemed as though it was done smoking, and was content to just sit in a personal cradle of rock and rubble.

 

And it was glorious.

 

"WAHOO!" I cheered, leaping and spinning in the air like a demented canine would after fetching a ball for the seven-billionth time in a row, an act which probably would've been a lot more impressive if I had ever actually taken gymnastics before in my life. An experimental, robot-designed machine just sitting here, and it was mine, all mine, MWAHAHA--

 

Um.

 

Ours, yeah. All ours. And by ours, I definitely meant "EXO-FORCE". Yup, totally meant to say that.

 

Moving on.

 

Having let go of Abe's cuff, I raced for the downed machine like a kid races for a Christmas tree, ready to cut open it's metal shell and harvest the circuitry within (the machine, not the tree), watching the electricity spark and dance across its cool metal surface--

 

Wait, what?

 

I skidded to a halt, heels grinding into the rocky soil as I narrowly avoided coming into contact with the machine. The smell of ozone burned my nostrils, my hair was suddenly standing on end, and I was about thiiiiiiis close (you say how long that word was, that's what I'm measuring by) to kissing one of those strands of electricity. I was pretty sure my heart and lungs had given up working, and my bladder was on the verge of joining them, but I figured that at least I was safe from death by lightning--

 

--when I was slapped in the chest by a fresh arc, and was knocked right back on my ... well, back.

 

"O-o-oh g-g-g-g-god, the p-p-paaaain," was my erudite response to situation, along with a totally involuntary (and stationary) dance number from my limbs.

 

-Void

Edited March 9, 2014 by Aemon Targaryen

[Makuta of Time]

OOC: I'm going to get back into this again. So what happened here?

[avmatoran]

OOC:
Where was I when I fell out of playing? I kinda wanna rejoin this, but I can't remember my last post and don't have time to go looking through the previous pages.

[Krayzikk]

OOC:

 

Avmatoran; There's this wonderful thing up top called a search bar. None of us know exactly where your last post is, so we can't really track it down.

 

Flaredrick; Flight units went down to retrieve the prototype mech, fought the robots and won, but the robots made off with the data core, cleaving the humans just the machine itself. The jungle floor battle is stalled. Other than that, just some people fooling around at base.

 

IC posts to be edited in here shortly.

Edited March 19, 2014 by Simon the Digger

[avmatoran]

OOC:
Thank you for that sarcasm. I know about the search bar, and I tried using it. Problem is, I don't remember what part of the RPG got deleted in the most recent hacking, and which parts of that were redone. So, I need context. I can find my most recent post easily.

[Canis Lycaon]

I believe you were jail, but honestly, it isn't the job of the rest of us to remember where you left your character.

[Makuta of Time]

OOC: I have an olde character here, but I remember making two male African characters. I still have my robot character which I do remember, but I don't remember which one I last used on the human fsction since the first post has not been updated in three months.

 

IC: Ranger ID- 112/607

 

The Devastor class robot walked the halls of the base. Hoping to hear the call to arms.

 

OOC: Ranger open for Interaction

[25K Now!]

IC: Vanessa di Lombardy

 

"Looks like quite a beauty."

 

The Tusculum could be easily seen dotted in the blue sky, the machine lazily circling the canyon below.

 

"Want me to come down?"

[avmatoran]

OOC:
I know when my most recent post was! I don't need to know where Cyrista is! I need to know what has happened since I crashed my mech and went into the robot side of the mountain. Sheesh.

[25K Now!]

OOC: Absolutely nothing.

[avmatoran]

OOC:
So that mission where the robots were manufacturing a megamech that was erased in the hacking wasn't redone?

[sunflower]

OOC:

So that mission where the robots were manufacturing a megamech that was erased in the hacking wasn't redone?

 

OOC: Might do well to ask Ghosthands & Co about this, as he seems to be handling the Robot side of things. Shoot him a PM or some such. As far as I know, the posts referencing the creation of a large mech have been reposted. Pretty sure the only thing that was lost during the data loss were just individual player posts.

 

Along with our discussion topic, may it rest in peace.

[Ghosthands]

OOC: Anything that disappeared in the data loss is considered to have still happened. The big post in which said 'megamech' was reposted; a search should turn it up.

 

Activity has been very low in this RPG for the last few months, mainly due to the staff being busy. And yeah, Grav, we really should remake that discussion topic

[25K Now!]

OOC: Get onto that you two. Chop chop.

 

*Entitled Hubert Mode Activated.*

 

IC: Garry

 

"I'm hungry."

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

As had rapidly become the standard for their partnership, Abraham trailed behind Gwen, lead along by his sleeve, finally slowing as she darted ahead towards the downed machine. He followed at a slightly more leisurely pace, head smoothly swiveling to survey the area, on alert for any signs of opposition. He could see the parts of the machine that he had downed a little ways from the prototype and he knew for a fact that no pilot was walking away from that, but nevertheless, there had been another machine. It had retreated, but if they’d send two, they could easily have sent more.

 

“di Lombardy, that’d be appreciated. We’re going to need some help getting this thing back to the fortress; The [Zephyr is too damaged to carry it easi-”

 

The pilot realized the damage at almost the exact same moment as Guinevere, eyes watching the whip of energy lash out even as he broke into a dead sprint.

 

Not fast enough, of course. You can’t outrun lightning. He pivoted mid-stride as Gwen was thrown back, crossing the remaining distance with a speed unexpected. He all but slid to a stop, crouching down to assess her well-being. He checked her pulse with two fingers, the rather frenzied heartbeat present in her neck proof that she was, at the very least, still in the land of the living. Though, the noise of complaint she made moments after impact proved much the same. Regrettably, that was more or less the extent of what he could do. Interrupting the spasm of her limbs could potentially lead to further injury, and there wasn’t much to be done but wait and make sure she was alright once she stopped.

 

“Guinevere, when you’re able, I need you to tell me if you can move. Can you understand me?"

 

**********************************************************

 

“Suspected as much.” Alistair noted cheerfully, jumping down to the floor, laptop tucked under his arm, either oblivious or apathetic about the wide range of stains that his uniform had developed while working. “Tylers is a bit protective of her inventions. Well, depending on who you ask, they might say that that’s an understatement, but I think it’s perfectly natural. The mines might be a bit overkill, but only if what she’s guarding doesn’t warrant them.”

 

“But! I’m babbling. I think there’s still a coffee machine in the break room, unless it finally broke. Wouldn’t surprise me, it’s been trying to imitate its larger cousins with as much of a rebellion as it can manage.”

 

**********************************************************

 

The project was proceeding well; Very well, in fact.

 

Completion of the humans’ lodgings had occurred while Panzer-009 was out on mission, and they had quickly moved in. The quarters were nothing more than spartan. A space similar to a human barracks had been repurposed for their use, outfitted with crude bunks and seats, sanitary facilities, and devices to dispense rations as needed. Conversion had proceeded similarly well; Aside from the humans borrowed by Damage, the majority had been outfitted with the necessary modifications. They were now completely obedient, some even fanatical, and dedicated to the robot cause. Interestingly, they seemed to maintain a large degree of their individual personalities, though they had been affected by the modifications.

 

This was good. The purpose of the project had been to combine the efficiency of a machine with the potential for creative action of the humans, and it seemed to have succeeded. As a whole, the group had turned towards “brainstorming” strategies, tactics, weaknesses of their former allies, and even potential mechanical innovations. The village had yielded a small number of medical and mechanical specialists, after all, and they were quite eager to ply their trade for their new masters. One thing occurred to Panzer, however.

 

They would not likely be most effective with the standard machines of the robot forces. Such machines worked well for the mechanoids; The lower levels of the machines, after all, were not capable of innovation anyway. They did not need machines capable of unpredictable maneuvers so long as their machines were capable of performing all possible permutations and combinations of the maneuvers they did know. Even the machines reserved for more intelligent mechanoids, such as the Furies and the Vultures, were largely indicative of the commonly held tactic; Use guns and armor, and if that failed, use more guns and armor. These were the tactics used most often in their sorties, and they were tactics that would not optimize the humans’ potential for creative and nimble thought.

 

The mechanoid viewed the subjects through a live feed installed in their quarters as he walked through the halls, nearing his destination. The machines would be another thing to speak with the Technarch about. The humans would need to be tested, of course, perhaps with stripped down models of the robots’ current machines. But perhaps he could obtain permission from the Technarch to develop a small number of prototypes, machines more suited for their use. Give these machines to the brightest of the potential pilots and see how they fared. Minor resource consumption, and little lost if the project failed. Even if he did not approve of that, however, Panzer would still need to inquire about his own project. The last fight cemented his opinion that it was time to seek approval to move his personal project ahead. The humans continued to improve their machines, including obtaining new technologies. While the robots did so as well, BW-001 a notable example, Panzer could not afford to allow the enemy units to gain an edge over him.

 

The robot stopped before a large door, manipulators clasped behind his back as he sent a signal through the system.

Unit Panzer-009 requests a meeting with the Technarch.

[avmatoran]

OOC:
Okay, so I'm gonna try to get back to playing here. Forgive my extremely short post, I just need to get used to posting again.

 

IC:
Cyrista ran down the bridge toward the robot side, jumping to lower bridges every so often, getting lower and lower, until the robot and human presences were negligible. He found an unguarded robot gate and dismounted his mech. He split his hand into wires and began interfacing with the lock, opening the gate and allowing himself access, while keeping this incident off the record.

[Geardirector]

IC: Ratchet Gordon (Hangar)

 

"Don't you worry," Ratchet remarked with a wink, "me and that old dinosaur go way back. I'll get her to cooperate"

 

"Don't think I ever caught yer name, by the by" he said as he offered a gloved hand to Alistair, sparing a glance or two at the mech.

 

"And I gotta say, that's a pretty sweet set of artillery ya got there. What's it called?"

[Snelly]

IC: Sarah Taylor

 

Sarah snapped out of her daze, she'd been thinking about monstrous rainbows but that wasn't important right now.

 

​Right now there was a new potential FRIEND! She had to introduce herself justttttt right.

 

"Hi I'm Sarah!" She exclaimed with sudden and abrupt enthusiasm. "I am the slayer of donuts. They tried to murder me, but in the end I'm still standing and well...they're inside me." She whispered the last part.

[Ghosthands]

IC (Robot defences)

 

Cyrista was foolish to assume that the Robots would leave any of their gates unguarded. Even as he began to interface, two previously-innocuous hatches in the metal walls slid open and double-barrelled robotic turrets unfolded, laser sights pinpointing the cyborg's location in millseconds. He would need to move very fast to avoid the stream of laser bolts that erupted from the turrets' four muzzles.

 

OOC: Sorry, Avmatoran, but infiltrating the Robot fortress is hard.

 

IC (Vode Six)

 

Approved, came the cold electronic response. Enter, Panzer-009.

 

The black metal door split into several polygonal sections, each retreating into the wall with a hydraulic hiss. They revealed a large, spherical room, its walls panelled with currently-dark screens. The Technarch stood on a sort of podium in the middle, his hands only just leaving a pair of interface pillars as he turned to face Panzer.

 

Vode Six stood exactly as he had earlier that day as he surveyed the construction in Workshop-001 - ramrod-straight, manipulator claws clasped behind his back, optics glowing emotionlessly as he watched the Devastator approach.

Edited March 22, 2014 by Geisthande

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

"Alistair, Alistair... Martin, I think." The pilot replied, shaking Ratchet's hand cheerfully. "The old girl is the Spiral Enforcer. Just finished taking about thirteen hours to get her fixed up."

 

"Apparently fighting five Thunder Furies with a Solider-Class mech is risky. Who knew?"

 

IC:

 

Panzer slowed to a stop a couple of meters away, bringing his arm arm and across his chest, hand in a fist, in traditional salute. He regarded the Technarch with calculating intelligence, pondering how best to broach the topics he brought with him. Vode Six was a machine of science, even more than the rest of his race, and predicting his reactions was not always a simple task.

 

"Technarch. If I may, I have two particular projects that I wish to discuss with you."

[Ghosthands]

IC (Vode Six)

 

"Elaborate."

[avmatoran]

OOC:
Last time it was easy. Oh, well. One can't have their cake and eat it, too. When I have more time, I'll IC.

[Geardirector]

IC: Ratchet Gordon (Hangar)

 

Ratchet nodded at Sarah, smiling insecurely.

 

"OK, so good looking and crazy" Ratchet surmised before he turned his attention back to the bookworm.

 

"I'll bet," he said with a smirk, "almost as hard as holdin a defensive line without no proper backup or anythin"

 

"Mah own Mech's still going through repairs, but I made those tin cans pay dearly fer it"

[Snelly]

IC: Sarah Taylor

 

Sarah noticed the two boys were talking about Alistar's mech, and this caught her interest. As the two kept talking she slipped away towards said towering machine. She started to climb up it's right leg, and doing a surprisingly good job at that.

 

"I must get to the vantage point!"

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

"The first item I wish to discuss is an extension of X-71 and I's currently on-going project." Panzer began, hands clasped behind his back. "In order to test the combat aptitude of our candidates, I would like to make use of a handful of unarmed machines. Eventually a few more will likely be needed eventually in order for simulation purposes, but for the moment, I merely request a barebones model of each class of our active machines."

 

"However, it has occurred to me that our machines may not be optimal for the subjugated humans' use. I would like to request access to a small amount of resources for the purpose of developing a machine optimized for their use. A limited run of prototypes, that way if they do not prove viable we do not stand to lose much of anything. These prototypes would be operated by the most adept amongst our pilot candidates."

 

A pause, as Panzer considered his next words carefully. "Of course, as you are the Technarch, all plans and resources for this project would fall under your authority and oversight."

 

IC:

 

"You do that, Sarah." Alistair commented, unperturbed. "The robots do have a habit of doing copious amounts of damage, don't they?"

Edited March 22, 2014 by Simon the Digger

[Geardirector]

IC: Ratchet Gordon (Hangar)

 

"And then some" Ratchet supplanted as he looked curiously at Sarah climbing the Circle Enforcer

 

"You sure she should be doin' that?" he asked.

[Snelly]

IC: Sarah Taylor

 

"Woah you guys got tiny!" Called Sarah from on top of the mech.

Edited March 22, 2014 by Yoko Littner

[Visaru]

OOC

This slightly contradicts Snark Knight's recent post, but an easy application of BZPRPGTime(Copyright pending) ought to do the trick.

 

IC: Jun

 

 

One day, I woke up.

 

Two cold, strong hands gripped me. They were metal hands, hard and smooth and painful. Robot hands. They forcefully ripped me from the peaceful sleep I had been enjoying. I coughed up the thick green fluid, blinked it out of my eyes, and tried to get my bearings. It was difficult. That fluid sucked itself into your pores and every part of your body it could. Forcefully ejecting it was not easy. I sweated and cried and spat and coughed and puked it out, leaving a trail of bodily fluids behind me as the robots dragged me through the hallway. By the time I regained control of my weak muscles and my other bodily functions, it was too late to run for safety. The two robots held my arms with an inhuman strength. I struggled and kicked and writhed, but they were too strong and I too weak. They didn’t even slow their pace.

 

Eventually, after being dragged a short way through a maze of black metal corridors, covered in grills and glowing buttons and other artificial ugly décor, we turned through a doorway into a large shadowy chamber. In the center, illuminated by a bright white light, was a slab of metal. An operating table. Above it hung a metal device that resembled the arms of a spider, all hanging loosely and holding sharp cutting tools.

 

One of the robots forcefully shoved me onto it, as the other walked away to get to the controls. I was being held by my neck now. My arms were free. Immediately, I reached up, wrapped my hand around the device’s arm that ended in a scalpel, and jammed it into one of my captor’s eyes. The robot released its grip on me, reeling backwards, and I stood and sprinted for the exit. The other robot yelled something at me in its harsh grating voice, but I couldn’t make out the words. My ears were still clogged with the stasis material. I was stumbling, still not in complete control of my muscles. My skin was caked in that substance still. I think I was dressed in some kind of medical robe.

 

I slipped through the door as it was closing itself and moved down the corridor as fast as I could, stumbling and almost falling but moving all the while. On my left was a rack of weapons. I wrapped my hand around one of the guns, a larger one, and held it in front of me. The long body was too unbalanced to hold with one hand. I used two, holding it at my waist, still somehow sprinting. Two robots emerged from a side corridor. I shot them both. My aim was poor, but there was little room to miss. Both robots went flying backwards in spray of sparks and shrapnel.

 

The blast doors in the hallway in front of me shut with a loud slam, and I turned right into the smaller passageway, the only way to go.

 

The passageway turned out to be a long catwalk, a bridge that led over an enormous chasm. I looked down into the bowels of the robot fortress. Enormous shapes were barely visible through the gloom. I heard hisses and the creaking of metal. I kept on running, becoming surer with every step. I held my gun tightly. It was my best friend right now.

 

Another robot appeared before me, at the end of the catwalk, where my path became a hallway once again. I blew its chest open and jumped over it.

 

I kept on running, faster, faster, unwilling to stop. No time to think. Act. Run.

 

I emerged above a large chamber, a bay where a collection of battle machines stood, being repaired and prepped for the next attack. I was up high, about to emerge on a narrow catwalk that hugged the walls.

 

I glanced to my right. A couple robots were running at me along the catwalk, spewing laser blasts in my direction. Most missed, by I raised my weapon to shield as much of me as I could. A few blasts hit my gun, tearing it to pieces. I tossed the heavy thing aside as I vaulted over the railing and plummeted towards the ground.

 

My legs crumpled beneath me with a stab of pain, and I screamed. Laser blasts peppered the area around me. I dragged myself forwards with my arms as quick as I could, finding shelter behind the leg of one of the Fire Vultures. I tried to move my own legs, and my vision was filled with a surge of red and my body shuddered in agony. They were probably broken.

 

I couldn’t stop now I had to keep going I wouldn’t let them take me again.

 

My hands gripped the armor of the mech, and I pulled myself up along the handholds built into the side. Every rung made me hurt more and more, and my arms were aching, but I couldn’t stop I had no choice.

 

Somehow I dragged myself into the pilot seat, and two metal contraption things wrapped around my arms. I shouted and thrashed them, and the vulture’s arms did the same, throwing the large machine off balance. It leaned forwards, and I frantically flailed my arms and clicked the buttons and pulled hard on the levers, but my machine smashed into the metal ground face first. I heard robots approaching.

 

Nonononononononononononono.

 

I pulled another lever, and the turbine revved, and the machine shot forwards across the floor, trailing sparks behind it. I couldn’t see anything- the glass that encased my cockpit was pressed to the ground, and all I could see was a blur of black metal. A crack appeared in the glass. I pulled a few more levers and a few more buttons, and flung my hands up in frustration. The machine did the same, and somehow it rose up into the air and began to fly vertically. But then it continued its curve, doing some sort of odd flying backflip. Lasers and rockets flew past me and smashed into the machine.

 

I let my arms drop and the machine flew straight. I moved my shoulders right and it flew right. Okay. I got this. Fly away. Ignore the pain. Ignore the pain. I wouldn’t let them take me again.

 

I found myself flying at the far wall, having noticed an aperture in the side where light was streaming through. A doorway, it appeared, leading to the outside.

 

With a resounding crash I flew through it. Mostly- it was too small for my mech. I shredded a good chunk of the wall and cleanly removed my rotor. I cursed loudly. My machine had emerged from the robot’s base, and still carried by its momentum, it flew over a large metal landing pad of sorts. Then I saw a large bridge beneath me. I thought I caught a glimpse of what must have been Tenchi Fortress, before my Fury started falling towards the ground.

 

It hit the bridge hard. As metal crushed and sparks flew I felt another stab of pain rush through me, and despite my best efforts, I blacked out.

 

I slept.

 

OOC

TL:DR A stolen, broken Fire Vulture just flew out of the robot fortress and crashed into the bridge. A human, still alive, is inside and unconscious waiting to be rescued before the robots take her back.

[Makuta of Time]

OOC: I'll take this one. I need action

 

IC: Ranger ID 112/607

 

Ranger heard an alarm wailing as he walked towards the hamgar area. "Alert! A human has escaped with a Fire Vulture! Capture it at all costs!" Immediately he ran for the hangar bay, hoping his Sentry is ready to mobilize. Once he arrived, he hopped into the 'Crimson Gunner' and checked all stats on the mech. All stats were nominal, and he marched out of the hangar onto the bridge.

 

He didn't know if Human reinforcements would arrive quick, but he hoped so. For the Machines!

 

OOC: Hopefully that's good and nothing was broken.

[25K Now!]

IC: Holly Yuan - BETELGEUSE

 

A laser screamed towards Ranger's position, the blast crashing down into the ground right in front of it. The attack's source strode onto the bridge, its metal feet thudding against the reinforced concrete below. It was a rather majestic machine, the Betelgeuse. One that promised sweet vengeance for the horrors the robots had wrought on the human race.

 

"Let's get down to business," hummed Holly as she charged up her weaponry, "to defeat the Huns~"

[Geardirector]

IC: Sarah Taylor

 

"Woah you guys got tiny!" Called Sarah from on top of the mech.

 

IC: Ratchet Gordon (Hangar)

 

"Well, that's grand, miss" he called, unsure of how to really respond.

 

"Just be careful not to hurt yourself"

[sunflower]

OOC: So let's get this moving, eh?

 

IC: Eli

 

Nothing like a giant laser blade to mess up your day reaaaaaal quick. The event warranted the use of a "Son of a..." as well as a fair number of other descriptively colorful expletives.

 

I really didn't want to find out what would happen if I went up and said hi to the said beam of death. But then again, moving wasn't exactly an option, as I wasn't the only target. While I might have been able to get out of the way fairly easily, my compatriots behind me... Probably not.

 

"Oh this is going to be fun... You all might want to stay behind me."

 

Just before the beam hit, I twisted my mech around to take the brunt of the attack. Warning lights went off all across my control board as the beam sliced through what little armor my mech cam equipped with, and into the delicate wiring underneath. The indicator for my external jets went dark, oh joy.

 

It didn't take long for the beam to pass over me, and I realized that I'd involuntarily closed my eyes tight. Of course, there was the entire problem of having a massive scar across my mech's back and all, but I could live with that. I turned back around to face the robot squad, wincing as sparks exploded out of a display.

 

"Alright, I'm getting a little bored playing..."

 

A button push later, and a cluster of micro rockets meant for punching through armor shot out from the Celeritas' shoulder-mounted launchers, each one homing on the robots' EM signature.

Edited March 24, 2014 by Gravity

[avmatoran]

IC:
Cyrista did a couple backflips away from the panel very quickly, then began to cycle the wavelength he was visible in speedily and randomly, in an attempt to throw off the targeting system and stall for time while he thought of an idea.

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

"I-I-I-I-I'll b-be sure to do that," I started saying, gradually becoming aware that I had stopped flailing around on the ground like a turtle lying on its shell, and that I once again looked like a normal (collapsed) human being. Once that had registered, I added, "Oh, I think the spasms have stopped. Also, I'm pretty sure my zipper's been welded shut."

 

And: "Um, Abe? You wouldn't helping me up, would you?"

 

-Void

[Visaru]

IC:

Cyrista did a couple backflips away from the panel very quickly, then began to cycle the wavelength he was visible in speedily and randomly, in an attempt to throw off the targeting system and stall for time while he thought of an idea.

 

IC: Robot Defenses

Unfortunately for Cyrista, the turret's targeting system did not use a visual recognition system- the laser sights continued to track Cyrista's heat source, spraying a slew of deadly laser bolts at the cyborg.

Edited March 27, 2014 by Visaru

[avmatoran]

IC:
Cyrista began running toward the gate, positioning one robot turret between himself and the other, then running up the wall and backflipping off, hoping to trick the cannons into destroying one.

[Visaru]

IC: Robot Defenses

 

The turrets followed Cyrista, pivoting smoothly. A hail of laser fire flew noisily from their menacing, claw like mouths, smashing into the ground mere paces behind their target, leaving a trail of smoking scorch marks in the ground behind his path. A few even got close enough to singe him, grazing his metallic legs and torso and leaving smoking scars. But he was fast, and lucky.

 

He placed one turret between him and the other, and the second’s laser blasts smashed harmlessly into the back of the first. He could not stay put long however, or he would soon find himself riddled with holes, so continued running. Thus, the turret was left with a few blast marks in it’s solid metal, but the second turret hadn’t done enough damage to truly harm it’s twin’s ability to function.

 

IC: Robot Forces Attacking That Jungle Rescue Mission We All Forgot About

 

Like any functioning being would, the robots all stopped firing at the humans and immediately took action to save themselves as the Celeritas let its salvo of missiles fly at them. Some scrambled hastily to find some rock, tree, or fallen log to put between them and the missile. Some simply turned tail and ran. Others redirected their firearms at the missiles. All had mixed success, of course. For some, the missile exploded mostly harmlessly in the air or on the ground near them, but many found pieces of shrapnel through vital sections of their body or simply found their vital sections of their body scattered indiscriminately across the forest.

 

Sadly, the robot with the ultra-powerful beam weapon was not among one of those destroyed, although a massive splinter had jammed itself into the back of its knee, hampering it’s ability to move.

 

IC: Ha-Ya-To

 

Ha-Ya-To let out a whoop of excitement as he watched the robots die, run, or get injured by the explosives, but let it die as the first robot turned around and began to fire again at the mechs, unaffected by the devastation caused.

 

“I suggest we take this moment we’ve bought ourselves to run like the dickens. Any opposed?” Ha-Ya-To asked with a forced grin.

[They]

IC: Sakajima Nori

 

Sometimes I have this moment where the world sort of disappears and I just zone out, completely lost to time and space. I'd quote some old retro TV show about time and space but I forgot the exact words. Anyways, the point was I've found myself sitting in the same chair from a moment ago, at the same cubicle as a moment ago, but without any idea how long a moment ago was. It was Ha-Ya-To's voice that brought me back to the action, a sucking surge of force like pulling the plug in a bathtub. (Unless you're using an Exo-Force bathtub. What bathtub? That's the joke.)

 

"Good idea Ha-Ya-To," I responded quickly while bringing my fingers back to the keyboard. "I'll run some calculations on this end but I think if you all pull out the speed card you'll be home safe."

 

As long as those tin cans with brains don't figure out you're running, I thought to myself.

 

OOC: Yo! How you all been?

[Makuta of Time]

OOC: I have no idea if Grav is attacking me, so I'm confused. Also, new profile.

 

Name: DOHC V-16 Dredd

Gender: Masculine Programs

Age: About 26 in human years

Species: Robot

Appearance: Red Chested Devastor class Robot. Has his right eye shot out.

Skill(s): High level presicion targeting systems. Extreme close-combat programming

Personality: He tends to go all gun-ho and destroy all in bus path. Shows no merct and tends to kill any surviving humans in battle.

Weakness(es): Since one optic is shot out, he has no depth perception.

 

Designation: MG ZEKE

Type: Thunder Fury

Equipment: Rail Gun and the norm Ion Cannon. As well as the norm torso cannon

Right Shoulder: Machine Pistol

Left Shoulder: Auto Turret

Right Hand: Ion Cannon

Left Hand: Rail Gun

Torso: Torso mounted gun

Appearance: Urban Camo pallet paint job surrounding the Mech

Notes: MG stamds for Machine's Glory. Not Metal Gear. All though ZEKE does pretain to the Metal Gear to which the name came from.