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IC: "Are you even aiming?" called the ghostlike Irish blowhard, as his strafing suddenly cutting a hard angle in the opposite direction, not entirely laterally, but hard nonetheless, as soon as the Behemoth began to fire each burst. A dangerous game to play, but those were the only kind Patrick James had ever really been good at. He brought the inner warrior out to play whenever there was risk involved, and there was none more risky than mechanized combat. Twice, his shots slammed into the behemoth's shield as if making a point of hitting it in response to each burst.

The third, however...

It was almost as if he were a boxer, and great one to boot. Not that he wasn't, mind you.

Sliding cleanly out of the way of three extra-sized rifle rounds, he brought his tank-derived shotgun to bear. The Behemoth, having come to expect a massive HEAT slug slamming home into or close to it's riot shield, would find itself bamboozled, for though thunder cracked the sky and a nasty-looking projectile burst forth from the barrel of his shotgun, it wasn't sailing towards the shield--

No, instead it seeked the other Behemoth, casually plinking away at 1st Squadron with an Assaulter as the remora to its shark, both entirely content in their assumption their comrade had the noisy green-and-white Feddie mech shut down. Due to PJ's lateral movement in evasion of the Behemoth's shots, he actually had them at a blind angle, behind their shield.

A classic misdirection, with ruthless exploitation.

<<Rojo! I'm takin' some heat offa ya!>> he called over the comms, pronouncing it "Roe-joe" in an almost cheeky manner.

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helo frens

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IC: Marcus

 

So her plan hadn't actually gone much further past this, though the holes being shot through the Aronnax were certainly part of it.  Mostly.  Luna wasted no time, her chest still numb from where the harness dug into her during the collision of the two titanic machines, dumping power into the main weapons.  Whatever safety warnings light up were drowned out by the deafening crack of the point-blank supersonic shell that blasted through the soundproof cockpit, the firing and impact on the plate armor a singular sound.  Not that she was listening.

 

The Gunner was tough, and the Aronnax was more than a bit up-armored compared to the run of the mill Gunner, so the first shell obliterated itself against the armor... and the armor in turn.  It didn't go through, but there was a gaping hole where heavy-duty protection used to be.  Contrary to what action flicks that had become the staple of her freetime, time did not slow down in such a life-or-freaking-death situation, nor was she able to think of anything satisfying to say to fill the air.  She did know where this was going for her, and wasted no time in returning the favor.  The paired set of railguns fired even before she slammed their barrels into the side of the Behemoth, the flash of light obscuring whatever damage they caused.  The two rotary guns, having been pressed up against the enemy mech, began rhythmically unloading their ammunition store into the Colonist machine's torso.  The lower-caliber rounds wouldn't have been effective at range, but at these distances, they had the stopping power.

 

The second round hit, though the impact was far less than the first, seeing as the round carried most of it's energy through the Aronnax, and not against it.  Of course, there was the problem of there now being a literal hole in her mech.  Inside, half the control board went dead, and the left leg became very unresponsive.  Warnings of critical damage and the need to eject immediately flashed to life, and then died as the third supersonic round widened the hole.  She really did need to go, now.  Some small part of her conscious tugged on her, urging her to get out of there now and away from the big metal monster.

 

But she was a big metal monster too, and they'd hurt her.

 

She slammed her mech's other appendage down to lock her attacker in place, just as the projectile from the first Behemoth shot through the weakened shoulder armor and rendered the limb immobile.  Before another shot was fired, the Colonist pilot would quite clearly see the twin muzzles of the Aronnax's railguns being pressed against his viewscreen, and the faint bluish glow of electromagnetic weapons being discharged emanating from within each barrel, just before the explosive bolts on Luna's cockpit fired off, and she was launched into the air, away from the doomed hulks of metal.

 

Naturally, firing off bursts from her assault rifle at the offending machine as she went.


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IC: Jason was only saved from an untimely death by the shrill beeps of the lock-on warning and barely pulsed the Lancer's thrusters in time, moving his Walker aside as he swung its shield around on its shoulder to cover as much of his back as possible. The railgun round glanced off of the plate and damage assessment showed that it would probably stand up to one more hit like that at most, while some stress was showing up on the left shoulder. He grumbled to himself; he was going to get another earful from the mechanics for this.

 

"So that's how you want to play, huh?" he smirked, "Typical spacenoids." He glanced back and forth between the two mechs on either side of him; the bigger one that had just shot at him had a bum ankle, so it wouldn't  be going anywhere, and the railgun would likely need some time to charge again. The smaller one that had taunted him was faster and was keeping its distance, so he would have to act quickly if he wanted to catch it. Fortunately, Scarlet Lancer was not like most other Gunners and could do quick, albeit in short bursts. "My turn!" Panels on either side of the Lancer's chest opened up as its targeting sensors locked on to the two machines, revealing its missile tubes. A volley of guided missiles issued forth from the red Walker, three of them heading for the stranded mech and the other three streaking towards the smaller one. As the payload rocketed towards their targets, the thrusters on the Lancer's legs blazed to life, lifting the Walker off of the ground before its back-mounted boosters ignited, pushing it towards its retreating opponent.

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NPC IC:

The Behemoth was done for. The armor along the right-hand side of its torso was ruined, nothing but a splintered and smoking ruin. Its right arm was completely unresponsive. The damage extended to the front of the torso where deep holes reached most of the way through its chassis. The machine had slumped forward, propped up only by the larger mass of the ruined Arronax. A katana stuck out of its back, as if adding insult to injury, and as the seconds stretched on, there was no telltale sound of the ejection system. Maigo's Scout was slumped on the ground next to it, face down with its rifle adjacent. 

 

The silence broke before the stillness did, with the creak and crack of battered and splintering metal. Its left arm moved slowly, clumsily, but it was moving. And it was moving the cannon with it. A few moments later the barrel was resting just above the Scout's back, held loosely in place by the Behemoth's weakened grip. Its ammo feed was severed, and its pilot's chance of victory was nonexistent, but something was forcing the machine on. Its speakers crackled. They were clearly damaged, and the audio wasn't coming through clearly, but it was there."

 

"One.. C-Chamber..." A cough, and the Walker's weapon shook. "D... D-Down... With me..."

 

Its cannon fired one last time, before the Behemoth's weakening grip let go entirely and the weapon dropped to the ground. Its power core had long since gone silent, and as it collapsed to the ground with its former foe, it lost power entirely. One had been felled. 

 

The remaining Behemoth wasn't faring very well, either. Its attempt at using maneuvering thrusters to evade the missiles was only partially successful, catching the rest on its already damaged shield. It splintered under the barrage, leaving only a few jagged pieces of metal attached to the damaged limb to show that it had ever been there. It wasn't graceful in stopping, either. Forced to try and set down on what amounted to one and a half functional feet it nearly toppled over, staggering before its pilot compensated. No defenses, no maneuvering capability. But there was only one more target with enough firepower to hurt it. 

 

So it sank to one knee on its damaged leg for stability, and commenced bombarding the Lancer. 

 

The Assaulter the Lancer was chasing, meanwhile, fired thrusters at full power to dance just barely around the larger machine's charge, and break into a full retreat towards the remaining Behemoth's position. Its pilot wasn't failing to take advantage of its maneuverability. Were it a Federation machine of the same size, the Scarlet Lancer would have had it. But its Scout-like agility narrowly brought it out of danger. Not that its pilot had any time to celebrate; he was taking potshots at the Gunner while falling back, hoping to keep it at bay long enough for the Behemoth to take the Walker down.


fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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Kasper Harken

 

IC: The hostile Behemoth was down and from the amount of punishment it had just taken very, very dead.

 

That was just fine with the smallest soldier on the Walker battlefield.

 

Kasper slammed a new magazine into the Gungnir as he took off in a new direction. Most everybody seemed to be preoccupied with his larger teammates but he was not one to leave something like his own well being up to the luck of a battlefield.

 

A second or two of movement had him far enough away from his previous position that the special forces soldier felt secure enough to stop and prepare to fire again. This time his target was the hostile Assaulter currently trying to form up with it's much larger counterpart. Oddly enough , this Walker was moving much faster than it's class was normally capable of.

 

Lets see what we can do about that.

 

Kasper's oversized sniper rifle sent a volley of shots at the Walker's maneuvering jets.


"I serve the weak. I serve the helpless. I am their sword and their shield. If you want to strike at them, you must go through me, and I am not so easily moved."

zsUPm2E.jpg?1

 

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IC: Sofia Scarlett (Riscatto) - Battlefield. 

 

With one Behemoth down and the other crippled, Sofia opened fire on it from a distance, aiming for its weapons in the hopes of stopping it from continuing its bombardment of the Lancer. 


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IC:

 

Seeing as his smaller foe had dodged his charge, Jason turned his focus to avoiding the assault-type Walker's fire. His boosters allowed him a maneuverability unseen in other Gunners but even then, a few of the enemy cannon's rounds nicked the Lancer as he pushed it to and fro. The smaller mech was also pelting his armor with its own weapon, inflicting minimal damage as it did so and Jason took the opportunity to duck the Lancer into the dust cloud that the missiles he had initially sent at it kicked up when they detonated on the ground to regroup. He touched down briefly, venting the Lancer's thrusters to cool them as he figured his next move. One of the other big units had been taken down and the rest of the Federation Walkers that were defending the base would focusing their attention on the two he was fighting by now. It was now a race to take them down before his compatriots could steal the glory and he smirked to himself as the Lancer burst back out of the dust cloud, raising its left arm. The container mounted on the forearm opened, revealing its heavy gatling gun as it revved up and spewed fire at the retreating Walker.

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IC Maigo(Kenkaku):

 

The round tore through the white and blue mech, narrowly missing the cockpit, sending shrapnel cutting across Maigo's slight frame. 

 

All was quiet for a short time.

 

Maigo coughed, pain wracking her body as a multitude of cuts and gashes oozed blood.

 

"Who....... the ....... do you think I am......... huh?"

 

She tried to stand, but it was no use. The Joints in the waist were trashed.  the torso had been breached clean through, she could feel the wind.

 

"B-s......how dare you..... trash my Mech like this......"

 

The Rifle she'd dropped was laying beside her. She frowned. She doubted she'd be much help with this now, but..... someone had to pay for wrecking her Scout.

 

So, still prone on the ground, Kenkaku raised itself onto its elbows, and shouldered the rifle. Her range of motion was shot, she'd likely only get to pick one target..... There. The smaller mech next to the other behemoth.

 

She took aim as best she could, and fired.

 

OOC: Firing at the Assaulter.


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IC: Christoph Lockheed

 

They were stalemated. Him and the colonial. They were dancing around each other, doing as little damage to their respective machines as ants scratching away at the bark of a tree. Oh, in time one of them would falter and fall, but at their current pace, and the speed they were fighting, the conflict would have dragged into Christmas before anybody emerged victorious. His manoeuvres were too slow to deal a powerful enough strike to the invader, and the invader's own weaponry could do little to deter his greater armour.

 

Something needed to change.

 

And that was what he was going to do.

 

The Assault-type unit had made a mistake. It was rapidly retreating out of his range, true, but the direction it was taking ... it was straight backwards.

 

Christoph tapped a button.

 

And his Shot Lancer fired once again, the electromagnetically-propelled javelin screaming out of his machine towards his opponent like a miniature Maglev train.

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IC Maigo(Kenkaku):

 

She took aim as best she could, and fired.

 

IC:

 

"Maigo, have you ever listened to The Gambler, by any chance?"

 

With the speed that only a Scout could reach, the Cutie was next to the wrecked remnants of the Kenkaku, pistols raised and putting down as much cover fire their size could manage.

 

"Because I think that the line about knowing when to fold them could really help you out right now!"

 

-Void


 
 

 

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IC  Maigo:

 

"oi, oi....... If I'm not helping defend the base, what sort of woman am I, huh?"

 

 

...

 

 

"Also I'm sort of grounded here."


Credit and thanks go to @Onaku for the wonderful art that is my profile picture!

                                                                                                                                                       

                                                                                           The Unofficial Guide to TBRPG Combat!

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IC:

"Maigo, what on Earth are you still doing in that machine?" The Major sounded, for the first time, irritated. Whether it was from concern or the cost that losing two more Walkers would add up to was up for debate. Nevertheless there was only the briefest of pauses, mostly so the Wolf could take a few more shots at the retreating Assaulter, before he continued. "Eject your cockpit now, before you get yourself killed. This isn't the time for goddamn suicidal principles."

 

The remaining Colonist Walkers were proving very irritating. The Behemoth was mostly shrugging off Sofia's attacks, though there wasn't much else that it could do. Without a shield or the capability to maneuver it was limited to tanking the attacks and dealing as much damage as it could before it went down. Its smaller counterpart, on the other hand, was still very much mobile. The Assaulter danced around much of the fire headed its way, but it spun and to catch the Lancer's gunfire on its shield as soon as the heavier rounds started biting into its armor. Maneuvering thrusterskept it moving back, away from the other Federation machines, but it kept its face towards the enemy. Evasive maneuvers kept the brunt of the opposing fire away from it, and most of the remaining rounds were stopped by shield, but the protective plating wouldn't hold up to heavy gatling fire for long.

 

Not that it would need to. As if on cue, and more than likely it was, the Behemoth resumed its cannonade on the Lancer. But this time, at a much closer range. Whether coincidence or design, the Assaulter had lured its pursuer into the perfect range for the Behemoth to remove it from the equation. Sofia hadn't been forgotten, however; the heavy assault rifle in its opposite hand roared to life, peppering the Scout's position with gunfire. 

 

Christoph's opponent darted nimbly right, narrowly evading the Shot Lancer, but it didn't return fire. No, it was still retreating. Not towards its other allies, but strangely enough, back towards the ruins of the destroyed Behemoth...


fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Sofia Scarlett (Riscatto) - Battlefield. 

 

"Oh, come on," she groaned, her walker breaking into a run. She reloaded as she ran, attempting to circle around behind the Behemoth, where it hopefully wouldn't be able to get a proper line of fire on her with its rifle. 


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My Corpus Rahkshi Profiles

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Skyrise  Ascent

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Legends Don't Last Forever

 

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IC Maigo Koizumi:

 

"I've still got enough functionality and ammo to take some shots, so that's what I'm doing! These s aren't gonna get away with tearing up Kenkaku so easily!"

 

She continued putting the heat on the Assaulter. As it continued coming closer, her aim was improving. 


Credit and thanks go to @Onaku for the wonderful art that is my profile picture!

                                                                                                                                                       

                                                                                           The Unofficial Guide to TBRPG Combat!

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IC:

 

"This guy," Jason grunted, pulling hard on the control sticks to get the Lancer out of the way before too much damage could be done. This time, however, his own shield finally gave out and shattered from the Lancer's shoulder, sending massive bits of shrapnel flying through the air. The heavy gatling gun had also taken a hit and he scowled when he noticed that more damage had been done to the left arm by the resulting explosion. Seeing as everyone else was now focusing on the smaller Walker that he had been chasing, he decided that it was time to focus on the nuisance that was still firing on him.

 

The Lancer's missile pods opened again, unloading its deadly cargo towards the immobile, bigger Walker. As the missiles streaked towards their target, the custom Gunner reached behind its back and pulled out its appropriately-sized polearm. The Kinslayer had ended many a Walker and its song of iron and blood rang out as the huge blade sliced through the air. With the weapon grasped in both hands, the Lancer charged through the cannon fire, losing one of its armored shoulders in the process as Kinslayer's blade woke up, glowing with infernal heat. With a shout, Jason swung, the svardstav on a direct course towards the enemy's torso.

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Kasper Harken

 

IC: Kasper grit his teath as all of his shots missed the wildly moving Walker. That thing looked like some sort of demented rabbit with how it scampered across the battlefield. Whatever it looked like, Kasper was not about to give up just because the guy liked to move.

 

He took a second to jet to another position, settling down on another hilltop and orienting himself on the speeding Walker again. The invisible soldier settled down on one knee, the servo-motors allowing him to hold the giant rifle in a classic firing pose. One arm forward to support the length of the barrel, the other holding the weapon in close  and ready to fire.

 

Inside the helmet of the experimental armor tiny banks of computers were steadily churning through data. Wind speed, humidity, the speed of the Colonial Walker currently trying to reach it's fallen brethren. There were even a couple programs dealing with the curvature of the earth and it's rotational speed. All that raw data was boiled down into the Aim Assist program. The HUD in front of the sniper's face zoomed in on his target, the crosshairs signifying where his round would land searching the Assaulter for the proper target.

 

There.

 

The suit allowed him to steadily follow his target, the cybernetic muscles following it's movements better than Kasper could have on his best day. The crosshairs settled on one of the main jets allowing the Assaulter it's increased movement.

 

Inhale

 

The explosive round jumped from the muzzle of the oversized sniper rifle like a hound after a hare.

 

Exhale.


"I serve the weak. I serve the helpless. I am their sword and their shield. If you want to strike at them, you must go through me, and I am not so easily moved."

zsUPm2E.jpg?1

 

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IC: Christoph Lockheed

 

Was pursuing a wise course of action? Christoph was slightly wary, his machine's sensors tracking the rapid movement of his enemy towards the destroyed Behemoth-class the invaders had been fielding. What was the other pilot planning? Would moving the Custom after the invader put him at greater risk? He glanced at the status of his comrades. Two units had already been destroyed. Yet one pilot had still yet to eject, while the other was descending from the air following ejection at quite a considerable pace.

 

Nobody had moved to help them.

 

He quickly changed the direction of his machine. His opponent could wait, and whatever they were planning with the fallen Behemoth was something he could deal with later. Ensuring that his own two downed pilots survived trumped chasing after the other for the time being.

 

~Private Marcus, Private Koizumi, I shall be retrieving both of you.~

 

The Lockheed Custom pulled away from its chase of the Colony machine, thrusters pausing before firing again as it was redirected in the direction of Luna's falling cockpit. In one smooth motion, the metallic titan caught the apparatus with a notable thump even as it continued to rush as fast as it could towards where the Kenkaku laid destroyed. It was fortunate for Christoph that every other invader present was focused on combating his compatriots, and thus providing him with enough time to break off his own fight to rescue the fallen.

 

He jammed his machine's hand through the large hole in the downed Scout-class, ripping Maigo's cockpit from its place. Now with two cockpits occupying his hands, he needed to move quickly before his only form of defense consisted of the shield attached his the Custom's arm. It immediately spun around, swung back its arms, and bowled both of the apparati at a rapid speed towards base behind him.

 

And then he was in movement again, swinging the Custom back into position, retrieving its machine gun from its holster to fire at any enemies.

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IC Maigo:

 

"Like you ar- wait what the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUU-!"

 

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH HURGHGFLEFUEI"

 

That sound would be one Maigo Koizumi screaming and then unfortunately releasing the contents of her stomach as the cockpit spun violently around.

 

Truly, the hero of our time.


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                                                                                           The Unofficial Guide to TBRPG Combat!

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IC:

 

With nowhere to run, the Behemoth's pilot had made an executive decision; cause as much damage as possible before he was forced to eject. The Scarlet Lancer's missiles impacted unimpeded, ruining its cannon and ripping away at its armor plating. Its joints screamed in protest, and its moves weren't nearly as precise as they had been, but it still obeyed its master. The Colonist Walker caught the Kinslayer on the haft of its own heat ax, drawn from over its shoulder in a (relatively) smooth motion. The Gunner's larger weapon and advantage of leverage pushed the ax down, its own blade biting deep into the Behemoth's shoulder and torso, but it didn't get to complete its deadly arc. The pilot had seen to that.

 

By this point, the Behemoth verged on ruined. Its armor was wrecked and ruined. Its left arm was almost inoperable, and it was even less capable of escape than it was a few minutes ago. It had been robbed both of its mobility, and its artillery. It would not walk away from the battlefield. But it didn't need to. What functionality it still had would suffice. As the Lancer's melee weapon struck deep, the Behemoth's right arm came up to point directly at its torso; more specifically to bring the heavy assault rifle to bear. A single RPG shot from the underslung barrel towards the Lancer's center mass, accompanied by the remainder of the heavy assault rifle's clip.

 

But part of being a good pilot was knowing when to fold them. A single, muffled explosion preceded the ejection of the Behemoth's cockpit, hurling its pilot back and away from the ruined Walker. 

 

Harken's rocket, meanwhile, soared through the air towards the retreating Assaulter's thrusters. Its heat output forced it to detonate before reaching its target, but even that didn't neutralize it. Meteor Team's leader registered, deep within her cockpit, a noticeable drop in output from the rear left thruster. It was operational, but pushing it to maximum would burn it out in a hurry. Not that she needed to worry. Her luck was turning around after all. The Lockheed Custom broke off its pursuit to rescue the pilot of the downed Scout, a short distance from her own downed comrade.

 

She was free to seize her opportunity. The Assaulter dropped its rifle as it coasted by the wrecked Behemoth, tearing from her former ally's hand what she knew would be there. Its intact heavy assault rifle. Just as she had hoped. The Lockheed turned to roll both escape pods back towards their base, and in the process, turned its back to her. Only for a moment. But it was all she needed. An RPG rocketed towards its unguarded back, followed by a burst of heavy-caliber rifle fire. Attacking one in the process of rescuing his comrades was not honorable. But it was practical. Without knowing what attack was coming, the explosive would be devastating. And while her own rifle had been insufficient, the Behemoth's would be enough to deal some damage.

 

"Opportunities multiply as they are seized." She muttered to herself, ducking behind the carcasses of the Federation Gunner and Colonist Behemoth to keep the Lockheed Custom from getting a clear visual.

 

"Good work, Lockheed!" McKinley's Walker darted nimbly forward, spraying the Assaulter that had been harassing the Lancer with rifle fire. Not that the Major was happy. Noah was feeding him information over the comms, and he knew that the base's defenses were barely holding up to the Liberator's onslaught. And if the fight dragged on, they wouldn't. But the Colonist assailants had been reduced by half, and dealing with the remaining Assaulters wouldn't take too much more time. Then they could focus on the battleship. Just needed to mop up the re-

"Above you!"

 

Lieutenant Noah's words barely registered, but McKinley listened and fired the Wolf's thrusters, bringing it to a dead stop and reversing course. Not an instant too soon, either. The point he would have occupied, if he had stopped a second later, exploded into dust and gravel with the sound of splintering pavement. He fired a few rounds into the cloud, backing away, but the Wolf wasn't quick enough. A wall of crimson shot outwards, bashing into the Warrior and throwing it back to impact with the pavement a dozen meters away. A single green flash penetrated the clearing dust.

 

"Meteor-2, collect Meteor-3's escape pod. Deposit it away from the battle and rejoin us." The comm signal originated from the tall, refined Walker that stepped out of the crater it had created to survey the battlefield. "Akai has met with less resistance. We will mop up here."

Edited by It's A Gundam MkII

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Christoph Lockheed

 

Klaxons blared. Alerts and warnings screamed at Christoph to do something as the rockets and heavy-calibre fire converged onto him. He heeded them, lunging for the controls and gripping them tightly as he swung his shield around to defend as much of himself and the rocket exploded and his shield audibly screamed as metal flew apart and his right arm screeched and he could only stumble back and drop down behind the ruined wreck of Maigo's unit to avoid as much of the fire that skimmed across his shoulders and arms, pinging powerfully against the Lockheed Custom.

 

The integrity of his right arm was still stable, but it had taken a horrifyingly terrible blow when the rocket had crashed into him. The shield attached was utterly gone, a mangled scrap of steel and solar panels and one of the hawks had been welded by the intense heat of the the explosion into the rest of the shield, while the other was trapped by the mangled metal. His melee options were utterly gone. His machine had been shaken by that attack. The Shot Lancer was still functional, as was his machine gun, but his right arm no longer could protect him as well with the mess of metal attached to it, and its integrity would be a weak point.

 

And with the arrival of another enemy IFF on the battleground (he couldn't see it, being behind Maigo's Scout, but it had definitely engaged McKinley), he needed to find a way to take out the Assaulter hiding behind the Behemoth as soon as possible.

 

He had an idea.

 

 

Christoph ripped a pair of large thrusters off the Kenkaku and threw them across the battlefield, their notably huge masses descending towards whatever was hiding behind the ruins of the Behemoth his comrades had taken out, seeking to hit his enemy in any manner. But before he had done so, he had taken the long scarf of the Kenkaku and attached it to a javelin loaded into his Shot Lancer, and the very moment he had lobbied the two thrusters, he fired, and the electromagnetically-propelled javelin screamed through the air, ripping the entire body of the Kenkaku off from its legs as it was accelerated to an incredible speed by the projectile dragging it across the pavement by the scarf, sparks screeching throughout the air as the entire machine rocketed towards his enemy.

 

And he followed, Lockheed Custom's thrusters powering up as it chased after his ally's former machine, using its speeding mass to guard himself as he carried one of the legs along.

Edited by Battery
  • Upvote 2

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IC:

 

"... and they will prefer death to flight."

 

Meteor-1 sounded almost impressed, not that she had time to be. Her Assaulter had darted nimbly away from the thrown thrusters, only to be confronted by a makeshift projectile soaring through the air towards her at speeds exceeding 100kmh. Rear left thruster still damaged, she instead slammed the right hand thrusters into full gear and sent the Assaulter rocketing towards the left, then rocketing back. The flying mass clipped her right shoulder, shearing off more than a few layers of armor and forcing a course correction from the sheer force imparted. More than enough to make her reconsider pressing the assault.

 

Not that the massive Warrior wasn't doing that too.

 

Rather than let the Lockheed Custom close to close range, the Assaulter retreated back at high speeds in an evasive pattern to put some distance between them, and keep Christoph from getting a clean shot.

 

IC:

 

"And I'll take some off of you!"

Was the equally cheeky comm line chatter, as a single DMR round lanced through the air towards the Behemoth PJ was attacking. The source was a silver-and-blue Warrior closing at relatively high speeds from the direction of the base, with its rifle pointed in the Behemoth's direction.

 

"McKinley thought you guys could use a little fire-support."

Edited by It's A Gundam MkII

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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Kasper Harken

 

IC: Kasper let a lot curse out under his breath at the minimal damage from his shot. He had been expecting to ruin the engine, it was not exactly a hard thing to do if you could get something into it's internals after all. In any case it had opened fire and was now taking cover behi-

 

What.

 

Well that was his superior officer for you. They had not made him commander of Test Team for nothing. It was Kasper's job to support him in his sometimes crazy schemes.

 

It seemed that nobody had noticed his last shot, a good thing all told. It meant that he still had his current position with it's clear lines of fire. The sniper very carefully lined up another shot on the retreating Assaulter's undamaged jet and let loose.

 

And then promptly fled the scene of the crime before anybody could shoot back.


"I serve the weak. I serve the helpless. I am their sword and their shield. If you want to strike at them, you must go through me, and I am not so easily moved."

zsUPm2E.jpg?1

 

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IC: Christoph Lockheed

 

 

He didn't relent in the assault.

 

The Lockheed Custom screamed through the air, taking advantage of what he had done to Meteor-1 as he threw the leg of the Kenkaku towards his enemy. He fired off another javelin from the Shot Lancer, piercing it through the air and stabbing deep into the leg's remaining thruster, the acceleration of his shot sending the entire mass spinning even faster at the body of the Assaulter he was attacking. Even as he did, he had holstered his machine gun, ripping the Kenkaku's heat katana from the piece of Behemoth leg flying through the air from the chaos caused by what he had turned his comrade's machine into, before grabbing the end of the javelin that had carried his makeshift-weapon (which was incidentally falling to pieces from the impact) and ripping it away, bringing along the intact blue scarf and the head of the Kenkaku.

 

He wouldn't relent.

 

He slung.

 

Right on the heels of the flying leg came the Kenkaku's decapitated headpiece spinning through the air with deadly accuracy.

Edited by Battery
  • Upvote 1

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IC:

 

Retreating wasn't working. The Lockheed Custom was keeping her off balance, not allowing her the room to maneuver. He could keep pressing the attack without cessation, and sooner of later, the Federation Captain's efforts would be successful. Unless she interrupted them. Meteor-1's mind was going a mile a millisecond, searching for the solution to her dilemma. It was there, she just needed to find it. Find how to counter insanity with a stratagem that afforded a decent chance of success.

 

...

 

There wasn't one.

 

Thus, what is of supreme importance in war is to attack the enemy's strategy.

 

 

She fired her thrusters, but not in retreat. Her shield, properly angled, intercepted the incoming javelin and its cargo, deflecting it off to her side. Not before it carved a deep gouge in its surface, threatening to pierce it, or before the thruster exploded against her defenses. But her shield held, and kept both the Assaulter's functionality and her own vision from being impaired. From the outsider's perspective, a foolish move. But an outsider knew little. The Lockheed Custom continued its rapid advance, but now its javelin and its munitions were past her. Though she didn't know it, her suddenly reversal saved her from further thruster damage, as well.

 

And now she was moving forward. Her body ached at the forces the sudden change in direction exerted upon her, but there was no other choice. The change needed to be instantaneous, too fast to process, or it wouldn't have worked. But her gambit paid off. She rocketed forward towards the Lockheed Custom before Christoph could even register that she had changed directly, firing a second RPG along with a burst of gunfire in the few seconds she had. Mere moments after her change in direction, her thrusters fired right and sent her careening past the Lockheed, rather than into it.

 

And now she was behind him, firing a few shots at his back while she put some distance between them.

Edited by It's A Gundam MkII

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Even as he erratically switched fire between the two targets, another 120 mm round slamming home into the Behemoth enganing him's shield, O'Sullivan laughed raucously.

<<Cavalry for the cavalry, eh? Much obliged, welcome to the party!>>

Another round downrange, back at the second behemoth and the Assaulter pinning down Schmetterling.

<<I'm sure First needs more help than me, though!>>


helo frens

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IC (As Rojo-Schmetterling)

 

"Much appreciated." The former pirate couldn't help but admire the mad Irishman's.....he struggled to find the word for a moment....what was it? Moxie. Yes. That was it. 

 

And no sooner had he replied to the questionably practical but unquestionably magnificently insane Irishmen did another voice flow over the comm lines, almost as a cheeky as the Irishmen and from the look of it, backing quite the lovely amount of firepower. Excellent.

 

"Doubly appreciated then."

 

If the traffic he'd picked up from other parts of the battlefield were any indication, someone, somewhere, was being at least as insane as the Irishman, and possibly a little more so. Evidently there was something in the water around these parts. 

 

As Rojo made a mental note to avoid any bottled water for the duration of his stay in Horizon. Whatever it was, he wanted to catch it.

 

But for the moment. The former pirate assessed the situation. Not only did the Behemoth's have to deal with the Irishman, they had to deal with their newly arrived fire support as well, suddenly, he imagined, an out of date mecha hiding behind a building would be much less of a concern. Not with an enemy unit amongst them, and another bearing down on them. Besides, if the the mech hiding behind the building tried anything funny, why, they had sensors for that.

 

'Course. This particular mech had some handy stealth technology attached to it. Just for that occasion. Made piracy alot easier.....but was much less useful in ground combat, considering how it tended to be a face to face affair. Except, of course, in situations like this. 

 

Heh.

 

The pirate's lips tugged upwards in a grim hungry smile. Building was large enough to obscure movement, certainly, but there was absolutely no time to waste. His little assessment had taken maybe a second. You got good at thinking-and thinking quickly in space combat. Being surrounded by a cold void in what amount to a souped-up tin can tended to do that.

 

Without another thought, As Rojo coaxed Schmetterling into a bolt-there was an opening where the building ended and it took only a few second to reach it. Doubtlessly the stealth tech had done it's job....or at least Rojo hoped it did. He'd find out soon enough. Peeking around the corner, Rojo spotted the Assaulter that had foiled his first attempt at the Behemoth's and sighted in on it, with missile and gun both. 

 

He let one missile fly at the Assaulter and hoped the tracking tech would do it's job on that count, and then he let loose with a stream of armor-piercing fire from his AW-class assault rifle. His shield, was, of course, up and ready to absorb any return fire. Though hopefully the building would do most of it's work for it.

 

....

 

Well, here's hoping whoever owned it had good insurance.

Edited by Havelock Vetinari

I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.

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IC: Christoph Lockheed

 

Too fast.

 

Incredibly fast.

 

The Lockheed Custom's own thrusters swung him to the left, detaching the mangled remains of his shield into the second rocket just as it exploded, the force from the shockwave running into him and nearly knocking him into the invader, who had just passed him. They were fast. Incredibly so. And all he could do was grit and bear the pain of the intense rattling and nausea as he did his best to rotate his machine back into facing the other one while avoiding as much of the gunfire they were putting into him as possible.

 

But if they thought they could escape, then they could think again.

 

Christoph snapped forward in his seat, barely held down by the tight harnesses, as he pushed the Lockheed Custom into overdrive, having finally righted itself to push as much energy into closing the distance once again, although this time at a slight angle to avoid the heavy firepower of the Assaulter-class. He couldn't flank, with his machine being slower than the other, but he still had ranged weaponry in the form of the machine gun that had replaced the heat katana in his left hand, and it was firing off burst after burst of suppression fire at his enemy.

 

~Harken, I need you to focus as much firepower onto the Assaulter while I distract it.~

 

And he also had Maigo's long scarf held in his right hand, and the other machine wasn't so far away from him that he could not swing it out to the right, while his Shot Lancer fired off four powerful javelins, each moving at speeds of over two hundred kilometres per hour, on a leftwards angle at his enemy.

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IC:

 

Let us switch gears for a moment and take a sojourn into the cockpit of one Eastwood Evans, twenty four, male, a big-hearted athlete that, like most humans, could not grasp the concept of dying. He displayed this ignorance by projecting life outward everywhere he went, the way that force fields wrap things in their glow - though even many of his friends would insist that a few six packs down the hatch would result in his gusto feeling more like radiation from a CAT scan. It was this zest that had defined Eastwood's life. He was a three-sport athlete, and maintained the muscular body structure that had resulted in him going All-Luna four years in a row. He had lobbied hard with his superior for the Liberator to go down in human history as the first space faring capital ship with a deluxe foosball table. It was so large, in fact, that it was designed to be played by a two-man roster, for want of one man who was quick enough and blessed enough on the foosball table to bring his team to victory single handedly. When armed with an enormous playthrough with the stadium rock of a century past, Eastwood Evans was that man.

 

And, if the scratchy, vintage audio recordings that was slowly creeping in volume on the Akai Team comm channels was any indication, he would be that man on the battlefield.

 

 

Right now, the riot shield of the CAW-019 Bradshaw was being strafed with shell after shell from what appeared, in his ed-yoo-cated grasp of Arsenal Walkers, to be an enormous mechanical shillelagh. With a big gun. B-E-A-YOO-tiful.

 

Just like the Irish mech's footwork. Thing moved like a goddamn prize fighter. East was in love. In love. In manly, appreciative, begrudgingly respectful love. Eastwood adopted a defensive position even as the Federation mech wildly swung his gun around to take potshots at the mech he'd addressed and the second Behemoth. After checking Macha with his shield again, hopefully diverting some of the shots PJ had eyeballed, Eastwood's own eye was drawn back to the quicker Warrior closing in. With his free arm, Bradshaw went for its assault rifle with a flourish (a move which more than passingly resembled a cheerful greeting wave) and fired off several suppressing shots at Benjamin's approaching mech.

 

"Christ, Sanjay," the comm crackled, even as the Behemoth suddenly pivoted on its left foot to slam the side of its shield into Macha's back, "I hope I don't have to kill these guys. I want beers with 'em! They've got stones like asteroids!"

 

What's that?

 

Who's Sanjay, you ask?

 

Let us sojourn again to a cockpit a bit downwind of the fight between the two opposing paragons of half-crazed masculinity: that of Sanjay Hans, twenty-four, male, graduate student and a senior mechanic for Akai Team. Tall and broad, dark-skinned and very handsome despite the large semi-circular scar across his right cheek, Sanjay was living up to his reputation as one of the quietest young jockeys in the colonies. His Calcutta could nimbly evade most of the fire, but out of the corner of his peripheral vision he could watch the missile sent his way nudge itself back into his course, ever so slightly. The Assaulter brought up its shield and took the blow full on. From inside the cockpit, the colonist pilot could feel the arm shudder, but it shouldn't have provided anything lasting. He liked the way that these pilots could adjust and surprise with their weaponry, even with the backwards chassis design they used as a framework.

 

Plus their shiny new Raptors. So cute.

 

The second Behemoth was doing an admirable enough job of eviscerating First Squadron without his support, so Sanjay placed his back in the direction of the larger mech's back, ensuring that both colonial pilots wouldn't have to worry about fire from behind. A position secured, Sanjay decided to turn his attention back to the building where the fire had come from. He hadn't seen it from Calcutta's display, but it was impossible to just make a Walker invisible. Clearly, there was something behind there. Drawing it out, especially with two Walkers set in their ways and another Assaulter nearby for cover, was merely smart strategy. With a perpendicular stream of fire, Sanjay from the side and the other Assaulter from the front, they could leave the Schmetterling with only two directions to go in - one of which involved backing into First Squadron, currently being cut to ribbons.

 

His eyes were tracing different potential avenues of escape, synapses flaring as he recalled the Assaulter's specs, even as he responded.

 

"Akai-4, please join me in drawing this mech into the open. Be advised of stealth systems and tracking missiles. Eastwood," the Assaulter piloted added, softly accented voice nearly lost over the sounds of his best friend's classic rock, "please relax. We did not come here to get you engaged."

 

-Tyler


whats up doc

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Kasper Harken

 

IC: Understood.

 

This colonial Walker was really starting to get on his nerves. He had done a fairly good job of landing hits earlier but this new one was moving around too much. That combined with his commander's request meant it was time to get a little risky.

 

Changing course Harken started darting directly towards the two combatants. Every leap or two he would momentarily pause and let off a round at the Walker engaging the Lockheed. They were primarily aimed the sensors and maneuvering thrusters of the hostile mech. They may not hit but they would at least draw the thing's attention.

 

Don't make me come up there and rip you out with my bare hands.


"I serve the weak. I serve the helpless. I am their sword and their shield. If you want to strike at them, you must go through me, and I am not so easily moved."

zsUPm2E.jpg?1

 

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IC:

 

"AYYO MCKINLEY!"

 

It wasn't every day that a beleaguered and arguably soon-to-die Walker pilot was greeted on one side by the portent of utter annihilation by colonial ######heads and on the other side by a friendly, albeit unpredictable and potentially dangerous around anything with sharp edges or the capacity to blow up, engineer with a penchant for vanishing for significant periods of time.

 

ie: Miss Gwen Talal, nee Tylers, the pilot of the Ghastly Cutie which was currently laying down whatever suppressing fire it could from its dual pistols and coming up McKinley's left.

 

"Looks like you're having some fun here? Don't mind me cutting in, do ya?"

 

-Void

Edited by Bad Machine

 
 

 

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Post henceforth edited out of existence

Edited by It's A Gundam MkII

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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OOC: Okay, so if we're going to go through with this, I'll need some time to think about my mech pilot character. I was thinking of making her female, and imagined her being a raw recruit. I still haven't decided with 100% certainty but I was leaning towards the scout mech (though I'm open to recommendations). I still need to decide her name, backstory, and personality. It also probably wouldn't be a bad idea to find out about how ranks work with mech pilots.

 

I guess I'm open to suggestions, but for now I do still have some characters I can continue to play as. I guess the logical thing to do until I figure out my new character is to utilize those.

 

 

IC: Another day of training. Sergeant Casey Maxwell had made something of an infamous reputation for her harshness on recruits. She could vividly recall a hard slap on the face of one unfortunate woman. Now she was done, and she was doing the closest thing she could get to relaxing. She had a cigarette in her mouth, and lay on her bed, her mind wandering. Most of what she could remember was war, images of her days in special forces; the people she watched come and go in the field. She exhaled, releasing a steady stream of smoke.

 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Casey groaned as she sat up. She was clad only in her camo pants and a light green t-shirt. Her hair, while short, was visibly ruffled. Slowly, she stood and approached. Opening the door, Casey found two men standing in front of her.

 

"Sergeant Maxwell?"

 

"That's me, sir."

 

One of the men promptly invited himself into the room. "I'm from intelligence," he said. He motioned toward his companion. "This is Lt. Murino, he's with the marines."

 

Casey stared at her visitors, somewhat confused. She sighed as she sat on her bed. "What are the charges?"

 

The intelligence man looked at Casey in surprise. "There's no charges, sergeant. You've got a good service record. You served in the marine corps, worked your way up to being a green beret. That's why we're here. We have a new mission for you."

 

Casey stared at the intelligence man. "A mission?"

 

"It's dangerous," Murino said. "We'll be going into enemy territory, and we might not all get out alive, but if anyone can make sure it gets done, it's you."

 

"We should make it clear," The intelligence man continued. "This mission is voluntary. If you don't wish to take it I'll find someone else."

 

"No, it's fine," Casey said. "I'll do it."

 

"Excellent," replied the intelligence man. 

 

"Get your gear on and report to the airfield," Murino said. "Briefing's in thirty minutes."

 

"Alright," Casey muttered.

 

The intelligence man looked toward Casey. "Sergeant Casey Maxwell, as of this moment you are officially relieved of training duties until further notice. You're going into the field."

 

"About time," Casey muttered. The two men exited, leaving Casey alone. She put out her cigarette and stepped outside, making her way to the armory.

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IC: Marcus

 

The techs had peeled her off the side of the control board once the cockpit had been brought inside the base, and for once weren't incessantly badgering her about the finer details about being a pilot. Thankfully they had helped her out of the makeshift mech-sized football, and generously let her sprawl out across the hanger floor for a bit. She wasn't quite sure if she wanted to kill Christoph or just give him a solid shot to the gut.

 

Luna settled on staying where she was until the medical staff came to bully her about injuries or something.

 

Her gaze wandered over to the blast-scarred hunk of metal she had been removed from, dimly registering the fact that normally it was inside something else big and metal.

 

Those ########## ######## with their ####### cheap ### ####.


sig1.png

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IC Maigo:

 

Said techs had a bit of a more unpleasant job pulling Maigo out of her own pod, what with the contents of her stomach having been spin cycled across the entire inside.

 

Dizzy and leaning heavily on an unfortunate medical officer, she dimly realised that she'd disobeyed direct order in the heat of the moment.

 

 

 

 

Again.

 

 

 

Maybe her actions in taking out the behemoth would spare her a stern lecture....?

 

Somehow she doubted it.

 

Her leg really hurt.


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IC:

Acheri was fast, but there were limits. Especially when she was trying not to cough up blood. Even as her Assaulter moved right, hoping to evade the path of the javelins, the first impacted against her already damaged shield biting deep into the metal. The second bit deeper, through the shield and into the armor of the forearm, and the third pierced the armor entirely to embed itself deep into the Walker's arm. The fourth narrowly missed, thanks to Acheri's evasive maneuver, but the damage was done. Fine motor use of the left hand was hit or miss, and the shield wasn't going to be doing her any good any time soon. Sensors were registering smaller collision alerts from another, smaller weapon, but it wasn't until one of the rockets hit a left hand maneuvering thruster that she paid them much mind. Christoph's suppressing fire didn't do much more than minor damage, but she still didn't like her odds.

 

Left arm useless from the elbow down, thrusters being targeted, and outnumbered. Things were getting interesting. And not necessarily in a good way. Deciding that her left arm was forfeit, she started falling back towards the Prometheus with her left arm and shield between the Assaulter's main body and the Lockheed Custom while SAW-caliber rounds filled the air, providing cover fire for her retreat. 

 

Gwen's rounds pinged off of the colonist mech's shield, the shield turned towards her almost contemptuously while the Prometheus covered for Acheri's retreat. Its pilot surveyed the scene with a calm, collected disposition. The plan wasn't proceeding exactly as smoothly as he'd hoped, but their progress was tolerable enough for now. Especially with their final objective nearing.

"How long until the base's defenses fall?"

"A few minutes Captain Jackson, sir. Akai is meeting with less resistance."


****

 

"Much appreciated, Tylers." McKinley commented, while the Wolf pushed its way to its feet as quickly as it could. The Prometheus wasn't paying much attention to them for now, but that didn't mean much. Not with how things were going. Its assault rifle made its way to the large colony machine, taking a few potshots while he retreated a few paces. "Concentrate on the big one, pilots! We need to bring it down, and take the heat off the base!"

IC:

The shot slammed into Benjamin's shield, but the metal held. And he wasn't planning on staying in sight long. 

"PJ, I'd get clear!" The test pilot shouted into the Federation comm line, fingers dancing across his controls. His shield held off any fire that reached him at the edge of effective rifle range, but it wouldn't for all that long. Fortunately he just needed a few seconds. A few switches, a warning light, and then it was ready. "Missiles L1-L8, R1-R8, away!"

Sixteen missiles arced towards the formation of Colonist Walkers, while the pods that held them dropped from the Vernichten's shoulders and the Walkers ducked nimbly behind the closest building.


fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC:

 

Gunshots went off like thunderclaps with the size of the firearms being used, but nothing was getting past Prometheus' shield. The Cutie was a repair machine, not meant for face-to-face combat with anything, let alone a behemoth like this, and everyone involved was realizing that. Gwen's only reprieve was the fact that the Prometheus' pilot must have known that too, and that that was why it was focusing its attention elsewhere. If it ever turned to face her....

 

"Sir! The heavier mechs might stand a chance against this thing but all we can do is ###### it off!" she shouted into her comlink, maintaining fire. "And I think that's what we need to do right now!"

 

...this was going to be a really bad idea.

 

-Void


 
 

 

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IC:

"Well, Talal, you're not wrong." The Major said with a little too much cheer, as the Wolf brought up its assault rifle and started letting loose three to four round bursts targeted mostly at the joints. Points that, theoretically, might be vulnerable enough to get its attention. At least maybe make the Prometheus pay attention to them instead.

 

****

 

Inside the base, medical and engineering staff were seeing to the downed pilots and clearing the escape pods respectively. The chief engineer, without too much patience, glanced their way and pointed. "You two, either get to medbay or find something useful to do. That big ship is a few minutes shy of taking our defenses down, and backup isn't here yet!"


fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Christoph Lockheed

 

The Lockheed Custom zipped backwards, dodging as much of the cover fire as it could. Pursuing the colonial machine when they were both so damaged was unwise, as while the Assaulter was on its last legs, his own unit would be at risk from being destroyed by the newest intruder. So the only choice that Christoph could make was to disengage, retreating slightly to place some more distance between him and the enemy machines.

 

"Understood, sir," said the Test Team's captain into the comm, as he lined up a javelin and fired it towards the Prometheus.

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IC:


Thrusters on the Prometheus’ back fired, acting in tandem with its joints to bring its shield to bear with speed belied by its height. The javelin impacted with the surface in a screech of metal on metal that grated on the nerves, but it didn’t bounce off. It stuck fast in the armor, a sign that they had some penetrating power against its defenses. Not that the unknown machine’s pilot seemed concerned. If anything, the Prometheus’ movements were just as refined as ever. His hurried defense had left him open to fire from the Cutie and the Wolf, but the rounds from both machines did little more than dent its armor before they were blocked by the shield once more.


“Captain Solomon, you are in no condition to fight. Retrieve Meteor-3 and return to the Liberator. Meteor-3 and I will finish this.”


“Sir-”

“I order you.”


“... Yes sir.”


The damaged Assaulter, no longer dogged by the Lockheed, withdrew rapidly from the scene of battle while its undamaged counterpart returned. The Prometheus’ shoulder binders flipped down while its pilot keyed selected a targeting sequence. Two missiles screamed from their containers, rocketing towards the Lockheed (and by extension, Harken). They wouldn’t hit; in fact, the Lockheed would almost certainly evade. That was fine. They weren’t meant for a direct hit.


Either way, it was the others’ turn. The gunmetal machine turned to open fire on the Wolf and the Cutie, putting its shield between it and the already damaged Lockheed in the process. It started to advance, unleashing its SAW with more accurate intent than when covering Acheri’s retreat. Jackson’s sensors relayed to him that the turrets defending the Federation base were almost dismantled, and he allowed a faint hint of a smile to grace his lips.


Liberator. As soon as the defenses are down, I want one missile strike towards their Walker bays. Then dispatch squadrons five through nine for mopping up operations. Minimal collateral.”


“Aye, sir. But we’re picking up unknown entities entering the-”


Whatever warning his SIC was about to give, it wasn’t relevant the instant the warning shot rocketed across the Liberator’s bow.

 

 

****

 

 

“Good shot. If they do not cease and desist, return fire. Aim to disable weapons only. We can’t engage in combat over a populated city.” The Captain ordered, staring out over the city through the UFF Olympic’s viewscreen. “Scramble Raptors, and launch our Walker squadron.”

 

“Aye, sir. This is Olympic Squadron 1. Launching.”

 

Edited by It's A Gundam MkII
  • Upvote 4

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: <<I should get one of those!>> The Irishman remarked as he deftly guided his mech away from the imminent blossoms of flame and explosion.

For what it was worth, before the Behemoths found themselves cloaked in fire and smoke, the last thing any paying attention to the notoriously cheeky white-and-green shotgunning machine would see was it beginning to beat a hasty tactical by re-positioning turning side-on, shotgun trained upon them in one hand while the other was occupied with sticking a certain mechanical finger the height of a child straight upwards.

Always had to get the last word in.

Retros burning, the mech egressed as so while the missiles closed upon the attacking Colonists.

Edited by Oshino Meme

helo frens

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