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The year is 2558. The Human-Covenant war is over, but the universe remains a dangerous place. Jul ‘Mdama’s Covenant Remnants are still at large. The Insurrection lies hidden in countless human colonies. The UEG is finally beginning to recover from its nearly 30 year long conflict with the most powerful military force it had ever faced. Pirates roam the outer edges of colonised territories, while the Halo array sits quietly, secretly holding some of the galaxy's darkest threats and secrets. On the edges of Human space, ONI Strident-class frigate, FFG Prophet of Retribution, has gone missing. The UNSC doesn’t have many resources to spare, but with the surge in Spartan-IVs following the events on the Forerunner shield world of Requiem, and with help from the forces under Thel ‘Vadam and his Swords of Sanghelios, they can afford to send a few of the best. The UNSC dispatched the newly refurbished UNSC Madrigal to investigate. This old design has been given new life with energy shielding and plasma weaponry. Its hangar has been expanded, and most of the Marine bunks removed and replaced with a rudimentary War Game simulator. After several weeks of patrols in the area, and a few run-ins with local pirate gangs, the crew of the Madrigal finally got a solid lead: One of the pirate crews mentioned a Human ship that was attacked by a big pirate gang but got away. Two old Covenant DAV class Corvettes, led by a T’voan Kig-Yar Matriarch, D’vorra. The first operation to be undertaken in the search for the PoR, Operation: TAKEN FLAG, begins immediate preparation. 

 

The Madrigal

Your home away from home. The Madrigal is a Halberd-class destroyer that was nearly lost in the Battle for Earth in 2552. Now she’s been given new life, with energy shielding technology and 4 plasma cannons replacing 14 of it’s Archer Missile bays. As stated previously, most of her 50 Marine bunk capacity has been gutted, and replaced with a simplified version of the War Games simulator found on larger installations such as the Infinity or ANVIL station. This simulator is not nearly as advanced, relying on larger, simpler risers, and hologram projectors. The hangar has also been expanded, allowing space for two F-41 Broadsword interceptors, as well as eight OF92 Booster Frames. One of the Madrigal’s usual Pelican drop ships was lost to ensure adequate space. The remaining Pelican was replaced with the up-gunned G79H variant.

 

The Crew

The remaining original crew of the Madrigal are career officers, all having served during the Human-Covenant War. Many of them are recent acquisitions, though, picked from a selection of candidates by Captain Jerome Blake. Blake is a private man, and is rarely seen outside the bridge. His crew are diligent and perform their jobs exceptionally. The Madrigal no longer carries a complement of Marines, but does have a dedicated ODST Squad on board, for ship security. This squad was picked from the best of the Madrigal’s former Marine complement. Known colloquially as Hammer Squad, these elite troops keep the crew safe and occasionally are sent in as support for Spartan operatives.


 

Character Profile layout:

 

Name: (What’s your name, soldier?)

Species: (Because maybe you prefer one of those alien types?)

Gender: (What’re your pronouns, fam?)

Age: (How old are you?)

Appearance: (This can be a written description, a picture, fan art, whatever. Source your arts, people.)

Rank: (Where do you fall in your rank structure? A note: Spartan-IVs are all ranked as Spartans, but can hold certain inter-Spartan ranks and specializations, whereas older Spartan units fell under UNSC Naval NCO ranks. These ranks have since been mostly swept under the regular branch ranking system.)

Personality: (What are you like, what makes you, you?)

Background: (Where you come from, what you did before now, how you got here, if you want to go there)

Equipment: (What’s your loadout? Feel free to get creative, but don’t go crazy.)

Skills: (Any specializations or extracurricular skills to note? Put ‘em here!)

Flaws:(These aren’t optional, where are your breaking points, what holds you back, and where can I poke to give you delicious character development?)

 

Rules:

1. Forum rules obviously apply. Keep it clean! Don’t make the admins come into our home.

2.  We write this together. I may know the story beats, but we all work together to reach them. So be nice to each other!

3. If you have issues, talk about ‘em! I can’t know something isn’t working if you don’t tell me, so don’t be afraid to do so!

4. This one’s a little special. Since we’re all doing this jolly cooperation thing, I’m also gonna be pretty lax with what you as players can control. My idea is to allow you guys to write scenes that are dynamic and enjoyable to read and write, and so I don’t end up with a players vs GM situation. That means you can control NPCs not only on the ship, but also enemy NPCs during missions, within reasonable limits. I ask that you take this responsibly, and not make every NPC you interact with a bunch of brainless zombies waiting for the slaughter. 

5. It will likely not be an issue here, as PvP isn’t super likely to happen but if you guys ever fire up the simulator for a round of War Games, let's put it all out here. Don’t god-mod or auto-hit, y’all know the drill by now. 

6. Be original fam, keep your characters away from canon bloodlines at all costs.

7. Keep your loadouts sane. Upgraded or tinkered with weapons are fine. I will even approve most REQ weapons. Most. Looking at you, Void’s Tear.

 

Other Important stuff:

This RP is by design, a short term game. It has a definitive endpoint in mind. That endpoint is not designed to end characters in any way(unless you want it to, of course) and if players are willing, the game can be extended past this endpoint!

I’m only human, and I’m inherently fallible. Mistakes will be made here and there. I’m also not the most experienced of GMs, as many of you know. I’ve helped run a game here in OTC and I took over for Corpus Rahkshi when our dear friend Adders vanished. If something seems amiss or if I’m being a butt head about something, lemme know, cause I genuinely want to be as excellent a GM as I can be for you all!

Oh! Most important, is this here magic link that will take you to the best place to look up stuff that might be unfamiliar to you: https://www.halopedia.org/


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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Posted (edited)

March 4th, 2558

Sverdlovsk System

0800 hours

 

  In the star dotted blackness of space, a single UNSC Halberd class destroyer floated serenely through an asteroid field, darkened save for the light of her sub-light engines and the occasional thruster firing to adjust course through the dense three dimensional maze of the drifting chunks of rock and ice and ore. She'd left slipspace a week ago, and had made her way silently Through the asteroid field on the outer edges of the system since then. On the other side was a fueling station frequented by all kinds of pirates, including one very important target. The very ones the Madrigal was here to find and intercept. ONI had requisitioned the Joint-Venture warship to find their own missing ship, UNSC FFG Prophet of Retribution, and finally the Madrigal had picked up a lead here on the edges of human space. Two old DAV Covenant Corvettes, the spoils of a large pirate gang, had seen the ship, and even tried to attack it, but the ONI ship had gotten away. Local intelligence had pointed to this fuel station, and so the Madrigal had lain in wait, running dark as space, waiting for their target to return to fuel.

 

  Now it was time. The ship began to increase its pace as it came alive, lights and weapons activating across the destroyer, ready to begin the inevitable conflict that would be a part of the following hours. Inside, the bustle of activity was even more frenetic. Crew scrambled to ready stations and joked with each other that it was about #### time they'd been allowed to turn on the lights. Even so, there was certain level of anxiety. The Madrigal was untested following her refit. She'd never seen a real battle since she'd nearly been lost during the Battle for Earth in 2552. Energy shields and plasma weapons were now a part of her complement, but there was no accounting for unforeseen circumstances. The armory prepared for Spartans to begin suiting up, and in the hangar, the pilots and techs began readying both the Broadsword Interceptors and the OF92 Booster Frames that would allow the Spartans to complete their missions.

  Each Spartan knew their mission, it had been gone over time and again before they'd even arrived in-system.

>>>begin transmission

Office of Naval Intelligence brief on Operation: TAKEN FLAG

Target: Log data of two (2) DAV Corvette class Covenant vessels under control of Kig-Yar Pirate group. Group is led by T'voan Matriarch D'vorra . Spartan Operatives are issued eight(8) OF92 Booster Frames to facilitate attack and boarding of Corvette vessels. Target's are protected by escort of Type-27 Banshee fighters, reports suggest no more than a dozen(12) of these craft. Targets have additional escort of at least four(4) Seraph fighter craft. Crew of corvettes is presumed to be largely Kig-Yar of various phenotypes. Disposal or capture of vessels following extraction of data is for team lead determination.

Secondary Targets: If the pirates have captured prisoners, locate and assess for rescue operations.

<<<end transmission

 

Edited by The UltimoScorp
misplaced apostrophe

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: Vali 'Sakuai [Madrigal Hangar]

Off to the side inside the stocked hangar bay of the Madrigal an anachronism readied her gear. Tucked away within the service alcove, an oddity for sure, she was her own little island in the bustling sea of activity that filled the rest of the hangar. Even so, it wasn't difficult to pick Vali out from the rest of the ship's crew, the white armor plates that she methodically secured to her suit contrasting sharply against the dull green of the UNSC equipment around. To say that she was the odd one out would be an understatement, though it wasn't a fact that she paid any mind.

Another nanolaminate plate hissed into place, the form-fitting seal molding itself to the underlying layers reassuringly. The remainder of the armor, everything save her helmet and bracers currently secured, occupied the other half of the supply crate which she was currently seated on. Vali took a moment from her work to observe the ebb and flow of the activity before her.

Despite the disparate equipment and foreign surroundings, the atmosphere was almost familiar. Well, as familiar as it could be, what with the sharp cacophony of the human's language in place of Sangheili and the smell of oil and metal rather than the light tinge of ionized plasma in the air. Still, regardless of the species it seemed that the buzz of anticipation before a battle was a universal constant. Even from her still somewhat limited repertoire of English she could hear jokes and blessings being exchanged between comrades from under the louder shouts of workers preparing equipment and machinery, not unlike her own people before a battle. Even those which she could not find words for she could recognize the tone behind.

It was not the first time she had gone into battle alongside the humans, she had seen their ships in combat side by side with the Sword's own vessels, though it would certainly be a first for deploying from a human vessel and fighting side by side with their warriors. Of course, she had been briefed prior to this assignment on the human's combat doctrine as well as their almost religious adherence to rigid structure and hierarchy within their military. And she was going into battle with them, unwilling to pass up an opportunity such as this she had petitioned the Shipmaster of the Madrigal to allow her to accompany the strike team. Her knowledge of the enemy frigate's design going far to convince the human to allow her to do so. That, and it happened to be a stipulation of the position which the humans had agreed to give her on the ship that she was a combat asset as much as any other soldier onboard.

The last of her armor snapped into place, though her helmet still sat empty on the crate, and her attention shifted over to inspecting her weapons as as gloved hand unhinged the cooling mechanism on her rifle. Despite the activity none of the humans really saw fit to approach her, not that she particularly blamed them, though she would occasionally catch a glance or a look that quickly turned away when she met it. Humans were odd.

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IC: Julia-G101 - Madrigal Armory

No matter how many times Julia slipped on her armour, the pre-mission anticipation never truly left. 

She'd learned, between missions, about a particular style of acting that some Old Earth actors used. Instead of using facial expressions purely, many would create characters based on masks with certain exaggerated emotions or feelings. They'd stare at a mask with a grumpy frown and momentarily recreate that expression and feeling in their head before turning to the audience, mask donned. And then they'd be that person, for however long the play would last. Like a persona.

Julia stared at her helmet, almost amused at the idea of her and her fellow Spartans being like actors in a play. Each of their helmets representing their individual personas and roles. 

She'd told Artur of the idea, once, and he'd found that particularly funny. Hearing poorly written Greek tragedy recited back to you whilst you're midway through ducking Insurrection goons was the exact opposite of funny, though. 

The thought dissipated as she slipped on her CQB headpiece, numerous mechanisms clicking into place. She breathed in deep, reaching for her M6H2 and checking the ammo in the magazine for a final time. Three times was better than one. 

Her silenced magnum clipped to her magnetic slot on her thigh as she gripped her sub-machine gun tight, inspecting it idly. 

Anticipation was good. It was only when anticipation turned to fear that she should worry.

OOC: Open to interaction briefly before the mission begins.

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IC: Artur-G013 [Madrigal Armory]

Languidly tapping at the TACPAD on his left wrist, Artur read over the mission details for what had to be the nineteenth time in half as many minutes. Familiar as he was with his armour, it didn't take him long at all to be fully suited up and ready to go; the only thing he had left to do after pulling down his helmet and letting the seals engage was to wait for the others and make his way to the hangar. And, since he had never been good at waiting—jittery, they'd called him many times—he had to have something to mess other than compulsively checking his weaponry and armour status.

Without looking up, as soon as he heard Julia's helmet slide on, he spoke up: "You see what they want us to get to those ships on?" he asked, staring at the one line in particular. "Those old OF92 boosters. Do you remember what happened to the last Artur they had ride one of those things?" Somewhat over-dramatically, he brought his gauntleted hands up, clapping them together loudly. "Crushed between two cruisers, like a Grunt under a gravity hammer." Not that he was supposed to know about that, of course; but he'd be far from the first Spartan to have gone digging around in files they shouldn't. Nor the first to be covering their pre-battle anxiety with dark humour, trying to lighten their own mood and that of the rest of their fireteam.

"I don't like it, Julia. I don't think this mission will be the smashing success that command is hoping for, not based on that precedent."

Edited by Pteronura Brasiliensis
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i'm a south american giant otter now

 

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IC: Julia-G101 - Madrigal Armory

She looked back, her helmet hiding her expression but the audible sigh from behind the yellow visor could probably lead Artur to hazard a guess at her visible reaction. 

"I want you to know if that happens, it'll be entirely your level of competence at fault." Julia replied, experimentally checking the sights on her M20-S. "You'll be fine." 

She added the last bit quickly, as at least some reassurance. Julia knew Artur well enough to know that, whilst it wasn't that he was particularly anxious about, he suffered from pre-battle nerves just as much as everyone else did. It helped, just as his terrible jokes helped her in a small way.

"...Those Kig-Yar'll have a crushing defeat to swallow." 

An invisible smirk.

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis

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IC: Artur-G013 [Madrigal Armory]

"And you say my puns are bad."

Artur stood, slowly walking his way over to a rack full of weapons. "What do you think, Julia? Take the DMR, or the Five-K?" He turned back, holding each rifle in his hands. "Probably going to be some close quarters on that ship, but on the other hand, they love to fill their ships with nice long hallways and big, open hangar spaces." It was obvious which he'd prefer to take, of course, but preference and mission suitability weren't always the same thing. It was a maxim that had been drilled into his head since he was a child, and part of why he couldn't understand, at all, the fascination the newer Spartan generation had with colouring their armour with all sorts of outlandish pigments and patterns.

At least they were effective enough.

"I suppose it depends what the others take, doesn't it? Normally I'd say we follow the normal plan, you rush through and clear a path, I follow and clean up behind." He glanced past the doors to the armory, as one uniform-clad sailor went rushing off towards the hangar. "Maybe whoever's in charge will send us off to do what we do best, right?" Even Artur's normally-muted emotional expression couldn't hide the slight bit of wistful hope behind those words. "Speaking of, who is the fireteam lead, anyways? Seems like they should've established that in the mission briefing."

OOC: @Dane-gerous

Edited by Pteronura Brasiliensis
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i'm a south american giant otter now

 

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IC: [Myra Vasquez - Madrigal Armory]

Over at the suit-up stations, a dark grey Mjolnir armor with red markings was waiting for its operator to step in. It’s components were already mounted to the assembly station’s robotic arms, while one of the armory techs was scrolling through data on the station’s built-in screen, comparing the readouts to a datapad in his free hand.

“I appreciate the company, but you know you don’t need to be here for this part, right, ma’am? It’s just a standard hardware check.” the tech said, absent-mindedly, while ticking off checkboxes.

“I know. Personal preference. Something to keep the hands busy pre-prep. Helps me focus.” came the reply from behind a crate. Myra Vasquez stood up from where she’d been kneeling next to the rest of her gear. She was in her Mjolnir’s undersuit, also with a datapad in hand, taking inventory of her suit and equipment. Again. It was the third time since they got the word to get ready. She’d neatly lined up all her medical gear on top of the large crate, in the order it’d be strapped to the suit. Speaking of which, the tech cleared his throat. 

“Alright Spartan, I’ve got green across the board. It’s ready when you are.”

“Can I see?” she asked. The tech shrugged and handed her his pad. She scrolled over the readout with a concentrated look, then nodded approvingly before handing the gizmo back. “Thanks.”

She stepped into the assembly station. These ones aboard the Madrigal were somewhat smaller than she was used to. But then again this wasn’t Infinity’s S-Deck. But they got the job done just the same. As soon as her hands and feet were touching the indicated spots in the station, the machine began to work its magic and a few seconds and a couple hundred pounds later, Myra stepped off the pad in her Valkyrie armor. The tech then began to attach the laid out pouches and hardcases. Meanwhile, she waited for her systems to run their self diagnostic, and when it came back green as expected, she took off her scanner helmet and clipped it to her side.

The tech confirmed the diagnostic, saying: “Looks good. Anything else you need, ma’am?”

“No, thanks. You’re dismissed.” she said, rolling her shoulders and checking she could reach all the extra storage easily. 

The tech gave her a quick salute. “Good luck out there. Give ‘em a couple of kicks for me, would you?”

Myra nodded, before making her way over to the weapon racks, where she spotted a pair of other Spartans already prepping their loadouts. She nodded at them amicably. 

“Nice day for VBSS.” she greeted.
 

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis @Dane-gerous

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IC: Julia-G101 - Madrigal Armory

The Spartan allowed herself a sensible chuckle at Artur's rebuke of her awful joke, before nodding to Myra, both in greeting and in response to Artur's question. 

"Sure is." Julia folded her arms, gesturing with one hand to Artur-G013. "My partner had some questions about the approach here. Do you want us to stick close?"

OOC: @Vezok's Friend @Pteronura Brasiliensis

 

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IC: [ Vasquez - Madrigal Armory]

“Ideally, yes.” Myra replied, pulling out an M20 plus ammo and giving it a quick once-over. “But with two targets we might have to split up.” 

She really didn’t like the idea of that, but the tactical situation favored going after both corvettes simultaneously. It’d prevent them from covering each other and they would have split their escort to defend both - meaning less defenses for each vessel.

“Unless you have a different idea?”

OOC: @Dane-gerous

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IC: Artur-G013 [Madrigal, Armory]

"Perhaps Julia and I could focus on one vessel, with the rest focusing on another?" Artur suggested. "We're Headhunters, so it wouldn't be our first time with such an insertion. If the rest of you can draw enough attention from their support craft on the way to one corvette, the two of us could hang behind a bit before blitzing for the other. Once we're in it's a clean sweep through the vessel, one end to the other." Of course, missions rarely went so simply as that, especially so in Artur's experience.

But he knew what he was best at, and close quarters combat as part of a full fireteam was not it.

His suggestion would have added benefits, too, beyond just catering to his and Julia's skillsets better than a more standard deployment would. "Plus, with their attention divided between repelling your assault, and trying to hunt down the pair of us in the other vessel, it should help relieve some of the pressure. Keeps the rest of you from getting squashed, so to speak."

Behind the mirrored visor, Artur's own silly grin crept across his features, despite the pre-mission anxiousness. Julia's going to hate that one.

OOC: @Dane-gerous @Vezok's Friend

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Posted (edited)

IC: Julia-G101 - Madrigal Armory

She felt very lucky that her visor prevented Myra from seeing her expression at all, at that last pun.

Edited by Dane-gerous

 

 

 

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IC: [ Vasquez - Madrigal Armory]

Myra’s expression remained neutral, but she could feel her jaw clench slightly. She didn’t like the idea of sending off the duo on their own. But they were headhunters. She hadn’t worked with their type before - or any 3s for that matter. But they all knew the stories. This was exactly their kind of action...

“No worries,” she replied, diplomatically, “your expertise won’t go to waste.”

She’d finished with the SMG and pulled a Magnum from the next rack, did the necessary checks, grabbed extra ammunition and holstered it on her thigh. She briefly thought about bringing the trusty DMR as well, but decided against it.

“Alright, hangar bay. Time to meet the others.” she said. She nodded at the headhunters and walked out of the armory.

A few minutes later, she stepped foot into the Madrigal’s hangar, which was bustling with activity. Looking around, she saw the deck crew going through the checks for the spacecraft on the flightline. Seeing a regular human maintainer sitting atop a booster frame while working through a checklist had something comical about it. Without the increased size and armored bulk, the image of a kid trying to ride an adult bicycle popped up in her mind.

Then she spotted the Sangheili. Liaison officer from the swords of Sangheilios - Arbiter's good guy hingeheads - she recalled from her assignment briefing. She didn’t know what counted as attractive among elites, but compared to the dissident fanatic ones they’d fought since the formal truce, this one was a vast improvement in her eyes.

That’s when the Sangheili looked up from her weapon and their gazes met for an awkward instant. A bit unsure about proper greetings, Myra tried: 

“Hello there.”
 

OOC: @sunflower

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IC: Vali 'Sakuai [Madrigal Hangar]

Out of the periphery of her vision Vali noticed a larger armored shape step into the hangar proper, the disruptive gray and maroon standing out against the muted tones that otherwise filled the human's ship. Well that, and by nature of actually standing out. Vali glanced up from inspecting her weapon, placing the repeater back onto the crate, and was somewhat surprised to find the human looking at her in turn. Ah, right, one of the humans' Spartan soldiers, with the height and the armor they could be nothing else. For a split second Vali thought the human appeared uncomfortable, until they spoke and broke the silence.

“Hello there.”

"Spartan," Vali greeted in turn, dipping her head ever slightly as she had seen humans do in welcome before. Her voice, almost lilting in its cadence, was far cry from the harsh yells from the more brutish members of her species. The Sangheili rose from her makeshift seat, helmet tucked beneath her arm in near mirror fashion to Myra's own. Vali paused for a moment, searching for the name that went with the Spartan. She had, of course, been introduced to the Madrigal's complement of Spartans, though humans tended to look similar.

"Vasquez," She finished, rolling over the unfamiliar syllables. "The time for battle draws near, yes? I hope your Shipmaster has a clever plan, Kig-Yar are devious things."

OOC: @Vezok's Friend


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IC: [ Vasquez - Madrigal Hangar]

The Spartan nodded. “That they are.” she agreed. “We have a plan. We’ll brief the details once everyone is here.”

“You’re Vali, right? If you don’t mind the shortened name. You can call me Myra if that’s easier, by the way.”

OOC: @sunflower
 


 

 

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IC: Julia-G101 - Madrigal Armory

She looked to Artur, clipping her SMG to her back mag-holster.

"Let's follow. Use the carbine, by the way." The navy and gunmetal Spartan said, before beginning to walk off, looking back to see if Artur-G013 would actually follow instead of stressing over primaries for an hour.

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis

Edited by Dane-gerous

 

 

 

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IC: Madrigal Armory

As Julia stood, expectantly, by the door, the entrance opened with a hydraulic whoosh to reveal another member of the team. Spartan Jillian Munroe stood on the other side, still dressed in her BDUs. Under the crook of her arm rests - as always - her service cap, colored the same Navy grey as her uniform, and on her face is a wan, embarrassed smile. Jill gestures towards deeper into the armory as she attempts to slide past the already kitted-up super soldier. "Sorry, just need to slide past - got held up on the way down." She said, by way of apology. "Just gotta get changed and into the suit."

Truthfully, it'd been her own fault. Time had slipped past her as she had worked on a particularly frustrating problem - an old back-up radio, a relic really, from the Human-Covenant War, was simply refusing to cooperate with the latest in UNSC standard encryption protocols. To fix that, one had to all but tear the thing apart, manually solder new chips into the circuitboards and carefully remove others. At this point, it was questionable if this particular radio would ever work, and it was even more questionable if she would ever need to use it - she already had three other successful "patients" to use in the field, but Jill found that sort of question less than useful. If it could be done, it would be done - only a matter of how long it would take. Besides, there was value in older equipment, stuff that OPFOR wouldn't consider when jamming, or more easily repaired thanks to the relative simplicity of the parts.

And now, here she was, more than a few minutes late to a process that would already take a while. It's not like you can just slip into a MJOLNIR suit, after all. All she could hope is that she wouldn't leave them waiting at the dropship for too long...

 

OOC: @Dane-gerous hallo there!

Edited by FarflungWanderer

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IC: Vali 'Sakuai [Madrigal Hangar]

"Vali is acceptable, Spartan Myra," said Saignheili replied, before her gaze lifted to glance over the Spartan's armored shoulder. Ostensibly, there would be more making their way into the hangar soon.


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IC: Artur-G013 [Madrigal Armory]

Artur's eyes squinted, behind the visor of his helmet. Julia had to be trying to mess with him, he was sure of it. While he was just as able with the carbine as any other Spartan III was, his focus and skills lended more to staying further back, picking off enemies from afar, or cleaning up behind Julia and watching her back. Close-quarters action with an assault rifle variant wasn't his norm, and even the smaller Covenant corvettes had more than enough space to use the DMR in most of their area. She had to be trying to make him pick the carbine, just so that she could immediately try and make fun of him for picking the wrong weapon immediately after.

So, while Julia stood, looking back at him, he slowly, deliberately put the MA5K back on the rack, before stowing his DMR on his back, magnetic 'holster' strips drawing the rifle to his armour with a light clunk. "Alright, good to g—" Of course, he was quickly cut off by the entrance of yet another to the armory, just as he and Julia were about to leave. If it weren't for the overly large physique, he might not have even realized they were a Spartan, given that they weren't even wearing a techsuit. Good thing there's still a bit of time before we leave slipspace.

"Not so good to go."

He glanced at the fresh entrant, quickly finding her name on the uniform she was wearing. "Spartan Munroe," he said, giving a nod. "Ready to deal with some Skirmishers? Since their shipmistress is T'vaoan, I imagine most of the Kig-Yar on those corvettes will be too. Should prove interesting."

OOC: @Dane-gerous @FarflungWanderer


profiles i guess

i'm a south american giant otter now

 

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"Sure, I'm ready." Jill replied with a frown. "Not looking forward to it, though. Small, fast-moving..." - she, in not much less than five syllables, likened them to those with an active Oedipal complex - "All kinds of hidden compartments and passageways they could use to get the drop on us." Her free hand absently scratched at her brow as she spoke. "It's been a while since I've done a boarding action."

 She gave a once-over of the Spartan who had addressed her, DMR on his back. A strange choice, she thought, for interior fighting. "What about you, Artur? You feeling up for this?"

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis @Dane-gerous

Edit: Apologies, getting my locations mixed up - editing now

Edited by FarflungWanderer

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IC:

"'Scuse me," a voice came from Artur's left, its owner plucking the same carbine off of the rack. The larger Spartan had been in the room all the while; truthfully he had been for the last hour and a half. Check, recheck, and check again. Always. Your gear was your responsibility, and if you dropped with something that didn't work? Who was going to offer you a replacement? The Covenant? ODSTs lived or died on the back of their discipline. You maintained your gear like it was your religion, learned to field strip your weapons like your life depended on it, and treat chance as the enemy as much as any Brute. Diligence was practice, practice was habit, good habits keep you alive. Simple as that. You couldn't plan for a lucky hit taking out your pod, but you could make sure nothing'd surprise you when you got down. "Gonna need this."

And it was a ritual. A superstition, just like everyone else who lived to deploy twice. Some people joked, some people sparred, and some people prepared. Which was why Nikolai had been hunched over a workbench for nearly an hour meticulously disassembling, inspecting, and if need be cleaning his gear. The shotgun and carbine he was willing to trust the armory officer on. Mostly. The shotgun had already been inspected, and as he stood in place he gave a cursory evaluation of the MA5K's mechanical actions. Satisfied he nodded at the other Spartans; two already in their armor, one only just arriving.

The last he shot a knowing grin, clearly recognizing a latecomer when he saw one. He'd been in the position often enough. 

Nik at least was already in his tech suit, just waiting to step onto the Brokkr. His armor had been the first inspection on the list. He'd had to enlist the same poor tech the 'Jumper had harassed about her armor to check on the software, but everything came up green. Did he trust those little lights? No. Did he have any proof they lied? No. But never bet on it. It still felt... Wrong. He'd dropped in the ODST gear so often this new, sleek, black-tinted, humanoid MBT just didn't feel quite right. But he couldn't complain about the specs. A little fruit basket, he suspected, from the job he'd turned down. Spooks did play the long game, didn't they?

"Fine morning to you, folks." He flashed the other three a quick, friendly wave with his off-hand. Not that Nik stopped moving; he took a few sideways steps back to his bench and laid the carbine to rest next to the other goodies liberated from the Madrigal's armory and his own M6H2. That wasn't quite familiar yet, either. He could have field stripped and reassembled his old SOCOM with his eyes closed, but the M6H2 just wasn't that familiar yet. He'd resisted swapping over for an age and a half. It kicks, he used to argue. The SOCOM had an integrated suppressor and brake, it didn't move a hair when you fired. Made the next shot right on target. You could compensate, sure, but why bother? What good is that much extra range without a scope? You might as well switch to your primary if you're taking a shot that far.

Nik, someone finally had said, how long's it been since you felt a gun kick at all? Take the extra range.

Point taken.

"Munroe, isn't it? Late start?" He asked, finally stepping onto the mechanism. He couldn't quite keep eye contact while the whirring armature installed the smoky plate on top his tech suit, but the casual air was unmistakable. The conversation was just as forthcoming despite his mandated stillness. It didn't take long, and he stretched languidly as he stepped off. Gear found magnetic strips with practiced ease, the same friendly smile fixed on the small gaggle of Spartans to which he spoke. "Sleep in?"

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis @Dane-gerous @FarflungWanderer


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:

    Jill flashed a toothy smile somewhere between kill me and oh don't you start as she started to scoot on past Julia and towards the changing rooms and lockers at the back of the armory. "Nah, got stuck trying to fix a [invective] radio. Lost track of time." She replied. "Really starting to hope that I'm not the only person late right about now..."

OOC: I'll keep talking to people if they engage with me, otherwise I'll start getting suited up. @Krayzikk @Pteronura Brasiliensis

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IC: Artur-G013 [Madrigal Armory]

He'd been about to reply to the preparing Spartan when another one in the room caught his attention, grabbing the carbine he'd just set back on the rack. His visor-hidden eyes narrowed again, just like when Julia had tried to trick him into taking the carbine along, rather than his standard DMR. If he didn't know better—or, perhaps, if he had been off of his smoothers for a day or two—he'd have been completely, utterly convinced that they were all banding together to mess with him. Even with being up to date on the smoothers, it all seemed a little too coincidental.

Everybody all coming together in the armory, rather than the hangar, while he had just been finished setting up. Luring him into conversations. Telling him he'd have to fly a booster frame.

And now, the most unforgivable, taking his carbine.

Sure, it wasn't particularly special like his DMR was, or his pistol, but he'd called that MA5K back when he was first placed on the Madrigal with Julia. There was a very specific pattern of scratches and marks on the brass deflector, and the break on the trigger had just the slightest bit more creep to it than any of the others. It was distinct, recognizable, and it had less throat erosion than some of the others, making it shoot just marginally better. It was very similar to some of the ones he'd been given to train with back on Onyx, in all those respects.

And it was his.

And this Spartan IV was claiming it right before a mission.

He forced his facial muscles to relax a bit, taking a couple slow breaths. It wasn't either of his special requisitions, tailored for what he and Julia normally did; it was just a rifle. Just an average Five-K carbine. There was nothing wrong with somebody else using it, right? "Trigger on that one creeps a little more than usual," he told Nik, just as the man finished getting fully suited up. "Not as mushy as those Five-Bs could be, though. Just don't get surprised by it."

This was thoroughly awkard. It was part of why he didn't like talking to people, especially not without Julia helping him. He got sidetracked and lost easily. Conversations were a lot harder to follow than missions. Of course, that thought quickly reminded him that he hadn't yet answered Spartan Munroe's question.

"Anyways, I'm not particularly worried. I don't think it's anybody's first time, running this sort of mission. Just odd to be going in against the Covenant, instead of some Insurrectionists, for me."

OOC: @Krayzikk @FarflungWanderer @Dane-gerous


profiles i guess

i'm a south american giant otter now

 

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IC Cassie Rawlins A313 - Madrigal Armory:

"Catch me sleeping on a job like this when I'm dead~" Came a cheery, if mechanically modulated reply from a yellow armored woman stepping off of her own Brokkr armor machine. She moved over to the weapons rack with a grace unmatched by most of the other Spartans in the room. It wasn't hard to figure out why, at least for those who were aware of the Spartan-III program. As an Alpha Class Spartan, she'd had her augmentations far longer than anyone else currently in the room. Only the Legendary S-IIs had more experience.

She pulled open a locker marked 'A-313' and retrieved a garish looking MA5D from within. The weapon was coated in a flame orange paint that clashed so horrendously with the yellow of her armor that it almost hurt to look at. Inscribed in the sloped electronics cowling was the word 'Felicia', and under the barrel hung an M301 grenade launcher.

"Those birds aren't good for much, but to they come apart reaaaaal nice under a hail of fire and metal~" As if to accentuate her point, she slid a 40mm grenade home and locked the shell in place. After loading the weapon fully, she set it on a table nearby, and returned to the weapons locker. A cut down M6H2 found its way to her thigh, a pared down, barebones backup lacking almost all of the electronics and sights that were found on many of it's more conventional brethren. Next was a duffel, into which was placed various demolition charges and other explosives. She wasn't about to go into a pair of ships chock full of those disgusting birds without some of her favorite toys, after all.

The final item that came out of the locker was by far the largest: an M41 Jackhammer. The eponymous SPNKr rocket launcher. Her most favorite toy. That got the honor of being slid onto her back, held by the magnetic clamp strips in her armor. The duffel bag she threw across her shoulder and pulled it strapped tight around her side. The rifle, she kept in her hands, right where it belonged. With a devilish grin that could almost be heard, she looked around the room and spoke once more, "Who else is ready to blow some #### up?~"

 

 

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Posted (edited)

IC: Julia-G101 - Madrigal Armory

The bigger Spartan seemed to be jokingly grilling Spartan Munroe, who'd greeted her before, but also had his hands around the rifle Artur was inspecting for a moment. Artur seemed to be engaging in conversation fine enough, but she knew how he was. She sighed.

The Spartan-III sometimes wondered if she needed one of those grapple devices so she could periodically pull her partner away.

For now, she leaned against the doorway, patiently waiting for him to wrap his conversation up. If her eyes were visible she'd have given him the "Please wrap up the conversation with your old friend that I don't know and you just met again in the store whilst looking for flour, honey." look. 

Another rolled up, cheerily pulling out a SPNKr rocket launcher and various other explosive items. Her demeanour was different. There was experience there, for sure. The tag on the locker said A-313, didn't it? 

An eyebrow raised beneath the CQB helmet. An Alpha company Spartan. 

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis @Krayzikk @FarflungWanderer

Edited by Dane-gerous

 

 

 

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IC: Madrigal Armory

There was positively lightning in the air between Nik and Artur - and as someone who has spent a lifetime around antennas would know, it's best to move and find shelter when a storm could hit. Quickly, Jill slipped past the remaining Spartans and made for the locker room so she could finally change out of her BDUs and into her undersuit, the first step of the armoring process.

Taking off clothes took barely any time at all, but putting on the undersuit always was a slow and irritating process. The material used was not quite spandex, but it was certainly spandex-adjacent, and like a diver's suit one needed to put the whole thing on across the entire body. This was where the trouble was, fighting against both the material and her body's own (considerable) limits to get the thing on. After a minute of excruciatingly un-Spartan-like levels of struggle (which, to the discerning ear, was audible from the other side of the locker room door), Jill reappeared and stepped towards the armor station to begin the process of the equipment being nigh-grafted onto her.

Standing inside of the hoop felt silly, arms and legs outstretched into a position to make it easier for the mechanical arms to do their work, but that was the sort of thing you got used to with time. Maybe someday they'd make a MJOLNIR kit one could strap on like a Marine's kevlar... someday.

Piece by piece, her power armor was locked into place around her body. The specific MJOLNIR kits that she used were mostly the standard WARRIOR-class, a reliable system that had a good trade in maneuverability and sturdiness. Her chest-piece and leg pieces were all of WARRIOR make, leaving her arms, and more importantly her helmet, to belong to the ANUBIS family of MJOLNIR kit. ANUBIS armor was meant for sensor work, with built-in equipment that any EWAR specialist would have dreamed of. The helmet in particular, according to what little Jill knew of it, was designed in concert with the Sangheili - an interesting bit of post-war cooperation. Regardless of who had built the thing, a helmet that could pick up and discriminate between the vast majority of the EM spectrum was aces in her book. The entire armor was painted a matte green, a deep olive that would have triggered some vague sense of familiarity for any UNSC personnel who fought on Earth. The paint used on the newest sets of armor was not of the highest quality, and already she could see chipping and flaking just from test use in War Games. Another problem she would have to manage later.

When the armoring process finally finished, Jill trod quickly (but not too quickly - no matter how long she had been wearing the suit, she always had the disconcerting feeling that the floors of a starship weren't rated for a ton-plus of flesh and metal distributed over two footprints-worth of area) to the equipment lockers so that she could grab her kit.

OOC: I'm not sure how long the armoring process takes, so feel free to leave for the hangar without me if it's a half-hour long process or some such. @Dane-gerous @The UltimoScorp @Pteronura Brasiliensis

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IC:

"Trust a marine not to tell time. You're fine."

Nik gave her a wider grin as she passed, something to show the humor. A little inter-service rivalry never hurt anyone as long as it was good-natured. And that was all he meant; most of these people he could recognize by name or face, but that didn't mean he knew them. That took time, and he hadn't had a whole lot of it with the Madrigal's compliment yet. Breaking the ice was important, especially with...

The III with his helmet on had tensed up for a second. Not a lot, nothing conscious, but there was just enough of it in his voice to accentuate the shift. He knew there were a few on board, they pretty much all seemed to be in the Armory with him. But a whole lot of information about them was still classified, and they seemed a bit... Twitchy. He had no qualms about their confidence, only their ability to play nice in a team. But he couldn't expect them to go bridging that gap all on their own, now could he?

"Appreciate the heads-up." He nodded to the helmeted Spartan, extending his fist to bump. Shaking hands never seemed right in a suit like this, bumping fists worked out better in his opinion. "Don't think we've had the chance to chat. I'm Markov."

"Covvies makes more sense than Innies ever did for me. Long as that SPNKr stays pointed down range," He raised his voice a touch, just to be sure the third SIII heard. "I'm happy."

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis@FarflungWanderer@The UltimoScorp

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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: Alice - The Madrigal - Armory -

Alice was bored, she'd run diagnostics on all systems of the Madrigal many time over now. Not because she needed to, but because she needed something to do. The ship was running as efficiently as she could make it, and since just about everything on the ship could run on it's own without the assistance of either human or AI it wasn't much of a concern. 

And so Alice watched the crew throughout the ship, observing them. 

"Morning Spartans! I hope you all had a hearty breakfast." Oh, she'd just spoken that through the Armory's speakers hadn't she? Well just observing was getting boring anyway. 

 

Edited by Snelly
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My Bzprpg Profiles, Six Kingdoms: Rebirth Profiles

Skyra | Savina | Darien | Hakari | Mekana | Oceanna | Taleen | Mimira | Denerium | Talinka | Arisaka | Wraith | Xxeth | Silene

 

 

 

 

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IC: Artur-G013 [Madrigal Armory]

Okay, this new IV wasn't all bad. He reached out his own hand, with a dull clang marking the fist-bump. "Artur," he replied, shooting a glance out of the corner of his eye at where Julia still stood. Please help, he tried to will her to telepathically hear, to no avail. He also had to try to ignore the louder S-III who had just made her entrance, strutting around in one of the most ridiculous armour paint jobs he'd ever seen.

Not to mention her choice of ordnance.

"Most of what Julia and I have gone in against was Insurrection," he said, shrugging in response to Nik's words. "Had some Covenant engagements, but not as much as some of the others we kne—" Of course, at that point he was cut off by the AI making her vocal entrance, leaving the flustered Spartan feeling even more awkward than before. "Well, I'll let you all finish up your prep. Place is getting crowded anyways." With a curt nod to the Spartans surrounding him, he quickly retreated from the tangle of social interaction, stepping out of the room just behind Julia.

"Please don't let that happen to me again."

OOC: @Dane-gerous


profiles i guess

i'm a south american giant otter now

 

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IC: Julia-G101 - Madrigal Armory (Towards The Hangar)

Julia visibly shuddered for a brief second, unsettled by the AI's voice on the loud speaker. She'd forgotten Alice could do that. Artur crawled back, to her relief. There was a slightly more respectful nod to the other Spartans as she too left the Armory, an eye on the other Spartan-III for a moment before.

She was sure she had some stories to share, if they ever had the opportunity.

"Disengaging is a skill you've yet to fully master, Artur." Julia chuckled, a little modulated under the helmet. "I'll cover for you next time. That yellow one was Alpha company, by the way, if you hadn't noticed. Thought I would have noticed that in the crew log..."

Admittedly, many of her and Artur's breed were covered in black ink. There likely wouldn't have been much to read other than assurance that her skillset was very much verified by whoever gave her the stamp to go.

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis

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IC: Artur-G013 [Madrigal corridor]

"I saw on her locker." He tsked quietly as they walked along. "Armour like that? Visually loud and physically loud? When we were all trained for stealth originally?" The disapproval in his tone was obvious. He already wasn't a big fan of the majority of different paint-jobs the new Spartans were always deciding to try out, almost prioritizing aesthetics over practicality and durability. Something as ridiculous as Cassie, though, that was another level entirely. At least she could be her own warning sign.

"And here I thought we were supposed to be the crazy ones."

OOC: @Dane-gerous

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IC: [ Vasquez - Madrigal Hangar]

Myra followed the Elite’s gaze. “Yeah, the rest should be on their way.” she said, then remembered there was a way to find out. “Actually, lemme check.”

“Alice,” she said, activating comms, “what’s the ready status of Spartan personnel in the armory?”
 

OOC: @sunflower @Snelly


 

 

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IC: Alice - The Madrigal - Hanger -

"They're all geared up and ready for action. Some of them are already heading this way." Alice responded helpfully. 

OOC: @sunflower @Vezok's Friend



My Bzprpg Profiles, Six Kingdoms: Rebirth Profiles

Skyra | Savina | Darien | Hakari | Mekana | Oceanna | Taleen | Mimira | Denerium | Talinka | Arisaka | Wraith | Xxeth | Silene

 

 

 

 

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IC: Julia-G101 - Madrigal Corridor (En-Route To Hangar)

"Well, you saw her gear, right?" She looked back again. "Atypical, even for this fireteam. I don't think explosives specialists care much about making noise, at any rate." 

A beat, as they approached the hangar.

"She survived, though, didn't she? That's more than most of our lot can say." She glanced over to Artur. 

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis

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IC: [ Vasquez - Madrigal Hangar]

“Thanks, Alice.” she replied, then looked back at Vali. 

“Saw in the dossiers that you’ve had previous experience with humans. You’ve had other liaison assignments?” she asked.
 

OOC: @sunflower


 

 

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IC: Artur-G013 [Madrigal corridor]

Artur nodded, wordless for the moment. There certainly weren't many Spartan IIIs left, no matter what company. NOBLE team exterminated on Reach, all except for Jun, who was the head of Spartan Operations; Echo, Gauntlet, and Red all likely had the same fates. Headhunter squads rotating in and out of existence like a carousel of suicide missions, not to mention Operations PROMETHEUS and TORPEDO, or almost of Gamma Company's absolute best falling when Onyx was attacked. The only ones still around, officially, were odd stragglers like himself, Julia, Cassie, Jun, and some others; while he shouldn't know about it, some of his digging had revealed the fates of most of Gamma company, being declared KIA in all manner of conflicts so that ONI could keep them as shadow operatives, and hide the illegal augmentations.

Only a handful officially alive, and only a couple hundred total left to serve in any capacity. The IIs had been hit just as hard as the years went by, not to mention how many they'd lost just in augmentations.

"That's just life for us, isn't it?" he said after a few moments. "Any of us. Anything to keep the threat of extinction away from our door. Twos, threes, and now fours; we're all the best of the best, so they'll keep sending us into the worst of the worst. No matter how expensive any of us are, mission success far outweighs mission expense." A practice which had held especially true for Spartan IIIs, much moreso than could be said for either other generation.

Up ahead he could see the hangar, more busy by far than the armory had been. He sighed, stopping in his tracks.

"Well, so long as it means that others actually get to be kids, it's all worth it, right?"

OOC: @Dane-gerous

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profiles i guess

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IC: Julia-G101 - Madrigal Corridor (Nearby Hangar)

She stopped with him, looking him where his eyes should be. There was a pang of guilt at bringing that up so offhandedly, but he wasn't wrong. Spartan lives were forfeited in exchange for what little peace humanity could afford. Childhoods bought with rescinded emotional maturity. 

But they were who they were. The most Julia could do was keep herself and her partner together enough to be able to continue to save lives.

"Yeah. Of course." An invisible, small smile. "Come on. Let's go catch up with Myra."

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis

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IC: Vali 'Sakuai [Madrigal Hangar]

At that the Sangheili shook her head, her posture making the motion look more like she was swinging her head from side to side than the decidedly human gesture. "As a matter of technicality, I suppose, your UNSC has assisted our Swords in battle before. Though I have not, as you humans say, been boots on the ground with your soldiers before," Vali began, before adding, "But no, this is my first assignment aboard one of your vessels. I am more of a warrior than a liaison these days, but the Swords believed this show of good faith was worth my consideration, so I obliged."

"It is strange, I will admit, though I suppose this isn't exactly an ordinary human ship either."

OOC: @Vezok's Friend


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IC: Artur-G013 [Madrigal hangar]

As sure as Julia seemed to be that it was absolutely all worth it—or, at least, as much as she tried to make it seem that was the case—Artur doubted he'd ever be fully in agreement. Still, he didn't have any choice in the matter either. In cryo, out of cryo, fly around in space, and do what he did best, that was what his life had become. At least he and Julia hadn't had to suffer the same fates that Alpha and Beta companies did. "At least these new ones get to volunteer, even if they're not built as well."

Mild jokes at the expense of the new generation of Spartans; everything back to normal.

Continuing on into the hangar with Julia at his side, it didn't take long to locate where Spartan Vasquez had gone, standing apart from all the normal technicians and the like and talking with their Sangheili attaché instead. Studiously ignoring the booster frames for the time being, he made his way over to the pair, coming up just as Vali was ending her sentence. "I don't know that ordinary means much anymore," he said once she was done, before turning to Myra.

"The other three should be on their way fairly shortly. Sorry that took so long. Got...cornered."

OOC: @Dane-gerous @Vezok's Friend @sunflower


profiles i guess

i'm a south american giant otter now

 

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IC: [ Vasquez - Madrigal Hangar]

Myra chuckled drily and nodded. “No, it certainly isn’t.” she agreed. “Normally we either go in with no support or all support. Unusual, but not the first time we’ve had unconventional setups. When you spend decades fighting on the defensive you gotta get creative - no offense.”

“I’d heard there were deployments on Sanghelios, but it’s all under wraps, as usual. In any case, it’ll be good to have you along in either diplomat or warrior capacity.”

She looked over to where the tech was finishing up on one of the booster frames and climbed off of the contraption. The engineers behind the design were clearly nuts - though it made sense in a way: No need for a plated hull and life support if the pilot had all that in their armor. Strip it down like a racing bike, build it around a miniature mac-gun and strap enough boosters to it for some serious speed.

“You familiar?” she asked the elite, indicating the odd spacecraft.

Just then, Artur and Julia arrived. Deep down, Myra felt a slight unease that she didn’t want to admit to herself. But the stories about the 3s...all just based on rumors and classified documents of course. Still, there was just something about them...like a coil wound up too tight. She quickly shoved the feeling back into its compartment for being unprofessional and covered it up with a smirk.

Cornered? Hope you let them live.”

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis @sunflower @Dane-gerous
 

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