Clad in Iron

[Let's Henshin!]

Ignore

Edited March 19, 2013 by Toa Onarax

[25K Now!]

 

~~~

“War grows out of the desire of the individual to gain advantage at the expense of his fellow man.”

~~

 

The battlefield is silent. Bloodstained hulks litter the area. Smoke rises into the darkened sky. Life does not exist in this place. There is nothing to interrupt the eerie quietness of the field. No screaming. No gunshots. No roars of massive machines of war.

 

Fitting.

 

Because by the end, there will be no one left to mourn the fallen.

 

~~

 

It is 2034 Anno Domini. Following the heels of a horrific conflict of the like that the world had never seen before, the British Empire and the European Alliance have agreed to an armistice, in the hopes that no more of their sons would die in their names. It is the best they can do. Peace will never be possible in this war-torn world, especially when the ambitious nations still stand.

 

In the east, a sleeping dragon prepares itself. Eager to capitalise on the weakness of the two world powers, the Empire of the Qing has begun to militarise, readying for an inevitable invasion of the colonial empires that humiliated it greatly in centuries past. It will return to its former glory, no matter what it takes.

 

Yet it is not only the Manchurians who are preparing for war. Nations around the world are stirring; in the wake of the horrific conflict, minor powers are seizing a chance to exert their dominance over the world stage.

 

The Mexican Republic, confident after its victory over the Dominion of America, has begun to expand deeper into the continent. Imperial Russia is once again in conflict with the Ottomans, the two declining powers fighting for control over Central Asia. Once a neutral country, Ethiopia too, wishes to take advantage of the sudden shift in the political scene, while the Tokugawa Shogunate harbours ambitions of claiming all of Eastern Asia for itself.

 

Uncertainty is everywhere in these troubled times. The steel titans of battle are calling for blood.

 

Humanity answers.

 

It is the time for war once more.

 

And it will change everything.

 

~~

 

Welcome to Clad in Iron, a RPG set in an alternate universe where the world still lies in the troubled times of the last several centuries. It is a world filled with conflict; a world where peace is a dream that can never be reached. A world that is completely different from the one we know.

 

Along the way, things changed. A little push here, a large prod there; and history as we know it disappeared into the veils of time. This is a world in constant flux; the fragile balance makes it ripe for change, no matter if that change is for the better or worse. As the player, it is your job to influence these changes.

 

How you go about doing so depends on how you play. Become a politician, working behind the scenes to influence the global war. Fight on the front lines as a common soldier. Start a revolution and overthrow your bourgeoisie oppressors. The possibilities are endless.

 

Of course, one of the major traits of this RPG is the existence of the humongous war machines; versatile steel titans that are used when conventional vehicles of conflict cannot get the job done properly. Despite their versatility however, the walkers do not dominate the battlefield, especially when even the lowliest of soldiers can take one down with enough tactical thinking.

 

FACTIONS

 

In this turbulent world, you can play as a member of one of the many nations vying for dominance over the planet. Each faction has differing specialties, although all of them are skilled in the art of warfare.

 

British Empire: One of the world’s major powerhouses, the British Empire has territories on every continent in the world. Its vast size also provides it with a great number of men to fight in its name, with the nation possessing one of the largest militaries on the planet. Following the terrifying war between it and the European Alliance, the empire is in decline, with discontent brewing in their colonies. However, it is still one of the premier nations, and its naval power is unmatched.

 

European Alliance: A union of European colonial empires and lesser states, the Alliance is the only power capable of rivalling the British. Although their territories may not be as numerous as their archenemy, they can be considered to be the greatest military power, especially with the presence of their zeppelins, which dominate the skies. Recent developments, such as the war with Britain, have severely weakened them however, with conflict growing between their member nations, and the fear that their “allies”, the Russians, will betray them.

 

Imperial Russia: Despite having lost large tracts of land through their constant wars with the Empire of the Qing, the Russians still hold considerable influence, and are major participants on the world stage. Having brokered several treaties with the European Alliance, the two powers are “allied” in opposition to their hated enemy, the British. Currently at war with the Ottomans, Russia is confident that they can neutralise all their opponents.

 

Ottoman Empire: Having been repeatedly humiliated by the European powers in years past, the Ottomans are rapidly falling, doing all that is possible to hold onto their former glory. Due to their attempts at expanding into the territories of fellow empires, they have earned the ire of nearly every single power on the Eurasian continent, with the most recent being Russia. The empire’s constant survival in the face of such odds is credited to their mastery over their more advanced walkers, especially as their enemies simply cannot keep up in this field.

 

Empire of the Qing: The dragon of the east, the Qing Dynasty controls most of Eastern Asia, with their territory stretching down from Mongolia in the north to Vietnam in the south. Yet despite their size, the Chinese nation is barely keeping up with the European powers; their pride refuses to use the advanced weapons of the west. Underestimating them however, would be illogical, especially as their military possesses great discipline. Although they are trading partners with the British, the Chinese do not hide their intentions to reclaim the power their ancestors possess, no matter the costs.

 

Mexican Republic: Ever since its inception, the Mexican Republic has been in a constant state of war, fighting for its very survival against the British Empire and European Alliance. Its domination of Central America owes to their single-minded wish to escape the tyranny of the colonial powers, something they are succeeding at. In recent years, the conflict between them and the Europeans have lessened, although tensions are still high. An economic powerhouse, the republic controls the major trading ports of the Caribbean, and is currently preparing itself for a second, inevitable war with the Europeans.

 

People’s Federation of Ethiopia: A minor power on the African continent, Ethiopia possesses amiable relationships with its fellow nations. Taking a neutral stance in the global conflict, the democratic nation regularly participates in trade with its neighbours, although at times they have been accused of profiting from the wars, a claim they do not exactly deny. Recently, a new political party has come to power, one that harbours ambitions of greatness.

 

Tokugawa Shogunate: Having been ignored by the western powers due to their global conflicts, Japan has used the time to slowly modernise, and are readying themselves for their invasion of East Asia. Having successfully taken the southern half of the Korean Peninsula and parts of the Philippines, the Shogunate’s dreams of emerging onto the world stage may be realised in the near future, even if they have to get through the Qing to do so.

CURRENT POLITICAL MAP

 

BRITAIN; EUROPEAN ALLIANCE; RUSSIA; OTTOMAN; QING; MEXICO; ETHIOPIA; TOKUGAWA

 

MISSIONS AND SALARIES

 

In this RPG, characters can be assigned missions, in which certain tasks must be completed, such as attacking an enemy base or stalling for time during a retreat. Completion of these missions have greater influence on how the world changes, and your characters can even get paid after completing these assignments.

 

Payment in this game is not as simple as: “Here’s your money, now go become rich and buy out Megasoft”. Based on your role in the game, you get paid a set salary that can be used in many different ways, although it’s pretty much useless if you’re a common foot soldier who doesn’t have anything to spend said money on, because minor actions such as buying a burger do not exactly require use of your salary.

 

The salary’s use only comes into play for the vehicle-based soldiers. By obtaining funds, they can repair their vehicles whenever they are damaged, or when upgrades are needed. Prices depend on the upgrade, as the usefulness of the upgrade is usually directly proportional to the price.

 

MECHS

 

The main focus of the RPG is the use of the mechanical walkers, versatile weapons of war that are now ever-present on the battlefields. In the beginning, the characters have the choice of several basic units, and can later upgrade to better ones depending on circumstance.

 

Of course, it is possible to customise these mechs to a certain extent. The basic appearance can be modified; weapons can be chosen; and as stated previously, upgrades can be purchased to improve your mech’s appearance. One can even change the colour scheme, although it is discouraged unless you wish to become a walking target for your enemies.

 

Perks for the mech can also come by through good roleplaying or as a reward for a mission well-done. Sometimes it is even possible to upgrade your mech in a different way, depending on how lucky you are.

 

MECH TYPES

 

All players who wish to use a mech usually begin with one of three basic models of the “First Tier”, and later tiers and more advanced mechs are revealed over the course of game. Upgrades however, can be bought to improve your machine until the GMs pull out the newer models.

 

Tier 1

 

Behemoth-type: The largest of the basic mech models, the Behemoth-type, as its name suggests, is rather large, towering over its compatriots. With its blocky, antiquated appearance, it is similar to the older models, and many mechs of this type has been in production for a few decades. However, despite the type’s age, most Behemoths are rather useful, with heavy armour that protects them from many different types of attacks, but it does reduce their mobility greatly. Although it has powerful inbuilt weapons, they are unable to attack from some angles, due to the limited movement of their tools. Hands are usually not features on this type, usually being replaced by cannons or sometimes pincers.

 

Warrior-type: Of all the mechs in production, the Warrior-type is considered to be the “Jack of All Stats”, with militaries around the world deploying these on the front-line of battles. Versatile and flexible, the type possesses actual hands, meaning that it can wield many types of weapons from guns to giant metal bars. Its sensors are rather advanced too, with most nations usually placing them in the “heads” of their mechs. However, the Warriors have a somewhat large blind spot on their back, where they are vulnerable.

 

Assault-type: Small and sleek, Assault-type mechs are rather fragile compared to other types, but it makes up for it with its mobility and agility. Capable of running circles around other mechs in the hands of a skilled pilot, the slim mechs usually wield lighter weaponry, and as many are new models, are equipped with advanced sensors. Their blind spots are rather small in size, making it more difficult for most to truly take them down.

 

UPGRADES

 

As stated previously, upgrades can be bought for your mech if required, although approval from the GMs is required beforehand. Prices are proportional to the usefulness of the upgrade, and one also requires that their mech is fully repaired before they can be applied. Upgrades can also be destroyed in battle at times, so care needs to be taken.

 

POLITICS

 

For those who prefer to take a more subtle way in changing the world, becoming a politician is the job for you. By spreading your influence throughout the world, you may be capable of brokering peace between warring nations, setting up trade agreements, and even possibly making major decisions that will forever change the political landscape.

 

Of course, that’ll take some time, especially as you’ll start of as small fry, probably working as an assistant to the Minister for Employment Participation and Childcare, but with honeyed words and a little money, you will rise through the ranks and soon the entire world will know your name.

 

REALISM

 

This RPG wishes to be as realistic as possible, for a given value of realism, so no taking over the world with your ace custom plotanium-powered mech. In this setting, there are rules to follow: firstly, you aren't vastly superior to NPCs. Although you may be slightly more competent than them, you can’t just go around exerting your will over them willy-nilly. Real life doesn’t work that.

 

Enemies aren't ridiculously incompetent either; there is absolutely no chance that you can charge in, guns blazing, and emerge out of the fray with no scratches. You have no advantages other than simply being a player character; do something stupid, and you'll end up in a ditch somewhere, dead.

For example, attacking a large group, or attempting to invade a base by yourself, you'll die. There is no chance you could get out alive, especially with such numbers against you. Don’t underestimate the common soldiers or people in tanks either. They have rockets, and probably aim better than you.

 

Politicking shouldn't be easy. Not everyone will treat you seriously. It’ll take time, good arguments and money to properly get things done. So try and be as realistic as possible.

 

 

PROFILES

 

Fill out this form to join, and then PM a GM for approval; do not post in the topic. Any questions can be PMed to a GM. After approval, post your profile in the Discussion Topic.

 

You are allowed five characters total, but only two may start as mecha pilots. Others must save up salary for a mecha. Never fear, however. Just because you can’t have a mecha for everyone, doesn’t mean you’re toast in a combat scenario. Soldiers have their own advantages, namely being small targets, and I think you will find that they are an interesting perspective to use. Also do not make a whole band of politicians just to get your ideas approved, it doesn’t work that way.

 

CHARACTER PROFILE

Name:

Age:Gender:Faction: (You may choose one of the above factions or be neutral.)Appearance: Describe what your character looks like.Biography: Your character’s history.Personality: How does your character act?Mech: Does your character have one? Yes or no. Mechs have separate profiles.Occupation: Are you a soldier? A politician? A door-to-door salesman?Equipment: Whatever tools you possess go here.Skills: What is your character good at?Weaknesses: What flaws does your character possess?

 

MECH PROFILE

Model: Which type?Appearance: What does your mech look like? Keep in mind that they should not be radical-looking or very flashy unless it’s a custom model, and that they should not stray too far from the base appearance of the mech type.Armaments: What weapons does it possess?Capabilities: Are there any specialised capabilities? Better sensors? Increased speed?Weaknesses: What are the weak points of your mech? This usually applies to custom models, but slightly more modified basic units may have some.

 

IMPORTANT NPC PROFILES

 

These are important political, military, and financial leaders of this world. They will controlled jointly by the staff. If you wish to talk to them, please PM a GM.

 

~TO BE ADDED~

 

 

RULES

 

1. No godmodding. Godmodding is where a player blatantly ignores realism, their own abilities, and any injuries they have sustained to pull off attacks or moves that are simply not possible. Example: Dodging a perfectly aimed shot from a sniper you didn’t know was there and then perfectly targeting them from hundreds of yards away, taking them out in one shot. This example contains several cases of g-modding, and I suspect they are obvious. If you believe someone is g-modding, talk to them. And if they don’t listen, and you still think they are, PM one of the GMs.

 

2. No bunnying and no autohitting. Bunnying is when you control another player’s character to do something without explicit permission. Autohitting is when you specify an attack, and that it hit. It is up to your foe to deal with whether an attack hits.

 

3. Use IC (In-Character) and OOC (Out-Of-Character).

IC: Bob

Bob threw a punch at Joe.

OOC: Hey, Space Pirate, wanna join in on our ultimate duel of destiny?

 

4. Your characters are not invulnerable. They are not allowed to be randomly killed without permission, however, they can be killed. If you go into battle, there is a chance that your character will be killed. If you are put in a position where you can either pull a deus ex machinae or die, you will die. If you want to prevent that, you may PM the player whose character is about to kill you, and discuss it with them. But they are not obligated to spare your character from a fate they have forced them into.

 

5. It should be noted however that this does not mean skilled RPers should just go around killing other characters. If your character is belligerently assaulted and it is obvious that the the other player is doing this mainly to kill your character, notify the staff at once. We will take a look into the matter and intervene if necessary.

 

6. No OOC only posts. If you have something you wish to discuss PM the player, if it’s for the group, post in the Discussion Topic.

 

7. Listen to the GMs. We are in charge. If you have a problem with what one of them has ruled on a subject, or with how they are doing things, PM them. But their word is law.

 

8. Most importantly, have fun. Self-explanatory, of course.

 

 

PUNISHMENTS

 

We’d rather not use them, but we might have to. And thus, here is our punishment system for breaking the rules. In the event of severe crimes, certain steps can and will be skipped.

 

First Offense: You will receive a warning. This is the only one you will receive. This is the one chance you have to stop what you are doing, and behave.

Second Offense: Major damage to one of your mechs, or to a character if you have no mechs.

Third Offense: Your mech is taken away from the offending character. You are no longer a mecha pilot, you are a common footsoldier. You must earn it back.

Fourth Offense: Offending character is killed. Period, end of discussion.

Fifth Offense: You are temporarily banned from the RPG. The period of time will be determined based on the seriousness of the event in question. This is your final chance to modify your behavior.

Sixth Offense: You are now banned. Leave the topics, do not post again, do not come back.

 

STAFF

The Snark Knight; Ilyusha Blokfase; ZHX

 

These are the staff members of the game. If you need any help or have inquiries, please PM them, and they’ll be glad to be of assistance. Also, please listen to what they say, as it may be important to the running of the RPG.

 

At times, the staff may also promote regular players to the role of GM Assistant, usually when extra help is required. In this role, they can approve profiles in the name of a GM, and keep an eye on things to make sure nobody is breaking the rules and the like.

 

Staff are allowed to have their own characters, although they too are restricted by the same rules as the characters of the common players.

Edited March 20, 2013 by ZHX

[Krayzikk]

GM IC (European Alliance):

 

Frederick Herman tapped his desk in thought, watching as his officers departed, leaving a stack of reports in front of him. He didn't bother reaching for them, he already knew what they said. They were mostly for show, and to act as a reference in the unlikely case that he forgot something.

 

The German leader was well aware of the European Alliance's state of affairs, even more than he had been before election to his post. Their territories were still working on recovering from the conflict that had nearly destroyed them, a conflict that was only ended in recent years, by the signing of the armistice with Britain. They were scraping the bottom of the barrel with regards to resources, even though their military was well established. And after such a brief period of fragile peace, tensions were already rising.

 

The Qing were rising in the east. They'd had lots of time to prepare, more or less unnoticed during the war. No one was sure exactly when they became a threat, but they had. All around the world, nations previously quiet were rising up. And that was before he too into account internal conflict. After so many years of cooperation based out of necessity, the member nations of the EA were getting restless. It was small things, bickering between representatives, snide remarks in their own countries, but it was worrying. With all of the things going on, they couldn't afford to be squabbling amongst themselves.

 

He sighed, and reached for his coffee. The next few months would decide whether peace would continue, or if the world would devolve into open war once more.

 

OOC: Welcome to Clad in Iron. Posts such as this one will be coming for some of the other factions shortly.

[otter]

GM IC:

 

"Tell the regional authorities, then, that they can govern themselves," Richard growled to the advisor who had brough him the message of how their Eastern Colonies were getting restless. "I know we aren't capable of making their every decision for them, which is why I tell them to do so themselves. However, they do have to answer to me and my council, regardless; we cannot lose what little stability we have, and they should be smart enough to know that." The King of Brittania shook his head, standing.

 

"Off with you," he muttered, waving the functionary away, sending him off to other business, where he wouldn't be bothering Richard with things that the King already knew, and had already given answer for numerous times. Yes, he knew that every outlying colony was getting restless, yes, he knew that they didn't want the King making all their decisions; yes, he knew that the armistice was tenuous at best and strained to the point of being held together by naught but a single thread at worst.

 

"Sir! Richard!" he heard called, turning around, groaning inwardly. The man running up to him was the man who had been in charge of trying to maintain some diplomatic relations with the Qing.

 

"Yes, what is it?" he asked, impatient. "Have they made mecha enough for an army, yet? Are they marching on us?" The diplomat stopped in his tracks, rather surprised.

 

"Er, no, sir, though I tho--"

 

"Then it's nothing you haven't already told me," Richard growled. "I know what is going on with their economy, their development on Mecha, and the like, you're leaving me a report at least once every ten minutes. I'm going to assume by the fact that you're back, that they've kicked you out. Would I be correct?" The man nodded, and Richard turned, walking away, again.

 

"Leave your report in my study, then. I can't wait to find out what you've ruined."

Edited March 19, 2013 by Ilyusha Blokfase

[Wyrd Bid Ful Araed]

IC: "Tough life dealing with the paperpushers?"

 

Richard sighed. There were few people who would speak like that in his presence, and with way his luck was going today it could only be the most infuriating.

 

"If the Chinese are giving us trouble, you could always send me over," the latest Smythe suggested, "I know I'm technically for the Eurotrash but a nice vacation in the Orient with the missus...could go well."

[otter]

IC-Richard:

 

"Technically, it's not the Chinese I'm having trouble with," Richard replied, mustering what good humour he could. "It's the Qing. Manchurians. The general Chinese...if they throw a rebellion, then I'll probably have a bit of trouble with them too." He stopped walking, doing a quick, military-styled about face, his heavy brow only adding to the glare he fixed upon Mr. Smythe.

 

"Though I wouldn't mind some information gathered on their Mecha." Richard grinned, after a moment.

 

"Just now, you get to convince me as to why I should let you go to China. If you don't do a satisfactory job, I'll probably assign you with another job. How would you like to be back in Germany?"

[sunflower]

IC: Audrey [somewhere, probably a hanger]

 

The dull clunk of metal impacting metal echoed throughout the cavernous hanger, followed by an unending stream of quite colorful curses. Another clunk, and some more imaginatively used words, before something rather large was torn from a mess of wires and armored plates. With grunt, Audrey hefted up a managled block of flattened metal, some red wires still hanging off it. It was the size of her head, but probably weighed half as much as she did. As it was, it was what as left of a uranium-alloy slug that had found it fit to lodge itself inside the delicate mechanics of a leg joint. Well, at least it was a low caliber bullet, considering the rest of the leg was still there.

 

With a sigh, the mechanic threw the hunk of metal off to the side, into an ever-growing pile of similarly shaped flattened bullets. Seriously, this was the the twenty-fifth one she'd pulled out of the lower sections alone. She didn't even want to touch the cockpit. You'd think with all that speed, those Assault pilots would be fast enough to avoid a hail of slugs. Come on, the entire rotator assembly has to be replaced because of some hotshot driver. Unfortunately, the pilot of this mech didn't make it, so Audrey didn't have anyone to yell at for the extensive repairs needed for this metallic, humanoid-shaped piece of swiss cheese. They still wanted the thing operational. By yesterday, at the latest.

 

Right.

 

And that meant her.

 

OOC: Open for interaction, y'know. Fixing things. : D

[Van Hohenheim]

IC: [Den Morska] [british Empire outpost]

 

 

it was 3 in the morning. Den had entered the outpost, surprised that some people was already there. wonder what they're doing this early in the morning... he thought and went to the back of the room. entering a room off to the side, he closed the door and pulled out something from his pocket. it was a metal orb, glowing slightly blue in the dim light. he placed it in the desk's drawer and left the room.

Edited March 20, 2013 by Strackkorotus

[25K Now!]

IC:

 

Light streaked across the night sky, slamming into the cockpit of a bulky mech that had been slowly patrolling the other side of the ridge. It creaked, suddenly stopping. The engine hummed quietly, but it did not make any new motions. The pilot was dead, his life instantly snuffed out by the mysterious projectile that had impacted against the Behemoth-type.

 

Hidden in the bush on the ridge opposite to the mech, Ulyanov gave a silent whoop, punching into the air. He would show the Ottomans who was superior, and it definitely wasn't them, especially when their supposedly "advanced" machines could be taken down by a pretty boy and a simple little gun. Of course, he wasn't just a little pretty boy; he was THE pretty boy, the best soldier on this base situated in the middle of nowhere, with only trees, sand and Turks as company.

 

"I could probably do better," said Jughashvili lazily, the younger man popping his head out of a nearby bush. "You're getting rusty, comrade. Sure it isn't old age catching up?"

 

"I'm only in my twenties!" snapped the sniper, glaring at his companion. "I'm not that old, brat. Besides, you look older than me!"

 

Jughashvili smirked, picking up his own rifle and carefully inspecting it. "Jealous of my manly beard eh?"

 

"It is not manly at all! It represents your uncouth manners and terrible taste in music!"

 

Next to the two quarrelling soldiers, the third of their group was lying against a tree, trying his best to ignore his colleagues so he could finish writing a letter to his girlfriend. Finding the right words to say were difficult for Apfelbaum, and with the compounded influence of the others, it was pretty much impossible to actually complete the letter before the night was over. He'd have to finish it back at base, where he would have absolutely no time at all to do anything.

 

"-and I have no idea how our glorious Motherland produced a person like you! You're worse than the dredges of the proletariat!"

 

"Actually, I'm not technically Rus-"

 

"You two, shut up," cut in a new voice. "I don't care if you're from Georgia or if your family has served under the Tsars for decades. The noise you two are making is so loud that even I could hear it. Even the Turks could probably hear your stupid argument! Heck, even the Mexicans could all the way over in the Americas!"

 

The speaker was a stoic-looking young man, dressed in the usual combat fatigues of the Imperial Army. Considered to be the only sane member of the squad, Rozenfeld spent much of his time making sure that his team-mates did not kill themselves, and also did pretty much everything of importance, such as paperwork. Dealing with them barely gave him time to comb his fascinatingly huge moustache, meaning that he was always on edge whenever he had to berate Ulyanov and Jughashvili.

 

"Now then," he said, dropping down next to them, "I've found where the Turk camp is. They've set up about a kilometre or so away to the west. I've sent the information up, but it'll take some time before we get a reply. For now, let's just wait."

 

"Sounds boring," muttered Ulyanov, rolling over onto his back and staring up into the sky. "So there's no chance to prove how awesome I am?"

 

"It's not your ego needs to be fed further," snorted Jughashvili derisively. "It's already big enough as it is."

 

"This is why I prefer Bronshtein more than you two," said Rozenfeld with a sigh. "He's less of a pain than you two."

 

"Speaking of our favourite Marxist, where is he anyway?"

 

A look of horror began to form on Rozenfeld's face as he registered Ulyanov's words. "You mean he isn't here with you?"

 

"No ... he'd left a bit after you. I thought he had joined up with you ..."

 

A collective shudder passed through the two. Although the final member of their group was usually rather reliable, he had a penchant for ... chaos. Letting him out of their sight was usually considered to be an incredibly bad idea, and not knowing where he had gone was even worse.

 

It was Jughashvili who vocalised their thoughts. "Oh god, we're so utterly doomed. Completely. Doomed."

 

"Lev jumped over the ridge and hijacked the Behemoth a few minutes ago," said Apfelbaum quietly, not looking up from his letter as he pointed over to where the disabled Turkish mech was, or more accurately, had been, as it was noticeably marching in a westerly direction."

 

The rest of the group looked at each other.

 

"So," began Rozenfeld hesitantly, "I take back what I said about him being less of a pain. Anyone up for chasing after him?"

 

Ulyanov shook his head. "He'll be fine. Now, let's go call for reinforcements. We aren't going to be able to take down an entire army of Ottomans by ourselves."

 

So began the Russian invasion of Azerbaijan.

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Shamil Nuradilov - somewhere around Vedeno, Terek Oblast, North Caucasian Krai, Russian Empire)

The campfire, as if the very hope of the group of six people gathered around it, blazed in this dark night high in the mountains of Chechnya, illuminating the vast expanses of forest around it. It blazed to the sound of six voices joined in song, as their music spread through the air, just like the light and flame, wiping aside this night's darkness like a bad dream.

 

These six people were singing a Lithuanian song, peculiarly enough, singing it with a distinct Caucasian accent and mispronunciation, but singing it. Pretty well, too.

 

Ilgas kelias tarp trumpų naktų,

Ilgas kelias, o man taip neramu.

Dvelkia naktys virpančiu šalčiu,

Aš norėčiau priglust prie tavųjų pečių.

 

The person with the strongest voice by the fire, who was at the time also playing the calm, romantic melody on guitar, would be the last person you'd think to be an insurrectionary. His expression was calm and nonviolent, and, while he was singing, perhaps even dreamy. He seemed like any other person you'd meet on any other occasion, a typical wandering poet dreaming of a calm life and spreading human warmth and emotion among the people of the world.

 

But yet, there was not just a guitar in his hands but an AK-47 strapped onto his back, and a mecha standing, looming rather menacingly over the fire just behind him. His belt contained a few grenades and a pistol, and his eyes, if you had looked into them long enough, would betray a fire burning inside him. This man was the epitome of the insurrectionary - a normal person ripped from his life by extroardinary circumstances.

 

Finishing off the song with a last few notes, Nuradilov nodded to his comrades and said, "Well. Nothing better than a song after a day of hardship, wouldn't you agree? But I think we ought to cook that meat you hunted today, Timur, already. We still need to get sleep before tomorrow, which will no doubt be an even harder day."

 

Noticing the quizzical expressions of his comrades, he laughed and said, "We're actually, for once, going recruiting. Into the actual town of Vedeno. Unfortunately for us, the Russians know we're in this region. By tomorrow, they'll have a military detachment located in the village. We'll have to sneak in disguised as mercenaries hired to deal with, well, us. That's the only way we'll be able to keep our weapons if stuff goes... down."

 

His five comrades merely nodded, acknowledging that they understood, as Timur - a tall, lanky youth among them with a head full of long raven hair - took out a frying pan and some raw deer meat.

Edited March 20, 2013 by Eduard Bernstein

[otter]

IC:

 

As the various freedom fighters around the fire started to cook, nearby, there was another man moving. His Mech had been parked in a grove about a kilometer away, about three days ago, and he'd been either hunting in the woods or working in the city since then. He'd had a close encounter, recently, and he didn't quite feel like taking off just yet.

 

However, as he hunted on this night, his nose picked up a scent. Not a bear's heavy musk, or the light scent of a deer; no, this was cooking meat, deer meat, thick, the scent coming on the smoke from whatever fire it was over filled with its savoury odor. So now, the man, one of the stealthiest fighters in the region, cautiously moved towards them.

 

He could already tell from the quiet sounds this was no large group, only about seven or eight men at the most. Cooking around a fire. Possibly a Russian hunting squad, searching for insurrectionists out in the surrounding forests; this man had run into them before. But no, wait, they sang Lithuanian.

 

Their accent, however, was not that of a Lithuanian...or that of a Russian. Likely friendly; best to be careful, however. He quickly moved forward, his light feet dancing around every possible obstacle, not a single sound coming as he came up near the group.

 

One o'clock, there was a mech. Twelve o'clock, a fire - he was hidden in the shadows, however. Gathered around the fire, six men, each with weapons. His was also out, and the safety was taken off, in case they proved hostile at all. Bringing one hand up to the tree next to him, he tapped out a simple code, for identifying friendly forces:

 

. . - . . . - . . . . .It was a question. FFH? Friendly Forces Here?

Edited March 20, 2013 by Ilyusha Blokfase

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Shamil Nuradilov - Somewhere near Vedeno, Russian Empire)

All of Shamil's comrades - highly trained, battle-christened veterans of guerilla warfare that they were - jumped to their feet at the quiet tapping sound they heard, but Nuradilov himself merely raised a hand, indicating for them to sit. He clearly identified the sounds and understood their meaning. Quietly, he took his guitar and tapped out the same code.

 

. . - . . . - . . . . .

FFH. A confirmation, an answer to the question. As of yet, the Russians had not cracked the code, mainly because very few rebels actually fell into their grasp, and the Chechen rebel code was a confusing amalgamation of abbreviated phrases in various languages, none of whom were Russian or Chechen, a number of Chechen words that meant, in code, entirely different things as compared to what they meant in the dictionary (depending on what month it was, the Chechen word for "Georgian", Gurzhii, could mean "Russian", "Turkish", "apple" or "city"). As such, the code, even in the occasions when it was simple, was actually really hard to crack.

[otter]

IC:

 

Safe. Good. Sayf stood up, a specter in the shadows to all those around the fire, lowering his weapon even as he looked about the group. After a moment he stepped out from the shadows, ignoring the watching eyes of the others about him as he moved to stand by the fire.

 

"I smelled meat," he said simply. "If it isn't too much of a bother, I have a few rabbits to add to the common meal." He reached around himself, pulling out a burlap sack that had a few rabbits within, as of yet unskinned; their eyes still looked out placidly, their heads at odd angles to their bodies.

 

After setting those near the young boy who seemed to be the cook, he sat down himself, turning to look at the man who seemed to be in charge of the group.

 

"If I'm not mistaken, you're Shamil Nuradilov, are you not? The Russians have signs proclaiming a three thousand ruble reward for your head, you know."

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Shamil Nuradilov - Somewhere near Vedeno, Russian Empire)

"Three thousand gold rubles," Nuradilov echoed, scratching his chin. "They've gone down, haven't they? Musa, what was the price on my head after Grozny?"

 

"Three thousand two hundred, I think?" the short, black-eyed older man whose hair was already starting to grey, replied.

 

"Well. There's something we'll have to work on. Tomorrow, in Vedeno. For now, Timur, you can skin those rabbits for our brother here. What's your name, friend?"

[otter]

IC:

 

"Sayf al-Dawla. If you've heard of me, I've done something wrong," the stealthy fighter replied, with a slightly sarcastic twist to his mouth. "Though my name might soon spread as well, after the close encounter I had near Kiev." He shrugged.

 

"Ah, well, what's done is done. What brings you near Vedeno?"

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Shamil Nuradilov - Somewhere near Vedeno, Russian Empire)

"We're planning to do some recruiting around here, not to mention... this is a mountainous region, relatively away from the Russian gaze. Even military convoys to the southern front with the Ottomans don't pass through here, they prefer to go through Ossetia or Dagestan than through southeastern Chechnya. We will probably also try to make contact with other rebel groups in the mountains. And then Ali here has a girl in Vedeno he would rather like to visit."

 

Timur had just finished cooking the deer, and gave everyone a plateful. "The rabbit will be ready shortly as well," the cook announced.

Edited March 20, 2013 by Eduard Bernstein

[otter]

IC-Sayf:

 

"A girl, eh? Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid while he's down there," Sayf cautioned, prior to his eating some of the roast deer. "I've seen numerous friends of mine get stuck down in town after having children...and when the Russians roll in, they're helpless. It's not a pretty sight."

[Canis Lycaon]

IC: Alexander Black

The heavy Behemoth class mech walked slowly into the plane and stood in the bay. More mechs entered, and Alex watched them. The plane door closed, and the tall, dark-haired Russian could feel the plane rising in the air. He leaned back in the seat of his mech, and waited.

 

His control of the mech was superb. When his arm was connected, he could control the mech much more easily. Alex turned his head to observe the mechanical contraption that was in place of his right arm. It had a smooth design, without any buttons or any thing. Just a jack for him to connect the arm to the mech.

 

One lowly foot soldier said, "Does any one know where we're going?" A Warrior type mech driver responded, "Azerbijan." The foot soldier responded, "Really! We get to crush the Ottoman's? It's about time we finished them. They have been in our way from day one." Alex shrugged at the news. Personally, he didn't care too much about the Ottomans.

Edited March 20, 2013 by Canis Lupus

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Shamil Nuradilov - Somewhere near Vedeno, Russian Empire)

Shamil laughed, turning towards Ali. "You hear that, Ali? Don't do anything stupid. I'm trusting you, you're a talented shot, it would be a pity to see the Russians get to you."

 

He took another bite of deer meat. "What are you, Sayf, doing around Vedeno?"

Edited March 20, 2013 by Eduard Bernstein

[Krayzikk]

IC: Alexander Black

The heavy Behemoth class mech walked slowly into the plane and stood in the bay. More mechs entered, and Alex watched them. The plane door closed, and the tall, dark-haired Russian could feel the plane rising in the air. He leaned back in the seat of his mech, and waited.

 

His control of the mech was superb. When his arm was connected, he could control the mech with his thoughts alone. Alex turned his head to observe the mechanical contraption that was in place of his right arm. It had a smooth design, without any buttons or any thing. Just a jack for him to connect the arm to the mech.

 

One lowly foot soldier said, "Does any one know where we're going?" A Warrior type mech driver responded, "Azerbijan." The foot soldier responded, "Really! We get to crush the Ottoman's? It's about time we finished them. They have been in our way from day one." Alex shrugged at the news. Personally, he didn't care too much about the Ottomans.

 

About that... I noticed that you mentioned your character can control his mech through thought alone. That isn't actually possible. The Behemoth is, in point of fact, the most antiquated design current available. If there were a mech that could be thought controlled, the Behemoth isn't one of them.

Actually, that level of tech is way beyond anything a common soldier would have access to.

[Canis Lycaon]

 

IC: Alexander Black

The heavy Behemoth class mech walked slowly into the plane and stood in the bay. More mechs entered, and Alex watched them. The plane door closed, and the tall, dark-haired Russian could feel the plane rising in the air. He leaned back in the seat of his mech, and waited.

 

His control of the mech was superb. When his arm was connected, he could control the mech with his thoughts alone. Alex turned his head to observe the mechanical contraption that was in place of his right arm. It had a smooth design, without any buttons or any thing. Just a jack for him to connect the arm to the mech.

 

One lowly foot soldier said, "Does any one know where we're going?" A Warrior type mech driver responded, "Azerbijan." The foot soldier responded, "Really! We get to crush the Ottoman's? It's about time we finished them. They have been in our way from day one." Alex shrugged at the news. Personally, he didn't care too much about the Ottomans.

 

About that... I noticed that you mentioned your character can control his mech through thought alone. That isn't actually possible. The Behemoth is, in point of fact, the most antiquated design current available. If there were a mech that could be thought controlled, the Behemoth isn't one of them.

Actually, that level of tech is way beyond anything a common soldier would have access to.

Okay, I fixed it. I changed it to he could control the mech more easily. If that is too much, I will just remove that section.

[Wyrd Bid Ful Araed]

IC: "Ugh, Germany," Hubert shuddered, "All that sausage...Alright, why I should go to China. Because I'm one of the best field agents in the service but will be relatively unknown to the Qing as I do most my work in Europe, couples often undergo less scrutiny than single figures and since I'm genuinely married thats a cast iron cover right there. Oh, speaking of marriage my wife is in the Science corps of the Service so can get you all the info you want on mechs, and can often go more unnoticed than most thanks to her heritage."

 

He counted his fingers seeing if he'd missed anything, "I think that about covers it."

[otter]

IC-Sayf:

 

"I'm currently hiding a kilometer out southeast of here," the sniper replied. "Hiding from the Russians, because I don't much feel like having my mech, and myself, destroyed. It's getting a little slow these days."

 

GM IC:

 

"I think you're forgetting the most important part of all this," Richard replied, and managed to gain what seemed like a momentary glance of surprise and slight confusion from the agent before him. He grinned, leaning back against the wall, and gestured off in the direction of the 'royal treasury.'

 

"How much is this all supposed to cost me?"

Edited March 20, 2013 by Ilyusha Blokfase

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

There was the quiet sound of boots on floor as a tall soldier stepped into the Alliance hangar, sighing quietly to himself. He hadn't quite noticed that he wasn't alone, since Aubrey was currently on the opposite side of her little project. He perched on one of the parts benches idly, staring at one of the Assaulters suspended in its scaffolding.

 

"Well, that's the fifth rejection. They still don't have the room. First they tell me I'm too young, and next they don't want to have to retrain a soldier for the cockpit."

 

"I just can't seem to catch a break, can I? And now I'm talking to an inanimate object."

[sunflower]

IC: Audrey

 

"Hey, it's a whole heck of a lot easier than talking to actual people," came the unexpected reply to Jayne's off hand comment. At first, it seemed as if the damaged Assault mech was speaking right back at him. Well, wasn't that lovely, now he was imagining things, huh?

 

It certainly seemed that way, untill Audrey's head came into view from behind the mech. The mechanic didn't acknowledge Jayne, at least not in any visable way. Then again, Audrey looked a bit busy at the moment. She seemed to have braced both feet onto the machine's battered armor, while trying to pull something out of view from it's body casing. Whatever it was, it was putting up a fight, and it was amazing that the mech wasn't ripped in half from the amount of force the mechanic was using to try and pull the thing out. Eventually though, Audrey stopped, and glared with such intensity at the hunk of shrapnel that one could see smoke coming out of her ears.

 

After a moment, she finally glanced over to the soldier. "Are you just going to stand there? Help me with this!"

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

Jayne, for a moment, stood in confusion, face reddening ever so slightly as he realized that someone had heard his monologue. Moments later, he snapped almost to attention out of pure habit, and bolted up the scaffolding."Yes, ma'am."

[sunflower]

IC: Audrey

 

The mechanic let out a stifled laugh, a poorly concealed one, at that. "Right, at ease, soldier," Audrey said, rolling her eyes. Wiping the grease off her gloves, or at least attempting to, she grabbed onto the twisted piece of metal once again. "Hold there and there, and then pull. Don't shred the driver assembly wires, because I am not going to removed the rest of the bosy platting to replace them, got it?"

[Krayzikk]

IC:Jayne nodded slightly, gripping the indicated locations and bracing his feet against the scaffolding. He took a deep breath, and pulled. At first, it wouldn't budge. Strain was beginning to show on his face, slowly turning red as he tried to pull it out. But then, steadily, centimeter by painful centimeter, gave way, and was hauled from where it had buried itself.

 

Breathing heavily, he glanced at the piece of metal. "Well, it's out."

[sunflower]

IC: Audrey

 

"No freaking way, Sherlock," Audrey said, dropping the hunk of metal to the ground with a rather loud bang, and very nearly taking both of their toes with it. Without missing a beat, the engineer reached inside gaping hole left, her entire arm disappearing, before pulling out what looked to be a sensor module. One that was still connected to the rest of the mech by a few arm-sized wires. "Hold this," she commanded, but didn't give Jayne much of a choice as she shoved the part into his hands. It was quite heavier than it looked, easily around ten kilograms.

 

"And don't drop it," she added, before reaching inside once again. This time, only half her head was visable as the mechanic worked on something inside. Using a large screwdriver and what looked like a miniature blowtorch.

[otter]

IC-Ilja:

 

"Oh, don't tell me Jeremy went off and got himself killed," the two standing in the hangar heard another voice cry out. As the one who wasn't currently inside the mess of wiring and metal that was the inside of a mech's body turned, he would see a rather young-seeming mech operator, with the hints of facial hair beginning to show on his face, easy notice that he hadn't shaved recently.

 

He sighed dramatically at the mech, and what mess of bulletholes were in it, seemingly remembering another pilot.

 

"Ah, that poor, poor guy, he shouldn't have gotten himself killed without me there to videotape it." Displaying the general nonsensical and humorous attitude towards death that most mech pilots in his squad did, Ilja looked up again, a smirk on his face, even as he held a hand out towards Jayne.

 

"Ilja Brokvey, pleasure to meet you, Mr. AA," he said brightly. "Blasted a hole in any British mecha lately?"

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

"Verdammt." Jayne muttered to himself, momentarily lapsing into German when the pilot arrived. Even if the person himself was friendly, there was always something frustrating about being around young pilots. Idly, he pushed his annoyance aside, and glanced down from the gantry.

 

"War's on pause, didn't you hear?"

[sunflower]

IC: Audrey

 

Rather suddenly, there was a bright blue flash from where Audrey had stuck herself inside the mech, followed shortly after by a loud curse and the sound of something heavy hitting delicate components. The smell of electricity and singed hair filled the air. A moment later, the indicator lights covering the sensor array Jayne was holding lit up, the entire device emitting a faint green glow in his hands. The engineer pulled herself out of the machine, looking exactly like she just had something blow up in her face. Taking the now-active array from Jayne, Audrey, for lack of a better word, shoved the device back inside. It was followed then by her foot, which she used to snap it into place with a good deal of force.

 

Satisfied with her work, the mechanic blew an errant strand of singed hair from her face, before putting a new panel covering back into place above the sensor. "There, a bit more superglue to hold the legs on and some duct tap for the weapons mountings, and it'll be good as new."

 

Now wasn't that reassuring for all those pilots out there.

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Shamil Nuradilov - Somewhere near Vedeno, Russian Empire)

"You may stay here, if you wish," Shamil nodded, "we'll have a guard posted, and you won't need to worry about the Russians sneaking onto you in the middle of the night."

 

He was silent for a moment, thinking, and then added, "I assume you know how to ride that mecha of yours, Sayf al-Dawla? What say you about joining us tomorrow, when we come to Vedeno?"

[otter]

IC-Sayf:

 

"Perhaps," Sayf replied. "Though I will tell you, my mech wasn't made for up-front engagements. If whatever ruse you're planning to use fails...Well, I'll try my best to help, though I give you no promises." Then he grinned, slightly.

 

"Also, what you mentioned about Russians sneaking up on me in the middle of the night - that doesn't happen."

 

IC-Ilja:

 

"Of course it is," the young pilot muttered. "That doesn't mean there won't be some brainless Englishman trying to fly around and mess with us, though."

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Shamil Nuradilov - Somewhere near Vedeno, Russian Empire)

Nuradilov laughed, as Timur handed them the second batch of food this night - rabbit steak. All was silent for a few moments as they ate, and then Shamil spoke again. "Timur, you've really outdone yourself this time. Don't die tomorrow, please. Our entire group is irreplaceable, but your death would be an utter tragedy. Not even the worthiness of your martyrdom could diminish our sorrow if you died."

 

Handing his plate back to Timur, he stood. "I'm going to sleep. Ali, you've first watch. We rise at six a.m. tomorrow. I want to see you all ready by the morn."

[Wyrd Bid Ful Araed]

IC: "Very little," Hubert answered, "My missions usually come out of my pocket, thats why I get the Smythe lands and estates. I believe the idea is that if one of the Smythes gets caught they just look like a rogue extremist acting by themselves and the Crown gets deniability."

[otter]

IC-Sayf:

 

As the others, except Ali, fell asleep, Sayf soon walked up to the man at watch.

 

"Do not worry for me, or alert any of the others," Sayf growled to the man. "I must go check on something." Near-silently, the tall man of the caucasus padded off into the woods, his rifles left behind at the camp. Once far enough out from the small camp that he was left in near-complete darkness, he knelt down, making a mark on the trunk of a tree next to the game trail he was on; a way for him to remember where the camp was.

 

And then he was gone again, his knife now sheathed at his waist. He moved quickly, his keen eyes picking out every movement in the brush near him as he ran past, covering the space between the insurrectionist camp and his mech very quickly. He stopped, in the shadows of the trees near the grove where he had landed, checking the are to be sure it was safe. It seemed, however, that he was not the only one in the vicinity.

 

Nine o'clock, three men stepping out along a trail. Russians, by their manner of dress, and...yes, by language too. Eyes narrowed, Sayf continued to watch them, as they stepped up closer to his mech.

 

"Al-Dawla's mech?" One of them, in the lead, asked, and his second in command simply nodded. He then gestured to the third member of the trio, to stay there, and pull out a radio to report anything. After a moment he did so, mumbling a quick "Yes, sir," though the radio was soon taken from his hands and set on the ground. Before the Private had a chance to turn about his mouth was covered by an unfamiliar hand, and a knife was forced into his throat.

 

"Shh, shh," Sayf murmured, even as the light of life left the Private's eyes. He left the radio sitting where he had put it, even as he moved up to the second in command. His throat was quickly opened, his lifeblood gushing out onto the grass below. And now it was time for the commanding officer. Sayf cleaned off his knife and sheathed it, pulling out his special garrote. This man wouldn't get the dignity of a knife kill, or an intact body.

 

As the officer continued to inspect the mech, Sayf padded behind him. After a moment, the officer turned, to relay a command to the private, who he saw nothing of. His eyes narrowed, he turned to where his second in command was, seeing the body lying on the forest floor. At that moment a double-looped garrote dropped over his head and tightened around his neck. He reached up a hand to pull at it, though he only loosened one of the loops, tightening the other.

 

"You thought you could touch my property, did you?" Sayf asked him quietly, speaking the man's native tounge, and tightening the garrote. Made from thin wire, it quickly caused the man to bleed, cutting into his neck at every point for 360 degrees. "You were wrong, you know. I don't quite like it when people touch my things...or when they harm my people, as you have likely done." One jerk of the arms, and the Russian's head rolled along the ground.

 

Sayf turned, looking at the moon. 1 am. He had time. Quickly pulling out one of the Russian's entrenching tools, he dug three quick graves, one for the private, one for the sergeant, and one for the commanding officer, minus headspace. Placing the officer's head into the same burlap sack he had carried his game in earlier, he proceeded to grab the radio, turning it on.

 

"Nothing to report," he said into it, approximating the Private's voice and accent as well as possible. After a moment, a reply came through.

 

"Very well. You aren't expected back for the next two days...make sure Zhirinovsky knows what the penalty will be for failure." Then the man on the other end disconnected, as Sayf tossed the radio into the Private's grave, filling that one up last. After muttering a short prayer he stood, on his way back to the camp.

 

5:30 am, and all was clear. Ali had gone to sleep, having seemed to have told the next man up, the elder Musa, what Sayf had told him, for he gave the sniper a lazy wave once he recognized who it was. Sayf nodded to him, setting down near the fire, proceeding to heat back up what was left over from last night, for breakfast.

 

6:00 am, and Musa went about, waking the others up. Sayf nodded at Shamil once he was awake, tossing him the burlap sack.

 

"They're getting a little close for comfort," he said quietly. "I recommend you erase all signs of this camp's existence before heading down to Vedeno."

 

GM-IC:

 

"Is it just me, or do you seem to have all the right answers that the last Smythe didn't?" Richard asked, rolling his eyes. "He'd have tried to get my father to give him money just so that he could say he did."

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Shamil Nuradilov - Somewhere near Vedeno, Russian Empire)

"Everyone! Get this camp packed up and dispersed! Vedeno is waiting for us!"

 

Quickly, the rebels moved to follow their commander's orders, packing their mobile provisions up into their backpacks and into the storage containers on Shamil's mecha, putting out the fire and rolling up their sleeping bags. Their guns in their hands, they prepared to follow, as Shamil proceeded to get inside his mecha.

 

"Move out, my brothers! To Vedeno!"

 

OOC: Eli, I'll make the post where we arrive at Vedeno either later tonight or tomorrow. I've just finished writing a short story, so I'm a bit exhausted from writing.

[Wyrd Bid Ful Araed]

IC: "Why do I get the feeling thats why he isn't a Smythe anymore," Hubert grinned

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

"Show me a mech in EA airspace, and I'll show you a target." Jayne quipped, as he glanced at Audrey, raising an incredulous eyebrow. For a long moment he was completely silent.

 

"If you ever fix anything I own, remind me not to ask how. Or with what."