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Halo: Excursion

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IC: Taylor [Madrigal hangar]

Despite himself, Taylor felt a smile creep onto his face.  "Well, usually when I get strapped into a coffin, I ride closed-casket."  He hesitated, then added, "Thank you, though.  Not often you find someone willing to give a pep talk to a Jumper."

Especially not from a Spartan.

He readjusted his rucksack and strode off after Vasquez.  "So.  Anyplace I can put my luggage?  I don't wanna blow us both to bits if someone nails me in the wrong spot..."

OOC: @Vezok's Friend

Edited by Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva)

It is not for us to decide the fate of angels.

Dominus Temporis, if you're out there, hit me up through one of my contacts.  I've been hoping to get back in touch for a long time now.  (Don't worry, I'm not gonna beg you to bring back MLWTB or something.  :P )

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IC:

"Bet you are."

The Martian nodded slightly, almost approvingly. They'd all see how the mission went, and he'd have a little time for chit chat on the ride over. In between evasive maneuvers, anyway. But for now there were some more immediate issues to take care of now that they were getting into their sub-units. Firstly....

"Artur, Julia," Nik started, waggling his helmet slightly. "I'm gonna need battlenet links, please and thank you. LOCUS can handle 'em and it'd be good to have access to your sensor data. Sakuai and I can handle the computer, she'll point out anything different I need to know about Covenant systems. You two do what you do best. Be careful, though. Kig-Yarr aren't much alone but they can be a pain in larger groups, especially with the home field advantage. You get into trouble, you fall back and we regroup. You're not a duo on this. Alright?"


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: Vali 'Sakuai [Madrigal Hangar]

Vali nodded in assent as Nikolai spoke, glad that for the time being he appeared to have dealt with whatever had been perturbing him about her presence earlier.

"The, how do you call them... DAV corvettes are a very old design, their systems aren't very difficult to access. It should be relatively simple for us to recover logs from the main bridge computer," she added, before continuing, "Do take care with your flying however, their plasma cannons are just as deadly now as they were fifty years ago."

The last part may have been directed at her recently assigned pilot slightly more than the other two Spartans in their squad.

Edited by sunflower

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IC: Artur-G013 [Madrigal Hangar]

Artur turned to look at Nik in momentary astonishment after he started delivering warnings about the Kig-Yar, wondering for but a second on how to respond. While the man certainly couldn't know his entire combat record, something Artur couldn't fault him for at all, his service tag made it obvious that he wasn't just a Spartan III, but he was of the last company to be trained. Unlike the previous generation, Spartan IIIs were commissioned for anti-Covenant work, not anti-insurrection.

He was perturbed—likely too perturbed—at what seemed almost like he was being spoken to like a fresh recruit on his first combat deployment, something that made the normally-jocular Spartan feel just a little prickly.

"Don't worry about us," he replied calmly, while a quick series of practiced blinks initiated a TEAMCOM link with Nik's armour. It wouldn't do any good to reinforce the idea that Gamma company was full of poorly-controlled monsters, one that those in the know on their special modifications seemed to hold. "We paid attention back on Onyx. It was our former partners that learned that lesson the hard way."

Edited by Pteronura Brasiliensis
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profiles i guess

i'm a south american giant otter now

 

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IC: Julia-G101 - Madrigal Hangar

She nodded as her TEAMCOM link established, not outwardly reacting to Artur's recollection of the events on the planetoid. The Kig-Yar were vicious little creatures, but she'd learned from her mistakes. And from Alex's. 

"We can handle it." Julia agreed with her partner. "You two have a good flight, we'll see you once the shields are down."

OOC: @sunflower @Krayzikk @Pteronura Brasiliensis

Edited by Dane-gerous
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IC: Cory Lindbergh, Madrigal Bridge

Cory sat at his desk, one of the many identical stations for analysts on the bridge of the destroyer. While the spartans had been suiting up in armory, Cory had been walking the techs in the hangar through the activation process for his drone. From that experience alone, Cory had a growing list of notes to be taken into considering for the next iteration of the remote reconnaissance platform. The drone finally connected to the Madrigal's network, and video feed from the front camera popped up on the screen in front of the warrant officer. A crew member was poking the lens to try to get a response, but quickly backed away once the drone began to hover.

The assembled boarding party in the hangar would notice the torso-sized drone rise and slowly float over to them. A bland voice emitted from the robot.

"Nova lead, I have been assigned to assist in your operation using this remote controlled electronic warfare platform, as well as providing intel support as your local eye-in-the-sky. I recommend taking this drone aboard the pelican."

OOC: @Vezok's Friend

Edited by BULiK

Visit www.BZPRPG.com to view my project of archiving BZPower's RPGs, and also access the BZPower Roleplaying Wiki

BZPRPG Profiles - Exo-Force RPG Profiles - Six Kingdoms: Apocalypse (Knichou, Berys, Arnex, The Taku, Exuze)

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IC: [ Vasquez - Madrigal Hangar]

“Lindbergh.” Myra acknowledged the drone’s operator. She knew the officer from the mission planning phase, but that was about it. The man kept to himself, avoided socializing where possible and preferred to attend pre-mission briefings remotely. She didn’t know the reason why and hadn’t bothered to find out - it hadn’t been her problem. Up until now. They’d discussed the use of the drone, but considering possible signal jamming she’d regarded it as more of a backup. Apparently the higher ups thought differently. She ought to have a word with the captain about these late additions once this show was over.

“Very well.” the Spartan said. “Link up with Hammer squad aboard the dropship. You’ve been fully briefed? I assume you’ve been listening in, as usual.”

OOC: @BULiK
 


 

 

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IC: Cory Lindbergh

"Of course, Spartan. As you're no doubt aware, when you're working for bridge comms, listening in is part of the job description," Cory responded. The drone floated away to enter the pelican, where it drew many strange looks from those of Hammer squad that were already inside. The drone unceremoniously spun upside down, and used its two arms to grip itself to the roof of the passenger compartment. Cory relaxed in his seat on the bridge, taking his hands off the controls to patiently sip his coffee.

Edited by BULiK

Visit www.BZPRPG.com to view my project of archiving BZPower's RPGs, and also access the BZPower Roleplaying Wiki

BZPRPG Profiles - Exo-Force RPG Profiles - Six Kingdoms: Apocalypse (Knichou, Berys, Arnex, The Taku, Exuze)

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IC: [ Vasquez - Madrigal Hangar]

And when you’re assigned to a mission it’s your job to personally attend the briefings, she thought, but pushed the more choice things that came to mind aside. That just wasn’t professional. She watched the drone float towards the Pelican, then turned around and pulled on her helmet. It slid into place and sealed with a soft hiss. Her HUD initialized, confirming with a brief pop-up icon that her armor had indeed properly sealed before fading. The team’s status lights were visible in the bottom right corner.

“Fireteam Nova, Hammer squad, comm check.” she spoke into her mic over the team channel, voice automatically sounding a bit more laid back. Not sure why that was, but it sounded cool. One by one, their lights winked green in confirmation. Vasquez nodded slightly to herself as they did, while walking around the booster frame, performing a final visual inspection, before she climbed up the short, yellow boarding ladder and into the spacecraft’s pilot seat. Another such ladder was attached to the rear, waiting for Taylor to take his spot in the gunner position.

“Alright, Nova: Mount up, start pre-flight checks, give me a go/no-go for launch.” she said, while doing just that, fingers moving quickly across the booster’s controls in practiced fashion. Then she added: “Alice, please clear the deck.”, asking the AI to get all non-essential personnel to vacate the hangar at this point. Engines running hot and a ton of ordnance right next to them - this was no place for gawkers.

OOC: @Snelly @Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva) @BULiK


 

 

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IC: Taylor [Madrigal hangar]

"...and play nice with my gear, okay?  I don't wanna hear about how my evac blew itself to bits while I was force-feeding a Jackal his own stickies.  Respect the bombs.  Respect the Pelly."

The other ODST laughed and casually stowed Taylor's rucksack- still crammed with mines and other types of ordinance- on one of the Pelican's racks.  "What, you don't trust us?"

"It's not about you, friend."  Taylor depolarized his visor and tapped the left side of his helmet.  "When you've had a life like mine," he said, "you learn that it pays to be a little bit paranoid."

The ODST laughed again.  "Gunny, if you wanna worry, worry about the pirates, not us."

Taylor shrugged and started making his way back to the booster frames, inspecting what explosives he'd decided to keep on him as he walked.  Frags, flashbangs, flares, a pair of thermite cords, a single tripmine...  It was still more than enough to blow him to bits if someone so much as sneezed at him, but at least he was slightly less likely to take Vasquez and the rocket with him.  Maybe.  And he had a thinner profile now, for what that was worth...?

He mumbled a curse under his breath.  Contrary to expectations, it did make him feel better.  Slightly.

Vasquez was already on their booster when he got there.  He gave her a quick nod, clambered up the rear ladder to his turret, and mag-clamped his boots to the hull.

OOC: @Vezok's Friend


It is not for us to decide the fate of angels.

Dominus Temporis, if you're out there, hit me up through one of my contacts.  I've been hoping to get back in touch for a long time now.  (Don't worry, I'm not gonna beg you to bring back MLWTB or something.  :P )

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IC:

Youth.

There was an unmistakable feeling of youth. It was clear the two Spartan IIIs hadn't paid much attention to his intent, and Nik wished they had. It wasn't a lecture, it wasn't even a warning; it was experience, and it was concern. The two clearly worked together perfectly but they weren't going to be the only two on the ship. It was important to work as a unit, especially when you hadn't cooperated before. Even for Spartans, all trained with the same standards since the legendary IIs, there was no substitute for knowing someone. Knowing how they thought, how they reacted, and knowing that they'd have your back if it came down to it.

Maybe it was his experience showing. Much of the Spartan III program was classified but what was available lined up with the older IIs, and it was likely they'd never seen a combat mission without their augmentations. They had met the Covenant, sure, but never below eye level. They had never had to go up against the Brutes, or worse Elites, without being able to fight on an even footing. Unit cohesion was for their group, and their group was the best. Why worry about how to work with anyone else?

No wonder Jumpers didn't get along with Spartans.

"See you on board." He said simply, recognizing futility of pushing the issue. And that he'd already been a little slow to say anything. The two got a genuine nod and a smile, with an added "Good luck."

His demeanor seemed to change in an instant as he pivoted in place, beckoning for Vali to follow with a tilt of his head.

"It's not the enemy's cannons we should really worry about. You do know why these are listed as ammunition, don't you?" The Martian grinned irreverently at her, green eyes daring her to ask if he was joking or not. It was the last expression she would see for a while, his black helmet lifted, lowered, and twisted into place. Two Spartan IIIs and a Sangheili. He really did get the short end, didn't he? "We've gotta get them off the ship somehow, and the things are magnetic..."

Two TEAMCOM connections greeted him when his helmet finished booting, and he familiarized himself briefly with their data. Very briefly. It only took the breaths between finishing his joke and reaching the OF 9 he'd staked out for himself. It wasn't actually any different from the others, it was just... The right one. Pretty nonsensical reasoning, right? Not like any one of these flying death traps was better than any other. He was rated to fly one. They were covered in training for this very reason, seeing as Spartans were the only people who could safely operate one. As heavily armed as they were, and even with partial shielding, they were a lot like flying a gun. You'll do damage, but there's not a thing between you and the enemy. And if they hit you... Well, all those munitions will make a nice firework for your sendoff. It was insane to take one up against a proper ship, even with fire support. It was practically begging to be blown to pieces and that was from the guy who'd gotten used to a drop pod.

Well. Nik'd just been thinking he was better suited to being David.

"That'll be you," He commented to Vali, glancing over his shoulder and pointing at the turret atop the rear of the craft. "You haven't got the hardpoints to fly one of these yoursself. Maybe something can get rigged up for next time, but this time we'll get you strapped in good and secure. Your gear's EVA-rated, right?"

She was his other concern. He had never dropped with an Elite in support, and he didn't really know what to expect.. She wouldn't stab him in the back, even if that was her plan it wasn't the Sangheili way. He'd learned that well enough fighting them. But with an Elite on one side, and a Spartan III duo on the other...

Man, where was a proper wingman when you needed one.

  • Upvote 1

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: Vali 'Sakuai [Madrigal Hangar]

Vali watched as the other two Spartans began to make their way to their respective booster frames. Though her mastery of their language was far from perfect, tone was easy enough for her to pick up on.

Though she had only been aboard for a short while, during that time she had more about human military culture than she could ever have from reports and stories. Some of it had been surprising, some of it had been surprisingly familiar, some of it was plain unexpected. Not the least of which had been these Spartans. For individuals who her people had called demons for the majority of the war, she was struck by just how... normal the lot of them were. For all the twisted science the humans had used to cheat nature and bring those of their own kind up to the level of her own species she had expected them to be more... alien. Instead they had wants, needs, flaws just like any other sentient being she had encountered. Some seemed not much older than children, like the pair of Headhunters that she was teamed up with; others, like Spartan Markov, seemed to be mo-

Vali's musings were interrupted as she glanced over to the mentioned Spartan who had turned towards her. The expression on his face wasn't one she could decipher so quickly, and before she could inquire as to what his problem was he had already begun speaking.

Cannon? Magnetic? What was talking abou-

The comprehension dawned on her in sections as he slid his strangely skull-like dark helmet into place. Was that really how these Spartans planned on launching from this vessel? No that couldn't be right... There wasn't any way.

Wait.

Was he teasing her?

The realization hit her a moment too late, after how much she had been convinced that Markov had wanted to run her through with his blade only moments earlier the last thing she expected was for him to start joking with her. She felt somewhat embarrassed to have fallen for the now very obvious ruse.

Becoming more confused by these Spartans by the minute, Vali made to follow Nik as he started off towards one of the frames.

There wasn't much to them, though she could clearly see where her position on it was supposed to be; the rotary gun turret not unlike one of those on the human's ground vehicles.

"It is indeed," Vali replied to his inquiry about her armor's hardiness. She tapped the blue visor on the helmet under her arm, which was almost human-like in its shape, albeit with a distinctly Sangheili flare. Given the nature of the mission, she had foregone the more traditional battle helm of her armor to the far less ornate and more utilitarian vacuum-rated one. In a single smooth motion she donned the helmet, her features disappearing behind the blue nanolaminate face plate, self-sealing to her suit with a reassuring hiss of life support systems coming online. Her next words came through his helmet itself, as a click indicated her connection to the TEAMCOM network. "Though I would not like to test its durability against plasma munitions, if it's all the same to you Spartan Markov."

With that, Vali pulled herself up onto the frame of the vessel with an ease that only a lifetime of being a martial warrior could give, nearly clearing the distance in a single bound. She felt her boots secure to its metal frame, before turning to give a nod to the man who would be the pilot of their craft.


 

Edited by sunflower

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IC Cassie Rawlins A313 - Hangar:

Cassie made own way to the Pelican with three strides, and threw her own duffel up into the stowage nets.

"You guys keep a close on this stuff now, okay? My favorite stuff is in here~"

She laughed and hopped out,  making her way over to the booster frame she'd designated mentally as 'hers' and swung a leg over it, getting seated quickly and easily. The stripped down spacecraft linked to the power pack on her armor, and her HUD changed from a personal setting to a more standard one that tracked orientation, speed, distance, and other such things that made piloting a space fighter easier. Cassie set her rifle in the magnetic holding dock on the craft near her right leg, and the set her hands to work on the controls, finishing the linkage between ship and Spartan, and readyig the engines, as well as performing last minute status checks.


 

                                                                                                                                                       

                                                                                           The Unofficial Guide to TBRPG Combat!

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IC:

As though prompted, a third TEAMCOM notification appeared upon Nikolai's HUD roughly in time with the frame of yet another Spartan clambering into the barebones "cockpit" of one of the remaining booster frames. As the power systems and HUD linked, his Air Assault helmet feeding him such innocuous details as bearing, velocity, hardpoints, "hull integrity" (for what that was worth when piloting a glorified, 26th century F-104), and other such necessities for spaceflight.

Hmhm. So, the top brass decided to put guys like him and Niko in the same unit as the Elite. Two ODSTs that were born and bred to kill her people, from the moment they left the womb. Well, bureaucracy had never been known for clarity of planning, but this seemed bad enough when he'd received orders day-of-operation to switch posts— to say nothing of throwing a man from a glassed planet into the same unit as the spectres of his past. He was going to need a lot of coffee if this were a sign of things to come.

But, priorities. He had always slept with one eye open, this Covvie would prove no difference in that matter— not for now. In a ship surrounded by "demons" any overt action would only ensure her a swift end at the tip of some 7.62. For now, best worry about the hornet's nest their orders were to kick. Kig-yar always did have a satisfaction element to them, the slimy little weasels...

<<Spartan Miguel Herrera, performing preflight checks. Lo siento, Nova Actual, but orders came in from the top around when our drone operator's did. I caught your briefing, but didn't realize they hadn't informed you I was joining, over.>>

His voice, rich in timbre and melodically accented, carried over the team communications as he lightly tugged at the controls, checking for problems with the thrust vectoring systems, retros, other such minutiae of maneuvering. He'd done well on sims and in training exercises, as avid a learner as a Spartan as he was a Bullfrog or Hellbringer. In some senses, it hearkened back to the atmospheric fighters of the 20th century much more than the Longswords ever could, despite both inheriting the craft designation. Maneuverability was this thing's bread and butter... or more accurately, it's saving grace. If he could not manipulate a frame in the void, he was at best stranded for the ten to twenty minutes MJOLNIR was rated for...

And at worst, an early meeting with mi padre. So, honestly, could be worse.

He hadn't lied, either— he'd walked into the hangar just as she called the huddle, not seeing the need to speak up until she'd neglected to delegate him to one of the squads— and by that point, there was no sense in dragging feet, since everyone was mounting up. A slow Spartan was a dead Spartan. It was regrettable that such additions came at the last minute, yes, and each side of the equation was begrudged by it, but all he could do now was integrate as smoothly as possible.

<<All systems green.>>


Another voice of howling wind joined the growing cacophony within the Madrigal's hangar.

Edited by Razgriz
italicize ship names, be good to our girl
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helo frens

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IC:

Nikolai Markov laughed, a proper sound that began deep in his chest.

<<Are they letting just anyone on board now?>>

Leave it to the hijo de Toledo Nueva to make such a properly timed entrance as deliverance in urban camo. Not even hearing an Elite over his own TEAMCOM was enough to dampen his spirits now, and in an instant he could almost reevaluate the whole plan. It was always good to see another New Alexandria alumni. Despite his mirth it was time to be prompt, and Nik climbed aboard his own craft with perhaps a little less flair than his gunner. The 'cockpit', such as it was, was barely more than a cluster of screens and controls atop an I-beam. That wasn't entirely fair, there was a clear place for the pilot to lock in; the hardpoint was necessary for HUD integration.

He settled into it easily, letting his HUD update with the OF92's current status. It'd get more complicated in a couple minutes, but for now the view was nice and clean. Pre-flight checks seemed a lot more dignified than it deserved but ensuring system operation was key. Didn't want to get out there and find out your shields didn't work, now did you?

<<Fusion thrusters green. Recursive thrusters green. M92 online. MITV fully stocked, rotary cannons loaded. Shields green.>> He recited over single-beam to Vali, then switched channels for wider reception. <<All systems green. Madrigal, Nova Lead, designating Nova Two One through Nova Two Five.>>

No point in getting Madrigal all confused over who's who. His HUD updated, LOCUS allocating new designations to the sensory data he received.

<<Ready for launch.>>

Switching again to single-beam he added, <<You're more familiar. Any guesses how our corvette will be flying its birds?>>

Edited by Krayzikk
BZP wants to bully Madrigal.
  • Like 4

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

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

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Artur-G013 [Madrigal Hangar]

Nik got a short nod from Artur in return. "Fly well," he said, the words sitting somewhere in-between friendly well wishing and a command. "And like I said, you don't have to worry about us. One team member lost over a lifetime is one too many." Artur was no stranger to awkward pauses and overly-long-awaited answers, having been the cause or creator of many; it didn't take too much effort to guess at what had given the Spartan IV such a pause. He turned away as well, walking over to another one of the booster frames, before seeing—and hearing—as another member joined for the assault on corvette A.

It seemed the booster frames were becoming a limited resource.

He placed one gauntleted hand on Julia's armoured shoulder, preventing her from turning and walking to another booster frame. "You fly," he said, stepping up to the mounted anti-aircraft gun on the back. "I've never been good with these, and somebody watching your backside is always a good thing." After a moment, his boots magnetically locked to the frame itself, his HUD adjusting to the machine gun. "Just don't crash me into anything, alright? I meant what I said about not wanting to end up like oh-seven-nine."

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profiles i guess

i'm a south american giant otter now

 

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IC:

The briefest of switches to single-line.

<<Nova Two-One, this is Two-Three, howcopy?>>

And under the guise of establishing comm clarity when both knew they were green, Nikolai could hear the smirk on the Alluvionite's face (and the full weight of his accent, so measured it was for official comms) as he a drew a pair of fingers to his brow in a cheeky "salute".

<<Yo, Buddy. Still alive?>>

Back to team frequency.


helo frens

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IC: Vali 'Sakuai [Madrigal Hangar]

Vali watched with satisfaction as her armor's systems paired themselves mostly flawlessly with the mounted gun's targeting uplink. She had to hand it to herself there, it wasn't often that completely alien systems were bridged seamlessly together like that. There were still some kinks to work out, namely all of the targeting information was still almost humorously literally translated from the human's language to Sangheili, but it was definitely workable.

<<M41 ELAAGat operational.>> Vali added as Nikolai went down his pre-flight checklist to her. While her tone remained the same, there was a noticeable shift in her demeanor as she enunciated the decidedly human name for the weapon. Now was the time for battle, and it was difficult to ignore the sense of prepared eagerness that had crept into her voice.

<<Difficult to say.>> She replied back on single-beam in response to the Spartan's question, the anticipation in her voice now fully brought to bear. <<Traditional tactics would dictate Banshee groups be flying interference for the larger ships, though I do not believe these pirates will be adhering to any sort of doctrine of warfare. Even so, Banshees are quick but very vulnerable, and Kig-yar are nearly as bloodthirsty as I am.>>

There was a slight pause, just enough to register the last part was a joke.

Probably.

<<I would watch for pack tactics, they will try to hunt us; surround us and cut us off from the main group. Many will attempt to score the final blow, which could work in our favor as they lose coordination.>>

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IC: Julia-G101 - Madrigal Hangar

Oh, now he wanted her to fly.

"I'm pretty sure most people don't appreciate having their backside watched, Art." She said, dryly, before making her way to the piloting seat of the booster frame, armour sliding into place as her HUD updated with the OF-92's status. The monitors blinked excitedly, as they synced up with her suit CPU. "Keep the screaming to the minimum."

Shields, check. Munitions, check. Thrusters, green. 

"We're good." She confirmed for her partner, before switching to team frequency. 

<<Yeah, this is Nova-Two-Two, reporting green and ready to launch.>>

She then settled into the seat, listening into her squad's comms until she had anything to add.

Edited by Dane-gerous

 

 

 

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IC: Madrigal Hangar

    As Jill affixed the jump harness to her suit, she could feel a pit forming in the depths of her stomach. Could she do this? Sure. Would she like doing this? Absolutely not. She glanced over at Taylor, the actual ODST in the room. "He's gotta be loving this..." she muttered to herself.

OOC: Finals are done.

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IC: Taylor [Madrigal hangar]

Single-line transmission.

<<I heard that.>>

Back to teamcom.  Taylor allowed himself a small grin before returning to fussing over his turret.  Darn things weren't made for someone without augs...

OOC: @FarflungWanderer


It is not for us to decide the fate of angels.

Dominus Temporis, if you're out there, hit me up through one of my contacts.  I've been hoping to get back in touch for a long time now.  (Don't worry, I'm not gonna beg you to bring back MLWTB or something.  :P )

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IC: [ Vasquez - Madrigal Hangar]

“I had a feeling you might join us.” Myra replied to Miguel, smirking beneath her helmet as she continued pre-flight prep. She’d actually counted on it. It made no sense to sideline a Spartan for this mission. “Hence the free booster set aside for you.”

Her preflight checklist had arrived at checking control surfaces. She gave the sticks and pedals a bit of input while the systems checked if everything was responding correctly. The nozzles in the back canted in response to the pedal. Her helmet flashed a quick 'check HUD calibration' and she looked up, down, left and right in quick succession. At least it didn’t ask for inverted controls anymore, that patch had been long overdue.

At the same time, the other pilots came back one by one over comms, until they all had reported “go”.

Myra opened a channel to the bridge. 

“Madrigal Actual, this is Nova Lead. We are GO for launch.”

OOC: @The UltimoScorp @Razgriz
 


 

 

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IC: Alice - The Madrigal -

Alice had promptly sent out messages to all non-essential personnel to clear the deck. "The deck is clear Spartan Myra, have a safe flight." Alice announced once her task was complete. 

Of course the AI was doing plenty more in the background, doing system checks on everything within and without the hanger. From every OF-92 and Pelican to the individual suits of each Spartan and their vitals (plus friends). And of course she was maintaining the various systems of The Madrigal itself and all that entailed. Alice was a busy girl. 

"I don't get paid enough for this." 

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My Bzprpg ProfilesSix Kingdoms: Apocalypse

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

 

 

 

 

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March 4th, 2558

Sverdlovsk System

0815 hours

 

"Understood Nova Lead, standby for Booster Frame launch."

 

Two additional contacts would register on Myra's TEAMCOMM, Olympian 1 and 2. The Broadswords. Piloted by Spartans Adam Faulke and Nora Rodriguez. 

 

Static crackled in each member's comm as the frames were extended on rails out of the hangar and into the void of space.

 

The Broadswords in the hangar launched, the twin interceptors taking up a holding pattern just beyond the front of the ship.

 

Nova Actual spoke the all important line, "Operation: TAKEN FLAG is go, Booster Frames launch!"

 

A mechanical clunk echoed through each of the frames, and they dropped from the rails, and the engines on the tiny craft ignited, with their launch, the Madrigal accelerated. The retrofitted plasma turrets began to warm. In the distance, the two Corvettes drifted, as of yet unaware of their imminent attackers.

 

Edited by The UltimoScorp
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                                                                                           The Unofficial Guide to TBRPG Combat!

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IC: Jill, Rapidly transiting away from the Madrigal

    Sound, despite common conception, theoretically can travel through space so long as there is a dense enough field of particulates to act as a medium. If, by fate or by chance, the Madrigal had been in a nebulae or a pocket of roaming, loose hydrogen, her fellow operators might've heard the exact words Jill spoke when the harnesses released. Alas, her words were lost to the ages - but this narrator can report that they were short, elegant, and extremely profane.

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OOC: Spartans calmly and professionally setting out to do what they do best theme. 

IC: [ Vasquez - En route to intercept]

At first there was a lot of noise, warning claxons signaling the impending launch, the roar of the engines, the comm chatter, the rattling of the booster frame. But the cacophony fell away the instant they passed through the hangar airlock and into space, replaced by the quiet sounds of her armor and the soft hum of the engines transmitted from the frame into her suit. 

Despite the pre-mission excitement and adrenaline rushing through her, an odd sense of calm overcame Myra as they shot away from the Madrigal and towards their targets, which were both highlighted on her HUD, which had switched to flight-mode. The mission timer had started as well. The corvettes both had target markers on them and a thin line indicating the optimal trajectory for her booster frame to reach the intercept point.

“Madrigal Actual, this is Nova Lead. Good launch. Over.” Vasquez reported. “Copy Nova Lead.” came the reply from Madrigal. “Good launch, we’re showing green across the board here too. Over.”

Myra switched over to the fireteam channel. “Nova Team, assume scattered formation and proceed to the intercept point. You are cleared hot as soon as bandits are in range. Don’t do anything stupid and happy hunting.”

With that out of the way she glanced back over her shoulder towards the aft gun turret and Taylor. 

“You doing okay back there, Gunny?”

OOC: @Endless Sea (Alaki Nuva)


 

 

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IC:

<<Good. I like a target rich environment.>>

Space is really, really big and you can't get a clear idea of it until you set foot outside your ship.

Suspended from the rail below the 1.8 million ton destroyer's belly the void yawned to welcome them, spreading as far as the eye could see in any direction. As soon as the clamps released there would be no up or down within that expanse, nothing universal to orient against at all. "Below" would become meaningless in moments. Within that vast nothingness there were two Covvie corvettes, twelve Type 27 Banshees. and four Seraph fighters. Infinitesimally small but they were nevertheless the only specks within the vastness that mattered. They were targets, targets he would destroy by fire and maneuver. 

"When I die, please bury me deep..." Nik muttered, frowning at his HUD. Silence had descended, not even the umbilical that still connected him to the ship carrying any vibration. That was more alien than the nothingness; the complete absence of sound had been known to send unwary cadets into a real panic the first time. You learned to live with it, but it could still strike you when you had half a second to think. And he had that, if only barely. He returned Miguel's two finger salute with an added; <<Nova Two-Three, solid copy.>>

Cheeky guy.

"Place my MA5 down by my feet."

Fireteam Nova in truth was nothing of the sort. With seven Spartans an Elite, and an ODST flying point and Hammer bringing up the rear they were an undersized squad, and split between two objectives it wasn't how he would have formulated the ops plan. He'd done what he could by designating the frames bound for Bandit Alpha as Nova Two, but it could've been cleaner. At a thought his HUD rearranged the information on his allies, relabeling his own little band as Alpha and Myra's as Bravo. Quick, informal, but it would help keep track of who was who when things started getting frenetic. And they would be, as the count on his display ticked from four, to three, to two, to one.

The clamps released and his fusion drives came online, rocketing him forward on silent wings. For a given definition; the OF-9's 'wings' were retracted, pulled in close for storage. And they would stay that way for a minute longer. 

"Don't cry for me, don't shed no tear..."

<<Gauss charging.>> He reported to the Elite at his six, something that didn't inspire confidence. As much as he didn't expect her to turn the turret on him he still couldn't quite shake the picture. His solace was that if she did, Miguel would make certain she didn't get to gloat. Collision warnings blared occasionally within his helmet, HUD marking objects within the edge of the asteroid field large enough to pose a risk. Piloting wasn't really his strongest suit but he maneuvered around them deftly, the frame's narrower profile letting him skirt danger with close, precise handling. Smaller pieces pinged harmlessly off of his armor, the only sounds he registered from the outside world. The twisting line towards his objective remained a slender thread of fate urging him inexorably onward towards the fray. 

And then like that he was free, emerging from the asteroid belt that Madrigal had lain doggo in for nearly a week. But all of that was about to change and Madrigal would be lighting up their sensors any second. The Seraphs in a holding pattern were within range of the Gauss that lay between his knees along the length of the frame, but he waited. Waited, and waited, and waited as he cleared the field and drew closer. He knew what the ops plan called for, knew when it would happen, and by his estimate....

<<Extending pods, Nova Two-One weapons hot in three.>> He stated over TEAMCOM as his 'wings' extended, the twelve MITV pods running on their rails out to his left and right for unobstructed launch and increased maneuver. At the cessation of his countdown he thumbed the Gauss cannon's trigger and a single accelerated round lanced into the void in time with Madrigal's opening shot. The Seraph he had chosen would have no more than a breath's notice before it slammed into its shields, and more likely than not, into its armor. It might live, it might not, but it'd know it had been kissed either way. 

The pirates knew they had arrived now

<<Recharging, Sakuai, hang tight and watch our six. Nova Two victors our priority is the hangar bay but let's make it easier for Olympian on approach.>>

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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: Vali 'Sakuai [OF92/EVA, Combat Space]

From her position at the back of the booster frame Vali watched as the Madrigal's hangar gave way to bleak dark nothingness. Sound dropped away, and she felt the clunk of mechanisms through her boots as the piece of ammunition was deployed out onto the retaining arms. For a moment she saw nothing but blackness, the light from the destroyer's hangar drowning out the pinpricks of light that normally accompanied it.

And then the clamps released, and the two of them were bound just by a skeletal frame of weapons and engines. A hum she felt all the way up into her jaw accompanied the activation of said engines, as well as the slightly nauseous sensation of the vehicle's buffer field keeping her in place as they accelerated away from the Madrigal.

Stars resolved themselves in her HUD's augmented view as the light faded away, and the small element in the top right turned from yellow to blue as the frame's weapon safeties were disabled. Experimentally she gave the controls a cursory feel, and the turret rotated in kind to face forward.

<<Gauss charging.>> Came the human voice over her helmet's comm following a light tone. Vali glanced down at the Spartan who currently held both his and her own life at his fingertips, the thought not the most reassuring given the circumstances, before directing her attention to their foes ahead. A section of her HUD gave a magnified view at her command, and she could clearly make out the shapes of both corvettes and their escorts.

<<Extending pods, Nova Two-One weapons hot in three.>>

Another reverberation she felt more than heard as the weapon pods on either side of the frame extended. And then Markov fired off the magnetic cannon, and at once the subtle buildup of anticipation disappeared into the sharpened focus of combat. In the distance she could see the impact of the round.

<<Recharging, Sakuai, hang tight and watch our six. Nova Two victors our priority is the hangar bay but let's make it easier for Olympian on approach.>>

<<Copy that.>> Came her reply over single-beam, the human's military parlance still colored with her accent over comms. <<Tracking nearest escort group.>>

While consciously she knew it wouldn't do much, Vali still braced herself as she swung the M41 around to align it with the Banshees ahead.

With any luck, her ancestors weren't still displeased with her.


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IC: Julia-G101 -  Into The Storm (OF92, Nova-Two-Two)

Three. Two. One.

Liftoff.

The frame of the booster vibrated rapidly as the hooks released, and it rocketed off into space behind its siblings. Flying was odd, but the Spartan handled the thruster fine enough, trailing just behind the other two in the squad.

Julia's helmet flashed as beacons popped up on the HUD. Nik's thruster blasted out a projectile from the gauss cannon, smashing into one of the swarm of Seraphs. She couldn't tell if it had been demolished, but it had hit it hard. The engagement had most certainly begun.

<<Recharging, Sakuai, hang tight and watch our six. Nova Two victors our priority is the hangar bay but let's make it easier for Olympian on approach.>>

<<Acknowledged. Nova-Two-Two moving to engage.>> She replied over TEAMCOMM, her own gauss cannon beginning to lock towards an oncoming trio of Banshees.

<<Art, eyes up.>> She told her partner over singlebeam, hoping he was getting quickly familiar with the rear gun. <<Aiming for the middle Raptor, get ready to light them up.>>

And, as telegraphed, a light blue blast shot from the thruster's main gun as glowing plasma bolts passed Artur and Julia. A Banshee swerved off course as the shot pierced the shield and the hull, likely killing the pilot inside. 

She breathed in. A good shot, but she'd need Artur to follow up.

The story of her life, at this point.

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis

 

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IC: Artur-G013 [Space, the Final Frontier]

Hanging from a magnetic clamp in the middle of deep space on a glorified gun-with-engines wasn't really Artur's idea of a good start to a mission; he preferred land-based stealth drops, not floating in an empty field of nothing that was interrupted by the odd bit of baryonic matter every now and again. The anticipation of being released from the magnetic clamp, only to rocket off far away from the ship that was serving as his current home, didn't help matters. Of course, Artur didn't really have a choice, so he just had to make the best of a poor situation and hope he and Julia didn't end up crushed, exploded, or stranded.

Wow, I hate this entire scenario. Is it too late to request transfer to the Pelican?

Almost as soon as he wondered that to himself, the clamp disengaged, the engines on the booster frame throwing him and Julia out into the empty void along with the others of the squad within the space of a heartbeat. He swivelled the turret to face forward, disengaging the safety as the multiple targets started to pop up on his HUD. "Here goes nothing," he muttered to himself, while the group approached the patrolling escort craft. Sixteen in total, with the Banshees scrambling shortly after Nik's opening fire; not too bad to deal with, helping alleviate some of Artur's distaste for space combat antics like this.

He quickly tracked the trio that was heading in his and Julia's direction, just as she pointed them out to him. <<Do you think I'm asleep back here?>> he replied, before the frame shuddered as she fired; as the leading craft quickly sputtered and died, falling off course with a hole blasted clean through the pilot's compartment, he opened fire on the one to the right before it could start to evade. Its shields splashed and dissipated quickly, before it screamed on past his postion; swivelling back around, he resumed fire with another burst, punching through the small fighter's nanolaminate plating.

One lucky bullet found the store of fuel rods for the cannon, and the Banshee was enveloped in a flash of green light and gas. <<Banshee down,>> he reported to Julia as they sped away. <<Lost sight of the third. You see where it went?>>

OOC: @Dane-gerous

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profiles i guess

i'm a south american giant otter now

 

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IC: [ Vasquez - Danger Zone]

Vasquez hit the ‘improved mobility’ switch to adjust her seating and watched as Nova 2’s frames pulled ahead, spread out and began to engage targets. An artificial shooting star raced by overhead as Madrigal fired her opening salvo and Markov joined in with his M92 almost simultaneously, followed shortly by Julia’s gauss cannon. Purple and blue explosions in the distance signaled the projectiles had found their marks a heartbeat later.

Myra hung back for a moment, to get a good first-hand overview before joining the fray herself. Tacmaps and briefings were all fine and dandy, but reality had a way of disappointing by not matching up with the intel. Standard operating procedure was to assume intel was incomplete, that they would hit snags and to prepare accordingly. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst - blah, blah. Personally, she preferred ‘overkill is underrated’.

Between the Spartans and Broadswords, it took almost no time to designate all the corvettes’ currently deployed escorts. As soon as the Seraphs and Banshees came into scanning range, they got automatically tagged and added for the entire team, including the one that had just left Artur’s field of view. 

<<Lost sight of the third. You see where it went?>>

<<Nova 2-2, bandit marked.>> came Myra’s voice over the team channel, while at the same time, a small red triangle appeared on Artur’s HUD indicating the position of the third Banshee in relation to their booster frame.

Meanwhile, Myra throttled up her own frame to catch up with Nova Two, engine readouts briefly hitting 104% as she closed the gap. Glancing to her sides despite seeing their icons on her HUD already, she saw Jill and Cassie were on her port and starboard respectively, keeping pace. 

Alright, time to go to work.

With her M92 fully charged as well, she selected the Banshees flying close to corvette B, targeting the one leading the flight..

<<I’ve got the leader.>> she informed the rest of Nova One. The targeting computer spit out a firing solution within nanoseconds and she hit the thumb button. The frame shuddered and her visor darkened briefly in response to the bright flash. The lead Banshee disappeared in a cloud of ionized gas as it exploded, the shockwave throwing its wingman off course.

<<Splash One.>>

That got the attention of the rest and they turned to intercept. She briefly considered firing up one of the MITV pods, but they needed them for the bigger ships. It was only a matter of time before their plasma turrets would come online. The indicator on her HUD showed the Gauss cannon slowly starting to charge again. 3%...4%. If they could keep up the momentum of their surprise attack, the next shot could very well be the one used to rip through the corvette’s shields. So for the time being, that left one thing:

<<I’m going in for guns.>>

 

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IC: Julia-G101 - Into The Storm (OF92, Nova-Two-Two)

<<Eyes on Bandit, Nova Lead.>>

Myra's spot was incredibly invaluable in that moment. Julia's HUD flashed and she, on instinct, turned the cannon around, having charged up as Artur had peppered the other Banshee into the freezing embrace of the great vacuum.

She wasn't quite fast enough this time, the projectile crashing into the Banshee's left wing and clipping it, but not destroying it entirely. Gritting her teeth, the frame curved around as the rotary cannons began to spin and fire, blasting into the mal-adjusted craft and sending it into an assisted detonation. 

Julia took a breath.

<<Raptor down, thanks for the spot.>> She said over TEAMCOMM, addressing Myra. Julia needed to shake the tunnel vision. 

A Seraph rocketed past her, blasting plasma weaponry at the shields of the thruster. The shields absorbed some of the shots but the Spartan moved the thruster to dodge some of the rest.

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis

Edited by Dane-gerous
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IC: Artur-G013 [Space, The Final Frontier]

<<Copy, Nova Lead,>> Artur responded to Myra; he quickly began to turn his turret in the direction of the last Banshee. Not that he had any opportunity to fire once he saw it, as Julia threw the frame around as he was turning, clipping the craft's wing with another blast from her M92. It spun away for a moment, before Julia  turned around again, finishing it off with her own rotary cannons. For his part, Artur had shifted to doing what he could to keep track of what was coming towards them, firing a salvo at a Seraph; despite returning some fire, it seemed to take the warning seriously, choosing to adopt a more cautious approach to dealing with the two Spartans and their booster frame, instead of blazing forwards as aggressively as possible to nearly plow into them.

With plasma splashing against the shields just a foot away from his helmet, he followed the Seraph's path while the booster frame turned away, continuing to pepper its shields with bolts. <<Nice shot,>> he said dryly, over single-beam comms. <<I know you like playing with your food, Julia, but could you save it for the big ones, please? Otherwise, all your fancy maneuvers to keep them sighted might send me flying off into space, and neither of us want that.>>

OOC: @Dane-gerous

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IC: Julia-G101 - Into The Storm (OF92, Nova-Two-Two)

<<You're beginning to make that last bit sound tempting.>> She growled back on single beam, thrusters sending the frame forward after the Seraph.

There was a bright flash in Julia's visor as the rotary cannons lit the seraph up, culminating in another detonation, blue and green mixed in with the endless black.

She inhaled and exhaled, searching for more escorts to thin out.

OOC: @Pteronura Brasiliensis


 

 

 

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IC Cassie Rawlins A313:

A green acknowledgement light was sent to Nova Lead in response, and Cassie fell into formation alongside Myra.

Two banshees moved to engage the pair, but before Cassie could do anything about them, both erupted into brief fireballs as Olympian 2 blazed past.

With a frown, Cassie spoke up.

<<Don't take all the fun Olympian!>>

The response was a chuckle, and a warm response.

<<Copy that, Nova One-Three, next time I'll let them shoot you a bit first>>

Inside her helmet, Cassie smirked, and continued to stick with Nova Lead.

 

GM IC

The Corvettes, while taken by surprise, were quick to respond. The initial shot from the Madrigal caused the lead ship's shields to flare, before they failed, electric blue static fizzling into existence. Her sister ship began to swing wide, away from the other Corvette as both ships plasma turrets warmed. Pulse laser turrets fired toward the Madrigal but at the extended range lacked the power to do any meaningful damage.

On the bridge of the Madrigal, the Captain ordered his crew, then spoke to Alice directly.

"Alice, I want you to take over EWAR duties, and I'm handing control of the plasma turrets to you. I want those shields to stay down."


 

                                                                                                                                                       

                                                                                           The Unofficial Guide to TBRPG Combat!

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IC:

"... just pack my box with PT gear. 'Cause early one morning 'bout zero five, the ground will rumble there'll be lightning in the sky."

The opening volley had been a blood bath, the sort for so long the Covenant had visited upon humanity exclusively. Six Banshees and a Seraph by his count, nearly half the corvettes' expected capacity of parasite craft. But with the element of surprise lost Nik was forced into a disadvantageous position; the Martian wasn't actually a great pilot.He could get from point A to B and he could coordinate just fine but the truth was dogfighting wasn't really in his wheelhouse. He'd been an enlisted man when he was till in the Navy, and since then he'd ridden pods to the ground like a stone cast from heaven. Not a lot of room for fancy maneuvering. He'd gotten some catch-up training as a Spartan sure but that didn't make him an ace overnight.

The truth was, one to one the Covvies over there might actually have been better pilots. So it was important not to play fair. 

Banshees were faster, more maneuverable. He didn't trust himself to fight them, so he focused on harassing the Seraphs. He flew inverted to the plane to present a small target and overshot the corvette rapidly as its shields fell, burning hard to hug its curvature and loops back around 'below' it; and behind the ship's formation of remaining Seraphs and Banshees. 

"Don't you worry, don;t come undone. It's just my ghost on a PT run."

Nik immediately flushed four of his MITV pods at the formation, specifically peppering the Seraph with his guns just to salt the wounds, and immediately broke off to hug the corvette's length. In doing so he presented Vali her choice of targets, and ensured no Banshee would take a shot without getting into close pursuit; at any other angle they could hit their own ship. And with the hangar opening dead ahead and coming up fast, there were minimal firing angles for the ship's turrets between him and his objective.

<<Nova Two One, making a run for the hangar. Godspeed, Olympian.>>


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: Vali 'Sakuai [OF92/EVA, Combat Space]

Vali tracked the increasingly large IFF designators that made up the augmented view provided by her HUD with the M41 as the two of them rocketed forward to engage directly with the corvettes' escort. Despite herself she flinched ever so slightly as Markov flipped the booster frame around to hug the surface of their assigned target's hull. There was something uniquely exhilarating, and terrifying, about the completely open seating arrangements on the frame. She felt a pang deep in her chest as they swung around the back end of the corvette, the booster frame's shields flaring ever so slightly from the backwash from the ship's gigantic engine array, though it was difficult to say whether it was from her hearts momentarily disagreeing with the human dampener fields, or as a result of her own anticipation.

She paid it little mind, Markov's maneuver put them in perfect position to attack.

Vali felt the rhythmic thunk thunk thunk as the explosive warheads on the side of their frame deployed, her link to the craft relaying their targeting information before her eyes. This was it.

She squeezed the weapon's trigger, and it responded in kind as the barrels spun up and unloaded into the formation of banshees ahead. She could hear it fire through her grip on the controls, a sharp report of explosives combined with the cacophony of moving parts signature to the human's primitive projectile weaponry. Though it was far cry from the hum of plasma rounds she was used to, she couldn't argue with the hardened slugs' effectiveness on the lightly shielded banshees before them.

Then they were moving again, with another gut-wrenching maneuver that brought them one again close to the corvette's hull to avoid getting outmaneuvered by their more numerous foe. And presenting her a nearly unobstructed field of fire for the escort ships that survived their initial attack. Clever, Spartan.

Taking the human's classification of the vehicle as ammunition to heart, Vali opted to open up with the chaingun once again, forgoing conservation of ammo for a wall of uranium rounds that lanced out into the blackness of space and towards the banshees as she walked the tracers closer on target.


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