>>31904347
1/2? cont? wat do?

>>31904347
It takes some time before your eyes adjust to the illumination level, but you once again behold the beauty of New Babylon. Vertical white surfaces hold an iron grip on the city's architectural tendencies, making every building look like a monument jutting out into the sky, piercing the heavens. Only far-off windows starting in the 20th-30th floor range spoil the visage, showing where the middle-class housing begins.

Clean streets, deciduous trees everywhere and a peculiar lack of sand or dust make the city look less like what it is - a high-tech settlement in the desert - and more like a high-tech yet quaint city up north, in some nice and temperate climate.

Your destination, the bar Akkadia, is a 3-minute walk away from where you live and 20 minutes' time from your current location. Soon enough, you're at the front door, but...

Nobody but Ashley should be tending to the bar today, seeing as how it's a national holiday, a religious celebration neither yours nor her people happen to observe. How do you enter?

>[] Barge in, pick a fight with the nearest client, proceed to have your drinks.
>[] Enter normally, trying to make yourself unnoticeable. You might get the jump on Ashley.

Roll d20.

>>31904347
Next time you post your opening post, have all of it written beforehand. That way we don't have to wait 10 minutes between posts to start voting.

Rolled 16

>>31904538
>[] Enter normally, trying to make yourself unnoticeable. You might get the jump on Ashley.

>>31904586
or he could add
>1/2
or
>cont.
to multipart posts so we know theres more coming

>>31904603
>or he could add 1/2 or cont.
See, but the fact is that this was his very first post in the thread. He absolutely COULD pre-write it, break it into two posts and then post them in the span of two minutes.

>>31904636
I'll just link the thread once the first choice presents itself, next time. You should roll, by the way. Might get a one.

Rolled 18

>>31904714
Okay

>>31904743
other anon here, you haven't actually picked an option yet anon...

Rolled 4

>>31904836
Okay

>>31904867
so you gonna vote or wut?

>>31904538
>>31904603
>>31904743
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnyplTv7FQ4

Fortune smiles upon you today.

As you casually enter, you instantly take note of the fact that the barkeep's usual cheery greeting does not ring out. Her attention is elsewhere, you conclude. Better act quick.

You move swiftly and silently, like a panther, on the war to the barstand, taking in the layout and interior design as you do.

Dimly lit to the point of being hard to see, the barstand meets the eye as soon as one enter the establishment. What little can be seen of the brick walls is decorated in red and gold, soft shimmering that seems more tribal than glamorous. Square tables off to the right and left prove that it's larger than might be assumed, more spacious and accomodating than the stifling darkness lets you know.

It evokes a cozy, "right at home" kind of feeling for you, a man attuned to the night, but a stranger might find it uncomfortble.

To the left, chatting with some woman who hasn't noticed you, either, Ashley wipes a glass with a cloth. You sneak around and behind the stand. The time to strike is now.

>[] Tickle her.
>[] Say something in her ear.

Roll d20.

Rolled 16

>>31904949
>>[] Tickle her.

Rolled 18

>>31904949
>[] Tickle her.
but be ready to catch the glass if she drops it

Rolled 10

>>31904949
>[] Tickle her.
OPERATORS OPERATING.

>>31904949
>>31904968
>>31905005
Fuck, you guys are high rollers today. The dice gods approve, it seems. Good call, by the way.

>>31905027
Ii'vebeenwaitingforthis.jpg
We'll operate closer to the end. You could've gotten a fight scene just now, some slapstick "bumble fumble" if you botched the roll. You could've also gotten a little if /tg/ dice slaughtered the roll just now.

>>31905082
The dice are biding their time. We'll feel their wrath only when it matters most.

>>31905082
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KxeBnmZRyIw

She doesn't suspect a thing. She just stands there, defenseless, her arms slightly raised. She couldn't be in better position if she tried.

Still crouching, you raise your hands to her sides, then proceed to raise your torso, as well. If the woman across the stand goes all deer in the headlight, little ol' Ashley Hassan will start looking like a real Hassan.

The prey does notice you. Too bad it doesn't react in time.

Once you're in position, you make a sharp movement and sneak your hands under her arms, your fingers snaking their way along the silky fabric of her white shirt, the vest doing nothing to protect her as you grasp the soft flesh of her armpits. And then, you begin.
[1/2]

>>31905206
You can feel her muscles tense for a second under your soft touch, her body jolting at the uninvited caress, but once you start moving your fingers, she crumples like silk. A feminine, yet also loud laugh fills the air. You mercilessly continue your assault. The woman in front of you two, witnessing her conversation partner suddenly falling back onto you, puts a hand to her mouth to keep herself from crying out.

It must be a strange sight, you realize. Ashley's body presses onto you with a good deal less weight than you'd assume, but it's enough to almost make you lose your footing. Her laughs become exhausted, she's gasping for air now. You know Ashley from a very long time ago, and that has to do with why you're here today, it's an anniversary of sorts, though it has nothing to do with just the two of you. The barkeep undulates and sways, but you don't let up. One of her distinguishing characteristics is that she's a massive tease. She's always bubbly and energetic, but nowhere as innocent as
she looks, and you have to admit, you don't like that one bit. So you remain relentless.

The image starts looking more and more suggestive by the minute. Your friend from days long past bends in half and over the counter, you on top of her, unwilling to let go. Chances like this don't come by often. Luck is on your side today, anyway, so you feel confident about this.

Until you meet the gaze of the woman whose conversation you interupted. She's absolutely flushed, but she doesn't cover her mouth like before, you notice. Her left hand is on the counter, fidgeting. Her other plays with the him of her short skirt. You suddenly realize that Ashley's back no longer presses against yours, but arches down, and her round ass is right up against your crotch.

>[] Say something to the onlooking woman.

Rolled 2

>>31905482
Do you mind?
we are having a moment here.

>>31905482
"Nothing to see here, just greeting a friend."

Then squeeze her to make her squeak and signal its time for the woman to do something else.

aaand now I gotta go get dinner, be back in 20~ mins

Rolled 16

>>31905545
rolling in case we need rolls

>>31905526
>>31905545
Writing.

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159 KB JPG

>>31905482
Sorry for the wait. Got held up, shouldn't happen again.

As a man who operates operators on a daily basis, makes his living murdering robots and stares bullets down constantly, you don't lose your composure. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Nothing to see here," you say to your audience, your eyes ablaze and staring deep into hers. "Just greeting a friend."

The woman nods her head in turn. You expected more of a reaction.

"Do you mind? We are having a moment, here." You press her again.

"Not at all, no," comes her distracted-sounding reply. Is she... not paying attention?

You finally let up. It's not like you have trouble performing on stage or speaking to masses of people. Those are perfectly comfortable. But this woman hungrily staring you two down is killing your mood.

Ashley tries to voice a half-assed protest and vocalizes something about you being a jerk and a meanie. No matter.

"Can I get your name?"

"Ah!" This snaps her out of her daze. "Ishvara Gari."

"Darius Duravi."
[1/2]

>>31906216
With all the guile you can muster, you try to verbally handwave what just transpired.

"So, what were you talking about just n-" Clink! A rather firm glass hits you upside the head. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make ignoring it impossible.

"Don't scare me like that! I thought I was going to die!" A more asserting-sounding Ashley says.

"Die of laughter, maybe. And do you always bend over when you're scared?"

"Shut up. That's just because it was you." She looks away.

If you didn't know her half as well as you actually do, you'd take this as unmistakeable evidence of her being interested in you. Fortunately, you don't vest much importance into little things like that. Old Man Sam's daughter isn't like most women.

Suddenly, Ishvara voices her opinion on the matter. "You know, you didn't have to stop. I feel like I sort of got in the way..."

'She's not a bright one,' a mysterious, arcane feeling tells you. This voice of eldritch precognition seems to be speaking the truth, though you hardly have the mental acuity to determine what its reasoning might possibly be.

"Don't worry about it. Ashley, get me some.."

>[] Tequila
>[] Whiskey
>[] Vodka

>>31906389
>Creme de menthe

>>31906389
>[] Whiskey
start out classy, we can move to the others when we want to get plastered, but were here to start building a harem

>>31906389
>>31906444
>>31906449
Those are some nice trips, but Darius isn't about to serve time.

"...Whiskey."

"One glass, coming right up." The bartender replies gleefully.

"I'll have a refill of my creme de menthe," Ishvara says quietly, perhaps hoping you won't hear her.

You walk around the bar stand, deciding it'd be better to not leap over, and sidle up next to her.

"So you're a real party girl, huh? You can call me Dari, by the way."

"Ah..." She begins to reply, but thinks better of it. "You can call me Isha, then."

"Sounds like you two are off to a great start," Ashley says. "Will you be off once you finish those drinks or should I get ready to fill 'em up again?"

"Don't be silly, Ashley." Ishvara replies, then turns to you. "I don't mean any offense by that, I just-"

Your reply is swift.

"No, no. It's fine. I'm not here to pick up women, either."

You remember why you came here. Your very good friend, quite possibly the best friend a man could ask for, died on this day. 8 years ago, today.

You pour half the glass down your throat. It doesn't go down well, but you're a regular drinker. You force it down and enjoy the heat that begins to run up from your stomach as the burning sensation in the back of your throat dies down.

You had always thought him a traitor just waiting to happen. A guy like him, who always made sure he was three fucking steps ahead of everyone you knew, a guy like that would bail on everyone as soon as the imps lit a fire under his ass.

And that whole time, you were wrong. When the hammer dropped on you three, he put himself on the line. He didn't expect to win against the cops, but he made sure he had a fighting chance. And what a chance it was.

Your expression darkens. The circumstances surrounding his death are no mystery to either you or Ashley - he died behind your backs. They found the body.

You turn to Ashley. You both promised each other you'd honor his memory once a year, you'd stick together.
[1/3]

>>31906775
You look up from your glass and at Ashley, a relaxed expression on your face as you raise your glass.

"Hey, where's your drink? Come on, put it up!" You nudge her.

"You know I'm on the job, Dari. Remember? 'Don't get high off your own supply.'"

You drop the cheery facade.

"You can either pour yourself a glass of whiskey right now or I can come over there and force it down your throat." She sighs in reply. "And besides, there's nobody here today but the three of us."

You turn to Isha with a reckless gleam in your eye, but no hostility.

"You wouldn't tattle on Ashley, right?" A shake of the head. You turn to the woman serving your drinks. "Then there's no problem."

"Fine. He deserves it, in any case." She takes out a glass from below the counter, as if having prepared it beforehand, blows in it and proceeds to fill it with dark fluid.

"Who's 'he,' anyway?" Ishvara pipes up.

"A dead man and a good man," you answer. "A martyr, in other words."

"...Ah."

Meanwhile, Ashley extends her glass to you. A clink resounds through the bar and you empty your glasses. The Hassan woman is a better drinker than you, you must admit.

"Well, it's about time for me to go home." Isha begins to get up. You can't help but feel guilty at making her feel like a third wheel.

"Where do you work?" You ask.

"Ah, I'm a committee member for the IRO tourney. I sort out paperwork and make calls, usually."

"Ah," you give a disappointed sigh. "I'm a participant. Maybe you've heard of me."

"Of course. You made the headlines in every mass media outlet just over a year ago."

"Oh ho. Then maybe I can get your number?"

Your lame attempt gets you a slightly flustered smile, which you barely make out in the darkness, and a slip of paper.

"May we meet again!" You voice an eager farewell, watching Isha head for the door with her purse.

"Ciao!"

The smell of her perfume lingers, her movements having left a trail you can smell. Almonds and... a familiar flower. Delicious.

>>31906996
Ashley gives you a knowing look and a barely hidden grin when you turn back to look at her.

"Good work, Casanova."

"I'm glad you brought that up. Pour me another."

The bartender obliges. You continue.

"Your dad gave a real stern talking-to just a while back."

"Oh?"

"He wants me to settle down. As always." You take a sip.

"That shouldn't surprise you. He's always like that." Ashley chuckles.

"Yeah, but he doesn't always bring you up." Ashley freezes.

"Did he say something something about me?"

"Sure. A sterling role model, you are." The woman before you seems to breathe a sigh of relief until it hits her that this doesn't make sense.

No shit. Ashley might have a real job, unlike you, but she's no different otherwise. What with talks of you settling down and her getting brought up, there's really only one conclusion.

"Your cover's blown," you tell her. "I know you're head over heels for me."

Ashley's mouth trembles, uncertain of what emotion to express. Or perhaps unable to emote what the brain is telling it to. She recovers in a flash after her moment of weakness.

"And do you intend to do anything about that?"

She's going on the offensive. A good tactic.

"We'll see." You finish off your drink.

>[] Head home. You've got a big day tomorrow and you'll leave a mor elasting impression by dropping the conversation here.
>[] Stay and talk. This is the beginning of a proper harem, though you aren't looking forward to the methods you'll have to use.

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>>31907118
Forgot image.

>>31907118
>[] Stay and talk. This is the beginning of a proper harem, though you aren't looking forward to the methods you'll have to use.
what methods would those be?

>>31907154
Ones you wouldn't be proud of using. Mostly words, though.

>>31907286
I figure we can suck up our pride to get our harem started

where'd the other anon go?

>>31907352
Don't know. I'll wait a few minutes for another vote though. Today's thread will be a big one, in any case.

>>31907141
Shit, 4chan ate my post. One sec.

>>31907905
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WHnHUehr5pg

You decide to stay, against your better judgement. Maybe it's the whiskey looking, but the room starts lighting up. A fire begins to burn behind each of you. Like a gong, it signifies the beginning of a contest, a struggle. Your senses sharpen and your pupils dilate to the maximum. Every shadow on Ashley's face, every line and shape burns itself into your head. The whole bar bursts ablaze, turns into a furnace with no regard for your well-being.

This is how men immolate themselves for burn brightly for but a second. This is your time to shine.

You don't have a plan. Trying to think of one doesn't help, either - you've got nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Ashley wants to find out what the old man told you - but he said almost nothing.

You need to break Ashley's wanton, free spirit, you need to put shackles on her wind - but you have nothing.

May fate help you.

"So when do you intend to man up, champ?" Ashley's gaze turns scorching. You barely resist turning away.

"I'm a man and I intend to do what I like, when I like."

"Oh?" She smiles greedily. "You've certainly had a while, though. Haven't you? You keep hesitating and waiting. You're just scared. A coward."

But there's an insult you won't stand for. You bounce back.

"Then, as a coward, how about we have a few more drinks to settle the matter?" You point to the bottle of creme de menthe and cock your head. "I think you're holding back. Or would you like something easier on the liver? Tequila, maybe?"

Ashley whips out two new glasses and slams them on the counter, then fills them to the brim with the clear beverage. You grab one.

"Cheers!" You beckon.

"Cheers."
[1/3]

>>31908014
This time, you don't feel a burn at all. It's just like water. But it heats up in your gut all the same.

"So, Ashley. How's your love life?"

"Pretty fine. Yours?"

"Dandy. As you've seen."

"Yes, I'm sure that's the third woman you've talked to all week. Definitely making progress, there. How about trying it without alcohol, though?"

"Please. No booze means no fun. And in any case, you seem to be brimming with anxiety. Can't wait to get home and busy yourself... doing what, exactly? Pouring some more drinks? Playing literally century-old video games?"

"Sure. If drinking and dicking around is good enough for you, it's good enough for me."

"I made national headlines by 'drinking and dicking around.' Don't you forget that."

"Well, you obviously didn't do it with your work ethic."

"I work smarter, not harder."

"Living on welfare checks doesn't sound too smart to me."

"Better than living check to check."

You both stop, confident stares and arrogant grins directed in opposite directions. A moment passes in silence. You both burst out laughing.

"Ahaha, oh my god. What the hell are we doing? This is ridiculous!" You loosen up considerably.

"You can't brag worth shit even today. Stick to your guns, Dari."

"Alright, alright. I'm heading out. Don't spend all night cooped up in here, alright?" You make your way for the door after leaving a few banknotes.

"I'm closing shop in less than an hour, anyway. Drop by again!" She flashes you a warm smile.

"Alright, you watch your back, too!"
[2/3]

>>31908186
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m9W4Lb8bWsU

Your feet threaten to stop walking where you tell them to, but you keep them in check and in line for the entire 100-odd meters to your home - a building tall enough to be called a skyscraper in the olden days. A piece of machinery on the front door scans your left eye and an inorganic voice welcomes you back. You check your mailbox and continue through the spacious foyer.

You walk past the elevators, eyeing them suspiciously. You don't like the mirrors hanging inside. Your reflection looks back at you strangely.

You begin the long ascent up the stairs. Flight after is conquered at a brisk pace, but there's over a hundred of them: two for every floor. Back on your good old 54th, you take a moment to catch your breath. The strenuous exercise has left you winded.

Once inside your apartment, you begin to take it in properly. Your bedroom, a living room, a kitchen and a separate toilet and bath.

>[] Look outside the window and take in the view. (History of the Empire.)
>[] Look at your desk. (Rules of the IRo tournament.)
>[] Go straight to bed. (Skip to the fun part.)

>>31908392
>[] Look at your desk. (Rules of the IRo tournament.)

>>31908433
You eyeball the books stacked up on your desk. Biochemistry, physiology, economics, finance, sociology. Bunch of shit you figured would be helpful in daily matters, when in reality you never really needed more than a cursory introduction to each of these.

You enter. Your massive, oaken desk, a piece of furniture heavy enough to crush a grown man, sits in the middle of your living room. An armchair on one side, a huge, wall-mounted TV on the other. The wall opposite the door is absent - instead, the whole thing is one big window. No balcony, unfortunately.

Some rummagin later, you dig up a little something you wrote up to sum up what you knew and managed to gather about the IRO tournament.
[1/X]

>>31908581
The Neural Optimal Man-Machine Interface (NOMMI) is a complex implant in the neural system, serving primarily as a means to facilitate
easier interfacing with computerized systems. However, it also allows the Imperial government to improve the health of those carrying
such implants by subtly altering their physiology and controlling parts of their nervous system. Not only that, but it can be used to
record evidence of crimes for court cases and track criminals across the entire globe. Once installed, the implant cannot be removed.

Among the masses, these NOMMI implants are called simply "plugs," for the flat circular indentation surrounded by a raised border at
the upper end of one's neck - the only external indication whether one posesses a plug or not. Many choose to wear their hair longer
solely for the sake of hiding this fact. Plugs are free to install (at the tender age of 0.5-1.5 years) and completely "optional."

You're not some sort of national traitor that has something to hide from the Empire, are you? Then there's no problem, right?

Plugs are notable for being durable, very easy to clean and generally hassle-free. Damaging the "outlet" requires only slightly less
force than would be enough to snap one's neck. Replacing a damaged outlet always requires surgery, but is also free and carries few
repercussions, so long as the nervous system itself remains intact.

On to the tournament proper. The rules have been reworked time and again, at times only partly, at times from the ground up. One thing
has remained constant: all IRO tournaments end up at the War Palace sooner or later, where the main action happens. Here's a general
outline of how these things go:
[2/X]

>>31908591
All Imperial citizens have the right to participate. They must meet the following requirements:
-16 years of age
-software version X.X.XXX.XX.XX (varies by year, always older than what most have, to make the tournament inclusive)
-must have gone through the standard medical screening in the last 3 months
-must have passed aptitude screening

The last point is where most would-be Operators are stopped dead in their tracks. Passing aptitude screening involves a number of
tests, but the most important of these are the physiological and neurological tests. One checks to make sure the Operator-to-be can
handle the physical strains associated with the post-operation state, while the other determines if the applicant's brain has a large
enough amount of white matter, neuroplasticity and bioelectrical impulse relay speed to allow them to operate at a proper level.

Only 0.71% of the population is projected to be capable of passing the aptitude screening and only a meager portion of these
individuals go on to pursue Operating.

All those approved to participate in the Imperial Remote Operations tournament are sent out notifications of when and where the
preliminary stage will be held. In most cases, these are held during the first half of the day and the facilities vary from dedicated
hubs to run-down, abandoned buildings. Due to the nature of Remote Operating, the place is not of great import, as the equipment is
all that is needed.

The number of sites that host prelims varies from region to region, from city to city. A high degree of accessibility is ensured by
sending free public transport tickets along with the notifications in the mail to those living in smaller settlements.
[3/X]

>>31908597
Each IRO tournament preliminary stage site has 47 participants on average and allows each participant to first undergo a tutorial
to familiarize themselves with the feeling and basics of controlling six "pieces" of infantry and one vehicle. Customization during the
prelims is minimal to allow a more even playing field between the inexperienced and the veterans. In spite of this, the sheer advantage
provided by experience is nigh impossible to mitigate, and fresh blood is relatively rare. Fortunately, most "veterans" of the
tournament do not attempt it a second time if they have not managed to take at least 3rd place in the War Palace, the final stage.
Participation in the IRO tourney takes a lot of time and balancing participation with any sort of other commitment is damn near
impossible. If such a huge investment of time is not justified by a substantial monetary reward, continued participation becomes
cost-ineffective. As a result, allotting a smaller number of participants to each prelim site has
proven useful in adding fresh new Operators to the tournament each year.

The top 10 in each preliminary stage match get to advance to the municipal stage.

Once the prelims are done and the potential War Palace attendees are determined, the real fun begins. A number of minor competitions
called "Cups" are held throughout each municipal area, those living outside of it are given temporary housing (dorms, duh) and a
monthly check to subsist on. It ain't much. Each Cup is a fierce competition to place third or better: third place yields one
First Stage perk, second place either two First Stage Perks or one Second Stage perk, and first place either one Third Stage perk,
one Second Stage perk and one First Stage perk, or three First Stage perks. The number of participants in each Cup is unlimited
(well, limited to the number of "hammocks" they've got), but the schedules of various Cups typically conflict with each other,
especially the better ones.

>>31908607
The Municipal Stage has an optional Mass Confrontation at the end, allowing participants to risk outright disqualification should they
fail to reach the top 10 or top 10% (whichever includes more individuals), but rewarding those who prove themselves worthy with a
permanent, passive bonus to all pieces for the rest of the tournament and the leader with a one-of-a-kind vehicle on top of that, the
only one of its kind in the entire tourney.

After the Mass Confrontations have all been settled, the Regional Stage begins. It begins and ends with a single engagement, in which
all Municipal Stage participants not outed by failure in the Mass Confrontation are placed into one of ten teams. For the sake of the
Regional Stage battle, HUDs and communications are enabled and largely necessary for any sort of success. Team vs team combat
invariably winds up full of stupid mistakes and most kills are a miscommunication problem. This Stage is universally reviled.

Finally, the War Palace, sometimes called by the de facto name "National Stage." The War Palace proper is a complex of facilities,
among them a literal palace accomodating 300 Operators. There are simple housing buildings, a medical building (located centrally,
right behind the Palace), recreational buildings and, of course, the War Room. The War Room includes 300 fully equipped hammocks, a
multitude of monitors on the walls and 299 terminals to personally choose which part of the current engagement to observe in detail.
Fun fact: the 299th terminal is placed on a podium and is particularly lavish. It's usually called "the loser's seat," since missing
your chance to be the first is downright shameful. No half-measures in the War Palace.
[5/5]

>>31908615
This shit will be up in a pastebin next thread.

>>31908615
Your brief review of the already pretty cursory paper jogs your memory just a bit.

You've got most of summer to participate in Cups, one of which is tomorrow. The Mass Confrontation, should you feel like joining it, is in August. After that, the Regional Stage team battle takes place in September.

Nobody can say when the War Palace starts inviting participants. Could be as early as October, could be as late as December.

None of that matters. You're tired. You need rest.

Your bed welcomes you with its softness and warmth and under their effects you drift off to sleep.

It's a lucid dream. Before it even begins, you already know how it ends.
[1/2]

>>31908615
time for operatin'?

also question
>The Municipal Stage has an optional Mass Confrontation at the end
what happens if you come first but don't opt in for the Mass Confrontation?

>>31908684
Yes, time to operate.

If you're in the top 10 or top 10% of anything, you advance, pick whichever includes more people. Sometimes there are less than 100 participants (like in most prelim sites), which is why the top 10 inclusion is made.

You can ignore the Mass Confrontation if you like, it won't let you advance if you win it. The only point is to secure an advantage.

>>31908718
>You can ignore the Mass Confrontation if you like, it won't let you advance if you win it. The only point is to secure an advantage.
ah I see, so its a double jeopardy of sorts, go for the loot or get kicked out

I'm undecided on whether or not its worth entering the Mass Confrontation at this stage

bump

>>31908808
>I'm undecided on whether or not its worth entering the Mass Confrontation at this stage
Losing is for chumps. Who wouldn't want a fancy unique vehicle?

>>31909084
I'd love one, and the passive bonuses for each of our operators would be kickass, but we don't know what the competition will be like and how we stand up against them.

Don't want to get our ass handed to us and get disqualified when we could have avoided that and just advance.

I see it as a bonus objective to go for if we think we can later when the time is more appropriate, like OP said in >>31908718 it won't let you advance if you win it, getting in the top 10/10% of the regular ladder does that.

>>31908681
You find yourself in the midst of a grassy field at dusk. It stretches as far as the eye can see in 3 cardinal directions, but in the fourth lies a deep crevasse. Across it, teeming legions of foot soldiers in medieval armor. Behind them, a massive rock tower stretching into the sky like the tower of Babel. Atop it, the same black dragon you've come to expect: a tremendous, winged lizard. Black scales cover its body, but on its back and outstretched wings can be seen a golden spot shaped like a crown.

Before you look down, where your feet might be, or around, where your comrades might be looking back at you, you close your eyes.

You grow wings of your own. Straight and steel.
Talons of your own. Tipped with primary explosives.
Fangs of your own. Hollowed out and ready to spit lead.

When you open your eyes, you see the world through a cockpit. The cockpit of a fighter plane with forward-swept wings and enough missiles to sink a small armada.

The flat earth beckons you to run forward and soar.

The wyvern awaits.

>[] Fly sky-high, engage at low strato.
>[] Skim the enemy armies, engage at just above ground.
>[] Custom.

>>31909284
>[] Skim the enemy armies, engage at just above ground.
all the most badass mid air fights are at tree top level if hollywood hasn't lied to me

>>31909284
Skim the armies, scan for anything that might be able to threaten us from the ground. Maybe even disable it if there does turn out to be something. Then we can make for the dragon.

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>>31909284
>>31909328
>>31909345
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wwqEE9gfjM

You run your craft right above the heads of those below, the heat from your exhaust pipes scalding legionnaires by the hundreds. You chuckle with your beastly, metal jaws and break into laughter, opening fire.

A swift and endless stream of lead pours out of your nostrils, each round running a dozen soldiers through. Soon enough, javelins and arrows begin strike your canopy, but the clatter doesn't even distract you.

Soon enough the actual threat that the humanoid army poses makes itself know while the black wyvern circles above you, unable to even approach you at such low altitude, let alone attack. You go for a loop and narrowly avoid a chunk of molten metal sailing through the air, then barrel roll out of the way of a molten metal stream. It takes you a short while, but you perforate each and every anti-air regiment the legion has to offer, one by one, sparing nary a single piece of weaponry.

You are free to engage the dragon at will. It cannot fly directly behind you because of your exhausts' heat, you cannot fly directly at it because of its fire, you must acquire superior altitude over this beast. But for now, it's directly above you, and despite its winged flight, it's every bit as agile as you are, not to mention several hundred times larger. Your rounds bounce off of it and your only viable weapon is the Short-range Aerial Suppression Missile when applied to the underbelly. You might be able to hit the head with a bomb or a couple of missiles, but this will take extreme skill.

How do you proceed?
>[] Fly straight up and hope it doesn't swat you out of the air.
>[] Alpha-strike the motherfucker from below.
>[] Spiral around the rock tower and ascend.
>[] Custom.

>>31909628
Forgot to mention, roll d20 along with your vote.

Rolled 4

>>31909628
can we start with
>[] Spiral around the rock tower and ascend.
and then combine and turn into
>[] Alpha-strike the motherfucker from below.
?

>>31909628
>[] Alpha-strike the motherfucker from below.

It's weak spot is the belly and it happens to be right above us.

Rolled 16

>>31909741
you might wanna roll anon

Rolled 19

>>31909628

Rolled 2

>>31909628
>[] Alpha-strike the motherfucker from below.

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>>31909628
>>31909700
>>31909741
>>31909786
>>31909974
You head for the tower, but don't get within 300 meters before the wyvern sends fire down at you and stops you in your tracks. Forced to evade, you decide the best course is straight up. After all, the dragon could only blindside you with its fire by flying above and behind you, meaning it would have to crane its neck down to billow blazing death at you.

How opportune!

Sharp turn upward proves you absolutely correct and, presented with such a tempting target, you run an enfilade across the length of it. Flying right by the dragon's jaws, you show your underbelly and fire 4 SASMs at the lizard's. These are chased by two volleys of armor-piercing bullets, seeking to tear apart any vitals exposed by the missiles.

Two guided projectiles strike true. Unfortunately, one strikes directly to the side of where the heart is apparently situated, while the other strikes just below. However, your guns do the job just fine and tear apart what may or may not be two livers and three lungs. A terrible, anguished roar reverberates throughout the nearby atmosphere and and literally shakes you to the core.

You're pretty sure it has more vitals than you just blew up. It'll be fine.

You're a different story.

The dragon maneuvers towards you while you do the opposite, and after dancing a tango only two flying snakes could replicate, you manage to head straight for the tower again. The dragon is rapidly losing blood and will try to kill you with its next, likely sluggish attack. Your options are limited. You know that whatever you do next, you may as well try to combine it with an attempt to force the dragon to crash into the rock formation.

>[] Fly up to the tower and sharply climb. (DC: 15)
>[] Fly up to the tower and dive, try not to crash. The wyvern is guaranteed to crash, but you're more or less in the same boat. (DC: 17)
>[] Custom.

Roll 2d20.

Rolled 19, 8 = 27

>>31910141
>[] Fly up to the tower and sharply climb. (DC: 15)
Altitude is safety

Rolled 18, 20 = 38

where'd the other anon go?

>>31910391
Let's hope somebody from Cutie G can make a roll. Winning this engagement will net MC a eat prize.

Rolled 15, 15 = 30

>>31910141
>[] Fly up to the tower and dive, try not to crash. The wyvern is guaranteed to crash, but you're more or less in the same boat. (DC: 17)

Huh. Pretty good rolls today.

Rolled 13, 19 = 32

>>31910219
>>31910391
here

its almost 3:30am here, I've gotta head to bed but its been fun OP, looking forward to catching up on the rest of the thread when I wake up, hopefully more anons start playing

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>>31910219
>>31910639
Well shit.

You rush for the spire at full throttle, an enraged apex predator hot on your tail as you focus solely on making the do-or-die turn that will determine whether or not you "win." The giant piece of rock draws closer and closer.

You've never figured out what happens after this part. That's because this is where it always ends.

You're almost there, almost to the goal. The winds fly past and the dragon draws nearer. The wall is upon you and..!

You make it! A sharp nosedive straight down, while the wyvern crumples against the tower of earth and stone.

But something's wrong. The controls refuse to listen. You try to push and pull on them, but they will not yield to your will. You plummet.

At the last second everything clicks into place. Your frame rights itself relative to the ground and you straighten yourself out, almost scraping the ground where soldiers had once stood. You're free. You're victorious.

You're crushed by a rock as it descends upon your puny form from up above.

It doesn't even feel unfair. It's almost as if you didn't expect to really win, like you've suspected that even if you manage to beat the odds, the world will fuck you over. Well, time to wake up. It should be morning by now.

...Well? Isn't this it?

You get to watch the fighter aircraft crash and burn, then your vision fades to black. You can't see shit, so that must mean everything's over, right?

But no matter how hard you rationalize this to yourself, no matter how aware you become in your lucid dream, it continues. You feel trapped.

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>>31912685
The blackness turns to a purple haze. You unwillingly open your eyes as somebody softly slaps you again and again.

"Hey, come on. Come on, you slacker! Get up!"

Some feminine voice. Your vision settles in. The girl in front of you - or rather, on top of you - is straddling your torso while lazily smacking your cheeks. Open palms, no force. You're lying on something that feels like it should be hard and uncomfortable, but actually feels like air.

More important than any of that is the fact that everything is tinged purple.

You are in some sort of very run-down building. It looks like a revolution tore through whatever godforsaken nation you're in right now - and then everybody died. And now you're here.

Rubble and debris everywhere, mostly swept to the side to make a fairly clear path. Blood is splattered on some of the walls in modest amounts. You sit up.

"Come on, don't you want to explore this place?"

...Explore?

"Cyril is up ahead, he's scouting the area and waiting for us to catch up. You just dropped like a rock all of a sudden. Let's go!"

You know how this dream ends, too. Unfortunately.

>[] Attack the girl in front you. The sooner you can reach the endgame, the better. You can't avoid The Enemy.
>[] Lead the girl away. You need to save her from the horrible fate that awaits her. She doesn't suspect it, but it has already befallen the friend.
>[] Follow the girl. Though this dream is familiar, you appear to have forgotten everything about it. Something is off, but you can't fight what you don't know.
>[] Custom.
Thread end. If somebody wants to read this and keep going, though, I'll oblige in an hour and a half. Next thread Thursday, watch for the announcement at https://twitter.com/HouseDuravi

>>31913427
>[x]Custom
>It's a dream, and you have a girl on top of you, and you just got a lot of attractive female attention before bed... Might as well relieve some of that tension.

>>31913758
Roll d100 with a -15 modifier.

>>31913804
Show me your trip first.

>>31912685
>>31913427
>>31913836
Whoops. Totally legit.

>>31913875
Fuck, this is embarassing.

Rolled 48 + 15

>>31913898

Rolled 65 + 15

>>31913898

Rolled 57 + 15

>>31913898
daddy needs his dick sucked

Rolled 64 + 15

>>31913898

Rolled 76 - 15

>>31913898