>>4278149
>>‘We have to break formation. I need one lance.’ (Bring someone with you and head off the rest)

>>4278149
>‘We have to break formation. I need one lance.’ (Bring someone with you and head off the rest)

>>4278149
>>‘We have to break formation. I need one lance.’ (Bring someone with you and head off the rest)

File: Emilio Again.jpg (480 KB, 1508x1896)

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You hated contradicting yourself … you really did.

‘We can’t let them get around us,’ you return, reading through the Hellion’s vitals. ‘I’ll break off on the shoulder and engage. I’ll need one of you to form up as my lance and help cut them off before they breach the inner perimeter.’

‘Seems a prudent enough decision,’ Maldante comments, moving his Piranha into position.

‘Whatever consensus we’re reaching, I’d be very appreciative if we could at least get to it before they make us a pretty line of corpses.’

Gerard’s words ring truer than you’d like.

Such was war.

>‘Maldante, you’re with me.’ (Call up Lucion [Piranha])
>‘You and me, Ryosuke. Let’s move. (Call up Ryosuke [Hellion])
>‘Reinweld, peel off.’ (Call up Reinweld [Piranha])
>‘On me, Gerard.’ (Call up Gerard [Hellion])

>>4278230
>>‘Reinweld, peel off.’ (Call up Reinweld [Piranha])

>>4278230
>>‘On me, Gerard.’ (Call up Gerard [Hellion])

>>4278230
>‘On me, Gerard.’ (Call up Gerard [Hellion])

Sorry lads. Had to rush to the hospice just now. I'm back and will continue in a few hours.

>>4278230
>>‘On me, Gerard.’ (Call up Gerard [Hellion])

All right. Running in approximately an hour.

File: Spoiler Image (296 KB, 969x977)

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‘Gerard, break off from your group and form up on me,’ you command, fixing a lock on the incoming enemy reinforcements. ‘I’m leaving this to you three.’

A salvo whistles right past as you peel off from the engagement … and Gerard follows you all the same. If he has protests regarding the arrangement, he doesn’t bother by them. Reinweld covers for you almost immediately, sealing off any idea of pursuit with a quick blast from the Piranha’s thrusters. The balance of the Mech seems slightly off to what you’d seen in simulations, but there was no denying the usefulness of such mobility. You turn your ears away from the audio input of cover fire and projectile exchanges. The last thing that you bother with from the encounter is the visual confirmation of the Mercury’s non-interference.

You catch a glimpse of its course being caught out by Ryosuke’s Hellion.

It’s the last thought that you care to give the enemy Mech. You were in the clear.

‘Contact in t-minus 4 minutes. No identification on enemy Mechs. Watch the west side and keep your weapons hot.’

‘I’m coming up on your right,’ Gerard returns, his Hellion accelerating to fully cover your flank. ‘No confirmed visuals on enemy reinforcements.’

‘Sensors and comms are still down,’ you grumble, stating the obvious for what feels like the hundredth iteration. ‘Eyes up and guns hot, don’t—’

‘INCOMING EAST!’

This fast?

It had hardly been a minute.

[VANGUARD]

Your experience serves you well.

Instincts and habits honed over months, years … bears fruit.

A curse, however, still escapes from the fires of your belly.

You hit the thrusters, swinging your shield upward, catching the full weight of a vibro-blade against what’s left of your shield. The face of an unfamiliar Mech stares right back at you, pushing down on you with such force that the compensators—

You push right back.

The screen goes from orange to green as the Mech rolls and—

‘Jets?’

You’re not able to gather yourself quickly enough. Not for two rounds that whistle past you with enough velocity to tear into your Mech’s chassis.

They’d missed.

Or rather; they hadn’t been given ample time to recover from the surprise attack and mark you a dead man by virtue of proximity. The recognition algorithms kick in, registering the two Mechs as a pair of Whitestorms; each configured for a mix of long-range and mid-range skirmishes. The Mech that stands before you, however, is …

UNKNOWN: 000000

Gerard doesn’t share in your curiosity, unleashing a volley of his own. Barely missing you and merely kissing the air of where it had stood. It was fast. Not in the same way craft was, but for a Mech of comparable size and mass … such an agile retreat was almost unheard of.

The way it moved was almost … human.

‘Watch it!’

You curse as you make a dive for it, your Hellion’s elbows practically digging into the earth. It was more of a fall that a dive, really, when you got down to it. A clumsy move void of all the grace you’d been drilling into yourself for the last few years, but … you are, nonetheless, alive. Pulling back on the controls, you roll and push off from your prone position, falling back right next to Gerard’s Mech and tried not to appear too stationery a target for the unknown Mech’s two-man sniper—

‘Snipers,’ you practically spit out. ‘It just had to be snipers.’

Gerard, almost instinctively, takes point, letting out barrage after barrage in an attempt to catch the Whitestorms off-balance … only to find himself at the brunt of a charge from the horned Mech, which had elected to roll down his right as you’d pulled back on your left. You don’t allow them the courtesy of a follow-up, ramming the bastard with your shield—or rather, trying to—with a flick of your shoulders. The Mech is airborne again, and—

WARNING! WARNING!

Built-in rocket salvos.

Why had you expected anything less?

The shield holds up. Eighty years weren’t just a mark of an age past.

The horned Mech almost clumsily drops onto its two feet, raising its arm and drawing out its glowing green vibro-blade.

You wear a tired, resigned smirk upon your lips as the warnings blare into your ear.

>‘Can you take this guy?’ (Ask Gerard to fight)
>‘Run those two down before they get within range of the camp. I’ll settle it here.’ (Engage the horned Mech)
>Write-In

>>4280392
>>‘Run those two down before they get within range of the camp. I’ll settle it here.’ (Engage the horned Mech)
fuck it, go big or go home

>>4280392
>‘Run those two down before they get within range of the camp. I’ll settle it here.’ (Engage the horned Mech)

>>4280392
>>‘Run those two down before they get within range of the camp. I’ll settle it here.’ (Engage the horned Mech)

>>4280392
>>‘Run those two down before they get within range of the camp. I’ll settle it here.’ (Engage the horned Mech)

File: Spoiler Image (193 KB, 724x800)

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‘Run those two down before they light the camp up,’ you command, drawing your heat axe and raising your shield in successive moments, pushing off from the formation before the Alliance Mechs could assume anything resembling a comfortable stalemate. ‘I’ve got this one.’

‘Do you even know what you’re doing?’

‘It’s a day of firsts. Get to it.’

The pilot spares you a quarter of a second’s worth of profanities, but otherwise complies. Gerard peels right off as you had … prompting an immediate response from the unknown Mech in the form of a jump and a barrage of rockets. You curse your split-second lag, jumping right in and irritating your foe with a succession of shots before attempting to charge the slightly-larger Mech down on its descent. The vibro-blade, archaic as it is, is raised over-head. The blade is long—at least three quarters the height of your Hellion—and bears down with a level of agility that is almost absurd. You’d never seen a Mech of Aliance Military construction move without so much as a hitch in its chain of movements. Your shield, riddled and dented as it is, parries the blow as you close what little distance is left between you and the Mech’s hot chassis … right as another barrage of auxiliary rockets peppers your right upper torso, sending the systems into a panic and causing you to re-assess and retreat, your shield reflexively raised as you switch from your machine rifle to your heat axe, unwilling to allow him to make a break and disallow your press. Alliance Military pilots had no business in close quarters.

You hit throttle, pushing forwards—

CLANG!

‘A parry?’

You’d underestimated your enemy.

The difference in mass, coupled with the shift in weight, practically throws you towards the dirt again … but you’d been caught off-balance too many times to not improvise in regards to your leftover inertia. The Hellion’s head raises upwards, crashing against what you presume to be one of the many rocket launchers nested upon the Mech’s left side. You don’t give them an opportunity to let them get one in point-blank—not this time.

You smash the shield against the Mech’s right torso, using the leverage to push yourself off and pry an opportunity for a swing, heat-axe at the ready … only to find that your foe had elected to crash their Mech’s open palm against the upper torso of the Hellion in a movement reminiscent of a stiff-arm.

The image of two children slap-fighting blindly comes to mind as your attempts at attack fail to meet their mark … and the horned Mech lands some distance away, out of the range of your axe.

It turns upon landing, accelerating at a vector directly diagonal to your position.

The warnings could practically serve as theme music about now, truly.

>ENEMY INTEL
FOE 01: UNKNOWN
-Status: Unknown
-Configuration: Unknown

>>4280616
>[Engage in Melee]
>[Engage in Mid-Range]
>[Engage in Long-Range]
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

>>4280616
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence
Our SOP Defer until we can combo the bastard to death.

>>4280617
>>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

>>4280626
going for this

>>4280617
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

Running a session in an hour.

File: Unknown Mech 2.jpg (158 KB, 648x673)

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It was never your way to make the first move.

It’s a stroke of fortune that your opponent’s is.

The pilot is experienced. They had to be, playing the spear-tip of an attack of this magnitude. You can’t say that you’re able to dance through their blows, but your luck holds, just as well. Your attention threatens to spill all over the battlefield, but you know enough that the moment you mistime a block or a misread a cadence, you know that you’d be just another scorch mark on Rhysode. A stray glance at Gerard’s indicator reassures you of his presence; he’d have his hands full engaging the two Whitestorms. It’s a task you do not envy … however, you could hardly wish this damnable titan before you upon anyone else.

They must have had just about twenty tons on you.

You’d never seen an Alliance Military Mech—variant or otherwise—move with such agility (for what value you could dictate that by). The Hellion takes the brunt of each impact, your movement of the control schemes translating each command into a counter-motion that barely meets your opponent’s attacks. The rumble of each impact shakes the chassis of the Hellion, the structure and frame of your mech groaning as your lack of action gives way to a succession of swings and blows. Each and every one of them is intent on ripping your metal plates out bolt by bolt; each and every one of your is intent on denying them. You let out a grunt as you hit the thrusters and move into a back-pedal, searching for reprieve. It doesn’t come easy … or at all, even. The horned mech releases light, teasing salvos to halt your movements. Not quite succeeding, but prompting you to remember the degree of disadvantage you’d deal yourself trying to extend the distance any more than necessary.

If there was an exchange of firing solutions, you weren’t putting a crown on yourself, scion or no.

That wasn’t your style.

‘Accursed …’

You do, however, wish you’d practised that little bit more on your run and gun tendencies (as quoted by a certain rambunctious conscript). To the onlooker, you must look positively pathetic.

Not that it should matter, of course. As long as you drew breath, there wouldn’t—

Missiles mix in with a deployment of its jets. The heavy Mech is acrobatic in its movements; speed without a hint of grace. You plant your Hellion right on the spot, holding up your shield. The mech rumbles with every explosion, almost threatening to topple from the sheer force of the onslaught. You push the old girl forward, charging straight and juking right, lifting the shield to meet the lengthy vibro-blade—a movement reminiscent of its initial assault—nullifying what could have been a decapitating strike.

You shove the horned mech off and switch to a jogging pace.

It's back to square one for the both of you.

>>4281983
>[Engage in Melee]
>[Engage in Mid-Range]
>[Engage in Long-Range]
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

>>4281983
>>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

>>4281983
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence
SOP round 2.

>>4281983
>>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

>>4281983
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

File: mech combat.jpg (350 KB, 1920x1080)

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Being on the defensive was something that you were used to.

That didn’t, however, make the lack of initiative any less nerve-wracking. You’re fully aware of your disadvantage; one that the Mech before you emphasizes … and by the stars, does it emphasize. Perhaps it had been unbiased fortune that had seen it fit for your existence to remain, but you weren’t about to play that game any more than you’d trust Ryosuke with directions.

You throttle yourself backwards as your opponent attempts to pepper you with another salvo.

Juking and jinking is hard enough in this eighty year-old broad; it’s not as if you’re spoiled for choice, however. Making the best out of what you had was a lesson you’d drilled into yourself every damned day since your family had so eloquently turfed you off with a cast of characters that seemed more in line with an Imperial serial broadcast than anything else. Dodging and turning, you practically replay the instances of your simulations and trials, over and over again, choosing your considerations rather than biting the meal with one large mash of your jaws.

Was that an appropriate appellation?

You click your tongue. It didn’t matter.

Were you smiling?

Yes.

Your death was staring right back at you and you were smiling. The psych evaluators would be patting themselves on the back right about now, you supposed.

Or was it because you were just too simple-minded and caught in the fact that you were engaging in what could very well be a dying dream of yours?

That didn’t matter either.

Your sensors pick up Gerard’s status: he’s still alive; still fighting. The pot-shots from the Whitestorm snipers had ceased in frequency. You guess that even if he hadn’t managed to tear them apart, he’d done enough to keep them away from their objective. Swinging your axe in a parry and retreating from another aggressive motion, you decide that for now … that’s all you really, truly, needed to do. The horned mech and its pilots could out-pace and push on you all it wanted … all that mattered was giving Rosaria and the rest the time to re-establish Rhysode’s network and repel the intrusion of the attacking force.

You had to.

‘You’re good,’ you commend, watching the horned mech switch over to a skirmisher’s habit, stray shots nicking your Mech’s armored shoulder as you pull back and dodge. ‘There’s no linearity at all in your technique … but you’re going to have to be more than that to get past me, you—’

At the back of your mind, you can see the horrifying picture of Ryosuke’s wide grin and raised thumbs oh so very clearly.

‘—stinkin’ two-bit wannabe!’

As if reacting to your words, the horned mech raises its right arm, firing—

‘Pulse weaponry?!’

>[SHIELD] (DC:55)
>[DODGE] (DC:20)

>>4282158
>>[DODGE] (DC:20)

>>4282158
>>[DODGE] (DC:20)

>>4282158
Whoops! That's an error right there! It SHOULD be:
>[SHIELD] (DC: 30)
>[DODGE] (DC: 60)

Reply to this post, please!

Rolled 92 (1d100)

>>4282158
>>[DODGE] (DC:20)

Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>4282169
>[SHIELD] (DC: 30)

Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>4282158
>>[SHIELD] (DC: 30)

>>4282169
>>[SHIELD] (DC: 30)

File: doooooooodge.jpg (16 KB, 253x199)

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>>4282173
>>4282179
>>4282182
All these wasted rolls.

File: Combat Intiated.jpg (11 KB, 194x259)

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-1 AP

Your shield’s dispersion field does its job … or rather, it does enough without over-loading. Your coordination, however, isn’t quite enough to take the follow-up shots as well as you wanted. The Hellion’s robust frame endures it, just as well. Unwilling to offer yourself up as a stationery target, your hands fly towards the console as you key in a VI sub-routine and bring the mech into activity again. Machine rifle drawn, you shift straight into evasive manoeuvres, wary of the your opponent’s habit of doubling down on their offensive schemes. You’re proven right within seconds, your attempt interrupted by a cycle of fire bearing down on your left as they shift as close to your rear as they can manage. You curse as he finds your blind spot, prompting you into an awkward reversal and a series of discouraging rounds from your machine rifle.

It does little to change things … but you’re positive that you get the point across that you weren’t an amateur that was about to be outmanoeuvred in a pursuit while on the defensive. The Hellion’s configuration gives you little to no opportunity to re-engage at a skirmisher’s distance … not that it could have played itself to your advantage, in any case. You’d never been one to head the school of direct assault; especially not in a duel such as this. You keep to your methodology, keeping yourself closed and wide with every opportunity you can afford. Baiting, biding your time … every movement the horned mech made carved itself into your thoughts like an encyclopedia. Your strength was in playing it evenly and conservatively; by the book and ready to strike on a mistake. Methodical. That’s what they’d said of you. You played it ice cold … you waited. Taking it all and giving it back. That’s how you fought.

It’s a habit that’s as much a part of you as the cells of your body.

That didn’t mean, however, that you didn’t get the occasional niggle to break through.

Especially when the circumstances were this … frustrating.

‘Damn,’ you grunt, accelerating and decelerating within three swift movements, just managing to prevent yourself from being ripped open by a salvo. The mass of pods really weren’t there just for show: all over its torso and left side … it could have given a Crossbow a run for its worth.

On the positive side, they’re about as close to cutting you to the quick as you are them.

You let out a dismissive snort. Was that really a positive?

No.

But the longer that you kept them occupied … the more time Rosaria and the others had to—

A curse rumbles from your throat as you’re forced into movement, the larger mech’s jets firing as it moves to your right …

>[Engage in Melee]
>[Engage in Mid-Range]
>[Engage in Long-Range]
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence
>Write-in

HANG IN THERE! YOU’VE ALMOST GOT IT!

>>4282364
>>[Engage in Melee]
go for broke

Just a small, small, tip, but maybe ask me about the positioning and how much AP you'll consume "engaging" at certain distances before voting to move straight into combat?

>>4282378
Ok what are the engagement costs for the 3 combat ranges.

>>4282396
The Enemy Mech (FOE 01: UNKNOWN) you're engaged in is currently [MID-RANGE]. Therefore, if you choose to engage from MID-RANGE, you will not warrant any movement costs. If you choose to move into Melee/Long, you pay a little extra to open/close the distance between you and the enemy.

>>4282378
What are the engagement costs?

>>4282404
Anything that requires a [SHIFT] prior/following an opponent's/ally's action eats 1 ACTION in addition to the action in question UNLESS:

1. Your class is [SCOUT], which allows you to Disengage/Shift at ZERO COST
2. You belong to a class that allows you to make certain shifts at ZERO COST (Vanguard and Infiltrator the only classes that do NOT have this ability)

Therefore, say, for example, you wish to move within MELEE RANGE of an enemy and you are of the Fighter Class, you do not have to pay extra to move into one of the other "range boxes"..

>>4282364
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence
I think we still need to get more AP's as we lost one in defense

>>4282439
AP and Action are 2 different things. AP is the amount of "scenes" you can endure until you kick it. ACTION is what you build up by defending/attacking/etc. Basically, when your AP reaches zero, you die, but your ACTION will always restore to a minimum of "1" during your turns.

>>4282364
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

Calling it here. I'll be running later on.

>>4282364
>>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

Running in 15 minutes.

It was a rare emotion, feeling this … helpless.

Yet, it’s something you can’t help but feel, being out-paced, out-gunned and out-classed, mech-to-mech. You’d barely been able to hold on to what little distance that you’d carved out for yourself thus far; a testament to either your prowess as a duelist with a tendency to isolate in regards to engagements … or to the incompetency of the pilot in the seat of the horned mech.

Although, judging by the acrobatic manoeuvres that you’d been fortunate enough to live through thus far … you’re able to, at the very least, give yourself a little more credit in regards to how far you’d come, even as a neophyte that’d barely sniffed the upper echelons of excellence as a pilot.

After all, it was what you put into practice that counted.

‘Urgh …’

The pilot is on the offensive again.

You take a step back, raising your shield upward before juking right, deflecting a swing of the vibro-blade before moving to try and open a gap that you’d be able to manipulate with more leeway than having to deal with a more agile mech with at least twenty tons of mass on your Hellion. The pilot responds by twisting the mech’s torso, attempting to elbow you into a hitch. You counter with a bash of your shield … that ultimately misses as the motion of the horned mech completes, sending you almost crashing onto your back. You hit the jets almost immediately, gritting your teeth as you try to move directly out of the vibro-blade’s reach, the follow-up swing barely scratching the cap of your Hellion. Reaching for your machine rifle, you attempt to get the Mech between your sights for an immediate counter-attack before they can afford to recover … only to find that they already had.

Clumsy. Inelegant.

‘Why, you—’

Powerful. Quick.

You’d like a word with whichever genius had reconciled such sensibilities together. It was almost blasphemous as it was endearing.

That’s when you notice it.

The hitch.

It’s almost below notice, but … notice it you do.

The horned mech’s assault capabilities were astounding, especially for one built from Alliance Military tendencies. However … there was only so much that one could do with their Mechs. Lumbering beasts of conquest and destruction on their best day, they were, nonetheless, of a physical form … and thus vulnerable. For the most part, in any case. There were always areas where they would excel; areas where they would come up short.

In almost every possible area, the horned mech was your superior.

But it wasn’t made for protracted offensive exchanges without finding its mark.

The steam is unmistakeable.

It was dumping heat.

[ACTION: 9]
>[Shift to Melee]
>[Engage in Mid-Range]
>[Shift to Long-Range]
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence
>Write-In

>>4283575
>>[Shift to Melee]

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Just so the calculations are visible:

>Turn 1:
Starting: 1
VANGUARD: +1
ENDURED ATTACK: +1
TOTAL: 3
>Turn 2:
Starting: 3
VANGUARD: +1
ENDURED ATTACK: +1
TOTAL: 5
>Turn 3:
Starting: 5
VANGUARD: +1
ENDURED ATTACK: +1
ENEMY STATUS: EXHAUSTED: +2
FINAL TOTAL: 9

>>4283575
>>[Shift to Melee]
time to blow our load all over his face

>>4283575
>[Shift to Melee]

That is our opening.

File: I Hate This Anime So Much.jpg (354 KB, 1500x1059)

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You're within range.

[ACTION: 8]
>[Engage Melee]
>[Shift to Mid-Range]
>[Shift to Long-Range]
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence
>Write-In

>>4283676
>>[Engage Melee]
SMACK SMACK TIME PRETTY OBI

>>4283676
>[Engage Melee]
Dice him up.

>>4283676
>[Engage Melee]

>>4283676
>>[Engage Melee]

>>4283676
>[Engage Melee]

anons I lost track of this quest after several of those "day of graduation" threads early on. Can someone tell me which thread I should start with and if anything happens after you friendzone the sisters?

Running the thread (for real) as soon as a good friend of ours safely reaches home. To those of you in Georgia, may the Rooftop Koreans be with you always.

File: Unknown Mech.png (456 KB, 529x760)

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>FOE: UNKNOWN MECH 01
Successful AP Required for Kill: N/A
>Trigger[s]:
OVERHEATED
-Cause: 3 successive offensive movements (Unmodified, Solo)
>STATUS: Triggered
-Result: +2 AP Bonus

Roll for Success (1d100) DC: 85

Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>4287361
This for an instant kill?

Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>4287361

>>4287373
No, it's for the bonus damage. You're a [Vanguard]. Instant kills aren't your forte.

Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>4287361

Rolled 5 (1d100)

>>4287361

File: 15850_1_other_anime_mecha.jpg (450 KB, 1920x1200)

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Your strike gets them off-balance. They immediately move to recover, but you're able to pressure them into another retreat. You don't miss the opportunity to follow-up with another chain of movements, closing them off before they can manage to mimic your previous juke out of your immediate strike radius. The abuse of jets and weapons in the last several exchanges had rendered them vulnerable; they’d underestimated you and overestimated their own limits. You’d worn them down, taking blow by blow and biting down your teeth as you endured each impact. Your patience, you resilience … had ultimately been rewarded. Mayhaps it could have been a different thing if Gerard had been the one to engage them; he was the superior pilot. Perhaps he could have done a better job of it than you had.

Not that it mattered.

The backside of the Heat-axe crashes against the head of the horned mech, sending it stumbling back …

[ACTION: 7]*
>[Melee Follow-Up]
>[Shift to Mid-Range]
>[Shift to Long-Range]
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

*You guys can choose how many points you want to invest in an action or whatever sequence that you want to do this in. It’s a little less interactive, but if you wish to hurry combat up, you can just choose how many points you want to put in where OR choose whatever sequence of movements you wish to perform, and I can write it all in one go.

e.g. [Action: 5]
Melee Follow-Up (2 Action) > Shift to Mid-Range (1 Action) > Attack from Mid-Range (1 Action) > Shift to Long-Range (1 Action)

>>4287422
>>[Melee Follow-Up]x3

>>4287422
>>[Melee Follow-Up-6 points]
Gives us 1 point to see where we end up

>>4287422
>[Melee Follow-Up]x2>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

>>4287424
Follow-ups cost [1 ACTION] each. As a [Vanguard] you can only "gain" action by being on the defensive.

>>4287422
>[Melee Follow-Up]x2>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

>>4287428
>>4287432
I suppose this is in the lead.

>>4287428
>>4287432
So why are we wasting 5 action points?

Like this gives him time to breath

>>4287425
+1

>>4287450
will it actually waste them, or will it just bank them for later?

>>4287532
waste them once we start any unused actions get removed and we start all over again.

>>4287540
And this information wasn't in the post because...?

>>4287544
Because it’s come up in the threads before?

>>4287544
Like seriously it’s in the archived threads.

>>4287550
>>4287554
I don't know, dude, a little note saying that unused actions go away if not used isn't an unrealistic thing to expect, especially with a quest that's both mechanics heavy, and runs infrequently.

File: Kaboom.jpg (8 KB, 303x166)

8 KB JPG

You knock them silly for as long as you can, as much as you can … or rather, attempt to. You’d never been one to press an advantage without some sort of back-up, and with both your back-ups still entangled in their own duel, you weren’t about to risk breaking that habit for the roll of an easy kill. A gambler you are not … at least, not now. Certainly not against a Mech that had twenty tons on you and an arsenal of pulse and kinetic weaponry that rivalled your own.

Or perhaps, maybe … you should have?

No.

Maybe?

No.

It is not a fear of retaliation that grasps at you, but the facts, thus far, put one thing clear: if you couldn’t turn the Mech into scrap metal in this series of counters … you’d be the one tasting the flavour of gunmetal on your lips. Of that you are … vaguely certain, but with enough weight to not press the advantage to the point that you’d lose it. You are a cautious creature, and two strikes to the upper torso and right arm was, as far as damage went, enough. You raise your shield again, your Heat-Axe at the ready for another counter, back-pedalling as far as you’re able to without being in effective impact range of the horned Mech’s projectiles.

You wait.

Five seconds pass.

Ten seconds—

They’d recovered.

You’d overestimated their recovery. Your advantage, brief as it is … is gone.

The Mech swings its blade—

>SHIELD (DC: 30)
>DODGE (DC: 60)

*Pic very unrelated. Sarcasm intended.

>>4287565
I already explained that your points don't go away unless you're attacked and that (series of) attack(s) results in you being "BTFO'd", to use the vernacular of this site. It's harder to keep your points in crowd situations or using certain classes whose mechanics revolve around unorthodox combat circumstances. You're fine so long as you respond defensively. You get to keep your points. However, going into "passive mode" ends your turn.

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>4287566
>SHIELD (DC: 30)

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>4287566
>>DODGE (DC: 60)
im feeling lucky today

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>4287566
>>SHIELD (DC: 30)
Definitely the right call here

TESTING

Also, running in an hour and fifteen minutes. I'll tally the votes then.

File: Pew Pew Pew Pew Pew.jpg (93 KB, 850x494)

93 KB JPG

SHIELD: FAILURE!

You’re too slow.

-2 AP

The hit isn’t … particularly critical.

The blade carved a gash into the Hellion’s chest, right above the command pod. The breach doesn’t cut anything crucial, but the blade drags against your mech long enough for the hydraulics and gears to be rendered temporarily off-balance. The VI tries to compensate, as do you, but your shift of focus from defence to recovery renders you—

‘Ah.’

Wide open.

[VANGUARD]
ACTION: 5
Use all [ACTION] (Minimum: 2) for immediate recovery and (1) free action?
>Yes
>No

>>4288764
>>Yes

>>4288764
>Yes

>>4288764
>>Yes

File: Recover.jpg (207 KB, 1280x907)

207 KB JPG

You recover. Barely, but you recover.

ACTION: 1
>[Engage in Melee]
>[Shift to Mid-Range]
>[Shift to Long-Range]
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

>>4288829
right part of me wants to at least get anotehr whack in but the other half is saying build the stack again

>>4288829
>>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence
Yeah no, not going to chance it this time.

>>4288829
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

>>4288829
>>[Engage in Melee]
we got 2 hits on him from our messed attempt and i feel like a 3rd would do something at least
this gets us killed, my fault bois

>>4288869
>if this gets us killed
words are important

>>4288869
right nvm, im retarded and just reread things more clearly, build that stack back up you fools

You’re at the brunt of an onslaught.

Their movements are sluggish … but fast enough to keep you on your toes. A raised blade meets its opponents as your parry brings an end to the first set of attacks, only to find the tip of a cannon swinging and barely missing its connecting point on the side of your Hellion’s head. You let out an almighty grunt as you try to get some distance between the both of you, but the best that you’re able to manage before dodging another swing is a parry and spin towards the right side of the horned mech. The pilot, unrelenting, pursues you before you have a chance to fully collect yourself, clashing their vibro-blade against your heat-axe. The horned mech pushes its full weight against your Hellion’s gyros and hydraulics, the systems practically screeching at the unprecedented pressure. Your hands are steady against the controls as you glare through the visual feed and drown out the noise from the flashing, orange screens. It is an offensive juggernaut not unlike the Bartholomew—no, that would be an exaggeration. The Mech’s configuration was definitely that of a specialized mid-range skirmish and close-range encounter hybrid. A mold very unlike that of the typical builds you’d come to expect from the other side. The obsession with ranged combat was still there in the shape of pods and launchers, of course, but the last few minutes had—

‘Tch!’

—given you little reason to believe that anyone in that command pod didn’t have any semblance of close-range melee exchanges. You have the chinks and the gashes to back that claim up. Never had you encountered a pilot so … acrobatic. Nor do you wish to, ever again.

Perhaps they could have even given Wray some trouble.

You spring into action again, raising your shield and bashing away the pilot’s attempt at evisceration. The thrusters must have been reactivated in the time you’d spent dilly-dallying. A myriad of curses morph into mumbles, each and every one of them directed at your capacity for carelessness. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been such a terrible gamble to make in unleashing all of your fury instead of allowing your paranoia and cautiousness to overtake your judgement at such a juncture? Instead of backing off and allowing their recovery, it would have already been done with … one way or another.

‘No time for regrets,’ you mumble to yourself, wearing a sardonic smile and staring straight ahead.

The horned mech widens the gap with the activation of its thrusters, pointing the vibro-blade directly towards you … before launching into the air and swinging it downwards in an incredible swing. The mechanisms of the Hellion practically scream as your shield eats the blow’s full impact; a carbon copy of its previous, daring ambush.

You throw them off, clicking the throttle and backing away…

ACTION: 3
>[Engage in Melee]
>[Shift to Mid-Range]
>[Shift to Long-Range]
>Wait/Defer

>>4289008
>>Wait/Defer

>>4289008
>Wait/Defer

>>4289008
>>Wait/Defer

File: just another day playing (...).jpg (159 KB, 1140x600)

159 KB JPG

It’s a struggle trying to keep pace with your enemy.

But you do.

‘Just a little bit more …’

[ACTION: 6]
>[Engage in Melee]
>[Shift to Mid-Range]
>[Shift to Long-Range]
>Wait/Defer

>>4289477
>[Engage in Melee]

>>4289477
>>[Engage in Melee]

>>4289477
>[Engage in Melee]

>>4289477
>>[Engage in Melee]

File: dodge.jpg (150 KB, 1280x720)

150 KB JPG

Rolled 41 (1d100)

You go on the offensive.

UNKNOWN ENEMY STATUS: ACTIVE

>[UNKNOWN ENEMY] activates [DODGE] (DC: 65)

File: axe.jpg (317 KB, 1600x1200)

317 KB JPG

ENEMY DODGE: FAILED!

Your hit connects

[ACTION: 5]
>[Melee Follow-Up]
>[Shift to Mid-Range]
>[Shift to Long-Range]
>Wait/Defer Combat Sequence

>>4291097
>>[Melee Follow-Up]x5
smacky smacky

>>4291097
>>[Melee Follow-Up] x5

>>4291097
>>[Melee Follow-Up]x5

File: smack.jpg (1.03 MB, 1920x1080)

1.03 MB JPG

>FOE: UNKNOWN MECH 01
Successful AP Required for Kill: N/A
>Trigger[s]: DODGE FAILED
-Cause: Failed Roll (Unmodified, Solo)
>STATUS: Triggered
-Result: +2 AP Bonus

Roll for Success (1d100) DC: 85

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>4291117

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>4291117
RNGesus guide my roll

Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>4291117
all the things

>>4291120
>>4291124
>>4291125
Don't worry, this is just for ONE swing (1d100). You're not a melee juggernaut. You're a standard-bearing turtle whose job is to not die. This is fine.

File: Destroyed.gif (997 KB, 500x255)

997 KB GIF

The arm’s the first thing to go.

The Heat Axe digs and digs through the armour of the horned Mech, bearing the full sixty tonnes of the Hellion’s weight behind it. The pilot attempts to push you off, but their resistance is only rewarded with the brief reprieve of its withdrawal. The axe cuts through its upper chest, your thrusters roaring in time with the screams of the Hellion’s hydraulics and compensation systems. You can hear the groans through the cockpit; your teeth grit as your focus your full fury forwards, unrelenting and unabating. You are a butcher and the horned mech is a slab of meat to be prepared. That’s all that it is. Your shield crashes against the Mech’s helm, snapping one of its horns. The axe flies in tandem, digging right into the joint again … and tearing its sword arm off, the limb crashing into the ground with a loud thump. You raise the Hellion’s knee to the enemy Mech’s groin, staggering it further … and allowing you to follow through with a series of furious swipes that practically carves up the panels of armour. They fly and fall with sparks and screams, each attempt at retreat and recovery only allowing you more reason to push … so, push you do. The enemy mech attempts to blast you with a volley of projectiles … but at this angle, at this range and in that state, you’re able to parry the remaining arm and cut its torso right down. The monitors bring a series of dangers to your attention. The Hellion wouldn’t hold much longer at the current pace: not after the intensity of the last few engagements.

For some reason or other, you just don’t care.

‘Just a little bit more.’

Just a little bit more.

Another strike to the shoulder.

A carve of the lower torso.

Flames and glints of electricity, exposed wiring and systems, enter your vision. You raise the axe one more time … and bring it down.

The titan’s last vestiges of life flicker with a stumble and wobble … before it falls on its back, defeated and coughing smoke from its wounds.

Victory was—

The world rumbles as your ears ring. The cool blue and green of your monitors gives way to fiery orange and pungent yellow. Your feet, your actual legs, feel as though they’d been hoisted upwards and you’d been sent into a spinning wheel in a CQC—

Your recovery is quick.

You’d been hit.

A sniper?

You’re answered by the visible indicators on your sensors, red beads on the edge indicating—

‘Senpai!’

‘Rosaria?’

The static is gone. You can seen everything clearly: Rhysode’s network is back online.

‘Who the Hell’s in that damn suit?’

‘Do we have a reading on Jordan?

‘Focus fire on the Hellion! Get ‘em away from the Lieutenant!’

>>4291172
>‘Alliance Military Forces, this is … GAIA-0401. You’re compromised. Stand down.’ (Disciplined, Authortative)
>‘I can hear you, you know?’ (Amused)
>‘Rosaria?’ (Open a channel with Rosaria, check on the situation)
>Write-In

>>4291179
>>‘Alliance Military Forces, this is … GAIA-0401. You’re compromised. Stand down.’ (Disciplined, Authortative)
>get your shield up and place your axe over the cockpit of the mech in a clear threat display.

>>4291179
>>‘Alliance Military Forces, this is … GAIA-0401. You’re compromised. Stand down.’ (Disciplined, Authortative)

>>4291179
>Alliance Military Forces, this is … GAIA-0401. You’re compromised. Stand down.’ (Disciplined, Authortative)

>>4291179
>>4291184
this is fine

>>4291179
>>‘Alliance Military Forces, this is … GAIA-0401. You’re compromised. Stand down.’ (Disciplined, Authortative)

Running in a bit.

File: Rhysode Gerard.jpg (20 KB, 210x240)

20 KB JPG

Despite the circumstances, you remain … calm. Generations of Mishima blood wrest control from the discipline and savagery of the warrior behind the controls. A breath of … relief pushes out from your throat, more akin to a hacking cough on the verge of a puke-fest. Your poise returns to you with the raising of your head, your thoughts clear and your intention edged.

You’d had enough fighting to last you a lifetime, really.

‘Senpai, we did it!’

A tired set of lips mutters their gratitude.

A hand reaches out to the feed switch.

‘Forces of the Alliance Military,’ you start, uncaring on whether the broadcast put a fix on your position or no. ‘This is AEGIS personnel designation GAIA-0401. You are in violation of our standing treaty and its revisions regarding the act of direct aggression and the crossing of the border worlds. Your operation is compromised; stand down.’

At the very least … it gets them to stop training their weapons on you. At least half the lock-on warnings disappear within seconds of you pausing to catch your breath.

‘Who is that?’

‘GAIA-0401? That’s … what the …’

Those are friendlies. The return of Rhysode’s world-spanning network allows you to differentiate the signals as much. The general channels, the whole grid recognition lights up with a series of beeps and whines. You’re initiating connection with public and specialized access streams, the whole planet becoming practically visible to you as a small holographic orb prompts you answer a myriad of connections.

You reach out and click a green bar, words ready to—

‘—services are responding. We’re en route!’

‘This is Flagg, confirming comms and visual. Skies are heavy!’

‘EVAC report! We have multiple casualties in sub-sector seven! Requesting emergency personnel and Class-2 designation—’

‘—is this thing on? I have a request for transport from sub-sector eight of Rhysode Alpha.’

‘What about Rhysode Beta? Can you get through to them?’

Cries for assistance. Calls for resistance. You’re unable to get a full picture of the current state of things, but … from here on out, you believe, it didn’t matter. If protocol dictated … a tachyon-empowered signal would be sending out an alert to the nearest armada. Reinforcements would arrive within half a day at your worst estimation … and even if they didn’t, whatever intentions the Alliance had for this planet, their actions wouldn’t go unheeded.

They could raze everything to the ground … but they’d never get away with it.

‘Not so tough now, are they?’

Gerard’s voice scratches you back into full consciousness.

You spy the myriad of Mechs working a retreat before peering down towards the wreckage smoking carcass of the horned Mech, uncertain of a proper response.

>>4292675
>‘Yeah.’ (Nonchalant)
>‘You all right?’ (Concern)
>‘Lance, report.’ (Check on your Lance)
>‘Rosaria, what’s your status? Instructor Wray?’ (Check on Wray, Rosaria and the others)
>‘I repeat: stand down.’ (Refocus on the enemy)
>Write-In

>>4292682
>>‘You all right?’ (Concern)
>>‘Lance, report.’ (Check on your Lance)

>>4292682
>‘You all right?’ (Concern)
>‘Lance, report.’ (Check on your Lance)
>Good job Rosaria

>>4292682
>‘You all right?’ (Concern)
>‘Lance, report.’ (Check on your Lance)

>>4292682
>>‘Lance, report.’ (Check on your Lance)

>>4292682
>‘I repeat: stand down.’ (Refocus on the enemy)
>‘Lance, report.’ (Check on your Lance)

Sorry I had to bail, guys: had to go and get a birthday cake for my mother.

The comms are easier to establish now.

‘Lance, report.’

‘Hostiles eliminated.’

Maldante’s voice is a welcome one.

‘Might need some patches up in here, though,’ Ryosuke cuts in, sounding thoroughly … irritated. ‘They were playing for keeps.’

‘You bring with you what you don’t wish to be judged by in leaving behind,’ Reinweld responds with an extremely audible snort. ‘It’s a universal truth of battle.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Ryosuke sighs.

‘The sensors designate some just out of immediate engagement range.’

Maldante’s voice strikes clearly through the brief interruption of idle chatter. The authority and urgency in his voice almost reminds you of your father … but the content of his words shakes you back to your current priorities. It was a little too—no, it was much too soon to celebrate. The enemy Mechs had been briefly repelled and the communications had been re-established all around Rhysode; the battle, however, hadn’t been won quite yet. There had been no reply from the invading forces, nor a hasty execution of your demands to surrender.

They’d merely backed off.

It wasn’t over.

‘They don’t look like they’re keen on engaging, though,’ Reinweld follows-up, his voice coated in a slightly puzzled tone. ‘What are the odds that they’re sounding out a retreat?’

>‘I highly doubt that they’re here to kick up a fuss and just blast right off.’ (Doubt)
>‘The optimist in me hopes for it. The pessimist in me has the optimist in a submission hold.’ (Tired)
>‘It doesn’t matter. We move through the response protocol as usual.’ (Power on)
>Write-In

>>4294679
>>‘The optimist in me hopes for it. The pessimist in me has the optimist in a submission hold.’ (Tired)

>>4294679
>>Write-In
"One would hope so. Rosaria, I was hearing enemy comms. Anything on their frequencies on what they're doing?"

I apologize for the quality of this prompt. I'm aware that its one of the weaker things I've posted.

>>4294679
>‘The optimist in me hopes for it. The pessimist in me has the optimist in a submission hold.’ (Tired)
>Rosaria, Wray Everything good on your end?

>>4294679
>>‘I highly doubt that they’re here to kick up a fuss and just blast right off.’ (Doubt)

>>4294679
>>‘The optimist in me hopes for it. The pessimist in me has the optimist in a submission hold.’ (Tired)

>>4294679
>>‘The optimist in me hopes for it. The pessimist in me has the optimist in a submission hold.’ (Tired)

File: Gerard.jpg (6 KB, 300x168)

6 KB JPG

‘The optimist in me hopes for it … and the pessimist in me has the optimist in a submission hold.’

Your inelegant observation of current matters is rewarded by barely-stifled bouts of amusement. The corners of your mouth almost stretch upwards in response, processing the absurdity of such coy, yet non-committal, opinions. Still … Maldante’s observation holds true enough. No Mechs attempt to take the spear-point of a counter-movement from the other side. Your collective resistance—and the return of the planet-wide network—had given the Alliance Military a bout of reconsiderations towards their next step … and the threat of reinforcements closing in would have narrowed their window and breathing room considerably.

The optimist in you hoped for it … and the pessimist in you would hold it against them so long as they remained.

Just as you’d blurted not ten seconds before.

Your job isn’t done here; not until they are mere trails of fold residue or burning heaps of wreckage.

You’re not particularly picky whichever they decided to pick out for themselves. Not at all.

‘What’s our next move, then? We didn’t receive anything outside of a rendezvous order and a support assignment. Do we give pursuit?’

‘Big ask,’ Gerard grumbles, bringing his Mech into formation. ‘I’d hope not.’

Gerard’s Hellion pulls up to you, the lights and status indicators highlighting the magnitude of pock-marks, plasma holes and exposed systems. You almost wince, remembering just what you’d dropped him so unceremoniously into … and what he’d executed without hesitation or complaint. The Hellion’s legendary resilience had carved out its place as the reference for the term itself … sending it into a skirmish against two fighting-fit Whitestorms with precision energy weaponry without a lancer … well, one couldn’t expect miracles to happen one after the other. The damage wasn’t quite catastrophic, but another heavy skirmish and all it would take was a stray hit or a sniper with a decent eye to pick him right off.

‘I’m on my last clip and I think one of them nicked me in the compensators,’ Gerard grunts, sounding more irritated than exhausted. ‘Unless you plan on using me as a pin-cushion, I won’t be any good to you in this thing.’

‘What the—what happened to you?!’ Ryosuke exclaims, shocked at the extent of the Hellion’s compromised.

‘Enough for a paycheck, I hope.’

Reinweld steps in, his Piranha’s fins blinking as the Mech turns in what curiously mirrored accusatory body language.

‘I thought you were forming up a lance together for the intercept?’

‘We tried,’ Gerard replies. ‘That bastard there’—he indicates the fallen wreckage—‘rolled the mat back on that.’

>>4294777
>‘I’ve never seen a Mech of that make before. It’s like … one of ours.’ (Observe)
>‘Gerard, head back to the camp and join up with Sansa and Wray. I'll call it.’ (Concern, Authoritative)
>‘Is there something you’re implying, Reinweld?’ (Agitated)
>‘We played it by ear. I don’t see you complaining that I’m still standing.’ (Defensive, Aggressive)
>Write-In

Besides the formation falling back, is there any other nearby concentration of forces that might threaten our staging area.

>>4294779
>>‘I’ve never seen a Mech of that make before. It’s like … one of ours.’ (Observe)

>>4294779
>‘I’ve never seen a Mech of that make before. It’s like … one of ours.’ (Observe)

>>4294786
You'll get to that part after this.

>>4294786
dont think so?

>>4294779
>>Write-In
"Tough customer that one. Gerard, head back to these coordinates, Instructor Wray is there. And drag that mech back with you. It and its officer will be very very useful sources of information. The rest of us will call it in and standby, just in case they try anything else." [Gerard to retire from the immediate from with POW and mech. Defensive posture while radioing for further tasking.]

>>4294802
This is honestly a better write-in than all my choices presented. :/

>>4294802
That mech's a smoldering wreck, though ... and 70-plus tons of it, give or take.

>>4294779
>>4294802
This

>>4294802
I can give you everything except the "drag the rotting carcass of the Mech" part. I would negotiate you down to an upload of the surface specs, if you'd like?

>>4294893
Does the blade still work? Just looking at a trophy.

>>4294894
No, it doesn't. Besides, it's odd that a vibro-blade would be used in the first place. The technology is highly inefficient. HINT HINT

>>4294779
>>4294802
this then

>>4294779
>>4294802
This

Bad News: My computer died
Worse News: I might have to shell out some money to get it operational.
Good News: I have a Surface, it's charged to full after 3 months of dormancy and will run in an hour and twenty minutes.

>>4300996
Ripperonies. Surfaces are pretty cool though.

>>4300996
>F

File: You Are In Command Now.jpg (98 KB, 1777x999)

98 KB JPG

You re-organize your thoughts. Idle chatter could wait for once Rhysode was in the clear and the Alliance Military’s presence was a mere memory. The objective had been achieved and the attackers had retreated out of direct engagement range, but you hadn’t so much as heard of a—

A comm request blinks on your console. You flick a switch, establishing the connection.

‘[i]Good work out there[/i],’ Wray declares approvingly, prompting you to briefly wonder if it was indeed [i]you[/i] that he had intended to receive those words. ‘[i]The ground forces are pushing out of our immediate perimeter. By my guess, they probably don’t see a point wasting any effort pushing through preventing what we’ve already turned back on their asses … but stay vigilant.[/i]’

You give a nod, barely keeping a reflexive salute in check.

‘[i]Sir.[/i]’

‘[i]In any case, that friend of yours managed to patch Rhysode’s network configuration right back on their comm blanket and piggy-back, so we have comms again[/i],’ he continues, his voice taking a rather … hesitant tone. ‘[i]Unfortunately, it seems that that’s all that we’ve been able to do so far. Whatever algorithm they’re running is keeping the distress signals from [red]achieving critical tachyon nano-mass[/red]. We’re able to send comms out, but we’ll only be able to see anything resembling a reply in thirty standard years.’

A wry smirk, dry and irritable, tugs at your lips.

[blue]Why did all of this sound so familiar?[/blue]

‘[i]Fortunately[/i],’ Wray starts again, ‘[i]the identification algorithm … seems to be [green]concentrated around the public access and Imperial-commissioned relays[/green]. We might not be able to send a distress beacon out ourselves, but a [red]privately-owned activation module[/red] should be able to bypass that little chink in our operation.[/i]’

You feel another [i]but[/i] arriving—

‘[i]However, the only … luxury … critical nano-mass relays that are available are back in Rhysode Alpha and [green]currently inactive. We have a team of engineers ready to throw their bones in on the play, but last I checked, there was at least one lance’s worth of forces occupying the city.[/green][/i]’

You keep silent for a moment, considering everything … until you feel an uneasy twinge nick at the back of your neck.

‘[i]Sir,[/i]’ you start, feeling uncertain. ‘[i]Why tell me this?[/i]’

‘[i][green]Because I need you to help take Rhysode Alpha back … and cover our engineers on-site.[/green][/i]’

‘[i]I … understand that much, sir, just, ah … shouldn’t you be relaying this to … Maldante or[/i]’—you bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to keep your tone professional—‘[i]Reinweld? Or am I supposed to be passing on a message?[/i]

‘[red][i]Because you’re in command, Lance Commander.[/i][/red]’

>>4301050
‘Oh.’

‘Are you protesting your post?’

‘Oh, uh, no, it’s just … I have a … one of my, um … uh … Jetdom’s Hellion isn’t in …’

‘Send him here, then,’ Wray requests. ‘Take the rest of the command and wait on the Watch Commander’s orders. He’ll be taking over the administration and organization of the operation. Move out as soon as you’re able.’

‘Understood, sir,’ you reply, letting out a heavy breath before opening the command—your command’s—shared channel. ‘Gerard?’

‘Yeah?’

You key-in a set of coordinates and send it his way. ‘I’ve sent you a set of coordinates pertaining to the location of the camp’—not that he’d need it; who’d miss a kneeling Whitestorm, anyway—‘where you’ll be rendezvousing with the Instructor Wray and the others. The rest of us … we’re heading to Rhysode Alpha.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Are you serious?’

‘We just got out of there …’

You let out a breath. You didn’t expect Gerard to be protesting something he’d been eager to belay in the first place.

>Write-In

>>4301056
>Gerard, unless you were exaggerating, you just told me you were not going to be any good for me in another battle. As for the rest of us, we are going to be fighting our way into Alpha so that a bunch of engineers can send out a distress signal. If you get back to camp fast enough they might be able to patch you up enough to perform another dramatic rescue.

>>4301056
>Gerard by your won admittance your mech is in no shape for another fight. We have orders to take back Rhysode alpha so we can call for help, no call for help they can occupy this place ad attack with impunity. If you have misgivings about fighting more, you can switch places with Gerard so I can have willing pilots to help me finish my mission.

>>4301072
this

>>4301072
>support

‘Without some extended maintenance and a re-stock, you’d be struggling to keep pace, never mind assist in an engagement,’ you let out, bluntly but truthfully. ‘Join up with Wray and the engineering unit and await further—’

‘Wait,’ Ryosuke starts, his puzzlement apparent even through the crackle of the connection. ‘Hang on one—I’m confused … we’re supposed to meet up with Wray, right? What’s with the sudden change-about with our objectives? Comms are up and the defence should be easier to manage now, so … why’re we playing the spear-point, still? Shouldn’t we be backing off and leaving the ODF and the Watch Commander to sort the rest out? I mean … um … seems kinda out of the blue that you’d just, you know, step in and realign the operation priorities, right?’

A tired sigh escapes you. Ryosuke could be eloquent and within context when he wished to be … and unfortunately, that time happened to be the present. Perhaps you’d been quite hasty in delegating … everything. Releasing the tight grip on the controls, you take another deep breath and consider his points … and decide that in leaving you as the (provisional) Lance Commander, it was one of your responsibilities too, indeed, make what was murky clear for the benefit of the rest of Squadron.

Reality never ceased to disappoint. You half-expected trumpets to come out and a pat on your back from your uncle at having achieved heights he’d never so much as considered.

But … priorities.

‘Instructor Wray,’ you start, hoping your voice was comprehensible for the moment, before continuing, ‘gave me provisional command of the current array of ground forces. Effective as of now, I am your … temporary … Lance Commander and thus have the authority to delegate as per my post. Therefore, on that authority, I mediate the command of this Squadron to assist in the continued effort to repel the invading forces, as per Instructor Wray’s orders. We’re to receive further instruction and briefing on our situation from the Watch Commander of the ODF, which, as of currently is to assist at Rhysode Alpha. I believe that … we’ll be receiving updates as we make our way there.’

You receive no reply from the others.

You’d embarrassed yourself with that tepid re-introduction already. What did you care of the criticisms that would pile on after?

In all fairness, if there was any insubordination, it was bound to happen within the first five minutes of your command, provisional or no.

‘Acknowledged,’ Gerard replies. ‘I’ll rendezvous with the convoy at the camp.’

The rigidity of his response slightly surprises you.

You take the opportunity to follow through. One had fallen in line; you might as well be blunt with the rest of them.

‘If any of you have protests or aren’t willing to follow my command or require further assistance, you can escort Ge—Jetdom to the convoy and join up with Wray. If not, then—’

‘Um …’

Your ears perk up at Ryosuke’s uncertain tone. If he wanted to go off, then—

‘I, uh … acknowledge your command and apologize for speaking out of turn … sir.’

>‘You know what? If we get out of this, I’m going to go back to stock-taking anyway. Drop the formalities.’ (Friendship)
>‘Accepted. Squadron, form up and keep an eye out.’ (Rigid)
>‘Let’s get moving already.’ (Hasty)
>‘Maldante? Reinweld? Any protests?’ (Pre-empt)
>Write-In

>>4301146
>‘Maldante? Reinweld? Any protests?’ (Pre-empt)

>>4301146
>>‘Maldante? Reinweld? Any protests?’ (Pre-empt)
if not, then
>‘Let’s get moving already.’ (Hasty)

‘Maldante? Reinweld? Any protests?’

Reinweld probably did.

‘None,’ Reinweld replies, before adding, ‘sir.’

‘Ready to move out when you are, Lance Commander.’

>Move out
>Write-In

>>4301187
>Move out

>>4301187
>>Move out

>>4301187
I'm leaving that write-in for anything you guys want to do last-minute before you head off.

>>4301187
>>Move out
head em up, move em out

>>4301187
>>Move out

>>4301187
>>Move out

>>4301187
>>Move out

Oh damn, I forgot: did you guys want inclinations to dictate your pilots' specs or did you want to manually select them for yourselves? As in: you hang one pilot at the back and start taking a lot of pot shots for Sniper or hanging back and reporting on your enemies' stats and position for Support, etc

>>4302133
I think they can select it for themselves as long as we can see what they're doing. If we need to, we can issue further directions to override.

Dawn is, quite literally, on the horizon.

You wipe the sand from the corner of your eye, fatigue beginning to make good on its threat to wrest your consciousness from the waking world. You’d been on course for the last two hours, perhaps more. The rest of the lance hadn’t said much beyond the occasional check-ins—which wasn’t really required, with the bunch of you being, at most, forty feet apart from one another. You never thought that two hours of monotony would be so much more agonizing to dancing the quicksteps of death against a Mech you’d never seen before or taking a Bartholomew head on, but … here you are. Not that you are, of course, ungrateful for this … reprieve, as it is; it is merely that you are, above all else … lacking in any external stimulation to keep your senses at attention and your muscles on alert.

To put it simply, you are … bored.

Occasionally adjusting the hydraulics, gyros and other mechanisms didn’t change that.

The sensors pick up off-grid activity, but none seem keen on a vector leading to an inevitable criss-cross of paths. Your thoughts briefly drift to the possibility of a scout unit trailing you, but as the heat and activity sensors hadn’t pointed anything of the sort, you could only assume that it was merely referring to the now-active pockets of resistance against the invading forces that was the Alliance Military.

Whatever insanity had possessed them to attack a place this remote—this inconsequential, save for perhaps a few board meetings throughout the standard year and an academy of AEGIS fledglings—escaped you. Personally, if you were one of their military leaders, you’d organize several Battlegroups’ worth of an invasion against an industrial core around the border systems for easy logistical access: not throw oneself halfway across a quadrant to attack some no-name planet.

Although, in all fairness, Rhysode’s APU had lucked out and turned the world into—

‘Checking in,’ Maldante’s voice crackles, right on schedule. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary.’

‘You think?’ you grumble, sounding a tad more frustrated than you had intended to.

A brief silence follows; you wonder if—

‘I apologize if I bothered you, Lance Commander,’ Maldante continues, sounding as apologetic and … professional as one could possibly manage. ‘If you require a revision of the status reports, I’d—’

You let out a grumble, pinching the bridge of your nose. While you had imagined Maldante’s stiff, by-the-book demeanour playing the subservient lackey to your superiority on occasion, this sort of formal exchange was almost …

Frustrating?

Irritating?

‘—suggest—’

Abnormal?

>‘You don’t have to be so formal with me, you know.’ (Friendship)
>‘Noted, Maldante.’ (Dismissive)
>[Kill the channel without a word]
>Write-In

>>4302136
What Mech means is: Do we want to level up our pilots by what actions they perform in battle or do we want to choose how they level up after battle?

I'm partial to choosing after battle.

>>4302152
>‘You don’t have to be so formal with me, you know.’ (Friendship)

>>4302152
>>‘You don’t have to be so formal with me, you know.’ (Friendship)

>>4302152
>>‘You don’t have to be so formal with me, you know.’ (Friendship)

‘You don’t have to be so formal with me, you know,’ you insist, despite the brief, smug return of superiority to your bones. ‘Besides … it’s not like this is going to stick, if we ever manage to get out of this mess.’

A thoughtful hum rumbles from the other end of the connection.

It’s followed by a—

‘Is that a chuckle?’

‘Indeed, sir,’ Maldante returns, albeit not without the audible intonation that he had been sufficiently amused by your attempt at restoring the informal nature of your relationship. ‘Permission to speak freely?’

>‘The fact that you’re more keen to adhere to protocol than I am is making me feel most inadequate.’ (Amused)
>‘Go on ahead.’ (Oblige)
>‘That’s enough for now. Cut the chatter.’ (Proceed)
>‘Denied.’ (Cut him off)
>Write-In

>>4302222
>>‘Go on ahead.’ (Oblige)

>>4302222
>‘Go on ahead.’ (Oblige)

>>4302222
>>‘Go on ahead.’ (Oblige)

>>4302222
>>‘Go on ahead.’ (Oblige)

‘Go on ahead,’ you oblige, secretly thankful for the arrival of pleasant conversation.

‘You should have more confidence in yourself.’

That … was unexpected.

>‘Sorry, you and the rest of these morons beat that out of me in the last four standard.’ (Friendship)
>‘I believe that I am not in any shortage of the quality in question.’ (Uppity)
>‘I suppose I could adjust myself a little …’ (Concede)
>‘That’s … well, I suppose that all I can say I expected you to jump to that of all things.’ (Puzzled)
>‘Fisher’s rubbing off on you more than you realize.’ (Observant)
>‘That’ll be all.’ (Kill the conversation)
>Write-In

>>4303193
>>‘Sorry, you and the rest of these morons beat that out of me in the last four standard.’ (Friendship)

>>4303193
>‘Sorry, you and the rest of these morons beat that out of me in the last four standard.’ (Friendship)

>>4303193
>>‘Sorry, you and the rest of these morons beat that out of me in the last four standard.’ (Friendship)

>>4303193
>>‘Sorry, you and the rest of these morons beat that out of me in the last four standard.’ (Friendship)

‘Sorry, but you and the rest of these morons have beaten every sliver of that out of Me in the last four standard,’ you chuckle. ‘I’d have to re-establish a supply chain and re-negotiate contracts at a premium to return it to an operational distribution and trade model.’

‘It’s good to know that you still have your sense of humour to fall back on,’ Maldante retorts playfully, allowing another chuckle to escape from your now-loose maw. ‘Doesn’t mean that it’ll suffice, though.’

>‘I believe that I’ve been educated on the matter enough.’ (Reinforce your position)
>‘One of the qualities of leadership is to keep an open ear and consider the input of his command. I’m all ears.’ (Humble yourself)
>‘If you have a problem with my conduct, just let it out here. I gave you permission to speak freely, didn’t I?’ (Aggressive)
>Write-In

>>4303245
>‘One of the qualities of leadership is to keep an open ear and consider the input of his command. I’m all ears.’ (Humble yourself)

>>4303245
>>‘One of the qualities of leadership is to keep an open ear and consider the input of his command. I’m all ears.’ (Humble yourself)

>>4303245
>>‘One of the qualities of leadership is to keep an open ear and consider the input of his command. I’m all ears.’ (Humble yourself)

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13 KB JPG

>+1 COMMAND

‘One of the qualities attributed to leadership is to keep an open ear and consider the counsel of your command,’ you recite, almost imagining yourself back in the third year hall seat, scrolling down archives and tabs as you committed words and lessons to memory. ‘I’m all ears.’

‘Well, you have that drilled deeply enough, at least.’

You’re not quite certain whether he was being deliberately condescending or merely blunt with his observations. Either way, you’d decided to sit back and listen to what he had to say, and so, decide to keep your silence for now. When one’s lips flapped in the breeze, one’s audio receptors failed in their connection to the commitment to memory … or so the saying went. You could save a proper retort for later, anyway … and the stimulation of conversation was a nick that was most welcome, especially after two hours in the command pod and the monotony of check-ins.

Maldante does not require a prompt to begin.

‘I won’t criticize the methodology of your command, but I can impart a few … tips, I guess you could call them, regarding what you should let loose on as the one holding the reins of command,’ he starts, his voice (oddly) reminding you of Zalatz’s own remedial lectures regarding physical conditioning and its correlation with cockpit performance and reflexes. ‘Keep your commands clear and narrow your individual objectives; assign your pilots by their strengths, weaknesses and abilities in general: each of us have a … tendency, habit or skill that makes us better at certain tasks, therefore the maximization of the applicability of those abilities should be at the top of your list. Hesitation in the delegation of assignments and the like leaves room for doubt in the integrity of a command structure, so establish your authority as a leader through the medium of protocol and its adherence. If you doubt yourself, you can always fall back on the books and by-laws to stamp your position as superior, but in general, it’s more common for example, ability or performance in general seem to be better supplements to the quality of your command.’

Maldante brings his lecture to a halt, prompting you to lean over slightly, curious if that had been all he had, indeed, wanted to deliver.

‘Is that it?’

‘It’d also be advisable,’ he starts again, albeit with a tinge of hesitance in his voice, continuing, ‘to separate the leagues of the personal connections and feelings from one’s duty as a Commander. I don’t think that that’s something that you need any lectures on beyond the general shape, though. Since you’re a Scion … and with all that implies.’

You let out another chuckle, uncertain whether to clarify your position or to allow Maldante to remain mired in his own assumptions.

>>4303309
>'As a Scion ... there really isn't a separation. The personal and the ... rest of it, I mean.' (Muse)
>'Well, it's not like I'd be applying it outside the current op. If we even get out of this alive.' (Tired)
>'Hm.' (Keep your silence)
>'I suppose. Thank you.' (End the conversation)
>Write-In

>>4303311
>>'As a Scion ... there really isn't a separation. The personal and the ... rest of it, I mean.' (Muse)

>>4303311
>'As a Scion ... there really isn't a separation. The personal and the ... rest of it, I mean.' (Muse)

File: Lucion Is Your Friend. Oh(...).jpg (32 KB, 225x350)

32 KB JPG

‘As a Scion, there really isn’t a separation, per se,’ you muse, stifling a brief chortle as it slides between your teeth. ‘Everything that you do, every moment you breathe … if it’s not the scrutiny of your peers and the public, it’s your House bearing down on you with every expectation alive. Every turn of the stars, every orbit that completed its cycle … it’d be a spoiled and ungrateful opinion for me to wonder if there were those truly less fortunate than I, and yet … I guess I couldn’t help being that little bit self-centred then. The fantasy of honourable combat, the measure of one’s worth through service and sacrifice, I think the desire for such romantic ideals could have only been made possible with such ignorance. Every ideal I borrowed—that I stole—in embellishing that dream … I doubt I could have snatched without such naivete. It’s a hilarious paradox … and with gunmetal on my lips and mounds of flame at my back I can only imagine the universe’s flavour for irony. Riding into battle with my name counting for nothing and my dream made reality in the least romantic instance possible … what do you make of all that?’

‘I can’t give you a proper evaluation without further opportunities for scrutiny,’ Maldante answers, albeit not without a slight warmth in his tone. ‘However, as far as I’ve seen you stretch out these last few years, I believe my preliminary opinion back in the shopping district still stands.’

You try to remember his words proper.

‘You said that—’

‘I stand by that your omission from a Squadron attachment is one of the surprising moves the Academy has made to my knowledge,’ he repeats, ‘and judging from the last few hours, your capabilities have only further validated my opinion.’

Your cheeks turn slightly pink as you rub the back of your neck, wondering why you were so embarrassed. You’d been praised before, after all. The pessimist in you, however, would have none of that, already half-blurting words that would, likely, needlessly stretch the conversation further than it needed to.

‘And my response regarding the attributes of your argument’s validation is that it was solely based on luck,’ you respond in kind.

Maybe Maldante wasn’t totally wrong about you needing more confidence. If you survived this, it would certainly be something worthy of your attentions to … mend, for lack of better word.

‘You managed well enough organizing the defensive priorities and engagements of the last encounter,’ Maldante presses on. ‘Maybe you should start giving yourself more credit instead of trying to whittle yourself down on what-ifs. It’s not like you’ve reverted in maturity just because you think that you did a good job for once.’

>‘Fisher’s really rubbing off on you.’
>‘Lucion, as much as it disgusts me to say it, I believe we are now, truly … friends.’
>Keep quiet
>Write-In

>>4303362
>>‘Lucion, as much as it disgusts me to say it, I believe we are now, truly … friends.’

>>4303362
>>‘Lucion, as much as it disgusts me to say it, I believe we are now, truly … friends.’

>>4303362
>‘Lucion, as much as it disgusts me to say it, I believe we are now, truly … friends.’

>>4303362
>>‘Lucion, as much as it disgusts me to say it, I believe we are now, truly … friends.’

>>4303362
>>‘Lucion, as much as it disgusts me to say it, I believe we are now, truly … friends.’