Fifteen blips appear on your screen.

‘Received.’

‘The tricky part is what comes next: there are only three viable data points and signal units in the city. We only need one to get a signal through, but while we’re getting them prepped, they’re going to be sitting ducks. It’ll take us even more time to activate the next data point, so it’d be preferred if you get it right the first time.’

‘I hear you. We’ll hold the position. Get it up and—’

‘CONTACT!’

It appears that you had last time than you’d previously believed.

You’re past the first building as a barrage of rockets zoom across your view.

Battle had resumed.

ACCESS POINTS LEFT: 3*
NODES LEFT: 15**
Turns Until Signal Sent: 7***

>Go on the offensive
>Hold your position
>Move to defend node (Assign yourself/Squadron Member)
>Move to defend access point (Assign yourself/Squadron Member)
>Write-in

*Destroyed Access Point adds: 5 turns
**Destroyed Node adds: 1 turn
***Destroying enemy mech shortens by 1 turn

>OOC: You guys can ask me about anything else you guys think you can do regarding the "write-in" and I'll see where it falls on the "action spectrum"

What class type are we again? Vanguard or Commander?

>>4494163
Vanguard.

>>4494163
You're a Vanguard.

2 on offense and 2 on defense sounds good? Anybody else have an idea?

Also, I am SUPER streamlining this because people have complained that shit seemed to go on forever, and I agree. I'll try to make it less wordy and more "user input"-y.

>>4494169
2 on Offense 2 on Defense sounds good to me.

Send out Maldante and Ryosuke to hunt mechs while we guard the Access Points with Emilio on Overwatch.

>>4494174
That sounds good

>>4494174
As the GM and since you have Vanguard, I'd like to just inform you that you actually have the benefit of being a defensive presence on offense. Defending stuff and keeping attentions on you is your speciality.

>>4494177
Oh yeah, god it's been too long
>>4494174
Let's put Ryosuke on defense and take his spot on offense

>>4494178
Sounds good. Maldante with us on offense while Ryosuke guards the Access Points and with Emilio on overwatch.

>>4494182
Yup
>Emilio and Ryosuke on defense with us and Maldante on offense

>>4494186
Hold let me reword that as it makes it seem we're sending Maldante out solo on offense
>Us and Maldante on offense
>Emilio and Ryosuke on defense

>>4494186
>>4494193
I'll take this as confirmation, then?

>>4494212
Yup

>>4494212
yes

File: 284th Century Combat.jpg (56 KB, 1148x649)

56 KB JPG

>[You] move into an offensive position!
>[Lucion Maldante] moves into an offensive position!
>[Emilio Reinweld] holds position!
>[Ryosuke Umikaze] holds position!

[ENEMY ACTIVITY] Resolved
REVEALED POSITIONS: NONE of UNKNOWN
REVEALED FORCES: NONE of UNKNOWN

YOU: Vanguard Ability [Taunt] available in context of counter-action. Initiate?
>Activate
>Resolve current phase

>>4494250
>>Activate
Time to shit talk our opponents

>>4494250
>Activate

>>4494250
>Activate

File: TAUNT.jpg (12 KB, 300x300)

12 KB JPG

Perhaps it was immature, considering the circumstances, but ...

"Your mother was a Volderian Sand Pig and your father smelled of Wickerberries!"

>DC: 3 (1d10)

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4494281
Using that classical education I see.

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>4494281

TAUNT SUCCESSFUL!
[ENEMY 03] Whitestorm has revealed its position!
>Configuration: Rapid Fire, Mid-Range
[ENEMY 04] Whitestorm has revealed its position!
>Configuration: Rapid Fire, Mid-Range

Enemies Revealed!
Initiate Overwatch? (Consumes turn if missed)
>Yes
>No

>>4494291
>Yes

>>4494291
>>Yes

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

350 KB JPG

Select OVERWATCH Activation:*
[Unit 02] Emilio Reinweld (1d20), DC: 10
[Unit 03]Ryosuke Umikaze (1d20), DC: 12

Select [TARGETS]
>[ENEMY 03] Whitestorm
>[ENEMY 04] Whitestorm

*Please roll with your selections. Successful overwatch does not consume an action. Unsuccessful overwatch might trigger enemy counter-action or, should the enemy not attack, consume your action for the next phase instead.

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>4494322
>[Unit 02] Emilio Reinweld (1d20), DC: 10
>[ENEMY 03]

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>4494322
>Unit 02
>Enemy 3
Phone posting is terrible

Rolled 6 (1d20)

OVERWATCH SUCCESSFUL!

>Processing "Hit" (DC: 10, 1d20)

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>4494332

File: top.jpg (135 KB, 1600x900)

135 KB JPG

DEFENSIVE FAILURE! CRITICAL HIT! MECH DISABLED!(1 TURN!)
>Enemy Morale Affected!
>[No Modifiers]

[ENEMY 01] Gladiator has revealed its position!
>Configuration: Energy, Burst Fire, Mid-Range
[ENEMY 02] Crossbow Mk. III has revealed its position!
>Configuration: Defensive/Support, Kinetic Weaponry (Missiles)
[ENEMY 06] Roadrunner has revealed its position!
>Configuration: Scout/Disruption

ENEMIES REVEALED!
Timer Countdown: -1
Time Left: 5!

'There's five of 'em on my read!'

>'Stay frosty.' (Calm)
>'For the Imperium!' (Patriotic Fervor)
>'Good shot, Reinweld!' (Congratulate)
>[Stay Silent]
>Write-in

>>4494336
That's mine, dude.

>>4494340
>>'Stay frosty.' (Calm

>>4494340
>'Stay frosty.' (Calm)

File: You're Doing Okay.jpg (29 KB, 360x450)

29 KB JPG

>>4494323
>>4494325

‘You’re doing great,’ the Chief Engineer cries out, ‘just keep them off our backs a little longer!’

‘Stay frosty,’ you mouth, your eyes on the prize. You don’t know how much longer you would need to last … but you would make the moments that are within your grasp count.

>There are no changes to morale

TURN TWO!
REVEALED POSITIONS: 5 of UNKNOWN (6?)
REVEALED FORCES: 5 of UNKNOWN (6?)
>Enemy 01: Gladiator (Forward Position)
>Enemy 02: Crossbow Mk. III (Rear Position)
>Enemy 03: Whitestorm (Flanking Position)
>Enemy 04: Whitestorm (Flanking Position)
>Enemy 06: Roadrunner (OUT OF FORMATION)*

Access Points Left: 3
Nodes Left: 15
Turns Until Signal Sent: 5

‘I’m getting movement on my sensors, Commander,’ Ryosuke lets out, his voice concerned, yet steady.

>Go on the offensive
>Hold your position
>Move to defend node (Assign yourself/Squad member)
>Move to defend access point (Assign yourself/Squad member)
>Write-in

*Enemies that are OUT FOR FORMATION are more vulnerable to flanking attacks, pot-shots and aggressive assaults!

>>4494382
>>Go on the offensive
>Attack the Roadrunner
Smack their recon boi quick

>>4494382
>Go on the offensive
>Attack the Roadrunner

Okay guys, nice run. I'm going to go and take a nap since it's 3 AM here in Malaysia. Great to be back and I hope the new system is less tedious.

>>4494389
>>4494390
You guys will have to once again specify who you want to move in offensive positions.

>>4495052
Ok.
>Maldante goes on the Offensive to Attack the Roadrunner
>We go on the Offensive to distract the Gladiator
>Emilio and Ryosuke maintain overwatch.

Running in approximately 10 minutes.

File: Mecha.jpg (397 KB, 1680x1050)

397 KB JPG

>[You] move into an offensive position! (Intended target: [ENEMY 01] Gladiator)
>[Lucion Mandante] moves into an offensive position! (Intended target: [ENEMY 06] Roadrunner)
>[Emilio Reinweld] holds position!
>[Ryosuke Umikaze] holds position!

The following units are on the offense against revealed hostiles:
>[You]
-Intended: Gladiator
-Protected/Disengaged Hostiles (Revealed): None
>[Lucion Maldante]
-Intended: Roadrunner
-Protected/Disengaged Hostiles (Revealed): None

Please specify follow-up action for the two units on offense from the options available
>Engage (Melee/Mid-Range/Long Range)
>Disengage
>Special abilities specific to class*
>Skip

*Currently, there are no abilities available to your units in the current phase.

>>4495138
>[You]
>Engage Melee

>[Lucion Maldante]
>Engage Mid-Range

File: Nice picture, mind if I use it.jpg (175 KB, 1280x720)

175 KB JPG

>>4495141
OPTIONS SELECTED:
Please roll for success of action!
>[You], Melee, 1d20 (DC: 10)
>[Lucion Maldante], Melee, 1d20 (DC: 7)

Rolled 9, 2 = 11 (2d20)

>>4495175

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

159 KB JPG

>[You] action resolution: FAILURE!
>[Lucion Maldante] action resolution: FAILURE!

ENEMY ACTION!
>[Enemy 01] Gladiator engages [You]!
>[Enemy 06] Roadrunner disengages from combat!
>[Enemy 06] Roadrunner activates ability: FIELD INTEL
>[Enemy 02] Crossbow Mk. III holds position!
>[Enemy 03] Whitestorm moves into offensive position (Intended target: Node 02)
>[Enemy 04] Whitestorm moves into offensive position (No intended target)
>[Unknown Enemy Movement Detected], No Intel Available
PROCESSING ENEMY PHASE TRANSITION

[YOU]: Vanguard Ability [Taunt] available in context of counter-action. Initiate?
>Activate
>Resolve current phase

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>4495179
>Activate

File: TAUNT.png (395 KB, 675x380)

395 KB PNG

‘I’ve read balance sheets more intimidating than you, scum!’

>[Enemy 01] Gladiator is simmering!
>[Enemy 03] Whitestorm disengages from intended target!
>[Enemy 04] Whitestorm disengages from intended target!
[ENEMY 05] Crossbow Mk. III has revealed its position!
>Configuration: Scout/Support, Kinetic Weaponry

Enemies Revealed! Initiate Overwatch? (Consumes turn if unsuccessful)
>Yes
>No

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>4495185
>Yes
>[Unit 02] Emilio Reinweld (1d20), DC: 10
>[ENEMY 03]

>>4495186
Are you rolling for both? I'm kinda off here.

Just having Emilio do the overwatch assuming that the target would be the same as last time.

OVERWATCH SUCCESSFUL!

>[Enemy 03] Modifier: Critically Hit Last Turn
>Processing "Hit" (DC: 11*, 1d20)


OOC
Just for the players who are around, the last turn had two successful rolls against two enemy Mechs, who, in revealing their position, were hit by CRITICAL OVERWATCH. The "optimal" maneuver would have actually been to have assigned your two offensive Mechs (in this case, [You] and [Lucion Maldante] to wail on them after moving into offensive positions, while your two Mechs that had "held positions" in the turn before to snipe [Enemy 06] the Roadrunner before it could have restored battlefield equilibrium.

The optimum maneuver would have been:
>[You] : Go on the offensive (Target: ENEMY 03)
>[Lucion Maldante] : Go on the offensive (Target: ENEMY 04)
>The other two: pot shot the revealed Scout/Support (ENEMY 06)

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>4495225

I was planning to run an hour ago, but I couldn't find anyone online. I'll try this again in the morning. Good night to you all.

How many of you lot are alive?

>>4496212
One here.

>>4496212
i am unliving but not yet known to death

>>4496238
>>4496243
All right. I'll run in about half an hour.

All right, lads. T-minus 2 minutes.

File: Fighting.jpg (334 KB, 1280x1742)

334 KB JPG

DEFENSIVE FAILURE! CRITICAL HIT! ENEMY MECH DESTROYED!
>Enemy Morale Affected!
>[No Modifiers]

>No New Enemies Revealed

>[ENEMY 01] Gladiator Disengages
>[ENEMY 02] Crossbow Mk. III moves OUT OF FORMATION
>[ENEMY 04] Whitestorm is immobilized by MORALE DROP
>[ENEMY 05] Crossbow Mk. III takes an offensive position
>[ENEMY 06] remains OUT OF FORMATION

ENEMY DESTROYED!

>'Keep rank!' (Calm)
>'Forward!' (Fervor)
>'That's one tag, pilot!' (Individual congratulations)
>[Stay Silent]
>Write-In

>>4496348
>'Keep rank!' (Calm)

>>4496348
>>'Keep rank!' (Calm)

ENEMY DESTROYED!
Timer Countdown -1

That was one down.

'Keep rank!' you bark, watching the enemy attempt to reform into a more structured shape. Reinweld had knocked one down for the count, but the numbers advantage favored your opponents, still. The last thing you wanted right now was risk an all-out assault that would have their advantage swell.

>There are no changes to morale

TURN TWO!
REVEALED POSITIONS: 6 of 6
REVEALED FORCES: 6 of 6
>Enemy 01: Gladiator (Disengaged, Forward Position)
>Enemy 02: Crossbow Mk. III (OUT OF FORMATION)
>Enemy 04: Whitestorm (Flanking Position)
>Enemy 05: Crossbow Mk. III (Flanking Position)
>Enemy 06: Roadrunner (Disengaged, OUT OF FORMATION)

Access Points Left: 3
Nodes Left: 15
Turns Until Signal Sent: 3

'Ready to receive orders.'

>Go on the offensive
>Hold your position
>Move to defend node (Assign yourself/Squad member)
>Move to defend access point (Assign yourself/Squad member)
>Write-in

>>4496367
>>Go on the offensive
Us melee
Lucion mid range
both on Crossbow mk 2
>Hold your position
Emilio
Ryosuke

>>4496367
>[You] melee [Enemy 02]
>[Lucion] mid range [Enemy 02]
>[Emilio] Long Range [Enemy 06]
>[Ryosuke] Long Range [Enemy 06]

>>4496373
>>4496378
The combat options available aren't valid as I've changed the system.

>>4496406
>[You] and [Lucion] go on the offensive against [Enemy 02] (Crossbow Mk III)
And can Emilio and Ryosuke take potshots at the Roadrunner [Enemy 06]?

>>4496422
Sure. I'll give you the current range modifiers to see if you want to take the action.

>Ryosuke vs. ENEMY 06 (DC: 10)
>Emilio vs. ENEMY 05 (DC: 8)

>>4496428
Those look good. I'll take them.

>[You] move into an offensive position! (Intended target: [ENEMY 02] Crossbow Mk. III)
>[Lucion Maldante moves into an offensive position! (Intended target: [ENEMY 02] Crossbow Mk. III)

YOU HAVE FLANKED THE ENEMY!
>[Enemy 02] DC: -1

>[Ryosuke Umikaze] attacks from a held position! (Intended target: [ENEMY 06] Roadrunner) DC: 10
>[Emilion Reinweld] attacks from a held position! (Intended target: [ENEMY 06] Roadrunner) DC: 8
>Enemy is OUT OF FORMATION

Rolled 19, 12, 5, 7 = 43 (4d20)

>>4496446

Rolled 5 (1d20)

ATTACK INITIATED!

>Processing "Hit" (DC: 8)

Rolled 12 (1d20)

DEFENSIVE FAILURE! CRITICAL HIT! ENEMY MECH DESTROYED!
>Enemy Morale Affected!
>Modifier: Squadron Scout KILLED! -1 to all tactical rolls

>No new enemies revealed

>[ENEMY 01] Gladiator moves into offensive position!
>[ENEMY 02] Crossbow Mk. III is unable to disengage from being flanked due to morale drop!
>[ENEMY 04] Whitestorm holds their position!
>[ENEMY 05] Crossbow Mk. III initiates attack (Intended Target: Node)

>Processing “Hit” (DC: 5)

File: Comms.jpg (15 KB, 600x108)

15 KB JPG

NODE DESTROYED!
Timer Countdown: +1

The volley of missiles sends a skyscraper topping to your right. You let out a curse as the comms flare up again.

‘Keep them away from the data nodes!’

File: pew pew bam bam.jpg (160 KB, 1280x720)

160 KB JPG

Two down, four to go.

But you couldn't let them near another node.

>‘Steady as she goes, team.’ (Calm)
>‘Push!’ (Fervor)
>‘You’re on fire today, Reinweld!’ (Individual congratulations)
>‘Tagged it, Ryosuke.’ (Individual congratulations)
>[Stay silent]
>Write-in

>>4496463
>‘Steady as she goes, team.’ (Calm)

‘Steady as she goes, Squadron. Eyes up front; we’re not done yet.’

>There are no changes to morale

TURN THREE!
REVEALED POSITIONS: 6 OF 6 (2 Destroyed)
REVEALED FORCES: 6 of 6 (2 Destroyed)
>[ENEMY 01] Gladiator (Forward Position)
>[ENEMY 02] Crossbow Mk. III (OUT OF FORMATION)
>[ENEMY 04] Whitestorm (Forward Position)
>[ENEMY 05] Crossbow Mk. III (Forward Position)

Access Points Left: 3
Nodes Left: 14
Turns Until Signal Sent: 2

‘Let’s do this!’ Ryosuke cries out, loading another round.

>Go on the offensive
>Hold your position
>Fall back
>Move to defend node (Assign yourself/Squad member)
>Move to defend access point (Assign yourself/Squad member)
>Write-in

>>4496481
>[You] go on the offensive [Enemy 06]
>[Lucion] go on the offensive [Enemy 02]
>Emilio hold position.
>Ryosuke move to defend node

>>4496495
[ENEMY 06] is dead, player.

>>4496498
Woops meant [Enemy 05]

>[You] are within engagement range of [Enemy 05]
[Enemy 05] is FLANKED!
>[Lucion Maldante] is within engagement range of [Enemy 02]
>[Emilio Reinweld] holds position!
>[Ryosuke Umikaze] moves to defend node!

The following units are on the offense against known hostiles:
>[You]
-Intended: [Enemy 05]
-Protected/Disengaged Hostiles: Gladiator
>[Lucion Maldante]
-Intended: [Enemy 02]
-Protected/Disengaged Hostiles: None

Please specify follow-up action for the two units on offense from the options available
>Engage (Melee Weapon/Ranged Weaponry)
>Disengage
>Special abilities specific to class*
>Skip

*Currently, there are no abilities available to your units in the current phase.

>>4496515
>[You] Melee [Enemy 05]
>[Lucion] Melee [Enemy 02]

>>4496525

>[You] get up close and personal! [Intended target: ENEMY 05], DC: 8
>[Lucion Maldante] gets up close and personal! [Intended target: ENEMY 02] DC: 8

Rolled 10, 7 = 17 (2d20)

>>4496535

File: A man can dream ... of si(...).jpg (552 KB, 2048x1536)

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Rolled 10 (1d20)

>[You] action resolution: SUCCESS!
-Flanked Modifier: +1 Stage of Damage!
-[ENEMY 05] is MODERATELY DAMAGED!
>[Lucion Maldante] action resolution: FAILURE!

ENEMY ACTION!
>[Enemy 01] Gladiator is attempting a flanking maneuver!
>[Enemy 02] Crossbow Mk. III is attempting a flanking maneuver!
>[Enemy 04] Whitestorm recovers from morale drop!
>[Enemy 04] Whitestorm attempts to attack from its position!

>Processing “Hit” (DC: 12)
>Modifiers: Scout Death (+1 to all rolls)
>Modifiers: [Ryosuke Umikaze] defending point (+5 to roll)

>>4496674
>[Enemy 04] Whitestorm action resolution: FAILURE!

[Ryosuke Umikaze] defending point! (1d20)*
>No Damage (18-20)
>Light Damage (14-17)
>Moderate Damage (6-13)
>Heavy Damage (2-5)
>Disabled in Totality (1)

*When defending a point, asset or fellow man successfully, you run a risk of taking the damage intended for them. Get

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>4496680

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>4496680

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>4496680
dubs for 20

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>4496680

I'll run this in a few hours. Hopefully you lads will still be around then.

Sorry, my cat is in the hospital. I'll try to run in a bit.

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>4496680

see the power of f rank luck

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>4496680

Okay, folks. My bad. I'm back and I will be running in about 3 hours. All four of you can come back then. I'm really sorry about the last few days.

All right. Sorry. Here now. Running in a bit.

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>[Ryosuke Umikaze] is [MODERATELY DAMAGED] defending the node!

>[ENEMY 05] attempts to disengage from engagement range of [You]!
>Modifiers: +1 (Subject of successful attack in same turn)

>Processing Engagement Attempt … (DC: 4, 1d20)

[ENEMY 05] Crossbow Mk. III successfully disengaged!

'Systems still functional,' Ryosuke calls out over the channel, the sparks of an unfortunate hit laying the torso's mechanisms bare. 'Let's roll!'

>'Hold steady, team ...' (Calm)
>'Push on!' (Fervor)
>'Good one, Ryosuke.' (Individual congratulations)
>[Stay Silent]
>Write-In

>>4500974
>>'Push on!' (Fervor)

>>4500974
>>'Good one, Ryosuke.' (Individual congratulations)

>>4500977
>>4500978
I'll take the second one.

>>4500974
>Good one, Ryosuke.' (Individual congratulations)

File: __original_drawn_by_rarur(...).jpg (100 KB, 850x499)

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‘Good one, Ryosuke.’

‘I owe you for that, sir,’ comes Ryosuke’s irritable grunt, moving back into position.

>Ryosuke’s morale has risen! (+2 to rolls)
>Ryosuke has recovered
>Ryosuke is moderately damaged

TURN FOUR!
REVEALED POSITIONS: 6 of 6
REVEALED FORCES: 6 of 6
>[Enemy 01] Gladiator (Forward Position, attempting a flanking maneuver)
>[Enemy 02] Crossbow Mk. III (Forward Position, attempting a flanking maneuver)
>[Enemy 04] Whitestorm (Holding Position, rear)
>[Enemy 05] Crossbow Mk. III (Forward Position) MODERATELY DAMAGED

Access Points Left: 3
Nodes Left: 14
Turns Until Signal Sent: 1

‘Just a little bit more!’

>Go on the offensive
>Hold your position
>Fall back
>Move to defend node
>Move to defend access point
>Write-In

>>4501000
>>Hold your position

>>4501000
>[You] go on the offensive [Enemy 02]
>[Lucion] go on the offensive [Enemy 05]
>[Emilio] hold position
>[Ryosuke] hold position

>>4501008
Yea this, need to remember how to do these right again

>>4501000
>>4501008
this

>>4501008
>>4501005
>>4501013

Sorry. I had to do a perimeter check and I know it's probably a little railroad-y, but why don't you try going on the offensive against the SAME ENEMY just this turn?

>>4501041
You mean something like:
>[All] offensive [Enemy 5]

>>4501041
>[You] go on the offensive [Enemy 05]
>>[Lucion] go on the offensive [Enemy 02]
>>[Emilio] hold position
>>[Ryosuke] hold position
Yea that smart, why can't test come faster so I can think about this better

>>4501043
>>4501044
I'm just using this opportunity to showcase the new mechanics.

>>4501043
Basically, use two dudes to flank the enemy, then activate a third to go on the offensive against that enemy from a distance for a free crit.

>>4501043
>>4501044
I'm not trying to "force" you guys to do it, but it'd highlight the roles of certain "classes" better in the context of "active combat".

As in, right now, you have a countdown of "1". You have an active sniper, two frontliners and a damaged teammate, correct? Every kill drops the countdown. By bringing in two frontliners to activate the flanking bonus and bringing in the third for the potshot, you can kill the enemy mech in question and bring this battle to a close.

>>4501072
Yea it's just me overthinking again

>>4501072
Ok so.

>[You] attack [Enemy 05]
>[Lucion] attack [Enemy 05]

Would flank [Enemy 05] allowing

>[Emilio] potshot [Enemy 05]

To pretty much guaranty a kill ending the fight before the opposition has a chance of extending the fight additional rounds by taking out nodes/access points.

I guess my original suggestion would only stall the fight for another round rather than ending it. With your permission I'll change my vote to this.

>>4501076
>>4501079
It's all right. It's also my fault for overcomplicating combat in the first place. Finding a sweet spot for online posting, tabletop mechanics and storytelling is pretty hard, since we can't just say stuff in twenty seconds across the table over pizza, figurines and pictures of naughty elves.

File: Yup.jpg (111 KB, 640x445)

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>[You] are within direct engagement range of [Enemy 05]
>[Lucion Maldante] is within direct engagement range of [Enemy 05]

[ENEMY 05] is FLANKED!
>[ENEMY 05] DC: -1

>[Emilio Reinweld] moves in offensive tandem with [You] and [Lucion Maldante] by attacking from a held position!
>[Ryosuke Umikaze] holds position!

SPECIAL EVENT:
Flanking Maneuvers are successful!
>+1 Damage Stage [Forward Position]
>+1 Damage Stage [Flanked]

You have managed to corral your enemy into a kill-zone. In doing this, you have left one or more attacking team members (who is not part of the two that have moved into flanking positions) with the ability to take a free shot with a high chance to do damage. This strike is considered an automatic critical hit, however, in doing so, you consume the turns of all three of your units in consolidating this action. As you level up, you may be given the ability to re-take actions even after moving into engagement range, but as things are, you do not have the ability to do so. You will now be given the chose whether to roll the dice thrice on three attacks that could potentially inflict more damage by virtue of having more rolls and more chances to do damage (potentially up to five times more) from normal rolls and bonuses, or you can take a single high-chance, high-damage strike! The choice is yours.

>Attack normally
>Execute kill-zone (DC: 3, 1d10)

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>4501083
>Execute kill-zone (DC: 3, 1d10)

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4501083
>>Execute kill-zone (DC: 3, 1d10)

File: good scene.jpg (107 KB, 850x850)

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The Crossbow pilot is good; very good.

Skill, however, isn’t the deal-breaker of the battlefield.

Vigilance.

Improvisation.

Teamwork.

Those are the three attributes that press you on to victory. The Crossbow’s weapons module dictates superiority only in the case of guided fire and direct line of sight. The pilot’s confidence in their own skills had most definitely re-enabled their confidence in attempting to out-maneuver your pursuit and Lucion’s … and even you admit that they make a good show of it. Using the buildings as cover, you and Lucion press them back and forth, dancing a three-way rhythm heralded by the clanging of a collective one-hundred-or-so tons of metal joints and the juking of your mechs around tight corners and street-ways: the city had not been engineered with mech combat in mind … and the pilot’s awareness of its own diminutive size in comparison to your fifty or so feet enables them greater leeway in using the tops of building blocks in order to make up for the difference in out-fitted combat effectiveness. Lucion keeps up just as well; his attempts at playing off your shoulder are deliberate and without form, but his ability to recognize and follow through regardless prove invaluable.

You’d isolated them from the rest; the Gladiator was working on regrouping what remained of their unit … and for you, that chaos is enough.

The sights of your HUD catch a glimpse of the enemy Mech as it heads south … before hitting the air with its jump-jets, releasing a stream of suppressive fire to break you and Lucion apart. A sigh escapes you as your eyes furrow … and you signal Lucion to press him back west. A command rings over the channel; you and Lucion switch roles, with the latter pushing aggressively from the Crossbow’s right flank; the movement falls into an orthodox reaction module as the Crossbow ducks right behind away from you and back towards its allies in an attempt to form up …

‘Reinweld!

Right at the criss-cross where you’d moved Reinweld.

It’s almost … horrifyingly beautiful to watch. The first bullet clips the Crossbow in its walker joints, the lack of balance making its cockpit crash into the corner of a city block, bringing the structure down. The pilot makes a mistake in attempting to recover, back-pedaling in an attempt to return to relative city. A second, third and fourth volley fires from hundreds of meters away, tearing its missile rack off from sheer kinetic energy … and hitting its power plant on its underside.

Wires, modules and armaments fall onto the floor with every bullet that rips through the walker’s abdomen … and it becomes akin to a spit-roasted, over-cooked bird before long. A metal carcass falls to the ground, turning the street into an inferno in its own right.

Another one down for the—

‘We have control!

OBJECTIVE ACHIEVED!

>Write-In

>>4501106
>Status Report.

>>4501106
>Understood, send the broadcast.

‘Status report.’

‘We’re up and running, Commander,’ comes the reply, the pitch having more in common with an Academy freshman finding out about 90 hour Rhysode weekends than it did a chief engineer of the corps. ‘SOP dictates a two hour frame before the Navy makes the system; get your men out of here while you can; the city’s still under siege and we—’

Static.

‘You’re not getting out of this that easily.’

That was definitely not from the your band. A quick glance to your instruments informs you of a hijacked signal, re-hacking and forcing its way into the channel’s broadcast configuration. Your Hellion rests against the building wall as you try to home in on the signal source … before realizing that it had been isolated and localized from less than a mile away; centralized and hanging on instead of broadcasting itself.

It was from the Gladiator.

‘You just killed three of my men,’ the voice—a craggy, edged, masculine tone—rumbles, ‘and that means you owe me some blood.’

Your sensors—disturbed as they are—highlight his intention. One of the remaining three aggressors takes point; the other two realign into a more isolated triangle, with the Whitestorm placing itself in closest proximity several hundred yards away … and the remaining Crossbow just outside of what would have been a standard three-man operation formation.

It looks like he does, indeed, have no intention of pushing off the conflict.

You’re not sure if a part of you does, either.

Your instruments hum as you raise the nozzle of your machine rifle, ready for a fight.

>‘You are in violation of a standing agreement.’
>‘Stand down.’
>‘Blood for blood it is, then.’
>‘We’ve both seen enough blood today.’
>[Say nothing]
>Write-In

>>4501752
>‘We’ve both seen enough blood today.’

>>4501752
>We’ve both seen enough blood today.’

>>4501752
>Write-In
>'I think you owe me blood for killing and attacking my civilians you fuck'

>>4501795
this, when its time for more warcrimes, prepare to be warcrimed

>>4501752
>>‘Blood for blood it is, then.’

>>4501752
>‘Blood for blood it is, then.’

File: __dom_and_gouf_gundam_and(...).jpg (161 KB, 850x742)

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‘We’ve both seen enough blood today,’ you counter over the feed. ‘You can either stand down or retreat. I would rather not have anymore lives circle the drain to damnation than both our sides have.’

‘An Imperial with the innate inability to be aware of itself? Just another grain of sand on a dead world.’

>[AWARENESS] Attempt to maneuver your team for an pre-emptive strike
>‘You’re the one in violation of the terms.’
>‘An Alliance offensive that’s so arrogant that it’s imploded on it’s own short-sightedness; as expected.’
>‘I’d hate to betray your expectations.’ (Battle)
>[Write-In]

>>4502024
>[AWARENESS] Attempt to maneuver your team for an pre-emptive strike

>>4502024
>>[AWARENESS] Attempt to maneuver your team for an pre-emptive strike

>>4502024
>>[AWARENESS] Attempt to maneuver your team for an pre-emptive strike

>>4502024
>[AWARENESS] Attempt to maneuver your team for an pre-emptive strike

>>4502024
>>[AWARENESS] Attempt to maneuver your team for an pre-emptive strike

I'm sorry. I was supposed to run about 8 hours ago ... but I brought the wrong set of keys when I went out on my jog and had to be let back in by my father.

>>4505806
That's an oof from me

>>4505836
Just to add to that one of the reasons I went out FOR a jog was to get into town so I could buy some toiletries. About 8 hours later, when my father returned from his own stuff (buying clothes) I realized that I had forgotten to buy shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant, aftershave and a spare loofa when I finally went into my own office/house (At 3 friggin' PM) for a shower. So yeah; big oof.

File: __amuro_ray_gundam_and_1_(...).jpg (106 KB, 850x602)

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You survey the situation, taking all the factors into account.

>[AWARENESS] 1d12 (DC: 5)
>Modifier: +1 (Awareness)

Rolled 4 (1d12)

>>4506657

Rolled 10 + 1 (1d12 + 1)

>>4506657

Rolled 8 + 1 (1d12 + 1)

>>4506657

File: I like this picture a lot.jpg (200 KB, 850x603)

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SUCCESS

You turn your Hellion’s head towards Reinweld, then Lucion, moving the controls and allowing the VI to assist in making silent gestures, prompting them to move towards the outer perimeter of the combat zone. You rest the spine of your mech against the block that served as your cover as your comrades break off from direct engagement range, taking more advanced positions in what is very much an unorthodox formation. The sensors pick up heavy steps and moving parts, a sign that the Gladiator is, indeed, on the move, but thus far unwilling to risk an uncertain firing solution or unsuccessful engagement in a situation that had just seen a reversal of your numerical advantages. It’s a paradoxical consideration; the man had been insistent in drawing out the battle and had taken a pensive approach in his pursuit of a conclusion.

That, however, wasn’t something that you cared for.

‘I wasn’t aware that an Alliance dog could hold itself akin to anything resembling a standard,’ you throw right back, ‘but I suppose that if you could manage to bring a one-group invasion this far, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to congratulate you on your ability to string together two syllables.’

Talking.

You have to keep him talking.

Keep him on you.

The blast from the Gladiator’s kinetic armaments tear right into where you had been a split second ago. Three marks on your sensors indicate an aggressive notion, but in the confines of the city, where interference and maneuvering mean more than firepower, they do little more than take away from Rhysode Alpha’s skyline.

‘Suppressing and flushing? Maybe you should have tried that with a configuration outfitted for close-up skirmishes instead; you’re not fighting on a clear plateau.’

‘Talk, talk, talk. Show me what you’re made of!’

You hit the thrusters, inadvertently slamming into the corner and clipping the block as you find that the remaining two mechs had rounded the corner, rounding you onto a wider street. You’re almost impressed with the Alliance Military’s tactics, and any other day, you admit, they would have had you dead to rights.

‘Open fire.’

Except that you had meant for it to happen.

The first shot clips the Whitestorm’s right knee, sending it crashing head first into the building face; Lucion finishes it off with a clumsy swing of his axe, tearing through the mech’s abdomen and certainly all the way through its torso. Reinweld’s second volley marks the Gladiator’s other Squadron member, tearing through its front plate and cockpit, its bent carcass draping over the roof where it had stood not moments ago.

You wonder what thoughts race through the mind of the Gladiator’s pilot as the nozzle of the cannon rises in one last act of defiance …

A brief thought, however, is all it is.

>Give the command
>Kill him yourself
>Try to reason with him one last time
>Write-in

>>4506694
>>Kill him yourself
Hey we offered once, ya dont get it twice.

>>4506694
>Kill him yourself

>>4506694
>>Kill him yourself
>"Not much for the blood of innocents you've killed today, but it's a start."
>"What's the sit rep chief? These guys seem utterly unworried about naval response, and that worries me."

It’s quick.

That’s the least you owed him, but you pay it in full.

The Heat Axe is lodged deep into the Gladiator’s torso, but the momentum from the larger mech’s previous motion has your Hellion slam against the face of another building, sending glass and concrete onto the street below. Moments linger as you find your vision clouded by the dead eyes of a motionless, metal carcass before move the controls and throw the Gladiator off your mech and onto the ground, the ensuing impact breaching the surface of the street due the Gladiator’s sheer weight.

Six down … none to go.

You were—

‘We have drop pod signatures incoming!’

You’d spoken too soon.

You stretch out a hand to your instruments, a flurry of curses ready to fly from the tip of your tongue … before realizing that there was an unknown comm-tag blinking at the top of your visuals.

>Answer it
>Ignore it

>>4506756
>Answer it

>>4506756
>>Answer it

>>4506756
>>Answer it

File: Uther.jpg (21 KB, 328x500)

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It’s a direct feed.

The reception is fuzzy, but you’re able to make out enough of who’s on the other end of the call. Through the faded colors, you meet a pair of sunken, gray eyes. There is a cold, piercing quality to his gaze, framed in a stony visage that is decorated by stubble, age … and power. There is a quality to him that you find oddly familiar, but are ultimately unable to pin-point. Crags and cuts mark his cheeks, age and power somehow emanating from his grizzled form. Black hair, thick neck, scarred nose … there is a strange weight to his presence, a heaviness to the man before you; you feel as though you are face-to-face with someone of great import and influence, but every visual cue that you are able to discern tells you otherwise. An aura of command emanates from the screen; a rigidity that is not merely practiced, but earned through discipline and experience. You are face-to-face with a soldier, from the marrows of his bones to the sweat on his brow; a man tempered in the forge of battles that you could not begin to imagine.

His eyes furrow in a scrutinizing glare, wrinkling one corner of his nose as he appears to size you up.

‘I presume,’ the man starts, his voice a gravely drawl, ‘that I’m talking to the leader of the Squadron that just carved our operation in half?’

‘You’d assume correctly,’ you throw right back. ‘You are in violation of the standing treaty in conducting this unsanctioned and unprovoked attack on a planet under the Imperium. Lay down your arms and await judgment.’

‘You really think that we’re going to do any of that?’

‘No,’ you snort back, ‘but it was worth a try.’

The man cocks an eyebrow, shifting his seat. You don’t turn away from the screen.

‘You’re in violation of the terms dictated between the Empire and—’

‘I’m aware, Commander.’

You’re not sure why his response draws your ire so much, but it does.

‘I’m sure you didn’t beam a direct line just to congratulate me for eviscerating your men.’

‘My apologies,’ he chuckles, his eyes flashing—briefly—dangerously, a sardonic smile carving itself upon his lips. ‘I didn’t think that they made them that young in the Empire. Goes to show what I know.’

You’re uncertain if it’s praise; even if it was, however, you’re far too irritable to even take it as such.

‘If that’s it, then—’

‘Sorry, just … look,’ he sighs, placing a set of fingers to his temple, his visage looking troubled. ‘You’ve cost us too much to push right on and right now, we’re in the middle of calling in a full retreat of our forces out of the system. Now, I know that you’re about to push right on and eager to tear right through what’s left of us and you probably could, but … this is what I’m offering you: we leave quietly … and you let us leave quietly.’

You feel something inside you … snap.

‘You think we’d just—’

‘I do, because the alternative is pushing on as you are … and as good as you are, I seriously doubt that you have it in you to carve it out through three assault units from three strike points and a bead on your position.’

Your eyes widen. How could you have been so—

‘And I have to say, I don’t want to play the odds with you, either.’

‘So that’s it? We disengage and you leave?’

‘That’s the deal,’ the man confirms, nodding. ‘And we leave the blood deficit for another day, whenever the stars say it’s time to collect.’

>‘Blood for blood; I’m not letting you off this rock alive.’
>‘Is this some sort of sick game to you? People have died.’
>[Agree to stand down]
>Write-In

>>4506918
>I don't really believe you. You seem more the type to stall for time and then launch a WMD at us.

>>4506930
going for this

>>4506930
Okay, guys, I know that this is a remake, but I'd really not break the atmosphere with remarks such as this. You know where this is headed; I know where this is headed. Let's not, okay?

>>4506918
>And what make you think I’d trust you to just leave? You launched an attack and killed civilians. The other squad leader seemed utterly unworried about being called out. That leads me to believe he didn’t think it mattered. You’re playing for time now. You’re not getting it.

>>4506918
>Stall for time. Begin renegotiation, demand surrender couple of mechs and pilots and show of good will in this ceasefire negotiation.

>>4507280
alright, ill go for this if its ok to change vote

>>4507280
>>4507312
I'm going to go with >>4507123 's suggestion. Mostly because it's not so much a ceasefire agreement but a planet-wide retreat that's being made with the promise that it'd remain bloodless for both parties.

You know exactly where that statement irritates you. If the man had been across from you in a conference, you would have tossed a brick in his face for his words. The only thing that you find holding you back is your upbringing as a Scion and the tempered discipline from your education as a man of the AEGIS … and even that had barely managed to catch your words. You grip your seat, making your best show of a professional soldier … and find yourself distinctly failing, remembering the carnage of the Kerensky Spaceport, of the dying—

Memories of a coquettish grin flood your mind; a light shines through an office; a teasing remark sounds in your ears … and your eyes fall, once again, upon your blood-laden clothes, a desperate grip begging for time and mercy as battle raged all around.

Something bends.

‘You expect me to trust you … after all this?!’

He meets your gaze, unflinching and silent.

‘There are people dead. You launched an invading force in violation of standing treaties. The only thing your pilots were interested in until five minutes ago was seeing our heads on pikes. You are a criminal. You have launched an unprovoked attack on a world under Imperial rule. People are dead. The only thing that I’m taking from this is that you’re stalling for what little time that you have before the Empire makes the system. No deal.’

The man stares at you, cocking an eyebrow but otherwise keeps his previous silence … before letting out a snort of concession.

‘I guess that’s all that this can be.’

What did he—

‘The dropships are making a break for it!’ comes the Chief Engineer’s exclamation.

You key in a set of commands, changing the sensor configuration from active ground combat to aerial and orbital observation. The Hellion’s eighty year-old systems are basic for that very function, but what it does pick up is enough for you to confirm the Chief Engineer’s words. Three drop ships were making a break for it, one making it its very specific task to taunt you with its take-off mere kilometers away, just out of the maximum engagement range of your best sniper. Your mouth slackens slightly as your eyes widen, your fury boiling under your palms as you find yourself powerless to prevent their escape.

You had been right … and had fallen into it anyway.

‘You bastard!’ you swear, snarling at the screen. Forget a brick: you’d use your own two hands and wring the life out of the fart.

‘I’m getting my men off this rock, Lance Commander, one way or another.’

Hands clenched into fists, you consider pressing your father into investing into psionic research tables, if only so you could put it to personal use.

>‘Coward!’
>‘This isn’t over, butcher.’
>‘Coming or going, your people can’t even make your minds up on that.’
>[Cut the feed]
>Write-In

>>4507776
>>‘Coming or going, your people can’t even make your minds up on that.’

>>4507776
>‘Coming or going, your people can’t even make your minds up on that.’

‘Coming; going; you can’t even make your minds up on that?’

‘We were very adamant on the coming part,’ the man snorts, a wry upturn on the left side of his lip barely visible, ‘I’d rather not praise an opposing Commander on a job well done, though, if that’s all the same to you.’

>‘I’m sure the courts wouldn’t appreciate the posturing anymore than I would.’ (Snipe)
>‘This isn’t over.’ (Angry)
>‘I suppose that finding humor in slaughter is very becoming of your ilk.’ (Insult)
>[Turn off the feed]
>Write-In

>>4507904
>>‘I’m sure the courts wouldn’t appreciate the posturing anymore than I would.’ (Snipe)

>>4507904
>‘I’m sure the courts wouldn’t appreciate the posturing anymore than I would.’ (Snipe)

>>4507904
>>‘I’m sure the courts wouldn’t appreciate the posturing anymore than I would.’ (Snipe)

File: uther2.jpg (77 KB, 960x720)

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‘I’m sure the courts wouldn’t appreciate the posturing anymore than I would.’

A sardonic chuckle hits your ears. ‘Well, that’d be the truth, yeah.’

You bore your eyes into his, your anger’s grip upon your actions very much vacuum-tight.

‘The name’s Uther. It’d be a shame if I didn’t catch the name of the maniac that just struck our op.’

>‘I’m sure you’re used to disappointment.’
>[Give him your callsign (Write-In)]
>[Cut the feed]
>Write-in

>>4507987
>>[Give him your callsign (Write-In)]
Ascalon

>>4507987
>>[Give him your callsign (Write-In)]
Cipher.

>>4507987
>[Give him your callsign (Write-In)]
Noblesse Oblige

>>4507987
>[Cut the feed]

>>4507988
>>4507990
>>4507993
Okay, let me give my weigh in:
>Ascalon
Ah, the sword of St. George, a valorous knight.
>Cipher
The dude from The Matrix, The X-Men or stealth "fuck you, I have no name"
>Noblesse Oblige
I could use this, but it's two words so ...

File: Rosaria [BREED].jpg (63 KB, 364x368)

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‘Ascalon.’

The man fixes his gaze upon you again.

‘Good name.’

A hand reaches out. The feed is cut.

You gaze up to the lit sky, surprised that daybreak had arrived. A strange sense of ease, unlike anything that you had ever felt before, falls upon you. Your hands release their hold on the controls as you let yourself fall upon the cushion of your seat, the scent of smoke, blood and sweat invading your senses. You are relieved, angry, sad … all at once. Over the now re-established communication channels you make out chatter regarding the resumption of emergency services, their reactivation largely in debt to the mass retreat currently underway. You don’t know where things were about to go from here, but for now, you’re thankful for the respite that you’re afforded in this … victory, if it’s what you could call it at all.

You’re just so … tired.

‘Emergency protocols are still in effect,’ Reinweld points out in the most obvious tone. ‘Enemy’s in full retreat and we’re getting reports of upper-atmospheric engagement petering out. Is the jurisdiction for current orders still under AEGIS authority or are we deferring to the ODF with the neutralization of the immediate threat?’

‘That’s not our call to make,’ Maldante replies. ‘That’d be his.’

You chuckle, catching the mumble of curses from Reinweld’s feed. If there was ever a light at the end of the tunnel, hearing him swear was one that you would graciously accept.

‘As much as I’d rather trade in this temporary command for a bed and some scented oils,’ you start, sounding much more amused that you had previously intended, ‘I think it’d be best to adhere to current protocols and wait in for an executive override. As things have been … I’d rather not make a mess of things after making it this far. We keep to formation and await further orders: our status as active pilots remain unless relinquished by command decision. Keep formation … and keep it lively. I won’t be convinced we’re in the clear until those bastards clear the skies.’

‘They’re in full retreat.’

‘They’re in orbit,’ you mention pointedly. ‘Until we—’

‘Senpai!’

Now that was a voice that you’re all too glad to hear from.

Rosaria’s face appears on your screen, her hair ruffled and her clothes frayed, but otherwise appearing as healthy as she had been when you’d last seen her. Despite being a scant hour or so, it felt like an eternity since you’d departed the convoy.

‘We were able to restore the sight net’s extra-system relay permissions back to the world’s administration,’ she gushes, hovering over the monitor. ‘Reinforcements will make orbit within hours!’

>>4508124
>‘A little too late to bear the good news, Rosaria.’ (Amused)
>‘How’s everyone?’ (Inquire)
>‘You all right? Must have been a hell of a first day as an Imperial citizen.’ (Concern)
>‘I know.’ (Dismissive)
>Write-In

>>4508128
>>‘How’s everyone?’ (Inquire)

>>4508128
>‘How’s everyone?’ (Inquire)

>>4508128
>>‘How’s everyone?’ (Inquire)

>>4508128
>>‘How’s everyone?’ (Inquire)

‘How’s everyone?’

‘E-Everyone?’ she blinks, looking around. ‘W-We’re fine … I’m a little scared and we’re still trying to fully re-establish the communication hubs back into the planet’s direct control, but otherwise, I’m—we’re—managing just fine. Everyone’s a little … on edge, too, but we’re managing things as well as we can, I guess. The algorithms are being written on a minutely update schedule … and I’m part of the primary engineering unit, so …’

‘Ah,’ you let out. ‘Sorry, I must be carving up your time as is.’

‘N-Not at all,’ she stammers, waving her hands in distress. ‘I-I’m the one who contacted you and … I’m glad you’re okay.’

‘Have you heard from Fisher? Memphis? Sansa?’

‘Miss Memphis is actually here with me,’ Rosaria answers, glancing to her right. ‘Oh, wait, I think … I’m sorry, Senpai; I think she’s gone off to the lavatory.’

In the background, you notice a flurry of activity.

‘I’m sorry to say that I’ve … I haven’t heard from Miss Wilmots or Miss Fisher since we separated. I wasn’t able to catch much, but they told me that they’d be taking her to a treatment facility to tend to her … wounds. I … was not inquisitive enough to inquire as to where. I did see Miss Wilmots in one of the convoys, but I couldn’t …’

She trails off, hanging her head once more.

‘It’s all right; I think with all the chaos, it would be unreasonable to expect you to …’

You trail off, too.

You’re just so very … tired.

>‘I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be seeing you once we get the rest of this mess sorted out.’ (Close the call)
>Write-In

>>4508230
>‘I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be seeing you once we get the rest of this mess sorted out.’ (Close the call)

>>4508230
>You saved a lot of lives today Rosaria thank you.

>>4508237
this

>>4508237
Sounds good

>>4508237
Voting this

File: Rhysode Burns.jpg (1.26 MB, 1838x1034)

1.26 MB JPG

‘You helped save a lot of lives today,’ you extol, trying your best to lift the mood. ‘We couldn’t have been able to push their forces back without your input.’

Rosaria throws up a bashful smile.

‘Thank you, I—’

‘Lance Commander, we’re reading some abnormalities in the atmosphere.’

The chief engineer’s interruption has you reflexively checking your instruments. His statement rings true: there are anomalies that you find showing up … which, given the age and the technology available to the Hellion, even with an an upgraded operating system, shouldn’t have been so apparent. The effective range of the Hellion in comparison with more modern systems, especially with it not being outfitted for reconnaissance of that ilk only serves to confound you, as it generally took more than a few moments for the old girl to take in any shifts in atmosphere; unless it was—

‘It’s a Cloud Strike!’

Your eyes widen in horror.

They wouldn’t.

They … they couldn’t.

‘We have four detonation points … we’re right on top of the overlap.’

‘Commander!’

Lucion’s voice shakes you from your stunned state. You had to work quickly.

‘We need to get everyone to a shelter. Get the EVAC units online and have them—’

‘We have incoming!

In … coming?

You are blinded.

First, by light, then … by the darkness.

There is a strange sort of gravity at work. You feel as though your body is spun around in an acclimatization chamber set at a hundred and eighty percent, your heart practically in your throat as the laws of physics jostle and tug you in your seat. You feel like an old wooden puppet being pulled at in all directions by greedy children, a violent vertigo assaulting you as you find your head repeatedly smashing into the back of your seat and your shins being crushed by something large and heavy. A ringing sound invades your hearing, as you find yourself unable to even summon your own voice … until it stops. Crunching and screeching arrive upon your senses, low groans and high pitched screeches; the whining of metal and the breaking of steel rising in tandem with your cries of distress.

Sparks and flames come into your vision. Metal flies; plastic panels and wires leap from their containers like screeching vipers, the bulkhead of the Hellion pressing down against your skull as the console introduces itself to your ribcage. You let out a breath, struggling to breathe … and find the air white hot. It is as though you are swallowing burning mounds of coal with every breath.

Distress, fear, dominates you. Your hand reaches out for the panel right as one of the monitors shatters, its shards scratching your features. You close your eyes and look away, gritting your teeth, raising your hand and—

File: It burns brightly.jpg (428 KB, 1920x1200)

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Your chest is hot, boiling.

You turn your head downward, feeling a hot spear of metal pinning you to your seat … and right through your … chest …

Blood.

You are losing … bl … o …

>Close your eyes. It would be so nice to close your eyes ...
>Stay awake, soldier. Stay awake.
>Write-in

>>4509638
>Stay awake, soldier. Stay awake.

>>4509638
>>Stay awake, soldier. Stay awake.

>>4509638
>>Stay awake, soldier. Stay awake.
>hit your distress beacon, assuming you still have one.

Awake.

You have to stay awake.

Basic response.

Dozing off would be the worst thing you could do at a time like this. Your breathing is labored; you’d been pierced just to the left of your diaphragm. You can feel your chest caving in and the syrupy texture of blood at the back of your throat. It is as though you are in a clay oven, burning inside. The panels and the metal struts are hot to touch; your legs, while pinned tightly, are still functional. You take inventory of yourself and your surroundings, the emergency light immediately activating and bathing you in a sickly yellow light. The primary command console and the joystick had been bent out of place, with the secondary input console bent into the framework of the cockpit itself, its spot taken by a particularly large strut that had pierced the command pod’s ceiling and left side. An attempt to raise yourself towards the controls—or what remains of them—only results in a silent shriek. You are struggling for breath in a tomb that is most certainly cooking you to death.

It’s agony to reach out, but you have to do … something.

You cry out in pain as you fall back into your chair. You can feel tears leaking from the corners of your eyes.

Stay awake.

It’s what you tell yourself.

Stay awake.

Do something.

>Find and hit the manual inject
>Reach for the console again; see if it works
>Sleep ...
>Write-In

>>4509736
>>Reach for the console again; see if it works

>>4509736
>Reach for the console again; see if it works

>>4509736
>>Reach for the console again; see if it works

With what strength you can gather, you stretch your right arm towards the console … and manage to flick the reboot before falling back.

It comes alive.

SYSTEMS: CRITICAL
WEAPONS: OFFLINE
//RESOURCE ERROR

‘Resource … error?’

You let out a cough, the motion almost prompting you to scream in pain as you find the jagged edges of the metal strut that was sawing into your right lung with every breath and word you managed. You consider your options; the Hellion’s design logic had the mech’s chassis built around the cockpit rather than being installed into it like newer generations. From what you’re able to discern from your surroundings, the upper torso’s support had more than likely caved in from force so tremendous it’d compromised the chassis’ integrity. You muse that that could only have meant that you’d essentially been smacked with the force of a superheavy mech barreling down with a shoulder charge with about a dozen jump jets attached to it.

You really shouldn’t be laughing right now.

The blood that you cough out is indicative of that.

Your breathing is quick, shallow …

‘Okay,’ you psych yourself, biting down on your molars as tightly as you can manage. ‘Okay.’

You pray the sensors are still work—

WARNING: BREACH DETECTED
WARNING: EXTERNAL RADIATION DETECTED
LEVELS: UNSAFE
WARNING: CHASSIS COMPROMISED
AUTO-SHIELDING PROTOCOLS DISABLED
SHUTDOWN IMMINENT

‘Radiation?’

SHUTDOWN IMMINENT

You can smell yourself cooking …

>Manually eject
>Use the last of the power to activate a distress beacon
>Write-In

>>4509781
>Use the last of the power to activate a distress beacon

We'd just cook faster outside.

>>4509781
>Use the last of the power to activate a distress beacon

>>4509781
>>Use the last of the power to activate a distress beacon

Your hand drops to your side as the indicator at the top corner begins to blink. The distress beacon had been lit. Your breathing grows more labored with every effort that you make to stay awake, the heated metal pressing against your body making you let out silent cries for it to end. The emergency light flickers slightly; you slowly realize that this metal coffin could very well be your tomb.

It’s strange to think about, but right now the only thing that you’d wished was for the end to at least have been quick instead of drawn out like it was now.

Or maybe that was just the delirium talking.

‘Lance Commander?’

You were hearing things now …

‘GAIA-0401, do you read?’

Your head hangs, your consciousness quickly fading …

‘Lance Commander?’

You wonder if one of the servants could adjust the temperature so it would be a tad more … comfortable …

This was certainly no way to treat a Scion of House Mishima …

END

File: save game.gif (108 KB, 625x368)

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SAVE GAME?
>Yes
>No

>>4509844
>yes

>>4509844
>>Yes

The air is cold; inadequately so.

The sharp intake of breath that you take is akin to a dry, coarse sponge being shoved down your esophagus. At the second contraction, you catapult yourself into a sit, clutching your chest … and find that your bare chest had been treated by a bacta paste solution and wrapped in black and white medical dressing. The cold air assaults you again, prompting you to wrap your arms around yourself again … and once again, you feel as though your chest implodes. You glance around, finding your arms attached to several intravenous attachments on either side of what you realize to be a medical bed, a pair of drones absently hovering above your form. Your fingers are stiff. Your back is in pain. Your legs feel as though they are still pinned by a little girl—

You blink.

Little … girl?

You stare at the right side of your bed, puzzlement overtaking you as you realize that (barring the drones) you weren’t the only occupant of the room. There was a little girl, white-haired and wearing what appears to be a black sundress, using your right thigh as a pillow. Her eyes peer at you curiously, her head unmoving from its position. You meet her stare, uncertain of what circumstances could have allowed you to come to this, but …

Well, that’s what you had a mouth for.

Your throat is sore, but you’re able to find your voice, all the same.

>‘Where am I?’ (Inquire as to your location)
>‘Who … are you?’ (Inquire as to who the girl is)
>‘I was on … Rhysode. There was …’ (Try to recall the events that led you here)
>‘This isn’t … Rhysode, is it?’ (Obviously, duh)
>‘My leg is not a pillow, child.’ (Stern)
>Try to get out of bed
>Write-In

>>4509863
>‘Where am I?’ (Inquire as to your location)

>>4509863
>‘Where am I?’ (Inquire as to your location)

>>4509863
>>‘Where am I?’ (Inquire as to your location)

>>4509863
>>‘Where am I?’ (Inquire as to your location)

>>4509863
>>‘Where am I?’ (Inquire as to your location)

File: Spoiler Image (109 KB, 850x1138)

109 KB JPG

‘Where am I?’

The girl’s mouth stretches, revealing a maw much too wide for a child of such impish attributes.

‘You’re awake,’ she practically gasps … and gets a painful grunt out of you as she shifts her weight from your lap to your stomach, half-clambering about you like a needy beast.

Did she not know the meaning of personal space?

>‘Yes, child, I am awake.’ (Point out the obvious)
>‘Could I … possibly get someone who’ll be able to … properly communicate with me?’ (Confusion)
>‘And you’re … a little girl.’ (Stoop to her level)
>‘Where am I?’ (Press)
>‘You’d do well to put your hands elsewhere.’ (Irritation)
>Write-In

>>4510259
>Could I … possibly get someone who’ll be able to … properly communicate with me?’ (Confusion)

>>4510259
>And you’re … a little girl.’ (Stoop to her level
BEST DAUGHTER FOUND

File: smiling little girl.png (453 KB, 712x583)

453 KB PNG

‘And you’re … a little girl.’

‘I am!’ she replies, cheerfully.

Her grin is so bright you can feel the pores on your skin blooming flowers.

>Write-In

>>4510270
>So whats your name young one and where are we?

>>4510270
>What is your name?

‘So … what’s your name?’

‘Shigure!’

Shigure?

>‘That’s a very nice name.’
>‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Shigure.’
>‘Your parents are in possession of very sound taste in names.’
>‘Shigure, would you be able to tell where where I am?’
>Write-In

>>4510291
>‘Shigure, would you be able to tell where where I am?’

>>4510291
>>‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Shigure.’

‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Shigure,’ you address the silver-haired lass, dipping into a light bow.

‘It’s great to meet you too!’

Before you can react, you find a pair of arms locked around your neck, the little girl nuzzling you as she used her whole body as leverage, pressing onto you like--

You feel a sharp, stabbing pain on your abdomen, finding yourself gasping for air as pressure seems to force your ability to take in oxygen right out of your lungs. You reflexively grab the petite creature that had just invaded your personal space, shoving her away before keeling over and gritting your teeth as pain takes over your thoughts. You clutch your diaphragm; a cold sweat appears to form above your brow, the stabbing pain morphing into a cramping sensation within moments. Gazing downward, you experience flashes, moments of what had been before but what was now gone; the wound had been closed, the flesh mended (to a functional extent). The bacta paste was probably constrict—

Your eyes rest upon a fearful child … who you had inadvertently thrown off the bed and onto the floor. Her eyes appear to be lining up with tears, and her lower lip trembles as her downed form shakes; your gazes meet and …

>‘Get someone.’ (Cold, dismissive)
>‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay?’ (Concern)
>‘You should be more careful.’ (Irritable, scold)
>‘Leave.’
>Write-in

>>4510301
>‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay?’ (Concern)

>>4510301
>‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay?’ (Concern)
Fight though the pain, hopefully we didn't undo anything serious.

File: Shigure the little girl.jpg (23 KB, 236x396)

23 KB JPG

‘Forgive me, I … I didn’t mean to do that,’ you apologize, absently reaching a hand out. ‘Are you all right?’

She still looks quite apprehensive of you. The container of bubbly energy had all but disappeared from sight in that one act, as inadvertent as it had been.

>Write-In

>>4510331
>I'm sorry. I'm pretty badly hurt and you poked my wound when you tried to hug me.

>>4510331
Support,
>>4510340

>>4510342
Works, back to hellhole in plane

‘I’m sorry,’ you manage, finding yourself more tentative than usual, ‘I’m still a little … sore.’

‘Does it hurt?’

‘Hurt?’

‘You have all those things poking you,’ she points out, referring to the assortment of tubes sticking out from your arms. ‘It looks painful.’

‘I feel numbness more than pain.’

‘Numbness?’

‘I mean … no,’ you clarify, smiling down at her. ‘I don’t … it’s not painful. Just a little … uncomfortable.’

That part you don’t sugarcoat. As the girl gets back on her feet—and approaches you more pensively—you begin to take in your surroundings. The room is … white. Almost blindingly so. The chill in the air is very invasive; what with a mere sheet of cloth the only protective layer between the cold and your unmentionables. There’s not much else around; the chamber looks as though it had taken the word sterile from the Imperial lexicon and aimed to exemplify it to the utmost extent. It’s circular and there’s a door by the wall. There are no plants, no decorations, no windows … but there is a ring of machinery and what appears to be some sort of sentry unit by the support systems that you were currently connected to. A glance downward showcases what appears to be another metal ring embedded into the floor … which, you realize, is connected to your bed.

You turn your head upwards to find one of the drones descending, its single red eye flashing as it appears to run a diagnostic on your person, before blinking—and almost blinding you—and making an odd buzzing sound, remaining the second thing to invade your personal space in the span of five minutes. You hear a muffled call above, unable to make out the words; you rub your ears, wondering if you’d—

The door hisses open, revealing a man in lime green sanitary clothing, accompanied by a smaller drone. He had a breathing apparatus around his mouth, a bald crown set upon a rather skinny-looking frame; the only other thing that makes him physically distinct from anyone you’d seen before were the pointed ears … which marks him as either someone who had enjoyed one too many pleasure world visits or that he happens to be someone of rather … curious descent. In any case … you think that he’s smiling underneath that apparatus, because his eyes seem to narrow cheerfully as he approaches the foot of your bed, which, you now notice, is … leaning forward.

‘Ah, good, you’re finally awake,’ a mix of relief and cheer sounding through a deep reverb. ‘You gave us quite the fright, my Lord. I was afraid that our efforts would have only been in vain.’

>‘You’re the one that saved my life?’
>‘What is this place? Am I still on Rhysode?’
>‘My Lord? So … you’re aware of who I am, then.’
>‘The last thing I remember before passing out was …’
>Write-In

>>4510550
>‘The last thing I remember before passing out was …’

>>4510550
>>‘The last thing I remember before passing out was …’

>>4510550
>‘I feel numbness more than pain.’
RIP Mechanic. He hee'd his last haw. Cause of death: terrible sentence. Kill me. Kill me now.

‘The last thing I remember before passing out was …’

The cockpit.

Blood.

The heat.

Your breath, slowly—

‘My Lord, please,’ the man implores, rubbing your shoulder. ‘Do not stress yourself with such matters. Rest.’

>‘How long was I out?’
>‘Rhysode. What about Rhysode?’
>‘My squadron, my friends … where are they?’
>Write-In