GEARS - Furry Sci-fi Mecha game

[SilverwindBlade]

g-e-a-r-s

[OOC here]

Sand whipped through the wind in the Landren town of Palastria, watering eyes and stinging exposed noses, sticking in ears, and getting under fur as it blew.
Nothing other than normal for a town on the edge of the Badlands, on an average day.
At the edge of the small town, and towering over its' oddball collection of irregular flat-roofed, dust-scoured buildings were the bulk of Sand-cruisers at harbour.
The few land-ships in 'port' on the edge of the town were moored up to the concrete docks, ramps extended to take on, or off load cargo, people, and all manner of other supplies.
At one berth a smaller, more compact and streamlined sandcruiser stood apart from the juggernauts around it. It was lower, sleeker, and more fast-looking than its' surrounding behemoths; but at the same time it looked weaker and lighter. The grey and red colouring made up in part for this.

At the bottom of the cruisers ramp, a rugged, grizzled red fox in a Gear pilots' uniform. His head was bare, and his Gear was stowed securely in the Sandcruisers' bay - right now, he was waiting for the new recruits for the Roughriders' unit, the Gear unit attached to the Sandcruiser Parvan's Claw.
He scanned the list of names; Five, and five Gears to accompany them.
Looking up from the screen, he squinted against the dust blowing in the midday sun, and twitched his tail impatiently. He hoped the new guys arrived soon - he was anxious to get on the mission they'd been handed: a scouting operation of an oasis village, lost contact with a few days ago.

[GrayPerdition]

Walking nonchalantly down a dusty road in Palastria was probably one of the strangest things the community had really ever seen. Dressed in the military fatigues of the Landren forces with a duffel bag slung over her deceptively delicate shoulder was not only a tiger, but a tiger with a pelt that had many who saw it stare in ravelment. The base color of Icis’s coat was a dark gray, border-lining on black; the stripes were darker still, and one could tell that it was only so easy to distinguish between the two colors because of the bright sunlight, which had the rich, dark hues bringing forth slight, but noticeable, deep, glossy blue and purples. There were several white stripes scattered amongst the dark of her coat, which was accented by her head of stark white hair, which had the sunlight reflecting into a personal corona around her head.

She made her way towards port, watching her current environ with cautious, sea-foam green eyes. As she passed small store fronts and rustic porches, many gave the ectopic woman wary glances, some even were outright angry. She ignored the glares as she walked, and didn’t notice as several playing children skipped out of a nearby alleyway and kicked a ball into the street. Caught unaware, Icis stumbled as the ball crossed her path, and the children stopped dead. Staring with wide eyes, their gaze flicked uncertainly from her to the ball. Bending over, Icis picked up the ball gently and tossed it back to the children with ease. Watching the children catch the ball and run off, she kept along her way with a slight smile. Her smile grew in response to the surprised looks that stemmed from the people around the children, most onlookers doubtful of her kindness. They, after all, weren’t familiar with her magnanimity borne from her suffrage.

She kept her head forward as she walked, looking towards the incipient horizon and noting the appearing sand-cruisers. Her Gear was already being transported to the sand-cruiser via official transport, as well as several others. She trotted along the hypethral harbor with an unabashed, excited visage, eager to settle into her new routine. The inappreciably smaller cruiser came into view quickly, easily distinguished from the hulking transport freighters.

[Jinxlynx]

Collab Jinx/Arctic

Jinx sat by the loading bay of the sandcruiser, watching as several gears where loaded on in their compact storage modes, Her's was easily identifiable because of the black markings that covered its armor, almost every inch that was not required to be left uncovered had a marking and while it looked as though they where just random patterns Jinx knew better, she had painted them herself. Each pattern had a meaning, a badge of her fighting style of a victory of battle, some even told of defeats and lessons learned, it was a badge that showed she was not a warrior to under estimate.

"You know most enemies probable shit themselves when they see that thing running towards them."

Silva said, the orange furred Dingo who sat beside the red haired lynx, a beer in her hand as she commented on Jinx's GEAR, like she knew what she was thinking.

"Of course when I face my enemies they don't even get a good look at me, just a muzzle flash in the distance if they are lucky and then it is all power system failures and their GEAR kicking them out into the dirt!"

The canine laughed, pretending her beer bottle was a rifle and pretending to take a shot, spilling some of the fluid in the process.
Jinx looked over at her friend, She was supposed to be the serious one but often she made more jokes than the lynx.

"Oi what are you dirt bags doing!?"

A officer who had come down to over see the loading had spotted the two female lounging out at the perimeter of the loading bay.

"We are just enjoying the fine weather we get here in Palestria!"

Jinx quickly covered as Silva swore and tucked the half empty beer away.

"Oh yeah?"

The officer replied as he approached, spotting their badges on the sleeves of their jackets.

"A pair of pilots eh? did you know that Sergeant Blade wanted yer asses port side 5 minutes ago?"

He grinned, leaning over into Jinx's face, close enough that she could smell the cigerette smoke on his breath.

"Shit he is right."

Silva groaned, looking at her watch,

"We better get moving Jinx."

Okay, if you excuse us sir."

Jinx said to the officer, getting up out of the cheap lawn chair they had been using and running after Silva to meet the Sarge.

[SilverwindBlade]

Silverwind looked up from the data-slate as a lone figure came into view, hefting a pack on one shoulder, and picking her way daintily along the concrete quays and wharves of the sand-cruiser dock.
As she grew closer, the vulpines' single-eyed gaze was drawn to her - not least because of her slender form, and obvious nature as a member of the military, but more because of her striking appearance. The bright snow-white of her pelt and its' contrasted midnight black was almost arresting, coupled with a delicate face and luminous eyes. She was stunning, in a word.
Recovering his normally gruff demeanour, the fox scratched his muzzle with the end of his stylus, before stepping closer to the tigress and drawing her attention with a wave.
"Hey, this way!" he called out, beckoning her closer. He'd picked out the Gear-pilots' fatigues and insignia on them, and recognised her as one of the group he was waiting for.
As he stepped back into the welcome shade of the Claws' mottled and weathered hull, a duty sergeant approached with two more women in tow. He looked up as the officer threw him a salute, which he returned casually with a touch of fingertips to his brow.
"Sah," reported the officer. "Found two more of your pilots, lounging in the mecha bay."
His muzzle quirked slightly at the officers stiff bearing, and his single eye briefly slid sideways to the pair, as if sharing the joke, before he nodded slowly.
"Very good, Top. Head on back inside, I'll take care of this".
The Sergeant hesitated, before giving a stiff nod and about-facing, grumling something under his breath and huffing past the women with flattened ears and a lashing tail.
Silverwind for his part looked at them both and raised an eyebrow.
"Ahoy", he said simply as he gave both a brief look over - and realised he'd ended up with two more attractive women, along with the tigress. He blinked slowly and then gave a slight shake of his head, a small smile of amusement at the situation creeping onto his face, before he nodded to them.
"Blade," he said to them both, simply. "Don't worry too much about the rank when there's no one else around. I like to keep things simple." He jerked a thumb towards the approaching tigress and gave a firm nod.
"Just waiting for one more after this one, and we'll be shippin' out." he checked over the list on the padd, comparing the info there with the pair in front of him, and then looked up, his tail slowly wagging.
"Silva-" he said, pointing with the stylus "-and Jinx." he turned to the tigress. "And you must be Icis".

[SpetsTrex]

If there was one thing Dmitri despised more than anything in all of his years of existence it'd be sand. It was intolerable enough that the wolf had to leave his unit, much less leave the comfort of his suit to make a trek by foot, but the fact that he had to be momentarily stationed in a wasteland was more than he could bear. Dmitri found, much to his distaste, that sand had already found its way into his boots and fur, despite the tightly tucked Landren military fatigues.

Dmitri was used to the conditions back home. Cold, unforgiving, and green. Not damn tan and hot. At least, the wolf conceded, the locals were friendly enough. The majority of civilians he approached politely stood out of his way, giving the wolf more than sufficient room, their eyes regarding his uniform with mixed looks of respect and weary fear. Good. Enough to remind people that Dmitri was significant enough. Looking to the horizon, the wolf placing a paw over his brow to lower the glare from the sun, the sandcruiser finally came into view.

Dmitri's mind immediately when to the well being of his Gear. Without being able to touch or see his mechanized baby Dmitri feared that Sasha might need a few plates arranged here or there. Or, the wolf thought worriedly to himself, what if someone scratched the paint? Taking a deep breath, only to spit as he got a mouthful of sand, Dmitri increased his pace as he approached the cruiser, making sure his duffel bag was secure over his shoulders. It didn't take long for the wolf to finally part from the feeling of sand at his boots, now the friendly and familiar sound of dull metal, the wolf immediately spotted a few individuals for their difference in uniform. Officers. The second most hated thing in Dmitri's mind. Glory-hounds and cowards; not a single one of them valued life above the shine of a new battle honor or title. The thought of having to serve under an unfamiliar officer sent shivers of revulsion down the wolf's body. Before he knew it, Dmitri almost bumped into the small group of Gear pilots, having focused on a particular munitions officer in detail. Turning to face the tigeress, Dmirtri spotted Silverwind and the data slate, and the wolf put two and two together. Standing at ease, the wolf raised his voice, so that all in the gathering would hear and know him: "Dmitri Clashov, reporting for duty and service." He had missed the mention of the other's names, though he was unaware of his timing, also missing Silverwind's mentioning of informality.

[Ramzam]

A white rabbit in what could only be considered a butchered special operations uniform hurried through the port, a pair of dark briefcases occupying his hands and a light red scarf wrapped around his head, the exposed fur on his forearms and between his eyes shining brilliantly under the bright sunlight of the Badlands. The rabbit, momentarily blinding anyone who glanced in his direction, scanned the sandcruisers with an unimpressed look in his eyes as he passed by their standardized frames. He knew what he was looking for. “You can’t miss it,” he said to himself, his voice silent amidst the clamor of sandcruisers onloading and offloading cargo.

The rabbit eventually stopped as he reached his destination: The Parvan’s Claw. It was remarkably...different when compared to the other sandcruisers. “Yeah,” the rabbit mumbled, “Can’t miss it.” He paused to take a deep breath. “But I was expecting a sandcruiser, not a sandyacht. Designers.” With a roll of his eyes, he started toward the first opening he saw—or rather, the first one he saw his Gear passing through.

Then ground to a halt when he saw his soon-to-be coworkers. He stood stock still, staring onward with widened eyes, fright and anger fighting for dominance over his facial expression. Adrian, the planets have aligned, the words rang in his head, to give you a big, fat middle finger.

[SilverwindBlade]

"Dmitri Clashov, reporting for duty and service."

"At ease," replied the vulpine with the same casual salute he'd offered to the others. "As I was just explaining," he continued, "I don't especially stand on formality, as long as things get done, of course. And as long as long as the brass ain't watching," he said with a flick of his ears. He tapped Clashovs' name on the data-slate and nodded in approval. The numbers were climbing up, and he looked up, catching sight of a rabbit, standing frozen stock-still at the head of the quayside. The guy looked startled and confused, and one of Silverwinds' ears swivelled in confusion, before he looked back at the slate - yep, the rabbit was, quite likely, one of theirs.
"Ahoy," he called cheerfully. "Looks like you're in the right place, and the last person we need before we can ship outta here, and get on with the show. Welcome aboard?"

[Llayne]

Kody was not excited as he headed down the road toward his new unit, not in the least. It had taken long enough for him to warm up to his old unit, the Dusty Doves, and he really didn't want to start that process all over again.

The Dusty Doves were a militia unit so they didn't actively deploy on sandcruisers. Instead they operated out of an outpost on the edge of the Badlands and patrolled the same sector of land. They didn't see much action, but they got to know the local area and the population really well. It had actually started to feel a little bit like home.

But with some big reorganization up at HQ the militia units were going away. And instead of just re-designating them as standard units, they were completely disbanded, their members being split up and sent to join other units. The really funny part was that new units were being made to accommodate the influx of gear pilots.

So now Blitz was headed to check in with the Roughriders. He didn't know much about the unit other than the fact that they were about to deploy into the Badlands and that his old CO assured him that his new commander, Blade, was a good guy to work for.

With a little bit of coordination Kody managed to get to Palastria at dawn so he could check in early and make a good impression. He saw a group of kids playing ball as he walked down the street and stopped and watched them for a bit. When they saw him they came over and started asking him all sorts of questions. "Are you a real gear pilot?!" "Have you killed any body?" "Are going into the badlands?" "Is it true their are ghosts out there?"

The bear just laughed and tried to answer their questions as best he could. When they started pleading for him to play ball in the alley with them he just couldn't resist.

He had no idea how long he played until he spied a figure in the distance. Somebody in a Landren uniform was walking down the street. "Oh no!" He said out loud. "I'm going to be late!" In a moment of panic he got down on the ground and hid behind a dumpster, peeking around the corner. The kids had kicked the ball into the street and were approaching the feline woman. Please don't tell her I'm here... please don't tell her I'm here... He mentally pleaded. He was so distraught that he didn't even register how striking the woman was.

He was too far away to tell if anything had been said, but the woman gave the kids back the ball and went on her way. As soon as she was out of sight Kody gathered up his gear, suddenly realizing that his clothes were now soaked in sweat and covered in sand. "No, no no! This is going all wrong!"

He thought he saw another uniformed figure pass by in the street and panic started to kick into high gear. He quickly told the kids he had to go, and snuck out the back end of the alley to find an alternate way to the Parvan's Claw. In a town where the buildings were short enough that he could see some of the sand cruisers’ masts poking up over the rooftops, it should have been easy to navigate his way there.

But no.

This section of Palastria was a warren of alleys, service streets, and dead ends... or at least it seemed that way to the overwrought bear. He felt like he was running through a maze for hours and was actually contemplating climbing up onto the roofs when he finally found his way to the 'port.'

Sweating even more now, Kody quickly made his way to a sandcruiser where he saw a group of pilots already standing around. Please, don't let me be last... don't let me be last...

As he got closer he was shocked to see that the fox in charge appeared to have a robotic eye and arm. He also realized that there was not one, not even two, but three attractive females standing around and probably staring at his filthy uniform.

It was far too much for Kody to process, and all he could manage was a single "Uhh..." that somehow managed to sound both confused and embarrassed.

[Jinxlynx]

"Well it seems we are all here!"
Jinx said in reply to the newly arrived bear's 'Uhh...'
She gave him a reassuring smile and turned back to squad leader.
"So Sir-Silver! now that we are all here should we perhaps move on to our quarters or a quick briefing of what we will be doing on our patrol."

[SilverwindBlade]

Silver gave a nod and a grin to the bear who'd just arrived, ticking his name off the list - and, noting his discomfort, made a show of checking the time on the display built into his artificial arm.
"Quite so, Jinx" he said to the younger feline, his tail wagging slightly. "New folks, grab yer gear, and let's head to yer quarters first so you can dump your stuff, and then we'll go fer the grand tour".
He tucked the slate under one arm, sending the list to the first officer to confirm that the squadron had arrived, and the Claw could cast off.

He lead them through the gaping doorway in the side of the hull, and out of the blazing sun, the dim twilight of the cruisers' main bay engulfing them in fuel-scented shade.
Noise of working men and women hammered at them from every quarter as the squadrons' Gears and the utility Gears of the ship, along with other smaller vehicles were placed into their 'stalls' in the bay, and fittings and cargo secured in their underway positions. As they emerged from the other side and into the companionways of the ship, men and women of a dazzling variety of species passed them by, lugging bags, cases, and crates of supplies, or tucking things away into storage spaces.
Other worked in dogging inspection hatches tight as the deck beneath their booted paws began to rumble and vibrate as the ships' engines came to life. Overhead speakers crackled to life as the Captains' voice boomed from the overhead.
"All hands, all hands - secure for leaving port. Gear Pilots and auxiliary personnel to your quarters until we are underway!"
"That's us," said the fox with a look back over his shoulder, leading the small group up a slanted, steep set of steps, and then into an arched doorway leading into the communal area their individual bunk rooms opened into.
"And behold: our bunkrooms. Mine is at the end. They aren't the lap of luxury, but they're a lot better than normal LDF bunks. The ships' got a 'Net node for entertainment and personal comms, and your individual bunks have access points and screens alongside. There's a decent amount of storage space too. I'll let you all explore though, and I'll be here if you want anything"
He sank into one of the armchairs in the central lounge area, opposite the holographic screen. The area was pretty well appointed - a mini kitchenette had a small fridge, a sink, a microwave and a few small cupboards. Another door lead off to a pair of bathroom/toilet combis, and there were even a few bookshelves with a handful of reference and fiction books, presumably donated by whoever had been there before.

The rumbling through the decks increased, and there was a gentle jolt through the deck, as the Claw began to move.