AtomicEmperor

Tyrant Shell: The Answer of Rain [CANCELLED]

Interactions: Shrike, Carrion Crow, Magpie
The Beach

---

Of course, they were right. There was little to be concerned with on the initial contact, and Crow alone packed enough firepower to bring down a dropship like that. He figured maybe reconfiguring Barn Owl well enough, he probably could too. It wasn't his preference. Skillfully, he tilted the Shell backward in mid air to align his high-powered horizontal jump jets to the ground. A big display of his current power over regenerative rate was displayed on his heads-up, giving him a good idea of how much height he could get off this silly maneuver. He still had distance to make up before getting into Fire Support's radius, but he didn't want to be utterly useless until then...
His jets flared, pushing him upward higher into the sky like a rocket. The g-force would've knocked an untrained pilot unconscious, but he'd been around speed and gravity before; and a few augments in his body made the experience practically normal. As he crested the height of the boost, one of the enemy jets made it within engagement range on a lucky draw. Once more, Barn Owl applied a small boost that almost cleaned out his generator, but put him on track to fall back down in the least dangerous way possible.
As he hung for a moment, the jet inched closer and closer. Its defensive guns rattled off, but the flowing cloak made manual aim a bit of a crapshoot. Thirty millimeter high penetration slugs ripped through the anti-thermal cloak and buzzed a section of it into ribbons, but totally missed Barn Owl as it approached the danger zone. Barn Owl could feel his right arm move practically without his consent, the flicking motion having occurred over and over and over again in his long career: The massive hundred and two millimeter "shotgun" that the Shell used as its only form of weaponry struck out at full length. With the CQBFCS and his own internal processing units working at full tandem, he snapshotted the jet just as they passed on a near collision. The twelve tungsten flechette projectiles that a single shell contained were more than enough to demolish the small vessel as they ripped through fuel-laden fuselage and flesh filled cockpit alike.

And then it was mostly quiet again.

"Owl... RELAX... you're acting like we haven't been through worse."

He wanted to bark back, like that makes us invincible? But, in truth, he could do nothing but smile and nod along. What must happen will happen, he said to himself as he shifted his gaze to the burning wreckage of the carrier below him. In the instant, he thought about the hubris of mankind and the courage of youth. The idea that one may feel totally invincible and all powerful so long as they didn't feel the strain of age. He only wished that he could give them more... More of that vainglory, more power, better reactions. He didn't want them to ever feel the sting of defeat, or the potential of death that he had.
You are my Sunshine... My only Sunshine... You make me happy, when skies are gray. You'll never know, Dears, how much I love you. So, please don't take my Sunshine away.
The nursery rhyme echoed in his head. Involuntarily, a tear fell from his left eye and dripped down his bearded cheek to disappear in the mass of gray hair. Many of them were quick to forget that all he had left was them. Overprotective, sure... But not without reason. Losing even one of the precious chicks was a dagger to the soul.

"Keep moving. Crow's alone. Move to support. Watch the skies."

Shrike's voice on his personal comms broke his concentration slightly. Typical Crow, always where you'd least expect her to be.
"Roger Shrike. I'm coming down to you now, Crow. Hopefully I grabbed their attention, I'll try and pull some heat out of the sky on the way: Kill anything on my tail!"
He tapped his break jets, impacting the ground with force enough to make a small crater. His seat compensated, gyroscopes keeping him level inside the core and preventing any strong rattling from unseating him. The Shell's systems reacted in kind to hitting the ground, the massive hydraulic legs releasing their payload instantly and sending him flying forward again like a giant bunny rabbit to hop along the ground at incredibly high speeds en route toward Carrion Crow's location.

Tyrant Shell: The Answer of Rain [CANCELLED]

Interactions: Magpie, Shrike, King Gizzard, Hachidori, Ossifrage Carrion Crow
The Beach

---

Barn Owl impacted a high area with little noise or damage, the massive leg shocks eating up any downward momentum with a loud hiss as the systems regulated the pressure in the hydraulic pistons. The thermaline cloak strapped tight to the machine kept its heat signature low as possible with dozens and dozens of thick aluminum layers, leaving only the deadly sharp blade of his weapon system poking out from beneath. One hand gripped the spire-like surface that flanked the Shell, while the right hand held tight to the massive shot-axe's main grip. He had thought about getting lower, but God forbid they needed to do any sort of aerial operating... So he figured keeping somewhat of an elevated plane would be advantageous. He watched the radar screen at his upper left as his scan pulsed out of the machine to echo across the open air.

And then the delivery came.

Barn Owl's jaw dropped as the Forward ship rolled slowly but surely into the conflict's frame.
"Magpie, you're seeing this?"
He switched his comm line to Vulture's curated frequency.
"Gizzard, Hachidori, we're gonna have a big fucking problem in a second! Recommend rolling on top of it, the cannons aren't up there and the defenses aren't going to fire on their own ship! Take Ossi with you for support!"

Keeping the latches for his disposable cloak intact for now, the great tonnage of machine known as Barn Owl took a springboard leap off its building perch. The aim was link up with Shrike and the other fire supports in order to give them a blocker in case enemy forces got too close.
With next to no heat coming from the initial jump, it was hard to get a read on where Barn Owl was with any sort of automatic aiming assist so long as he didn't use any sort of boosting feature. He'd become used to using such things sparingly, letting his low capacity generator get its chance to recharge every instant he could while keeping any automated weapons more or less out of the range of threat. The principle was demonstrated post haste; one of the smaller forward drones zipped up on him within a few dozen feet. Inside the machine, the man's right arm flicked as if it were a twitch reaction that caused every bit of pent up force held in the upper Shell to rotate and cleave through the unfortunate drone.

In the middle of that hanging, the silhouette of the Shell looked almost like that of its namesake, a friendly cream-colored face punctuated by the sharp beak and two great talons at its rear.
"Shrike, I'm moving to cover Fire Support with you! Crow, don't get caught roosting you hear!?"

Bloody Days: The Adjudicator Saga

There we go! As usual, let me know if you'd like me to change anything. And, we should probably talk about how we want things to go, how far before we get into trouble or if we even get into trouble. Just a quick breakdown of the scene more or less.
Mark's definitely a little lusty for the "fun part" of the work, so if there was someone who was going to get them caught it would probably be his mistake if that were to be the case.

Bloody Days: The Adjudicator Saga

"I've got your back, Brother. Lead on."
It was good to have no Comms in his ear. No barking handler trying to feed in info from a logistics lieutenant in some office bunkers six miles away spewing crap about statistics and thermal imaging. Just the eyes and a calm, quiet demeanor. Professionals. Mark appreciated that kind of knowledge, only hoping they'd be able to sync up in a positive way once the bullets started flying. For now, it was playing the hunting game.
It was best to get as far into the muck as one could before things started going crazy. The element of surprise was the only thing a soldier could pray for on the field, getting the drop on whoever you could usually ended up being like shooting fish in a barrel. Once a flank could be established, a direction one could be sure was clear and unmolested by some hammering force providing reinforcement, you could essentially open up to whatever sort of tactic you wanted. Continue the clandestine assault was always most difficult, especially once communication between the targets started to get more spotty with each corpse. Check-ins become discoveries, and quickly the element of surprise is all but consumed in a swarm of angry morons.

As the duo hugged the edge of the building, the schematics they'd gone over became clearer from a ground perspective. The warehouses, hastily built hangar-like structures with single or double layer corrugated metal exteriors, formed something of an upside-down "U" shape in relation to the main gate of which both men had a fairly clear view. That front was guarded by a small row of men with guns, their equipment half bundled beneath jackets or sweaters to protect from the cold autumn morning. They blocked the space between an airlock of gates with a set of mechanical bollards between each of them to prevent frontal vehicular assault.
"What, do they think we're just gonna drive up and subpoena them? We're not fucking cops..." Mark gritted out from between his clenched jaw.
He raised the barrel of his rifle up instinctively, the integral suppressor capable of making things a hair quieter than its screw-on cousin. At least, it would if they shared a caliber... The two and a half times magnified sight lined up perfect into the back of a guard's neck, and he could see the man's breath rising up from behind the silhouette of his head in a vague pattern. He's humming, Mark thought.

But he dropped his stance as they reached the corner of the building. The flood lights from inside one of the open hangar doors filled the section of the courtyard with electric light that couldn't be avoided, and was probably the main reason they had so much shadow cover currently. It simply drew the eye, though things became a bit more complicated when half a dozen chatty voices started to echo out from just around the corner.
They sauntered out; clearly another group of toughs, and from their plodding path toward the front, it looked like there was a shift change coming in just a couple seconds. Mark automatically wondered if the whole facility was swapping hands. His watch said o'five-fifty.
"I think we've got a ten minute split, partner. Looks like shift change is six? You wanna get in there, or try to head for the long way around back and look for another possible entrance?"

Mark had only paused a moment before a grim expression crossed over his fully covered face.
"Or, you know... Ten ducks in a row." he said, throwing a hand gesture toward the gate guards and the slowly approaching relief crew. "Great way to get the party started."

Bloody Days: The Adjudicator Saga

Hey Con, just realized I forgot to let you know I'm currently camping. Got a little signal and figured I'd let you know. Going to respond once I'm home on Sunday!

Tyrant Shell: The Answer of Rain [CANCELLED]

Locale: The Beach

---

There was a deep respect for the machine whenever Owl decided to cover up. It was a moment of intimacy, to look at the armor and the muted paint while the servo assistant draped the couple hundred pound thermal blanket over the majority of the machine. He clambered up the side to pull the hood over the sensors, giving the machine a gentle pat on its flat head. It was a friend and companion to him in the silent times when one could only give their thoughts to an intimate partner.
Never once had he thought to burden someone else with that; it wouldn't have been fair. But, a Man and his Shell could get to know one another. They were partners on a strange and unforgiving field, and even if it was only for a short time, the machine would never question your loyalty or waiver in its own faith. It was a rock solid kind of relationship.
Owl slipped downward as the servos connected the last loopholes around the anti thermal cloak, locking the hooks on his boot into a small footfall before swinging up into the open cockpit of the Shell. In this state, it was standing room only as the seat was practically trying to keep you out of the mouth-like opening. Only when he situated his right arm into the main ignition did the seating begin to slide back into the core of the Shell, tilting him until he was comfortable before the safety locks gripped into his armored pilot suit.

Barn was built to be quick and sturdy, packing weight behind a set of pistons rated for a sized up model. He'd learned over a sixty year career that there was value in speed and maneuverability over brute firepower, and that a surprise could trump them all. Owl had heard the orders from Birdwatcher, and the suggestion of an ambush. He began to fiddle with the audio board of Barn's personal console, locking into the latest batch of Old World he'd gotten rendered down from a server somewhere far away. He made sure to turn it up, but turned the notification and comm audio up even louder.
Until the hits were starting, he had to get in the zone. If you didn't stop living young, you'd never be old; a philosophy he held tight to his chest as the thrumming guitar started to fill out the audio ports of his cockpit. Sitting in the relative dark as the machine was loaded into its ejection port, it rattled slightly passing down the track until it locked in.

Barn Owl, engaged and dropping long. Low power running, aiming for the high ground for a scan.
Listening for feedback, he felt the difference in pressure as he left the barrel of the drop tube and immediately dumped a large portion of his generator reserves into an immediate forward thrust that sent him on a long forward arc through the air.
"Recommend fire support draw attention for the coup de grâce, Magpie. Lets not give them a chance to call backup."
Owl's thick Austrian accent sounded like a warm fire over the comms line, swimming through the airwaves as he let the Shell slowly descend down using only the bare minimum to keep it from turning into a pancake on the impact. His forward display projected a carefully calculated trajectory that he could adjust with his eyes and have the jets automatically compensate for the difference.

Bloody Days: The Adjudicator Saga

Mark eyed L'monte' as he peeked and peered around with the nods. He hadn't expected to be partnered with such a stylish agent. The locks, the nice clothes when they'd met for some pre-operation scouts; he'd picked himself up a nicer jacket over the internet and, for the first time in a long time, thought about how his outward image may be something worth curating in this line of work.
Well, part of it.
This? It was natural. Wetwork. The very word brought saliva from the corners of his gullet into a wash over his tongue. His eyes fell down to the similarly stylish carbine slung at his partner's side, and he admired the dark metal and polymer finish. The way something should look that's meant to kill. Austere, spartan, minimalist. Marketing campaigns flashed through his head of the billboards he saw in JAG territory of the Sicario Bosses and their guns plated with precious metals. Bloody rings and chains, displays of grand wealth... He supposed that they worked hard for their money, and flaunting it was part of the appeal. In the end, we're here to judge action, not character. His most recent mentor had hammered that lesson into his idealistic head, on and on about how important it was to keep that distinction in mind for the duration of his service at the OE.

But at least they seemed to share taste in their own implements of warfare. He let his broken hand relax out of the tension he'd placed on it, and the pain medication sifted through his blood like sludge to stifle the flames of agony. His right hand instinctively ran across the front of his own AR-10, the cousin weapons both primed and ready to protect their wielders like spears of wrath.
"No worse for wear, I bet. They build 'em different up here." he replied to his partner's question, pulling the cutters from their section on his pack and swinging them forward to begin snipping away at the fence.
"We should be alright back here then, but keep me covered. I'd rather the shooting start after we're on the other side."
Still, Mark couldn't help but look up in astounded indignance. The absolute nerve of some people. Not even bothering with camera systems, yet you're gonna hold up in here knowing that you've been a very bad boy? He couldn't stand people like that. The arrogant bastards.

Mark's mind wandered as he mumbled to himself.
"Fucking prick, son of a bitch-"
He was a markedly vulgar man in the same way that a Syndicate soldier from a similar background would be. He didn't try to hide it, nor did he try to hide that he wasn't a very charming man. He was a brute, and one well suited for the line of work the two of them were here to carry out. It hit his brain again, stopping the endless chain of rambling thoughts with its weight.
Wetwork.
Beneath the faceless visage of his balaclava, he smiled a toothy grin. He had to clench up on the bolt cutters every time he wanted to cut, trying to use everything but his broken hand to support the arms of the thing in order to put pressure down. After a minute or two, he gave up and started to use it, finding that the medicine was working its way in deeper and deeper. It was good to use these sorts of things sparingly, but a soldier that didn't feel pain was a soldier who was ready to go at any time. The drugs just made you stupid...
But link by link, Mark chopped through the fence between them and the target until a square was wide enough that they could climb through one at a time. Orders dictated they probably weren't leaving through the back here, so a simple one way entrance would suffice he guessed.

Markus slipped the bolt cutters back onto his pack and pushed the fence open for L'Monte' to climb through.
"Alright, age before beauty." he laughed, waving L'Monte' on before his hand moved up to position his rifle in the crook of his arm facing inside the complex. Covering someone else was always a great time.

Tyrant Shell: The Answer of Rain [CANCELLED]

Shell: **Barn Owl**

Barn Owl

HEIGHT: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ 11 meters WEIGHT CLASS: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Medium SPEED: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ High ROLE: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Close Range Shock

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ DESCRIPTION: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Barn Owl is a reverse joint Shell sporting a robust pair of high power legs and a reinforced core. Coupled with high intensity jump jets meant for horizontal clearance as opposed to vertical, this spring loaded bombshell is capable of high speed, low height engagements where the distance can be a matter of feet between two machines. It's low profile and slanted armor plating attempt to reduce drag on the machine, and upper limb components are kept strictly functional in order to cut weight off the frame of the machine. Everything about it, including the entirely off-grid equipment selection made by the Pilot, are meant to cut down on generator strain and maximize the available power for the jump jets and the overclocked CQBFCS. Over short bursts, Barn Owl can hit extremely high speeds, the intended tactic to outflank and outmaneuver the opponent before delivering a choice shot or melee strike to disable enemy units. The weapon of choice is a Vekkor Arms Axecannon; a hybrid weapon consisting of a semi-automatic, hand fed heavy shotgun coupled with a reinforced frame for the front loaded bayonet and axehead. This particular version has separate grips for both of the Shell's hands to ensure that whatever angle the weapon is held at, a concerted effort can be put into stabbing and swinging the frontal melee weapon. As a quirk of the pilot's personal equipment, the cockpit of the Shell is specially designed to have a great deal of the most important systems fixed on the right hand side of the machine. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ARMANANTS & EQUIPMENT: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► [Vekkor Arms RPR Axecannon] || An extremely uncommon weapon format that varies from company to company, this particular varient is a reinforced chassis RPR 7+1 formatted with a built in poleaxe head front loaded on the weapon as well as several hand holds for the Shell to grip in order to swing the weapon tight to the frame while still allowing momentum to build effectively. ► [Overclocked Murakumo T600K FCS] || A designated CQB FCS overclocked to minimize input-to-action time, allowing for near instantaneous machine response time. This system relies heavily on the reaction speed of the user, and its processing power has left the machine's auto-tracking systems with much to be desired. ► [Adrelaide Digitigrade High Mobility Suite] || Consisting of a matching set of high power reverse joint legs and equally high powered rear boosters, this mobility package by Adrelaide Rocketry is built with weight management and forward momentum in mind. The high strength leg unit has several hydraulic coil systems that act like the legs of a grasshopper, allowing the Shell to fling itself at an elongated arc with tremendous burst speed, but require a recharge period before they're available for usage. For this issue, the included booster system is designed with a direct tap to the fuel systems in mind. Able to generate maximum thrust, the boosters are capable of extending and maintaining the Shell's current speed over a wider distance, or equally able to make mid-air directional adjustments it the pilot's whim. ► [Murakumo Generation 3 "Spin Doctor" Power Generator] || With a focus on recharge speed over capacity, Barn Owl's personal generator has been adjusted to maintain a tandem recharge cycle with the hydraulic system of the leg unit. This means that every time the Shell makes a mechanical jump, it cycles the power system and recharges until the next input is made by the pilot. The Spin Doctor's high-speed recharge system compliments the strategy well, despite the necessary frugality of the weapon systems the Shell is expected to use. ► [Custom Rosayu Armor Chassis package] || Rosayu Armor are known for sturdy tank-style designs from standard bipeds to tread-rocking cannoneers alike. This "light weight" design features custom adjustments, such as reinforced elbow and shoulder joints, a "Tombstone" deadplate front end, a low profile armored scanner suite, and a specialized cockpit with roughly eighty percent of the controls and critical systems shifted to the right hand side of the machine. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ OTHER: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Barn Owl's chassis has next to no mounting points for shoulder weaponry, but has hook mountings for thermal coverings and a low power running setting for anti-thermal camoflauge systems to be installed. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ .................................................................................................................................................

Bloody Days: The Adjudicator Saga

It was a great post. Love the insight about L'monte's home situation and what he's got to lose.

Wicked Wings: An Interest Check

@Polaris North Howdy! Please feel free to join the discord link posted above.
If it helps you, the current group is gravitating toward European Legends. Very much a Round Table vibe so far.