BigPapaBelial

Critical Shell - A Mecha Roleplay

With a smiles Henry straightened up. He listened to the repartee between Rachel and Garret, finding it a little amusing. The obviously cocky but sure woman speaking confidently towards the quite rude young man. It's really rather amusing to see the way the moniyew treat each other. He hums looking between the others in passenger section. Finally turning to the well dressed young man. Henry quirks his head slightly to the side and nods, "Julian Brumbles ci? Well, Tansi niya Henry Makokis nisikason, Onichiskawaponi sikiaso." Henry stops himself a second and sighs, "I'm sorry, the GUFNC has a more or less mandated rule that we speak our languages as often as we can. The many languages of the First Nations people were dying out before the GUFNC came about. I try to speak as much of it as I can, forgetting that not everyone speaks Cree, or Dene'tha or any of the other hundred or so tongues of the GUFNC." He chuckles, "I'm sorry let me start again." He clears his throat, "Julian Brumbles? Well Hello there, I am Henry Makokis, that's my name. I come from Saddle Lake lands." He smiles and shrugs, then reaches out, and with a firm grip he shakes Julian's hand, "You can call me Henry though if you like, Mr. Brumbles."

He let's Julian's hand go and leans back, he then calmly reaches over to where a thin length of wood, painted grey up to the last inch of the tip where it's painted a bright red. many different eagle and hawk feathers hang from it's length. He takes the stick and tucks it up under his left arm, "Can't lose this." He looks to Julian, "So while the others try to establish a pecking order, tell me about yourself Julian Brumbles, what brings you out here? You're a HELIX pilot yes? You don't look like the usual HELIX pilot I've ever seen. Well I guess I'm not either." He gestures at his own surpisingly casual outfit. A hide vest, with snake skin sewn to the breast, and fur fringe hanging from the wait hem and leather fringes at the wrist. A buckhide pants and combat boots. Ending with a canvas shirt more or less. Something very easy to put together really. He brings the stick he grabbed up and taps the red tip to his bottom lip, "But then if we're all here we're all a little unique I guess?"

Goblins of the Wilds

Koglan sniffed and was slow even to react to Siwa as she stepped closer. He blinked and seemed to finally remember the deal they had made the day before. He blinked, "Ah...yes I remember. You didn't find anyone? Well you tried atleast." He was preparing himself to do his duty to mate Siwa and give her the seed she'd need to bear a litter of little goblin children. Maybe one or two of them would even bear his traits. He groaned but felt his body protest at the thought. Then Siwa gave him an out. He smiles, "I may have overworked myself abit it's true." He sighs and lets himself be lead back to his bed, the bed that sees more use then the bed in his hut out back.

Koglan carefully lays himself down on the cot. As Siwa moved so did he careful steps towards the bed and it's small alcove shaded from view. She was right, in his state he wouldn't be able to perform very well. But she seems to be offering him something even better. He'd heard of her massages and rub downs. Maybe that's what the slowly aging Smith needs the most is a good muscle massage to bring him back to full lucidity. He carefully sits on the bed then rolls onto his front, turning his head to look Siwa's way, "I do the best work I can for the betterment of the tribe...as do you...as do we all." He smiled a little, tiredly really, but it's a smile indeed. He then chuckles, "Come Siwa...do your worst." He grins broadly a moment later.

Dead Presidents

Checks for a pulse....

Come on...come on....

Goblins of the Wilds

Soooo...

Um...you know? Hello? We all doing this?

Critical Shell - A Mecha Roleplay

A troop carrier. With many a body in it. Pilots. All of them in one way or another. It's no secret. They'd all been called out of their former postings. One of the people sounded like a Airforce personality. He couldn't really tell. Another sounded a little innocent of all the things needed to be a full on warrior for the protection of those you care for. And then a third, a little miffed at something by the sound of it. He couldn't actually see the people. Because Henry Makokis, HELIX Pilot for the Great Union of First Nations Communities is purposefully keeping his eyes closed through out the ride. Pretending to sleep. Main point being pretending. He'd found isn't a good way to get a sense of new people. Because they say and do things differently if a person thinks you're awake and aware. Versus asleep and unaware. It tells you things. Yes indeed. Makes sense really, it's all a very moniyew thing to do. He gives off a very convincing sniff as he pretends to wake. The tall, lanky, and thin but whip cord like muscled Canadian First Nations man waking from a very long nap. One he'd been taking since they left the base some time ago.

Henry looks about the interior. Connecting voices to faces and bodies now. His eyes taking in details quickly. These people are to be his squad mates. After so long working alone or with maybe one other Warrior of the GUFNC, it'll be quite an interesting thing to work with them all. And makes him wonder how well his HELIX, The Brave, will work with these pilots and their machines. Only time will tell.

With a yawn, again rather convincing, he looks ahead, "Almost to our new home." He says in a rich yet soft voice. He smiles and nods, "What does the future hold I wonder. What adventures." He reaches back over his shoulder and smooths the long braid of his hair down a little, then turns to look out the small window closest him, "So much white. Doesn't look so bad."

Goblins of the Wilds

The fire in the forge is actually low. The heat waves from the chimney above the hill aren't as hazy as normal. The work of the billows aren't as loud and thunderous. It's odd really. Even at this hour the old goblin would be awake, working on some project. He had said he'd be working on the rest of that axe. To give to the new chief. It's truly strange to say the least. And no answer comes to Siwa immediately. It's almost as if Koglan doesn't have his full faculties.

It takes a quick look around the forge to see why. Koglan stands, a hand on the chain of the billows. Firm, but lax. The poor smith looks to be half asleep. He stares into the guttering flames of the forge, rings around his eyes. And the evidence of a long night of smithing in evidence. A finished spear head. What looks like the half completed sword billet resting just out of the fire. A partially rounded helmet.

The poor old goblin doesn't even seem to be fully aware that the flames are startign to gutter. And it's a short while before he turns, as if finally registering someone calling his name, "Ah...Siwa...oh..." He then finally pulls the chain and the smithy is filled with renewed heat as the billows go to work to return the flames to rights, "I'm sorry...it has been a very long night...I don't know if I slept at all." He sniffs then looks to the young gobliness, "I assume you coming to me, means you did as tasked? Tried atleast to find someone else to mate with before coming back to me?" He archs and eyebrow and smiles, "Good..." He nods slowly, "Good..." And trails off a little, absently grasping for his hammer and tongs again, "Very good..." His hand rests on his anvil as he yawns, "Em I'm sorry...what...oh yes..." He looks at Siwa expectantly.

Dead Presidents

The Tesrolet Scorpion rolled into an out of the way warehouse district a short bit later. The roar of the engine echoing off the walls of the other slowly rusting away warehouses. This place used to hold food and luxury items for New Wealth way back when. Now they stood empty or in some cases with old rotting away sofas and love seats. The warehouse that the Scorpion pulls up next too though, is set up just a tad differently from the variety of others in the large warehouse complex. It's more blocky, with large reinforced concrete doors that slide into the ground, thick and heavy designed for security. May have been the lots security forces garage. And seeing all the vehicles were taken away but the facility was never really decommisioned, everything that Johhny needed was inside. Jacks and wheel repair kits. Body work and chassis repair kits. It was all there.

When he moved in all he had to do was repair or replace some of the items. And soon most of the bays were filled with his tuned up and tricked out vehicles. From the Scorpion down to a tiny speedy Nebula Mass sportster. But as he pulls in and the big security doors grind back up into place, and the lights turn on with pings of powerful lighting rigs. It's the big Ableweryth Buffalo Combat Wagon that's already been brought out of it's bay and placed up on the repair runners.

As Johnny pulls the Scorpion into it's Bay he gets out, the automated bay turning the car so he can pull out easily enough. HE walks over to the Buffalo, already his repair drones, eight stocky work drones are pulling out the paint drums and the spray guns. The chromed combat wagon is ready to be painted over. He calls to the eight drones, "Alright boys..." He stops a moment trailing off as his five little spider drones back at the hideout relay the rest of the meeting to him. He twitches, his eyes flickering open and closed. He grunts, as the spider drones start to hide away, returning to little hidden berths to settle in and power down. He stumbles, and one of his repair drones catches him. He pants, "Thank the tech gods you guys can't tell people about that." He gulps and sniffs, touching a trail of red dripping down from his left nostril, "Getting worse...anyway...alright you guys, this thing needs to look like a SecuRanks armored truck, by morning. You know the drill, let's get this going." He meanwhile heads over to a stamping press nearby and slots a jack into his data jack, "Ahhh...okay...let's see..." He starts searching through the presses database, "SecuRanks...there we go..." The machine begins to work, stamping out two license plats and a top ID pad. Which ought to atleast fool a quick look at the plates and pad. May not hold up to a in depth look, but by then hopefully they won't need it.

As he pulls his jack he looks at one of his drones, "Get a dual .30 in to the armament bay on the top of the truck, and fill the hopper with atleast 10 minutes of ammo." The drone burble something and trundles off to do so, the other seven drones busily painting the wagon. Johhny sniffed again, ignoring the tingling in his arms and feet, losing feeling in his meat. He's got work to do.

-----------------

Johnny had fallen asleep, and dreamt of open roads, long treks and the roar of an engine...his engine. He gasps as he comes awake to the tap of one of his drones, pointing at the wagon which has been painted and three of the drones are finishing up with the turret atop it, making sure it can disappear and reappear into and out of the hidden port in the top. He nods, "alright boys good work. Great work." He sends a thought and the repair runners slowly lower into the floor of the garage. The Buffalo settling. Then with another thought it roars to life. He grins, "Alright...someone get me a danish and coffee...then...we party..." Soon after Johnny with danish and a coffee in hand taken from the food store in the garage is seated in the drivers seat of the Buffalo, jacked in and half paying attention as he cruises to the hideout to meet up with the part of the team he's taking with him. In the wagon...and him...in the drivers seat.

Critical Shell - A Mecha Roleplay

Asterion appears to be quite the chunky boy it is. Don't you think? I love it.

Critical Shell - A Mecha Roleplay

Dayum! look at that thing. Wow that's hot. Impressive too. Make that thing work, that is just yeah Sci-Fi tech at it's finest.

My sci-fi tech nerd has calmed down some so I'm just looking at this in awe. lol awesome idea.

Critical Shell - A Mecha Roleplay

So wait, the Zephyr now has a Rotary Mag. Cannon? That's fucking awesome!

EDIT: But can you imagine the science that has to go into that? I may be nerding out here. But Magnetic Caster/cannon/railguns/etc have always been portrayed as having a slight charge time before they would fire. To make it rotary and shoot rapidly, those magnets would have to charge so quickly. And the power needed behind it too.

I'm sorry my sci-fi nerd is having abit of an orgasm over the thought of how cool that is.