Eisenhorn

The Things We Fight For

Howe made a half hearted huff of annoyance when Sabine strutted over, ignoring her own burn injuries and snatching his cigarette away as she chimed in with her own outlook. After she took a drag, as she was talking he reached over and snatched it back, taking another drag on it while he considered the outlook of each person. Of course Sabine was all for the assault option, she enjoyed pushing combat to its limits. Trailing her in his slower mech usually left him in a good position to observe the damage she could do, and keep her flanks clear while pushing ahead when he can, and such a loud mouthed pilot being on a nominally stealthy mission was funny in its own way. All that aside, he did have something to say to her as she continued to insist on using him as someplace to lean, when she wasn't busy stealing his smokes. "That's another pack you owe me Sab, that's at least three now if I am being generous. Don't your rations come with a pack anyways?"

Another Constellation decided to make her presence and voice on the matter known, Howe frankly didn't keep close track of them beyond who was hitching a ride on his mech at any give time before they jumped out to get stuck in. That was one thing he begrudingly envied, being able to face the Aberrant face to face and put the things down up close and personal. He knew he was a better pilot than he ever was an infantryman but having to rely on others for the real threats got tedious after awhile. Especially around the more egotistical ones, but that wasn't the case here currently. Her suggestion was to attack but request additional forces launch a diversionary attack. Neat idea, but if they had the manpower to pull that off it would have been part of the plan already. "Worth a shot asking, but if the manpower was available to make diversionary attacks I suspect it would have been planned for already. We might just be the last ditch effort to keep another world from falling, so it goes."

The next Constellation, when she wasn't busy stuffing her mouth to an almost absurd degree by the looks of things, was the cocky type he had come to expect from their lot. Willing to see this through, hell or high water, was at least something that could be respected. Then again, all of this relied on each person volunteering being willing to do or die. Sabine he knew was at least willing to put herself in harms way, he knew that death had stopped being an enemy for himself for years now, but the others were unknowns. It was relatively easy to say that one was willing to go down swinging for a cause, stepping into the grave was another matter completely. He would have to wait and see how this all panned out before measuring the character of those who were agreeing to a near suicidal change of tactics. Nothing to particularly say to her though, and Howe wasn't too keen on unnecessary chatter at the moment.

Last of the Constellations to chime in, at least in their current gathering, was probably the most gentle in her initial approach. Also actually introduced herself as well, how about that, offering a ration bar to the hungry one and a medipen to Sabine. Nothing for him, but Howe didn't take that personally, probably didn't have anything worth a damn giving. Still, she was showing some common courtesy in introductions and the like, even if remembering her would rely on her surviving he could at least be polite. He was professional, but his tone and face were as set as when Sabine had wandered over. A nasty case of resting bitch face, as he was told it was, but made gambling easier. "Callsign is Dunkirk, a pleasure. Sab, actually use that please, last thing we need is a chaffing burn distracting you at a critical moment."

Finally the lead Constellation got her fill, the others all volunteering, to the last, for this do or die change to the plan. Shame a group like this hadn't been available on New Alexandria, maybe he would still have a homeworld if that was the case. No, that wasn't exactly fair, the senior staff had failed that time. Still, it seemed like they would be contacting the powers that be and begging for help. More time wasted sitting around and waiting to be discovered, and ruining what surprise they could yet muster. Still, he wasn't in charge and that was probably for the best. With nothing better to do, Howe finished his current smoke and stomped it out. He resisted the urge to light another, in case they decided to move out soon. More importantly, it would keep Sabine from stealing another. Part of him wondered if he should say something, but no doubt the more chatty among them would fill the silence soon enough. He didn't count the Constellation Commander's communication, that was background noise right now, instead he started doing a visual inventory of what they had available. Pilots and their frames, Constellations and supporting infantry, anything that might prove useful in a pinch he was going to keep a mental tally of.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Rolan had nothing further to comment as further discussion was had between the knights. He had made his decision, honestly, and the blue of the magic fading as the Witch mentioned they would know when the compulsion was lifted. He didn't feel much different, but odds were he wouldn't unless he tried to speak on the matter to anyone else. Thrinax was sent off before the Dragonslayer arrived, noting that they should at least fight elsewhere. For his part, he had no interest in any further fighting and wasn't feeling particularly festive either. Settling down, he set out his kit and began reviewing what he had on hand, what he would need to reacquire once they returned to the world they knew far better, and what needed improved upon. His knife, old friend that it was, looked significantly worse for wear after just a few glancing blows from the daemoness. If he was going to not be afforded the luxury of being able to ensure a standoff distance, he had to have something more effective than a hunting knife. Once they returned he would have to discuss matters with those more seasoned in a melee to find a suitable blade to carry and begin learning. He understood the basics of swordplay, mind, but the basics would only protect him so far when pressed. Basics would not prevent a skilled opponent from overpowering him in short order, so he would have to add practice to his daily routine.

"It's a shame the supplies don't come with us, I'm going to have to spend a fair amount of time replenishing and adding to what I carry."

---

After the celebrations and fights concluded, sure enough, Rolan found himself back in his quarters. Despite the creeping dawn seemingly moments before, it was now dark and quiet. He sat up, checking himself over and confirming that, yes, all he had one him currently was what he had gone to bed wearing. Ensuring he was alone, he groaned quietly and buried his head in his hands, fingers running through his hair. For every advancement earned in alchemy and how much further he could have pressed his abilities with his crossbow, resting on a desk with the tools needed to maintain and upkeep the weapon, he had been reminded of his flaws as a member of the Roses. The Captain and Ser Renar had to abandon the assault on the mage to come to his aid, an effort that would have been better spent advancing on the summoner. He had nothing to even comment on Thrinax, the rest showing far more effective efforts overall, and was by and far thoroughly disappointed in his performance. He had much to learn and improve upon, condensed training time be damned, and he was on his feet and dressing himself. He wouldn't be able to sleep right now, even if he wanted to, so he might as well put these hours before the day began again to good use.

Much of the alchemical supplies he needed would not be readily available until he could make requisitions and inquiries, at least he suspected so, meaning Rolan was heading to the armory. He was going to see what was on hand, ideally pick out something that would suit his strengths and start getting in practice before his duties for the day called. Making his way to the armory he would begin browsing through the various weapons that would be available. Most likely a one handed sword, it was as close to what he was already familiar with, though if something else could be suitably rationalized he might consider it. He would have to pretty much go off feel alone, spending some time reviewing what his options were and what would feel right in his hand. Keeping a sharp ear listening for movement, Rolan would not be too surprised to hear others who had returned starting to move about early on their own, but for the time being kept to his task of finding a more suitable backup weapon than a knife. From there he could begin worrying about how to improve his ability to wield such a weapon beyond rudimentary basics, and maybe let the others focus on their tasks during a pitched combat.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Rolan crossed his arms, brow furrowing in thought as the Witch first explained herself and the other Knights chimed in. A geas, magical compulsion, to not speak of who trained them here. Notably, he was free to speak about his own trainer, though he had never had any intention to speak on the matter at all. He was not terribly familiar with the magics behind the entire concept, but a compulsion on terrible penalty was certainly a drastic measure. He didn't necessarily disagree with it either, even as dissenting voices spoke up among the Roses. Some of what was learned here could no doubt be turned against the right person, it only made sound sense to ensure that such a thing could not come to pass. Of course, at least two spoke up in disagreement, and not with compelling arguments either.

Ser Gerard and Ser Fleuri were opposed to the enchantment, making arguments about the nobility of knighthood preventing them from violating the agreement. Not much stock in that, it was one of the legendary knights that had turn coated against the others, and if the legends can make mistakes and incorrect decisions, they certainly could. The With seemed to be thinking the same thing, saying about as much in response to their arguments, and making note of a far more drastic alternative. Agree to a mutual contract, or be forced under penalty of severe punishment. Not much of a choice, that, and he had better things to do than worry about accidentally violating the geas and being ruined for it. Ser Renar seemed to be inclined to reinforce that, and given the information that Rolan had available to him, there really wasn't much of a choice to be made here. Lesser of two evils, as one might say, and the lesser evil was simply to accept the geas and move on.

"I agree to the terms of your geas. As Ser Renar stated, I also have little reason to discuss what happened here, and better the less arduous option." Nevermind that the terms were even lighter on him since he really had not dealt with the Knights themselves, having sought out a different teacher who was not bound by the same restrictions. The trials being freely discussed as well could be information plenty for anyone who he needed to talk with, should it come up, but he could also simply not answer anyone pestering him about his improvements. No, he wasn't going to tempt the Witch into using a more forceful measure if he didn't have to. The amount of pitched fighting that had proceeded through the trials didn't need a more forceful spell from the Witch to wrap it all up.

The Things We Fight For

To call it a very long month and a half would have been a gross understatement.

Solomon Howe, Callsign Dunkirk, was crawling across the top of his Mech while they were hunkered down in the ruins, doing field checks and spot checking various parts of Vickie while they were waiting for the order to move. Howe wasn't a fan of waiting, especially with what was on the line currently. They were going to reach the critical point of no return soon, where the efforts of the Princess they were hunting would be irreversible and render the last month and a half of fighting pointless. It was arguable they were wasting resources at this point, that the Corrosion had rendered the planet unsalvageable, arguments that he had heard more times than he ever cared to admit. New Alexandria was the first time he heard it, hell, this all reminded him rather unpleasantly of that very same fall, except this time there was something that could be done. By the time the Princess had been found on New Alexandria there wasn't any combat effective forces let that could mount an attack needed to breach the defenses surrounding it. Here, here was different, it was one of the reasons he volunteered the moment he heard about a planned attack on the Princess corroding this planet by its very existence.

A month and a half of wasted time, not counting the half month before reinforcements arrived, of fighting, waiting, covering Constellations as they dueled with the worst the Aberrant could muster. A month and a half of dying while analysists and intelligence officers debated and sifted through recon information. A month and a half to find this Princess, organize a strike force, and have them struggle to even remotely keep to the necessary time table to even give the planet and its survivors a chance to recover before the next Aberrant invasion. Sitting beside the 20mm mount for a moment, looking over the ammo feed, Howe lit a cigarette, taking a long drag and holding the warmth in his lungs. A month and a half to end up sitting in a bombed out, ruined hotel wondering if the roof was going to cave in and bury them all while waiting for the Constellation in charge, Commander Aurigae, to go back and forth with the battlefield analyst about their current planned route being too slow. Took long enough for that realization, Howe mused, clambering back down to where the other pilots had gathered under the towering Mechs. The CQB Package that was mounted on Vickie right now, among other things, was uparmored and that, ironically, made it easier to climb up and down to do spot checks when moments like this availed themselves. Damage to the armor was superficial at best, nothing critical or load bearing was damaged, and he had plenty of ammo to spare. A good day to get their collective asses in gear and get moving.

Aurigae was making her way over, leading Howe to exhale a plume of smoke before she got close enough that he would consider aiming it elsewhere. He met her gaze evenly, expression calm and collected despite all the openly shared information about how dire their situation was, no sense mincing words about it. He knew the reputation he had, he never argued about it, but what was a 35 ton war machine good for if you didn't put it in harm's way. Constellations were all fine and well for breaking Barriers, but they had to get there and survive long enough to make it happen. If another servo needed replaced after shoulder checking a threat, or a manipulator got mauled pinning an Aberrant down so be it. Job got done all the same, and Aurigae reminded him why he struggled to talk to her kind. Cannot ask for lives, speaking as fellow warriors, if he had a few drinks in him he would have started mouthing off at that point, but he composed himself instead. Taking another drag, and stomping the cigarette out, he spoke up, seemingly first.

"Not much to have an opinion over, is there? We keep playing it safe, time runs out, another planet lost to the Aberrant, the last month and a half of blood and sacrifice made completely pointless. Only option we have to do our jobs is go loud and punch through what the Aberrant puts between us and the target or die trying. More death, more sacrifice, but better chances of all that meaning something for once. Only option worth considering given the circumstances." More like the only option worth a damn, but he had to keep his professionalism intact while on the field. Howe had said his piece, however, lighting another cigarette as a sort of nail in that sentence, and another metaphorical nail in the coffin as he scanned the others gathered and present. Time to see the stock of, well, most of who he was with. He suspected he knew how Sabine would respond, in her own manner of speaking, but let her start rambling when she chose to. For now, he was more interested to see what the relative unknowns had to say about the whole affair.

The Things We Fight For

Solomon Howe

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx B A S I C I N F O [Name] Solomon Howe [Callsign] Dunkirk [Gender] Male [Age] 29 [Rank and Designation] Petty Officer 2nd Class [Place of Birth] New Alexandria, Alexandria Colonial System [Official Statement] "Doesn't matter if we're surrounded. Reactors good, still got ammo, means we get to take a few more with us. Lucky us." C O M B A T A B I L I T Y [Mech Model] Brose Arsenal Mk VI Victoria Universal Chassis [Type] Modular Vanguard Unit [Size] 45' Tall, 35 Tons with heaviest Armament Package. [Core] N/A (See Brose Arsenal Fusion Reactor) [Armaments] Brose Arsenal Fusion Reactor - Designed as an answer to a question no one else is asking, no official Brose Arsenal designed and manufactured Mech mounts any sort of Aberrant Core power system. They continue to, rather stubbornly, maintain conventional power sources despite the drawbacks they entail. One upside, however, was that not needing any sort of Aberrant material meant they had literally no restraint on production, not that it was an issue due to the overwhelming Aberrant war on humanity as a whole. Lacking the longevity of Aberrant cores, the Brose Arsenal Fusion Reactor is none the less capable of maintaining combat levels of energy output for extended periods of time compared to almost any other conventional source of energy, being commonly referred to as "The best of second place" by anyone who examines the blueprints for a Brose Arsenal design. Confoundingly, the entire chassis was designed explicitly to draw from a conventional Fusion reactor, ideally Brose Arsenal design, meaning attempts to retrofit Mk VI chassis that survived the fall of New Alexandria have not been worth the effort. External Co-Pilot Module (ECPM) - Originally a trainer module, then modified for field use when Aberrants began their all out extermination of humanity, the Co-Pilot module allows for a second pilot, soldier, or later on Constellation deployment, the ECPM has two modes. Co-Pilot mode allows the rider to operate the secondary weapon that is typically mounted to the ECPM, provide targeting data, and otherwise support the pilot in operations. VIP mode locks out all controls except the hatch and comms to the pilot, though the latter can be shut off if need be, to prevent interference if the passenger is not trained in either piloting or mech combat overall. Modularity - The Mk VI was designed to, either prior to deployment or, when circumstances allow, at forward operating bases and other secure locations that a hot swap can be performed. While the original founderies have long since stopped designing and producing Packages for the Victoria line of mechs, mostly due to their loss to Aberrant advances on humanity, it is possible that other packages can be salvaged or produced. Below are the current options available to Howe's Mk VI. Without a package loaded, the frame lacks any innate weaponry besides the force a mech can produce throwing punches or grabbing and slamming threats, though all package armaments can be ejected if speed is needed. CQB Package - A standard go to for Howe, the CQB Package up armors the Mk VI in anticipation of urban and close quarters combat not allowing room to evade attacks. Weapons wise, the primary weapon is a combat shotgun loaded with buckshot, although the package supports bringing specialty ammunition should the need arise. Secondary weapons include reinforced manipulators for close quarters fighting, and a backpack mounted 20mm autocannon for suppressing and bringing down large numbers of lower grade Aberrants. The package has several Fragmentation Grenades that are hip mounted, lacking impact against targets with sufficient protection but can provide breathing room when Aberrants or other targets lack sufficient protection. Assault Package - The original universal package, the Assault package is the lightest current package, giving it the highest innate speed without jettisoning weapons. Its primary weapon is a belt fed heavy assault rifle, ammo stored in an ejectable compartment mounted below the ECPM, removing the need to reload mid fight but running the risk of overheating. The secondary weapon is an air burst mortar system, capable of either detonating based on proximity or on a timed fuse, as set by either pilot or, if available, co-pilot. This package has several adhesive grenades, latching onto a target before detonating with sheer explosive force, lacking shrapnel or anything otherwise unusual. Recce Package - Designed for observation and longer range support, the Recce package sees less use than the other two and mounts an enhanced suite of sensors and targeting systems, specifically designed to assist other mechs in targeting and tracking enemies. The primary weapon is a large Designated Marksman Rifle, rounds originally an attempt to overpower Barriers prior to AB materials that, while a complete and total failure, have been repurposed for defeating more conventional defenses and protections. The secondary weapon is a Point Defense machine gun, while the weight saved from other, heavier weapons and ammunition storage taken up instead by data analysis and scanning systems, heavily reliant on a co-pilot to take full advantage of.

Profile [Surface-level Impression] Petty Officer Solomon Howe finds himself always more at ease behind the controls of his Mk VI Mech, nicknamed "Vickie", than he does almost any other time. He is professional on duty, always pushing himself and his frame harder and harder in combat scenarios and while carrying out his duties in support of the Constellations. Under fire he is calm and collected, more concerned about getting the job done than earning glory or going out of his way to cause trouble for himself or others. He has no regard for his own safety, however, having zero qualms with putting his Mech directly in the line of fire if it means accomplishing the mission. Off duty, Howe struggles a great deal with a cocktail of survivor's guilt and a general lack of hope in the future of mankind. He smokes heavily, drinks constantly, and does little to foster connections with his fellow service members. He doesn't go out of his way to alienate or drive them off, but his dreary outlook can be difficult to breach. Under the alcohol and tobacco abuse, he doesn't enjoy thinking the only way out is dying on his feet, but doesn't see any other way that this ends. The Constellations are too few and far between, the Aberrant numerous to the point of absurdity, and as far as he can tell Earth doesn't seem to care. It is always the colonial holdings that suffer the consequences, something that does very much rub him the wrong way. He is willing to get into fights for his fellow service members, especially when its people who haven't ever seen a combat zone. [Personal History] Solomon Howe was born on the world of New Alexandria, part of a family who had regular career presence in the military. Unlike some families, however, they never particularly cared for or even discussed it as anything else as just another part of living on the world they did. You were either a soldier or a worker, and the Howe family were always soldiers. Solomon was raised with the expectation that he would be a soldier as well, and sure enough once of age he would enlist into the Mech piloting program the planet maintained, assigning him to ride as a co-pilot during training operations with the then Petty Officer First Class Boyd Hancock. Three years into his training and efforts to become a Mech pilot the Aberrant would arrive in the Alexandria Colonial System, sparking a sudden rush to defend against the incoming horde of monstrous invaders. The system would be caught off guard, no signs of Aberrant interest having been shown before their arrival, delaying the response of the Constellations that were available. The planetary garrisons organized evacuations to New Alexandria itself, condensing all available military might there. Emergency authorization allowed experienced trainees to join their instructors in live combat, and Howe would remember vividly, often when trying to sleep, the comms chatter and panic as he manned the co-pilot seat of Hancock's Mk VI Mech. Constellations arrived on New Alexandria, the most senior Mech pilots joining to escort and guard them in an effort to stem the tide. The effort to condense all available military resources in the system turned out to be a double edged sword. While it concentrated the military capabilities, it also surrendered most of the system to the Aberrant and concentrate [i]their[/i] efforts against New Alexandria. It was here that Howe saw just how hopeless things were. Even with concentrated Mech support, Constellations were getting slowly overrun and dragged down, Mechs often going down alongside their charges, trying to buy them scant seconds more to escape. No AB weapons were lost, the military forces were able to see to that, but the time came to evacuate all remaining combat personnel, as civilians were long since evacuated after the first Constellation death. Howe was among those evacuating, alongside Hancock, who had promised that Howe would finish his training and inherit the man's Mk VI while he moved on to another Mech. Howe agreed, despite the sinking feeling of having watched the grandest heroes of humanity ground into the mud like common infantry. Still, he didn't bring it up during evaluations, and was approved to continue Mech pilot training. Petty Officer Howe, after finishing the formality of training, would spend the next nine years volunteering for the most dangerous missions he could get authorized to go on. The memory of his home world getting overrun and torn to shreds and some thought he wanted to prevent that from happening again. His off duty life proved to be rather unremarkable, concerns that he got into a few fights but no charges were ever pressed and disciplinary action never came up after the fact. Howe would defend the fights he got into as defending fellow service members, though the recently promoted Chief Hancock would usually keep things more on the hush hush, as losing a good pilot over nonsense off duty would be a damn waste. Still, Howe kept pushing further and further into more dangerous missions. Each time he returned, he registered more damage than other pilots, on average, something that was noted in his service record. Howe refused any sort of psychological evaluation, pointing out time and again they couldn't afford to have pilots taken off the line just because they were aggressively carrying out orders. His on duty actions never warranted enough concern to have him evaluated, some people mistaking the zeal for making up for a lost home world, and was quick to accept when the next volunteer only mission came up that he was offered a position on. It was how he ended up supporting Constellations directly, not caring about the details of his next assignment, just caring it put him further towards the next battlefield. He was informed it would be escort duty for Constellations responding to another system that had been caught off guard by the Aberrant, a cold pit of Deja Vu in his heart as he reported for transfer and deploy. Maybe he could keep New Alexandria from happening again, or die trying. New Alexandria [Planet Description] A desert world rich in mineral resources, New Alexandria had massive wormlike creatures that violently protected any of the rich mineral veins present in the sand sand rocky outcroppings. Mechs would spend many days hunting down these Rockworms, drawn to mining operations, leading to running battles to not only protect the mining operations, but put down the massive worms for the resources and research their corpses also yielded. The need for flexibility in all approaches, both mining unusual locations and fighting Rockworms and other, lesser in scale but not in threat, creatures meant that any native design was, first and foremost, heavily modular. An entire design philosophy of "Why build an entirely new thing when you can just modify a working frame" meant that one could see similarities across entire spectrums of machines and equipment. [Culture] The culture of New Alexandria has two distinct groups of people. The workers, and the military. The workers form a significant majority of the population of New Alexandria and the supporting worlds in the system, spending most of their lives working and manufacturing, designing in coordination with the military, and keeping the engines of not just their system but surrounding ones fueled and running smoothly. The military pervades all life, that each person has their place in the system and they should be proud to serve. Be it hunting threats across the planet, or as the Aberrants came and overran garrison after garrison, fighting for the very survival of their people, soldiers who weren't present or forced to evacuate continue to prove an innate professionalism and stubborn pride. As a whole they are hard to convince to withdraw or back down, leading to higher than necessary casualties during the fall of New Alexandria. Notable Contacts [Name] Senior Chief Boyd Hancock [Relation to Subject] Long Term Superior, Mentor [Analysis] Senior Chief Boyd Hancock is a career Mech pilot. Also originating from New Alexandria, Hancock would first meet Howe as he was training to become a pilot himself. Hancock, a Petty Officer at the time, agreed to let Howe ride along for training purposes, and took a shine to the inexperienced recruit. The fall of New Alexandria did not rest easily on Hancock, but he could see it did far worse to Howe, who he recommended be accelerated through the remainder of the Mech training program and kept a close eye on him as they initially spent deployments in the same squad. Hancock would receive promotion to Chief Petty Officer, and from there Senior Chief Petty Officer while Howe would eventually throw himself into increasingly dangerous deployments. Hancock did not deploy nearly as often anymore, his senior rank relegating him to more rearguard and reserve positions, a just in case incredibly experienced pilots were needed in a hurry and all other elements were committed. Hancock is often described as a 'cunning old rat', having told off the last person who called him a fox. Having spent his long career in the military, Hancock knows the ins and outs of how to work the system to get things done, navigating deftly enough that its a running gamble whether he is more dangerous on or off the battle field. Officially he acts above board, but in practice, Hancock spends plenty of time cutting deals and organizing things to actually get done, red tape be damned. He looks out for Howe when he can, feeling for the younger pilot and wanting to see him last long enough to see things turn around at least. Until then, however, Senior Chief Hancock will keep doing his best to keep everything in his reach moving and running as smoothly as possible, and give the Aberrant as much resistance as can be mustered. [Name] Petty Officer Sabine Dassault-Delacroix [Relation to Subject] Fellow Pilot, (Reluctant) Drinking Buddy [Analysis] Howe first crossed paths with Petty Officer Sabine during mech born operations, maneuvering and keeping up with her dare devil tactics and engagement methods, both of which suited the aggressive, danger seeking nature of Howe just fine. He had not paid the comm chatter much mind, maintaining a professional demeanor throughout the operation. What caught him off guard was getting, in his words, ambushed outside the hanger by Sabine, who promptly dragged him off to celebrate the victory with a shopping spree. The fact he had no money for such was apparently overlooked as he was not given the opportunity to even offer to pay for his own drinks, let alone anything else. It was a very confusing experience, even if it was a rare night that didn't end up with his balance dangerously low from heavy drinking, and started what seemed to be a trend of crossing paths, either on or off duty, and ending up following the eccentric and high energy Sabine around as she insisted he come along with her latest spree, be it spending or pub crawl, and while he continues to make obligatory complaints, does not make any significant attempts to really fend off the free drinks.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

"You are satisfied. How wonderful, we've satisfied a dragon."

Rolan heard the rumbling response as he mentally went over how the events had played out from his vantage point, muttering under his breath as he walked the distance back towards the group. He had already dismissed the massive cake, though it did cause him to briefly take a double take to make sure he hadn't lost his mind. Some faerie, that explained enough of the situation that he didn't consider it further. Ser Fionn and Gertrude had decided to join forces to try and joust Thrinax from the broomstick. If she proved more amenable to teamwork he might have to consider taking advantage of the vantage of aerial maneuvers. Granted, that relied on the mage having a sudden change of character, so he wasn't going to hold his breath there. Still, having the option of vertical control was something most foes would not be able to react immediately to. Useful trick, that.

Ser Fionn, meanwhile, was probably the brains behind the entire trick. Gertrude didn't strike him as one who would casually suggest charging down a dragon when she was in control. Add in the fact he had conjured up a weapon capable and suited to the maneuver, and that practically was all that needed to be considered. Rolan might have to ask him how he managed to goad the mage into not only being useful, but riding headlong into potential death by dragon's fire. If it wasn't for another's actions, he would simply credit them as the ones to land the blow that convinced Thrinax to turn over the victory to the Roses.

Ser Gerard. He had, even over the distance before focusing himself, heard the knight's rebuke of Thrinax's demand for valor. Rather than evade and flee, like Rolan had done, to a safer firing position, or rely on magic or anything else of the sort, the man had simply bore the brunt of the dragon's wrath and struck back. If asked, Rolan would have to credit the blow that succeeded to him, even if it would prove, in any other circumstance, dangerously costly. The mage might be able to heal such wounds, but if that wasn't an option it would be a slow, painful, but victorious death. Still, it was more valorous than any other knight so that would be that. Not that he was going to say it out loud at this point in time, but it was something that would have to alter his mental ordering of the knights. He knelt down, unslinging his pack of supplies, reorganizing and beginning to work on improving his access to all his supplies, not just the 'useful' ones, keeping his hands busy as he mused.

Ser...Vier, that took a second for him to remember, and Ser Renar both acted well enough. Ser Vier had made to wound the dragon's foot, not where Rolan would have considered striking but he could see a logic of sorts there. Wound its foot, and coupled with the other knight's actions, its ability to move would be crippled. Ser Renar had made an effort to climb the dragon and strike at the wing, reinforcing that many of the knights looked at a call for valor as not so much a challenge as an insult, given their immediate approaches to fighting a dragon, let alone Thrinax. Climbing a dragon was brazen, though hard to compare to what some of the others chose to do.

The Captain's decision to advance and meet Thrinax head on was brazen. A damn fool maneuver, but brazen all the same. If he had so desired, no doubt Thrinax could have cost the Roses their Captain, something that a foe not holding back might have done. Ser Fleuri joined Renar in his attacks on the wings, improving the odds of pulling off the attack. Another clambering knight, then, but it seemed to have worked all the same. Most of the knights had performed admirably, even the mage had proven begrudgingly useful, to be expected of the Roses. He finished reorganizing his pack, and turned to focus his attention on the Witch as she mentioned using Volkstraad instead, and a counter that the 'snake' would never agree to any terms.

"Cake aside, what now? The three tests are done, how long before we are sent back to the world proper?" Rolan had a lot to prepare beyond this place, and even more to consider. At this point he was starting to think he had had his fill of this place.

The Things We Fight For

Fashionably late, that's me.

Solomon Howe

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx B A S I C I N F O [Name] Solomon Howe [Callsign] Dunkirk [Gender] Male [Age] 29 [Rank and Designation] Petty Officer [Place of Birth] New Alexandria, Alexandria Colonial System [Official Statement] "Doesn't matter if we're surrounded. Reactors good, still got ammo, means we get to take a few more with us. Lucky us." C O M B A T A B I L I T Y [Mech Model] Brose Arsenal Mk VI Victoria Universal Chassis [Type] Modular Vanguard Unit [Size] 45' Tall, 35 Tons with heaviest Armament Package. [Core] N/A (See Brose Arsenal Fusion Reactor) [Armaments] Brose Arsenal Fusion Reactor - Designed as an answer to a question no one else is asking, no official Brose Arsenal designed and manufactured Mech mounts any sort of Aberrant Core power system. They continue to, rather stubbornly, maintain conventional power sources despite the drawbacks they entail. One upside, however, was that not needing any sort of Aberrant material meant they had literally no restraint on production, not that it was an issue due to the overwhelming Aberrant war on humanity as a whole. Lacking the longevity of Aberrant cores, the Brose Arsenal Fusion Reactor is none the less capable of maintaining combat levels of energy output for extended periods of time compared to almost any other conventional source of energy, being commonly referred to as "The best of second place" by anyone who examines the blueprints for a Brose Arsenal design. Confoundingly, the entire chassis was designed explicitly to draw from a conventional Fusion reactor, ideally Brose Arsenal design, meaning attempts to retrofit Mk VI chassis that survived the fall of New Alexandria have not been worth the effort. External Co-Pilot Module (ECPM) - Originally a trainer module, then modified for field use when Aberrants began their all out extermination of humanity, the Co-Pilot module allows for a second pilot, soldier, or later on Constellation deployment, the ECPM has two modes. Co-Pilot mode allows the rider to operate the secondary weapon that is typically mounted to the ECPM, provide targeting data, and otherwise support the pilot in operations. VIP mode locks out all controls except the hatch and comms to the pilot, though the latter can be shut off if need be, to prevent interference if the passenger is not trained in either piloting or mech combat overall. Modularity - The Mk VI was designed to, either prior to deployment or, when circumstances allow, at forward operating bases and other secure locations that a hot swap can be performed. While the original founderies have long since stopped designing and producing Packages for the Victoria line of mechs, mostly due to their loss to Aberrant advances on humanity, it is possible that other packages can be salvaged or produced. Below are the current options available to Howe's Mk VI. Without a package loaded, the frame lacks any innate weaponry besides the force a mech can produce throwing punches or grabbing and slamming threats, though all package armaments can be ejected if speed is needed. CQB Package - A standard go to for Howe, the CQB Package up armors the Mk VI in anticipation of urban and close quarters combat not allowing room to evade attacks. Weapons wise, the primary weapon is a combat shotgun loaded with buckshot, although the package supports bringing specialty ammunition should the need arise. Secondary weapons include reinforced manipulators for close quarters fighting, and a backpack mounted 20mm autocannon for suppressing and bringing down large numbers of lower grade Aberrants. The package has several Fragmentation Grenades that are hip mounted, lacking impact against targets with sufficient protection but can provide breathing room when Aberrants or other targets lack sufficient protection. Assault Package - The original universal package, the Assault package is the lightest current package, giving it the highest innate speed without jettisoning weapons. Its primary weapon is a belt fed heavy assault rifle, ammo stored in an ejectable compartment mounted below the ECPM, removing the need to reload mid fight but running the risk of overheating. The secondary weapon is an air burst mortar system, capable of either detonating based on proximity or on a timed fuse, as set by either pilot or, if available, co-pilot. This package has several adhesive grenades, latching onto a target before detonating with sheer explosive force, lacking shrapnel or anything otherwise unusual. Recce Package - Designed for observation and longer range support, the Recce package sees less use than the other two and mounts an enhanced suite of sensors and targeting systems, specifically designed to assist other mechs in targeting and tracking enemies. The primary weapon is a large Designated Marksman Rifle, rounds originally an attempt to overpower Barriers prior to AB materials that, while a complete and total failure, have been repurposed for defeating more conventional defenses and protections. The secondary weapon is a Point Defense machine gun, while the weight saved from other, heavier weapons and ammunition storage taken up instead by data analysis and scanning systems, heavily reliant on a co-pilot to take full advantage of.

Profile [Surface-level Impression] Petty Officer Solomon Howe finds himself always more at ease behind the controls of his Mk VI Mech, nicknamed "Vickie", than he does almost any other time. He is professional on duty, always pushing himself and his frame harder and harder in combat scenarios and while carrying out his duties in support of the Constellations. Under fire he is calm and collected, more concerned about getting the job done than earning glory or going out of his way to cause trouble for himself or others. He has no regard for his own safety, however, having zero qualms with putting his Mech directly in the line of fire if it means accomplishing the mission. Off duty, Howe struggles a great deal with a cocktail of survivor's guilt and a general lack of hope in the future of mankind. He smokes heavily, drinks constantly, and does little to foster connections with his fellow service members. He doesn't go out of his way to alienate or drive them off, but his dreary outlook can be difficult to breach. Under the alcohol and tobacco abuse, he doesn't enjoy thinking the only way out is dying on his feet, but doesn't see any other way that this ends. The Constellations are too few and far between, the Aberrant numerous to the point of absurdity, and as far as he can tell Earth doesn't seem to care. It is always the colonial holdings that suffer the consequences, something that does very much rub him the wrong way. He is willing to get into fights for his fellow service members, especially when its people who haven't ever seen a combat zone. [Personal History] Solomon Howe was born on the world of New Alexandria, part of a family who had regular career presence in the military. Unlike some families, however, they never particularly cared for or even discussed it as anything else as just another part of living on the world they did. You were either a soldier or a worker, and the Howe family were always soldiers. Solomon was raised with the expectation that he would be a soldier as well, and sure enough once of age he would enlist into the Mech piloting program the planet maintained, assigning him to ride as a co-pilot during training operations with the then Petty Officer First Class Boyd Hancock. Three years into his training and efforts to become a Mech pilot the Aberrant would arrive in the Alexandria Colonial System, sparking a sudden rush to defend against the incoming horde of monstrous invaders. The system would be caught off guard, no signs of Aberrant interest having been shown before their arrival, delaying the response of the Constellations that were available. The planetary garrisons organized evacuations to New Alexandria itself, condensing all available military might there. Emergency authorization allowed experienced trainees to join their instructors in live combat, and Howe would remember vividly, often when trying to sleep, the comms chatter and panic as he manned the co-pilot seat of Hancock's Mk VI Mech. Constellations arrived on New Alexandria, the most senior Mech pilots joining to escort and guard them in an effort to stem the tide. The effort to condense all available military resources in the system turned out to be a double edged sword. While it concentrated the military capabilities, it also surrendered most of the system to the Aberrant and concentrate [i]their[/i] efforts against New Alexandria. It was here that Howe saw just how hopeless things were. Even with concentrated Mech support, Constellations were getting slowly overrun and dragged down, Mechs often going down alongside their charges, trying to buy them scant seconds more to escape. No AB weapons were lost, the military forces were able to see to that, but the time came to evacuate all remaining combat personnel, as civilians were long since evacuated after the first Constellation death. Howe was among those evacuating, alongside Hancock, who had promised that Howe would finish his training and inherit the man's Mk VI while he moved on to another Mech. Howe agreed, despite the sinking feeling of having watched the grandest heroes of humanity ground into the mud like common infantry. Still, he didn't bring it up during evaluations, and was approved to continue Mech pilot training. Petty Officer Howe, after finishing the formality of training, would spend the next nine years volunteering for the most dangerous missions he could get authorized to go on. The memory of his home world getting overrun and torn to shreds and some thought he wanted to prevent that from happening again. His off duty life proved to be rather unremarkable, concerns that he got into a few fights but no charges were ever pressed and disciplinary action never came up after the fact. Howe would defend the fights he got into as defending fellow service members, though the recently promoted Chief Hancock would usually keep things more on the hush hush, as losing a good pilot over nonsense off duty would be a damn waste. Still, Howe kept pushing further and further into more dangerous missions. Each time he returned, he registered more damage than other pilots, on average, something that was noted in his service record. Howe refused any sort of psychological evaluation, pointing out time and again they couldn't afford to have pilots taken off the line just because they were aggressively carrying out orders. His on duty actions never warranted enough concern to have him evaluated, some people mistaking the zeal for making up for a lost home world, and was quick to accept when the next volunteer only mission came up that he was offered a position on. It was how he ended up supporting Constellations directly, not caring about the details of his next assignment, just caring it put him further towards the next battlefield. He was informed it would be escort duty for Constellations responding to another system that had been caught off guard by the Aberrant, a cold pit of Deja Vu in his heart as he reported for transfer and deploy. Maybe he could keep New Alexandria from happening again, or die trying. New Alexandria [Planet Description] A desert world rich in mineral resources, New Alexandria had massive wormlike creatures that violently protected any of the rich mineral veins present in the sand sand rocky outcroppings. Mechs would spend many days hunting down these Rockworms, drawn to mining operations, leading to running battles to not only protect the mining operations, but put down the massive worms for the resources and research their corpses also yielded. The need for flexibility in all approaches, both mining unusual locations and fighting Rockworms and other, lesser in scale but not in threat, creatures meant that any native design was, first and foremost, heavily modular. An entire design philosophy of "Why build an entirely new thing when you can just modify a working frame" meant that one could see similarities across entire spectrums of machines and equipment. [Culture] The culture of New Alexandria has two distinct groups of people. The workers, and the military. The workers form a significant majority of the population of New Alexandria and the supporting worlds in the system, spending most of their lives working and manufacturing, designing in coordination with the military, and keeping the engines of not just their system but surrounding ones fueled and running smoothly. The military pervades all life, that each person has their place in the system and they should be proud to serve. Be it hunting threats across the planet, or as the Aberrants came and overran garrison after garrison, fighting for the very survival of their people, soldiers who weren't present or forced to evacuate continue to prove an innate professionalism and stubborn pride. As a whole they are hard to convince to withdraw or back down, leading to higher than necessary casualties during the fall of New Alexandria. Notable Contacts [Name] Senior Chief Boyd Hancock [Relation to Subject] Long Term Superior, Mentor [Analysis] Senior Chief Boyd Hancock is a career Mech pilot. Also originating from New Alexandria, Hancock would first meet Howe as he was training to become a pilot himself. Hancock, a Petty Officer at the time, agreed to let Howe ride along for training purposes, and took a shine to the inexperienced recruit. The fall of New Alexandria did not rest easily on Hancock, but he could see it did far worse to Howe, who he recommended be accelerated through the remainder of the Mech training program and kept a close eye on him as they initially spent deployments in the same squad. Hancock would receive promotion to Chief Petty Officer, and from there Senior Chief Petty Officer while Howe would eventually throw himself into increasingly dangerous deployments. Hancock did not deploy nearly as often anymore, his senior rank relegating him to more rearguard and reserve positions, a just in case incredibly experienced pilots were needed in a hurry and all other elements were committed. Hancock is often described as a 'cunning old rat', having told off the last person who called him a fox. Having spent his long career in the military, Hancock knows the ins and outs of how to work the system to get things done, navigating deftly enough that its a running gamble whether he is more dangerous on or off the battle field. Officially he acts above board, but in practice, Hancock spends plenty of time cutting deals and organizing things to actually get done, red tape be damned. He looks out for Howe when he can, feeling for the younger pilot and wanting to see him last long enough to see things turn around at least. Until then, however, Senior Chief Hancock will keep doing his best to keep everything in his reach moving and running as smoothly as possible, and give the Aberrant as much resistance as can be mustered.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

"Really?!"

Rolan was, by this point, unable to keep the frustration with the situation under wraps. He hadn't expected his shots to land home so easily, but the borderline ridiculous whirling the dragon Thrinax engaged in that threw off every attempted attack, the gale force of the movement staggering both him, and sending his bolts hurtling who knows where, the knight sized up the situation while recovering his footing, staying out of reach of claw and flame. He was one the right side of the dragon to evade the flame, fortunately, but the attacks on the others continued regardless. Crushing tail, honed claw, off balancing movements and shudders, and the only sign of the mage was her playing at a glorified chauffer of one of the better knights of the band. Observing the situation, he was reminded once again of the fact that, as far as he was concerned, he was almost comically out of his element. It was time to take stock of his options, moving back further into the shadowy underbrush, valor be damned.

Approaching and engaging in close was pointless, even with enchantment getting his knife in under a dragon scale was the best Rolan could hope to do. Take shots at the glittering hide? Sure, trust that he could pierce the hide enough to actually inflict injury. Alchemical supplies? The alchemist fire would just blind and endanger his fellows without getting through the hide, and his ability to land a blow on vitals would defeat the purpose of a loaded bolt. Same with the caustic smoke, if he had any vials of that left. The rest was poison, which all looped back to landing a blow in the first place. He furrowed his brow, staring at the scales on Thrinax as he moved and fought, his fellow knights engaging how they saw fit, his mind flitted back to the enchantment. Yes, he could rely on that, but frankly? He struggled to allow himself to. There was no promise that, should they have to cross paths with a dragon under circumstances worse than these, he would have a means to just punch through dragonscale. That assumed the enchantment even allowed his bolts to pass through the scale, but trying to pepper Thrinax with bolts was just going to empty his reserves into the whipping winds that each movement of the wings produced.

Settling further back, further out of reach, he moved beyond what most crossbowman would consider a reasonable or comfortable range. If Rolan could not make his strikes from within reasonable range, he would make them from unreasonable range. He kept low, settling into a shooting position, but didn't immediately open fire. He grabbed the most potent poison he had brewed, back when he thought they had to kill the dragon. Valor be damned, he wasn't going to ever soar to the same heights as the other knights in terms of status and station, so why restrain himself? He grabbed a bodkin tipped bolt, the best one he had and the one with the best odds of piercing dragon scale, even slightly. Thrinax be damned, he was not going to simply play along with the contest like the dragon presented it now. Loading the bolt and spanning his crossbow, he took his time aiming. Enchantments be damned, all he trusted at this point in time was his own capabilities, regardless if they were up for the task or not.

Rolan would have to trust the others to hold as he set up his shot, the winds that Thrinax whipped up spinning rendered trying to overwhelm with volume of fire pointless. Steadying his breath, almost to a complete still, he blocked out the sounds of combat, of the rumble of the dragon's voice, everything except his own heart. Steady, steady, slow, slower, panic would unsteady his hand, worry about consequences would unsteady his hand. Watching with nothing acknowledged but the sound of his own heart, he only loosed the bolt when the wings were slowing, preparing to move again but still arresting the last movement that would whip up winds to throw off incoming attacks. He was still aiming for a weak point, not the eye at this distance, but he was looking to land his shot somewhere the dragonscale should, if he was lucky, be thin enough to penetrate. He didn't need the bolt to wound, just to deliver the poison he had coated the bolt in, that would be wound enough. Thrinax could demand that the knights show valor all he wanted, but Rolan wasn't here to be valorous. He was here to wound a dragon or die trying. Let the others argue about how their actions hadn't been valor enough already.

The Things We Fight For, A Science Fantasy Space Opera

Got me some ideas for a Pilot already, sure as sure.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Rolan observed the knights scatter and take to their strategies. A lot of going to ground and staying low, though a trio was moving on Thrinax as he moved rather casually down the hill, noting the flying duo, before turning his attention back towards who was visible. The Captain had not gone to ground, whether that was because she had not had the time to go to ground, or because of some other reason, some foolhardy effort to prove herself maybe, didn't matter. He couldn't do anything to prevent that, but he had to hope the other knights would be able to intervene more directly to draw Thrinax's attention. At this point Rolan had stopped moving, settling into a low crouching position, putting himself into the most stable position he could to line up his shot. The dragon's movement was slow, for now, but he wasn't going to waste his shot yet.

Rolan settled his breathing, quelling his nerves and concerns, pushing everything out of his mind except the basics. Pick his target, the eye. He didn't trust the witch's enchantment to let his crossbow bypass glittering scale, and he watched every twitch, every movement, the subtle motions of the head as Thrinax gauged his surroundings, chose his target in the Captain, tracking every detail he could in the time span he had to work. He would take aim with his crossbow, slow in comparison to his rapid volume of shots earlier in the challenges they had faced, clamping down hard on his misgivings, his nerves, every concern and what if racing in the back of his head. Now was not the time to doubt and panic, he could do that later when he had time alone to ruminate. Slow his breathing, force himself into a state of absolute control over himself, for as brief a period as needed.

He couldn't loose his shot while Thrinax remained unengaged, such a small target was easy to shield and guard. No, he had to wait until the Captain was in the greatest danger, under direct attack, and sure enough the blistering speed at which the dragon covered ground would have certainly thrown off any shot he had made prior. Instead, as the claw came down, Rolan exhaled and let loose his crossbow bolt, not waiting to see if it connected or not. With his first shot loosed, and position revealed if it hadn't been before, Rolan began moving and firing as fast as he could span the crossbow, only pausing his movement to draw aim and fire again. After the first shot, he was attempting to keep Thrinax from being able to leave the weaker spots exposed, distracting rather than outright going for killshots, well, wounding shots rather since a single crossbow bolt to the eye wouldn't fell a dragon, let alone Thrinax. If he was shooting to kill he would be poisoning his bolts, but right now that was not necessary. A solid enough shot that would allow poison to work would also count as wounding the dragon he suspected. But for now, focus on putting enough bolts towards Thrinax to, if he was lucky, distract. If he was luckier, maybe even wound Thrinax.