Hawthorne

The Prince's Royal Guard

Co-GM IC:

The Keep - Second Floor, 10 PM

---

As Balthazar walked through the halls of the keep, he could not help but feel a little worried. Normally, when the Sending Stones are used, the recipient of the message can send a reply if they so wish. Without a reply of acknowledgement, the old man could only assume the worst, and that the assassins were at least somewhat successful. This worried the man; how could he return to his Emperor-- his friend-- knowing that he had failed to uphold his promise?

Still, the man took a deep breath. If Leonidas had even a fraction of his father's resilience, a bit of poison wouldn't be the end of him. It was, of course, exceedingly problematic that the Orc Warband not only had a non-orc advisor, but a group of assassins, too. The fact that they were willing to go as far as to attempt to take the life of such high-profile individuals showed how dangerous this group could truly be.

...even if the assassins in question were not as competent as their master would like.

The spymaster spotted an unassuming man walking down the corridors-- presumably in search of him. Their eyes met, and the servant called out to him. Balthazar remembered this man from before: he was one of Duke Manuel's attendants... 'Morgan', the old man believed his name was. The butler was first to speak, politely bowing before the noble in question, before speaking.

"My lord, the Duke has fallen victim to assassins!"

"So I've heard. Where is he now?"

"In his bedroom, my lord. The doctor is treating him as best as she can."

"Good. I need you to locate one of our companions-- a cleric of the Sacred Order known as Lady Turash. See if she has recovered from her fatigue enough to wake. Her healing skills may prove essential soon."

"As you wish, my lord."

The two parted ways soon after, walking splitting off at an intersection. Morgan went to find Drana, while Balthazar moved towards the master bedroom to check on the Duke's condition. The old man found the correct door soon enough, took a sigh, and knocked twice before entering the room. The man nodded to the healer in the room, before slowly approaching the incapacitated man in bed.

"Duke Karstilli." Balthazar said quietly. "How does he fare?" He asked the healer, though the pause in the air gave the Duke in question enough time to respond, if he so wished.

The Keep - Courtyard, 10 PM

---

Manald easily disabled the assassin that he had grabbed. A few broken bones, and a massive kick to the groin is all that was needed to truly put the man down. Still, although the dagger stung more than a little bit, and the poison felt somewhat painful... a poison that was potentially fatal to a regular humanoid could not even hope to overpower the hardiness that a lycanthrope provided. Still, it was more than a little annoying. If they had the ability to use more poison, or perhaps a stronger one, then perhaps he'd truly be in trouble.

Merik's quick action also helped prevent his friend from becoming injured. The crossbow-wielding assassin couldn't help but let out panicked screams as the eight-foot-tall lizardman pounced on him. At this range, he had no hope. With a few strikes to vital areas, the man was quickly subdued.

The pair of beastmen didn't know what these assassins were here for, but it was certainly nothing good. Now all they needed to do is haul them off to the dungeons, or hand them off to the guards.

The Keep - Stables, 10 PM

---

Zatana's initial approach was quite successful-- even with the man having freed his cloak from that wicked mare, the enemy assassin was not able to anticipate the feint. As her blades opened up the man's inner thigh, and cut a slash across his dagger hand, her attacks only compounded his injuries. With his injuries from the previous battles, and his exhaustion, this fight was as good as finished. It was clear that these assassins were not anticipating such resistance.

But the Drow was nothing if not thorough. She easily disrupted the man's footwork with a sweep of the leg, causing him to collapse onto his (comparatively) better knee. This is all it takes, and Zatana's ruthless, calculated barrage of fists to the man's various vital points easily incapacitated the man. He let out a long groan of pain as he quietly curled up in a ball to avoid any further damage to his nethers (and the rest of his body).

It was clear that the assassin wasn't going to be able to move for a while, even if he wanted to. A quick survey of the area reveals that it is relatively safe-- though the mare seemed to want in on the action herself. Regardless, one thing was for certain: Zatana had the man at her mercy.

The Trade Square, 10:30 PM

---

The Crown Prince now thoroughly unconscious, Acrius hefted the man onto his shoulders and called for help. Thankfully, Petyr, who was nearby enjoying the festivities, was nearby to help. Together, they carried the Crown Prince to the barracks. Many guards gave the trio strange looks, but once they realize that the Crown Prince needed assistance, moved aside to let them through.

A healer was dispatched to help assist the Prince, and although the doctor was not able to cleanse the body of the poison, he was able to stabilize Leonidas and prevent his condition from deteriorating further. Soon enough, a carriage and an armed escort of guards would come to bring the Crown Prince (and any other members of the Crown Guard) back to the Keep, where it is safer for him to recover.

Naturally, after word of the Prince's poisoning had gone around, the festivities were put on hold. The party was dispersed, and an impromptu curfew was imposed. Everyone was to return to their homes.

City Streets, 11:00 PM

---

Rudolph, Fullar, and Gordon quickly neutralized the saboteurs walking the streets before looking amongst themselves. Were there more? With one dead, and another unconscious, they had little recourse. The guards would bring Clarisse to the Keep for questioning, while Captain Helt had ordered the remainder of the guard to sweep the city streets for assassins and saboteurs.

They would not find any more.

...but at least, they have managed to prevent further damage to the city's infrastructure. The amount of damage truly done would not be evident until the next day, when the people of the city would go out to draw water from the well. In the end, it was only a single well, so it wasn't that bad, but the fact that these opponents would go so far as to attack infrastructure was... troubling.

DIVINE INTERVENTION

---

Alistair continued his spinning dance of death, twirling and whirling as steel sang its bloody tune. He managed to catch the injured cultist in a downward diagonal swing, the heretic too injured to properly evade. Even as the blade was blunted by the armor plating, it kept its supernatural edge. He cleaved downwards until the blade stopped moving, before kicking the lifeless body away, barely managing to face his other opponents in time.

Before he could return to the fray, however, the tense atmosphere seemed to shift... becoming more oppressive and pervasive. A lull in the battle now becoming evident, Alistair threw a glance at the door and spotted a new arrival. She was a beautiful woman about his age, with a strange demeanor to her, wholly unsuited to sisterhood.

And yet, here she was.

First the priest, and now this woman... Alistair elected to push those thoughts out of his mind, and focus on the battle before him. Against multiple opponents, he couldn't get distracted, or he'd lose his head. As he tangled with the three of them, the Russian priest from a while ago had sprang into action, quickly dispatching of one of the heretic swordsmen, leaving two more. The Vatican priest said nothing, only opting to give his companion a thankful look.

Two-on-two were far better odds than three-on-one, after all.

As Dhzon tangled with one of the cultists, Alistair swung at his own opponent as the cultist attacked, and causing them to lock blades with one another. Now that the numbers were even, he didn't have to worry about being constantly on the defensive-- a sword bind like this was no longer a potential death sentence, but instead an opportunity to deal some damage.

Contrary to popular belief, when it came to HEMA, you didn't need to be fast or strong when wielding a blade. Weapons were the great equalizer that allowed even the lowliest peasant to fell a mighty knight if they hit the right spot. Instead, techniques were extremely reliant upon the user's skill and form. It was certainly possible for Alistair to overpower his opponent's strength with his own, but there was no finesse in that-- there were proper techniques to perform when swords bind, and he was more than willing to execute them.

As they locked blades, Alistair moved to gain the three advantages: the true edge, the forte upon the debole, and the crossing. To finish, however, the Vatican priest performed a crossline step, moving his sword around his opponent's. The man pivoted using a compass motion, and thrust his blade through the opponent's side. With a bit of effort, the priest cut deeper and deeper until he reached bone, and then tore the blade away with a yell of exertion.

With his opponents defeated, the priest gave his fellow swordsman a nod.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard [Pt. 2 - Open] ~

Weapon of choice.

_{December 30th - Rear Trench}

---

The marksman was as reserved as ever, even as the sergeant moved to admonish the other Darcsen for her remarks. When his superior's gaze turned upon Elliot himself, the boy merely nodded in acknowledgement. "Aye, sergeant." He said in a calm tone. Elliot wasn't the type to do any of that stuff anyway, but officers tended to appreciate a response over silence.

With warnings out of the way, Elliot watched on as Michael and the tall woman exchanged words. Talks of sidearms, shovels, and other melee weapons. The marksman's face was as impassive as ever, even as the sapper told a bad pun and waggled his eyebrows (though Elliot did resist the urge to shake his head in mock disapproval). As the Oceanic woman worked on her incendiary solution, the young man observed it from a respectable distance. Though he wasn't well-versed in chemistry, there was little doubt in his mind: that concoction was incendiary-- a firebomb.

...It'd certainly be effective in the battle to come. A surprise attack was hard to deal with, but when you throw fire into the mix (literally, in this case)... panic tends to spread rather quickly. The morality and ethics of incendiary weapons aside, its effectiveness could not be denied. The marksman took a mental note of its presence, accounted for its potential impact, and moved to observe other things.

In the meantime, Elliot turned to the other new arrivals: a redheaded man of average height-- a shocktrooper, judging by his loadout. The man in question simply opted to stay silent and ready himself for the battle ahead, which was something the marksman could approve of. The next man to step through the door was taller, with brown hair and a scraggly beard. He moved to report in, before suddenly stopping. Curious, Elliot looked at the man's expression, before following his eyes... to the sergeant smoking a cigar near the table.

It seemed that they had a history of some sort. What it was, Elliot was uncertain, but it was not like he had any business in the matter anyway. Still, he was more than satisfied to watch this unfold from the sidelines.

For now, anyway.

Falling Skies: Reboot ver 2

Dossier: Etienne

Appearance: A lean, muscular man, slightly on the taller end of the spectrum. Long, red-brown hair typically tied up when doing fieldwork, or when in combat. Short beard, but no mustache. Freckled, white skin and brown eyes. Jolly expression and grin. Calloused hands used to hardship with the scars to prove it. His heart and lungs replaced with bionic substitutes, which have improved his health significantly. Left arm has been replaced with a mechanical prosthetic, which has a dock that allows him to attach any of his power tools into, if necessary. Looks younger than he actually is.

Dieuseul Robert "Bob" Etienne

Name: Etienne, Dieuseul Robert
Age: 33, chronologically older.
Callsign: "Bob", as a shortening of his second name. Supposedly a reference to an ancient vintage children's cartoon several centuries ago, though he's never seen it himself.
Kills: Nine (Two MAS kills, four bunker kills, two fortress kills, and a warship kill)

Psychological Analysis: A simple man of simple pleasures. Dieuseul loves his work, is confident in his skills, and when the working day is done, he would love nothing more than a cold beer and good company. He has a friendly demeanor, and a live and let live attitude to most things. Surprisingly well-educated when it comes to mathematics, engineering, and architecture. When on the job, he doesn't complain, and he when the going gets rough, he hunkers down and does his work with a grin.

Duty being a part of his work, he follows orders as best he can, though he doesn't enjoy the act of killing, instead choosing to see combat as an unfortunate incident that must be done. Dieuseul would love nothing more than to leave the war and settle down, but in his own words, he "has to make sure there's a home to go back to, first." He's not a religious man, instead choosing to hedge his bets on the potential of humanity. In his off-time, he likes relaxing in the breakroom, watching intergalactic television, and occasionally working with his tools to make something.

Personal Record: Born on the fringes of galactic society, Dieuseul Robert Etienne was one of several children in a family of spacefaring construction workers and miners. The Etienne family lived in Liberty Point, a colony in the Free-Enterprise Zone, working underneath the local mining company. They lived modest lives within the system's asteroid belts, harvesting ice and minerals from the asteroids to turn them into water and materials respectively.

With a lack of career options, Robert naturally also joined the family business. As a blue-collar worker, he made enough money for himself to live a modest lifestyle. His life was largely uneventful barring the occasional skirmish on the frontier, but that much was to be expected in a place like this. With no particular desire to emigrate towards the coreworlds, or to press his luck with a deep-space expedition, the man continued as-is for years on end. During his stint as a worker, he picked up certifications on how to drive small ships, operate heavy machinery, and even how to pilot a MAS.

As conflicts arose, however, things went from relatively peaceful, to uncomfortably tense. Pirate and criminal activity within Liberty Point began to swell as the UEE began to press in on the place. They had lived on a barren rock, but the pirates felt that it was their barren rock, and that they'd fight tooth-and-nail for it-- the pirates escalated matters, organizing a violent takeover of the colony. The colony militia, caught by surprise, fought and died, or had to surrender. Some of the militiamen had even turned over to the side of the pirates, marking the first point in Liberty Point's descent into lawlessness.

The civilians of the town were soon forced into what was essentially slavery, the pirates taking a heavy tithe of their resources. As was the case with criminals, if you give them a cent, they'd take a pound. The Etienne family, Dieseul included, toiled away in the mines, while the pirates plucked the fruit of their labor for themselves. With unrest growing, the people of Liberty Point had a plan... but they'd need the Empire's help for it.

At great risk to themselves, a skiff from Liberty Point was dispatched to alert the Imperials of their plan. All seemed to go well, but soon, the pirates had moved to round the people of the colony up-- it had seemed that there was a rat. Instead of surrendering quietly, the colonists sprang into action, their plan now triggered far too early. As the people armed themselves with whatever they could get their hands on, they could only hope that the Imperials would hear of their plan soon enough.

A bloody battle lit up the void black sky as they began their impromptu revolution. Some were driving weaponized ore haulers, while others were within armored exo-frames meant to assist in construction. A rare few were within proper Mobile Armor Suits-- Robert included, piloting the Hephaestus. The battle was long and hard, and it was not in the colonist's favor. Having received critical wounds in the midst of battle, and no possible medical treatment in sight, Dieseul decided to put his faith in the people and head into cryosleep. It wouldn't heal him, but it would keep his body in a state of not-dying. If they unfroze him and tended to him quickly, perhaps there was a chance.

The rest was up to them, now.

---

The next time Robert had awoken, he was in an advanced medical facility receiving treatment for the wounds he had received... seventeen years ago. As it turned out, Imperial forces arrived at Liberty Point just in the nick of time, driving the pirates away. Although some of the colonists were not pleased to have had to hand over sovereignty of their beloved rock, most simply wanted stability-- which the Empire could thankfully provide.

As for the reason as to why he was only being treated now, it had seemed that the Empire had scanned his injuries within the caskets, and had to shuttle him around until they could find a hospital good enough to house him. As a critically injured individual in cryostasis, conditions not only had to be good but perfect. Such treatments were exceedingly expensive, more than what a family of blue-collar workers could provide.

And thus, the Etienne family worked themselves to the bone to accumulate the money needed for his treatments. If it was any consolation, they had all the time in the world. By the end of it, though, they had managed it, and the operation had gone off without a hitch. For a moment, Robert wondered if it would have been easier for him to have died, but instead, he focused on the fact that he was alive. With happiness in his heart, he returned to his family.

But a young man frozen in time had little to do once he returned home. Liberty Point had been an Empire town for seventeen years, and it showed. Things weren't the same anymore. The majority of the Etienne family had died in the uprising, died in mining accidents, or had long since left for greener pastures. All that remained was his younger sister, now older than he was, and terminally ill from years of dust inhalation.

Dieseul remained by her side until her death several years later.

As a simple man with simple desires, complicated things made him think about his next move. Robert was not a particularly ambitious man, and while he could emigrate towards the coreworlds, he had no skills aside from what he already knew. He could remain in Liberty Point, but then what? He pondered this long and hard, but then decided upon something he had never even considered before this: he would join the military.

The man took the ancient, run-down Hephaestus his family had owned and signed on for the Imperial Navy. He was in good physical health, had known how to pilot a MAS, and had even seen actual combat before. His mech was retrofitted and repaired, and soon, he was transferred to one of the many Mobile Armor Forces. He whet his teeth there, gaining additional training and combat experience. This campaign continued for a while before he was transferred once more towards the 101st Mobile Armor Force.

Equipment:

Engineer's Flight Suit	A vacuum-sealed full-body suit for use in the pilot's seat, as well as for exterior repair jobs.
Plasmacutter	A handheld power tool with a miniature reactor. Can cut through rocks and steel alike, and can also be used to weld something into place.
Multi-tool	A battery-operated power tool that can be used for anything the plasmacutter can't handle.
Toolbox	Contains an assortment of tools and supplies that can be used to maintain his weapons, equipment, and prosthetics.
Unfinished Exoskeleton	A personal project. When he needs to do any real heavy-lifting, he just borrows one of the suits from the hangar, but it's nice to have something to work on.
Colonial Arms Coilgun Revolver	Robert's personal sidearm. A six shot slugthrower that can deliver frontier justice at 5,000 mph.
Personal Effects	Civilian clothes. Mementos of home. Pictures of family.

MAS Profile: ICR-309

Appearance: A far cry from the sleeker, military-grade MAS that typically take the forefront, the Hephaestus lives up to its name as an ugly, asymmetrical mech that towers over many of its peers. Its hull is patched up with varying qualities and shades of metal and is painted in a drab construction worker yellow, a matte black, and a reflective grey. This Mobile Armor Suit certainly won't win any awards for style.

Still, its rugged, brutalist appearance aside, it's clear that it was made with function over form in mind. Its simple, bipedal design makes it easy to repair, and the lifter frame exoskeleton provides a 'backpack' and second set of arms for general use. The reinforced cockpit gives the pilot a full view of what's ahead of them, and cameras in the back show side and rear views. This cockpit can be opened up to let the air out, sealed shut in a combat situation (switching all views to rely on external cameras), or even ejected entirely, if push comes to shove.

ICR-309 Hephaestus C

((As I couldn't find a singular proper image that fit the design I was going for, I've selected five of the most relevant pictures. You are free to combine themes of each one together, taking artistic liberties as you see fit.))

Designation: ICR-309 Hephaestus C (Custom)
Role: Industrial Work Unit (Retrofitted for Field Construction, Entrenchment, Repairs, and Demolitions)
Chassis: Heavy
Description: The Hephaestus is an all-purpose heavy-duty construction, mining, and repair MAS for use in various environments. Although not as popular in the coreworlds due to its steep price tag, high maintenance cost, and large stature, it found great success within the Free-Enterprise Zone and other fringe colonies, where its rugged build and capability for self-sufficiency allows it to thrive. A highly-valued workhorse in any colonial industrial line, many of its kind were integral in the starting phases of any spacefaring organization, whether it be an asteroid mining company, a burgeoning company, or simply a well-equipped salvager.

Thus, when the Great War began, many Hephaestus units beat their plowshares into swords and went into combat. Although mostly valued for their ability to build, mine, repair, and manufacture for its associated faction, the MAS in question was found to hold up decently well in battle, provided it served an auxiliary support role. With a few modifications to its equipment, the Hephaestus' size and tonnage allows it to keep up with smaller-sized mechs, though like most civilian craft, it easily folds under the weight of any dedicated military strike force. As such, these industrial work units are mostly relegated to their original roles, only really showing themselves in the thick of battle if the situation calls for it.
Systems:

VF-2 Modular Forgeblade	Superheavy	The pinnacle of new-age heavy-duty tools, the Modular Forgeblade is an innovative design that uses technology similar to a Hybrid Plasma-Kinetic system. With ample materials at hand, the integrated fabricator within the device can flash-forge disposable silicon-carbide power tools to fit the situation. The transparent, nearly diamond-hard blade is created and suspended in an energy field safely away from the wielder's hull. Warning lights illuminate the field so the searing-hot blade only burns and cuts what it is intended to; whether that's dirt, concrete, rock, metal, or an enemy MAS. It is, however, unwieldy, and best used as intended: as a general, all-purpose construction or mining tool, rather than an impromptu melee weapon.
D-10 Bolt Thrower	Primary	A glorified nail gun, the Bolt Thrower was intended to be used as a construction tool, using powerful electromagnets to drive rivets and stakes into the hull of various constructions projects. With some modifications, however, it can be a serviceable weapon, though only truly usable at short to medium range. Ammunition includes 30mm heated rivets, 30mm armor-piercing sabots, or 40mm explosive saber darts.
G-24 80mm Smoothbore Launcher	Primary	The closest thing resembling a true weapon on the Hephaestus. Mounted on the backpack over the right shoulder, this launcher is typically used to fire specialized coring charges. These spiked mining explosives embed themselves deep within space-rock, before detonating to reveal the core within. In combat, these coring charges can be used as-is or swapped out for 80mm autocannon shells, or even autonomous missiles and rockets. However, as the Hephaestus was never intended for a direct combat role, it lacks a properly integrated targeting computer-- as such, it is typically relegated to the destruction of enemy entrenchments, or as a long-range fire support role to provide indirect mortar fire.
"Atlas" Lifter Frame	Secondary	Although most Mobile Armor Suits already sport an impressive carrying capacity, this exoskeleton frame increases the mass the attached mech can lift by a factor of ten. An extra set of auxiliary power arms is added to help carry multiple loads at once (or a singular, heavier load), and the retractable 'backpack' provides ample storage for all of the MAS' equipment, weapons, and materials when not in use. In combat, this allows the Hephaestus to perform incredible feats of strength, which even extends to its use of close-combat maneuvers, though it cannot leverage all of its power to its advantage, making melee a last-ditch effort. This module also comes with bunker bolts, allowing the Hephaestus to plant its feet into the ground for steady footing in areas where its magnetic boots cannot take hold of things.
"Foreman" Drone Control Tower	Secondary	Mounted on the backpack, behind the left shoulder. This large pylon serves as the control network that allows the Hephaestus' pilot to control swarms of construction, mining, and repair drones. These drones lack an AI controller, and instead follow the pilot's commands to the best of their abilities, though they may fall back on internal subroutines if forced to act independently. In combat situations, these drones can be outfitted with light anti-personnel weaponry to deal with ground infantry, with point-defense weapons to deal with missiles and enemy aircraft, or with explosives, to be used as minelayers or as suicide bombers. The combat effectiveness of these drones is limited, however, and can be easily dispatched even with concentrated small-arms fire.
"Atelier" Mobile Factory	Utility	Housed within the Hephaestus' backpack is a fully functional fabricator, 3D printer, autoforge, assembly line, and requisite databanks to make use of these facilities. This factory can be deployed away from the front lines within base camp for a platoon of soldiers, or used within the Hephaestus itself while out in the field. The facilities can process scavenged materials found in the field into usable supplies, allowing the MAS to repair and resupply allied forces, even in areas without proper supply lines. However, the use of this module is both time-consuming and extremely power-hungry, making its use in combat scenarios limited unless the pilot is willing to power down all non-essential systems-- weapons and movement included.
"Casket" Hazard Protection Suite	Utility	This module was made to allow the Hephaestus to perform construction, mining, or repair jobs even in extreme conditions. This module only shows marginal improvements in MAS-to-MAS combat but has been shown to improve survival rates of pilots by up to 80% in situations containing environmental hazards. This protects the mech and its pilot from extreme heat and cold, intense gravity and pressure (or lack thereof), highly toxic, acidic, basic, and radioactive environments, and even provides some form of electromagnetic shielding, allowing the Hephaestus to operate in conditions that would cripple other Mobile Armor Suits. As a last resort, the pilot can also choose to divert all power and hermetically seal the cockpit to go into cryosleep, the inbuilt reactor capable of keeping someone under the ice virtually indefinitely, provided that the reactor remains intact.

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

Solid post, my dude.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard [Pt. 2 - Open] ~

Loadouts.

_{December 30th - Rear Trench}

---

After their shift, the three went their separate ways, heading to the rear line. With several hours of free time, Elliot considered returning to the private room he had rented and taking a shower, but he figured it could wait until after this supposed mission. Instead, he passed the time in his room, routinely disassembling, cleaning, maintaining, and reassembling his various firearms. Once that was done, he went through the motions of his usual handgun practice-- quickly drawing the gun from its holster, bringing the weapon up to eye level, and then adjusting the sights accordingly, before repeating the process several times.

Although he rarely ever needed to use his revolver, it was important that he got used to its weight and feel-- to rely on an unfamiliar weapon was a gamble in itself, and Elliot wasn't the kind to take chances.

Elliot was a little confused as to why they decided to bring a designated marksman to a close-quarters trench raid but didn't complain much. If High Command wanted a couple of prisoners, then it was up to the infantry to retrieve 'em. He only hoped it would be worth the effort.

...and inevitable injuries and casualties that would result from it, ambush or not.

Within the tavern, he could spot a few familiar faces. Men and women in his unit, assigned on the trench raid in question. Michael, the young man he had shared a meal with just a few hours ago, two Darcsens-- a sergeant and a private; a man and woman respectively, and a lance corporal-- an exceptionally tall woman, at that. Elliot glanced at the array of equipment on the table, and once everyone was done giving their advice, he offered a bit of his own, obvious as it might seem.

"You'll probably want to pack light." Elliot said simply, the advice open to all. "You'll need to move around quickly in the trenches-- and there's no point in dying with full pockets." His tone was matter-of-factly, with no hint of malice. He was seemingly unfazed by his more... violent companions.

Elliot went over his own equipment as he thought about it. He would have to leave the rifle behind. Though his marksmanship was exceptional, the Scoped SM-Longfield was ill-suited to a trench raid. Instead, he would be bringing the John-Wissel Revolver, which was standard issue for officers and marksmen.

For even closer encounters, he'd pack his knife and the garotte wire. Bringing the knife was obvious, and while doubted he'd be able to sneak up on someone and be able to throttle them with the garotte once the battle was in full swing, it was light, and good to have on hand regardless.

Lastly, he'd pack his flare gun and a few flares. Ideally, they'd be crossing No Man's Land under cover of darkness, but once the raid itself began, having some light on hand might turn the tide, if things went south. He doubted the raid would remain silent forever, after all.

As he inspected the last of his equipment, he turned to the rest of them. His expression was as calm and neutral as ever as he thought about the mission ahead. It was certainly dangerous, but all missions were. This was not an impossible task by any stretch of the imagination, and he knew they'd get it done.

Falling Skies: Reboot (Mecha, Space Opera)

I don't really mind a Discord, especially considering we seem to be full up on players (with a few in a potential waiting list?) anyway. And a new thread is fine as well. Really, I'll roll with whatever.

Falling Skies: Reboot (Mecha, Space Opera)

Hey everybody, its been a bit quiet so I thought I'd ask this now before we continue moving on:

Are people still interested in this RP? I know we've sorta had a lot of stopping and starting prior to getting off the ground, so the momentum might've stalled. People's interests change, inspiration/motivation dies, its all typical Guild stuff. Part of me thinks a whole ass restart might be needed to get the steam flowing again. Anyway yeah, just thought I'd get everyone's general feel.

@vietmyke

I wouldn't be opposed to a restart, if it leads to a more structured beginning. I'm still interested, but intro posts are always tough for me, and the fact that the beginning was very, very open actually hurts more than it helps. All that said, I feel like I have to get my 'hype thrusters' engaged whenever I need to write for this, and I do like our cast of characters in that regard.

The posts have been very hard to write for. Thus far we've had to make our own start and Hawthorne left a closed question which gave us very little to work with for something of Advanced quantity. That said, I've actually got a post in a doc with me, Dino and Bazmund in it; we're just waiting for anyone else to post and we've been trying to pad it out but I can post it as is if you're not fussed about length.

@Stitches

That one's on me. I probably should've messaged you for a collab or something if I wanted that closed question resolved in a timely manner, so my bad. I just wanted to get a response out since I felt I was floundering about it for a while. I'll try not to let it happen again in the future.

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

Right, set up a response. Let me know if I need to change or clarify anything.

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

---

Underneath the constant barrage of energy lances, Holden could do nothing more except weather the storm. The Ajax's resilience was a boon in that regard, even as its shiny new paint job was stripped away by the heat and force of the attack. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to wait for much longer. With support from the Odysseus and a final blow from the Bedwyr, the battle would soon reach its resolution.

<<Pickle, pickle. Bombs away. All friendlies break.>>

A thunderous explosion resounded across the desert, prompting a scream from the Bandit.

<<Ask, and ye shall receive.>>

Holden let out a long whistle through the comms. The payload worked well enough, it had seemed. If death by a thousand cuts just wasn't possible... then perhaps a single massive cut would be all that it takes. The Ajax had heavier ordnance in its backpack, but even the artilleryman had to appreciate that explosion.

<<Nothing quite like watching the fireworks, eh, Stojanovic?>> Holden chuckled at his own joke as his HUD flared to life.

STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY:

ADAMANTINE ARMOR PLATING: 67%
HULL PLATING: 79%
ANCILE BUCKLER: 0%

MINOR DAMAGE TO LEFT ARM HULL PLATING.

Z-26 AKON LRM BATTERY DAMAGED.

ANCILE BUCKLER NONFUNCTIONAL.

SUPERFICIAL DAMAGE TO TORSO HULL PLATING.

Holden clicked his tongue as he looked over the damage. He supposed things could've been far worse, but it just goes to show the difference between the pinnacle of human technology and the remnants of alien technology. The more pressing matter to him at that moment, however, was the signal interference on his screen.

[ERROR: Data Transfer to PANDORA unable to complete. Suspected Signal Interference. Retry? Y/N]

[UPDATE: Data Transfer f̵r̵o̵m̴ PANDORA completed. Cached tactical data dumped to PANDORA.]

"...What the hell?" Holden said to nobody in particular as he received packets of data from the Pandora, the Merlon, and the Battle Net. The Diomedes and the onboard computer was throwing up errors too, but admittedly, the man couldn't quite understand what it all meant.

<<Pilots, this is Chief Takaya.>>

The communications from Command shook the man from his reverie. Looks like it was time to go.

<<Explorer One reached the ship. Now you guys, too. Saddle up and return to the hangar. Something had the bridge’s underwear bunched and we’re going to be checking it out. A security detail is deploying, so leave the hostiles. Bring the Orbital if you can.>>

<<...Copy that, Pandora. We'll be Oscar Mike in five.>>

The Ajax raised its left arm and triggered the explosive bolts on its wrist, letting the now-useless pile of slag that was once the Ancile Buckler fall to the desert sand. At this point, it was better to have the shield replaced entirely than to try and restore it. Holden started moving towards the blasted remnants of Bandit Two.

<<What's everyone's status? The Ajax took some hits in that fight but should be good to move.>> Holden asked as the Grecian Hero moved to pick up the wreckage of the enemy Orbital that had caused him so much trouble. It seemed Bandit One was in better shape, but the more samples they brought back, the better. Hell, if they couldn't use it, maybe they could at least make a nice trophy out of the hull.

...might be good for morale, if people could see that these alien Orbitals can be killed like any other, too.