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    1. Oxenfree 9 yrs ago

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Convict. My CS shall be in your inbox shortly!
Is there still room? I'd like to be a part of this if possible!
I am all sorts of interested in this. Mark me down.
It is with utmost regret that I announce that I will likely have to withdraw from this RP - I seem to have bit off a bit more than I can chew and will likely not be able to keep up with the posting speed required. I'd hate to hold y'all back, so... I'll go quietly.

Feel free to have my character depart, vanish, become an NPC, whatsoever you would like. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Let's pretend that Wally said his name was Wallace and move on.


Oh. Woops. My bad, there.
At Amon's request to Molly, Carver spoke. He had been listening for some time now, but he felt it was best he voice his concern now. "Let us be not so hasty, friend. Though the circumstances of our mutual meeting have been... less than ideal, it would be presumptuous to assume that there is no virtue in this man."

The knight glanced around the table. "I am troubled, friends. In this land I have seen much degradation - the people who I pass fear me, for they have suffered abuses at the hands of men in armor. I arrived in this place seeking to offer my aid, as did Amon; but we have been disregarded. My pride is not so important that this should be a great offense, yet it is troubling. It is troubling that we have been warned away from speaking to the king for fear of our safety, and it is most troubling of all that this innocent maiden," he gestured sympathetically to Amalthea, "Has been so affected by his treatment. You say he cares only for her comings and goings - but a king must have eyes for the good of his people."

The knight rose. "I intend to have audience with the King, and I wish that you all might accompany me. Amon, you have shown yourself to be clever, and of noble heart; and Fletcher, while we may disagree in your actions, you are still skilled, and your compassion for the Lady is clear. If we have our audience, and do not like what we hear, I believe you may be valuable allies to me in doing... what must be done. What say you all?"
"Hit them. Go!"

At the command, Alex's hands flew to the controls as he throttled the MAS into its top running speed, unlimbering the machine's assault rifle as he did so. "This is Doughboy, engaging in close quarters at the front, watch for friendly fire."

A flurry of explosions rippled across the artillery encampment, followed by one of the tanks in the front bursting into a fireball as an AT Warhead plowed into it. Alice was doing what she did best, it seemed.

The MAS had snapped to attention, and was now facing Alex's charge. By the look of it, it was a salvaged Sentry - a bit patchwork, but very functional. Before the enemy pilot could train the autocannon on him, Alex let loose with a burst of fire from his rifle, which was soaked up by the enemy's shields.

The answering salvo went wild, and the Viking crashed into the Sentry with a full shoulder charge. The alloy bayonet crashed through the machine's shields and took it in the chest, puncturing the armor but not damaging any vital systems. Gritting his teeth, Alex yanked on the trigger of his control stick, pouring fire into the vulnerable MAS's chest and mangling the armor of its chest.

A burst of missiles from the MAS's shoulder-mounted launcher caught Alex off-guard and filled his view with smoke, allowing the other pilot to bring his rifle to bear at close quarters. The gun's sustained fire quickly collapsed the Viking's shields, but the advanced alloy plating beneath was able to hold.

With one arm the Viking forced the gun to the side, while in a practiced motion the other limbered the assault rifle and drew the broad alloy waraxe from the MAS's hip. Alex grimaced as he saw the enemy pilot drawing his own plasma tomahawk. Time for the wet work, he thought to himself as the plasma edge on his weapon roared to life.
Carver had his blade in his hand the second he heard the crash behind him. He strode towards the prone man, his face impassive as he listened to the man's introduction.

Whatever reason this 'Fletcher' had for skulking about a castle, it couldn't have been a good one. To say it was 'unbecoming of a gentleman' as Amon had was quite an understatement. The knight pointed the blade at him and spoke with a tone of certainty and command that he had not known he possessed, "Arise then, Master Fletcher. State your purpose for being here tonight, creeping across the ceilings of your lord. Know that though I am a stern judge, I am merciful to those I deem deserving of it."

He glanced over to his new compatriot, who had adopted a similar stance. "I cannot speak for this one, however, so be mindful of your words."
Dibs on the medbay. They have beds in there.
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