Psyker Landshark

Iris Ascendis

Sorry, I'm just kind of swamped with holiday shit since I'm back home for Thanksgiving. Was gonna put one up tonight.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Renar Hagen

So brute force was an option, albeit a highly costly one. For one, it'd defeat the purpose of why they would bother in the first place. Renar mused about the situation as they marched through the forest, though not without rolling his eyes beneath his helm at Gertrude and Tyaethe's byplay. Or rather, Gertrude's ineffectual verbal flailing. Honestly, the girl was making the rest of them look like idiots for deigning to tolerate this nonsense. In front of a court representative, no less.

Renar took it upon himself to run damage control, of course. He sidled next to Lord Arken as they walked on, leaning forward to murmur quietly, out of Gertrude's earshot in particular.

"Our apologies for your having to endure Lady Gertrude's antics. Her entry into the ranks came at the recommendation of a trusted ally, and she's not quite adjusted to military discipline yet."

Moments later, his poleaxe was already raised as he felt the same presence as everyone else, falling back to defend the rear guard, considering he'd already been close to the position as it was.

"Already there, Fionn." Came the easy reply to the inquiry. "Sun and Moon willing, you or Fiadh recognize what we're facing. I don't much fancy dealing with even more unknown elements today."

Falling Skies (Mecha, Military, Space Opera)

This post was fact-checked by real Earthnoid patriots: TRUE

@HereComesTheSnow

REAL UNION FLAG MOMENT

Falling Skies (Mecha, Military, Space Opera)

average 101st pilot be like

Falling Skies (Mecha, Military, Space Opera)

Pilot Dossier: Kodos, Sagan

SAGAN "VULTURE" KODOS

D O S S I E R : I D #472869221

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Name: Kodos, Sagan
Callsign: Vulture
Rank: O-5, Commander
Kills: 62

Gender: Male
Age: 36
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 177 lbs

S E R V I C E R E C O R D

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Psychological Analysis:
A career military man with a boisterous, gung-ho attitude on the surface, a coarse frontier accent, and a veneer of an infantry drill sergeant, one could be forgiven at first glance for thinking the Commander was a marine NCO and not a navy pilot. Underneath that, however, is a seasoned commander that cares deeply for his subordinates. He leads through example and charisma, unwilling to subject his pilots to anything he wouldn't personally undertake and letting his loud, casual personality shine through. As befitting a special operations commander, he isn't particularly strict with rank or hierarchy, trusting that anyone who made it into special forces has just enough of their shit together to be functional enough and not get waist deep in hot water with the military. On the off-chance that someone does violate that trust he puts in them, however, the sarcastic yet lighthearted needling he gives his troops on a regular basis becomes genuinely furious with the offender in question, and strict discipline is likely to follow.

While not exactly embittered towards the Navy, any patriotism Cmdr. Kodos once had towards the UEE as a whole has been replaced by weary acceptance of the state of things. Naval service had only been a means to an end for him once upon a time. It was only the ongoing war, his love of piloting, and his need to keep his people alive that kept him in after all these years.

His callsign was given to him years ago in the 101st for his tendency of salvaging downed MASes to repair his own. When pressed on the matter, he refuses to state what his former callsign was as a Naginata pilot.

Personal Record:
Born on a shithole frontier colony on the very edge of UEE space, well away from the front lines of the Coalition border, Sagan got the hell out of dodge the moment he was able to, traveling three systems away to attend college on the imperial dime through the ROTC program. The plan was simple: study engineering, give a few years to the Empire in service in return while seeing the galaxy, and then spend the rest of his life with a good job while moving closer to the core systems.

That plan went up in smoke when the war escalated. While originally slated to join up after receiving his degree as an engineer, the needs of the Navy meant that Sagan started undergoing pilot training even during college. Fortunately for himself, he fell in love with piloting the moment he went up in a simulator. The feel of soaring through skies and space while jockeying his mechanical steed spoke to him in a way that electrical engineering never did, and he was eager to get up into the inky void and fly.

Unfortunately, pilot training concluded for Sagan at about the same time that the Coalition deployed their first Mobile Armor Suits. His initial engagements against Coalition MASes were a disaster, with the majority of his squadron being shot down and barely any casualties inflicted in return. Some people broke under that pressure. Most were either shot down in the initial dog fight or preemptively ejected afterward. He didn't. Notably, Sagan was distinguished for inflicting one of the only two mission kills on enemy MASes, and being one of the only three pilots in four squadrons that managed to return to base without being shot down.

War had changed, and Sagan was one of the precious few that had any experience with this paradigm shift. Once he and his fellow survivors were debriefed, they were all handed promotions and dispersed among the Navy to spread their knowledge. While miraculously not traumatized by the one-sided route, Sagan was nonetheless shaped by it. Never again, he vowed, would anyone flying with him be massacred like that.

Several tours of duty passed with a few promotions, a marriage, two kids, and a subsequent divorce happening along the way. Eventually, Sagan was tapped to be one of the first UEE MAS pilots, with his first contact experience and continued wartime distinction cited as qualifying indicators. For his part, Sagan was mixed on the promotion. He loved flying. The Sentry could do anything but. Nonetheless, he could already see how much better it'd be against Fenrirs than a Naginata would be. So he did as he was bid, becoming one of the founding members of the 101st.

More years of endless, grinding war. He made new comrades. He made ace. He lost those comrades. He strove to lose less of the next batch. Somewhere along the way, he became just as attached to his Sentry as he had his Naginata. Between all the successful missions, close calls, and untold amount of battle damage, Sagan grew used to fighting on two legs rather than in the sky. It didn't hurt that he'd finally managed to jury-rig a set of flight boosters onto the Sentry. Eventually, he'd made O-5 and given command of his own squadron for the first time, just in time for Imperial suits to finally start being mass-produced. The Commander has led the 101st's 7th MAS Squadron ever since, with rumors saying he'd turned down a promotion recently just so he could keep an eye on the current generation of pilots.

Personal Skills:

• Air-to-air combat: Having originally trained as an aerospace pilot, Cmdr. Kodos is in his element in the air and in space, ekeing out greater mobility off the ground than one would expect out of most medium MASes.
• Electrical engineering: Sagan didn't get a college degree for nothing. It's proven to be very useful in fixing up MAS internals and adapting suit systems for nonstandard parts. If someone in the squad needs MAS internal assistance and the techs are busy, he's generally the one to go to.

Other:
Voice claim: D.C. Douglas

GTM-021w Sentry "Watchdog"

M O B I L E A R M O R S U I T

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S P E C I F I C A T I O N S

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Designation: GTM-021w Sentry "Watchdog" SOC (Special Operations Custom)
Role: Interceptor, General Purpose
Weight Class: Medium
Description:
Not technically an official designation for a new suit by any means. Rather, this is a Sentry. Or what remains of one after nigh-on a decade of battle damage, retrofits, and salvaged parts. War strained logistics lines for even stock mobile armors, and in the first few years of deployment, there were precious few Sentries or Sentry parts that were available to be shipped to the front lines for repair and resupply.

Nearly every part on the stock Sentry that Cmdr. Kodos has piloted has been replaced in some way, with only several panels of uniform armor plating and a fresh coat of paint giving any sort of cohesive appearance to this mobile suit on the exterior. Eventually, the mechanics requested and received authorization to relabel the Commander's suit as a custom unit, if only to spare new techs the hassle of trying to have any sort of reference point when working on this Frankenmech.

The Commander's own background in engineering proved invaluable in working with the techs to sure that every scavenged part managed to become compatible with the Sentry, jury-rigging electrical systems until they managed to make the parts work. After all, they were the difference between a functional MAS and a limbless wreck much of the time, so it was a matter of life-or-death rather than Kodos simply wanting to improve his steed.

By the time that the Sentry was being mass-produced, the Watchdog had already been given its designation, and neither Kodos nor the mechanics of the 101st had any wish to revert the MAS to a stock design. At this point, the Watchdog had already been calibrated and fine-tuned to its pilot's exact specifications, with performance well above the Sentry and more than equivalent to the Centurion. This machine specializes in hunting other Mobile Armor Suits in straight dogfights, especially flight-capable ones.

A R M A M E N T

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• Espada SPAMRAAM Racks (Heavy): Mounted in armored cases within the Watchdog's shoulder pauldrons, the vertical-launch Smart-Propelled Advanced Medium-Range Air-to-Air Missiles, designation Espada, are equipped with midflight repositioning systems that synchronize with the MAS's onboard Upgraded Targeting Suite, enhancing target navigation in rapidly changing battlefield environments. Espada missiles are specialized for armor penetration and are effective against all MAS types and light naval assets, with a full SPAMRAAM barrage capable of posing a legitimate threat to a warship at the expense of using up every warhead loaded. The Watchdog carries two racks of 8 Espadas each for a total of 16 missiles. Vertical launch and attack help to stymie point-defense systems not capable of firing directly upwards.
• RDB-9 20mm Hybrid Plasma-Kinetic Autocannon (Primary): - A compact bullpup rifle with an inbuilt minimal-power plasma capacitor. Augments its low caliber ammunition with in-barrel plasma sheathing, converting 20mm rounds to HPK and allowing for damage far beyond what its shell size would suggest. While not as powerful as even a light plasma rifle, the XM9's hybrid shots still far exceed standard-issue autocannons, with one three-round burst being capable of dealing severe damage to a light MAS, and two bursts almost certainly downing one. Can fire in semi-auto, three-round burst, and fully automatic, with a fire rate of 1200 RPM. Takes 90-round box magazines, and can carry four additional mags within standard MAS armor compartments.
• EB-21 Beam Saber (Primary): - A plasma beam saber used in close combat. The blade length can be adjusted, and its high energy output allows it to be a deadly close ranged weapon.
• PowerLite Point Defense Laser(Secondary): - Ripped from a downed Garmr and mounted on the Watchdog's head, this lightweight laser weapon rapidly pulses laser beams and is capable of defeating infantry, light armor and incoming missiles, but has limited effect on the heavier armor of dedicated combat MAS. Despite its low power, the PowerLite is still capable of damaging more sensitive subsystems and equipment on enemy MAS.
• S10 Combat Shield (Secondary): - The standard S10 combat shield is a basic lightweight combat shield utilized by UEE forces. It provides limited directional defense from ballistic weapons, and an anti-beam coating allows the shield to absorb a single hit from plasma weapons. It is commonly mounted on the shoulder or arm, and specialized clamps allow it to swap positions as necessary.
• Flight Booster (Utility slot): Back-mounted flight boosters. Allow for sustained in-atmosphere flight as well as enhanced mobility in space and on the ground. Can redline the system in an overboost, greatly enhancing flight speed for several seconds before shutting down entirely and requiring recharge from the suit's onboard reactor.
• Upgraded Smart-Targeting Suite (Utility Slot): - Increasing the effective accuracy and response time of the MAS' weapon systems, Upgraded Targeting Suites often feature Smart AI that quickly and more accurately determines range as well as any other environmental factors faster than the MAS's onboard computer. The AI allows users to rapidly acquire multiple targets simultaneously, making 'blind firing' more accurate and providing an edge in close ranged combat.
• Countermeasure System (Utility Slot): Same stock countermeasures as the original Sentry. Chaff and flares for missile evasion. Does not take up a utility slot.

"why did you join the navy"
"free college, lmao"

"why did you stay"
"haha funni plane go brrr"

Falling Skies (Mecha, Military, Space Opera)

Question while I work on the sheet: how long has it been since mobile armor was developed? Going off the blurb, the war's been going on for about a quarter of a century, I estimate.

SPIRITUM

Kalina Kovalic

Kalina very carefully said nothing as the checkpoint guard were about to ask for the princess's papers, and therefore, ruin the entire charade. A bead of sweat dripped down her neck as she tried to consider their options here. Pull rank? Impossible. They were fresh out of training, and Director Veld would have their heads if they tried to contact him about this. Violence? Counterproductive. They'd be mistaken as deserters at best, traitors at worst. Fleeing? The truck was well and truly stuck in the line. They'd have to pull a runner on foot, and that would lead to the same end as the violent option.

She tried to catch Justice's eye and see if their squad leader had any backup ideas in mind for this shitshow, but a second later, it turned out she needn't have bothered. The guards were lax. In any other situation, Kalina would've been extremely displeased at their lack of discipline. Right now? She still was, to be certain. But also, they needed this break. And a backup plan in the future in case something like this happened again.

For now, she gave the checkpoint guards a curt nod and started the truck moving forward again, rolling the windows up and waiting until they were well away from the city entrance to start speaking. A glance over towards the telekinetically floating phone had Kalina frowning. Judging by the map...

"You're right." Kalina admitted to Gerard, turning the corner. "We'll have to park and disembark at some point." A beat passed as she thought. "...There any free parking? Or at least somewhere we won't be ticketed?"

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Master Isolde bore the Kirins' assorted criticism with grace, simply bowing her head and accepting their scorn.

"Forgive me, but it has little to do with the presence of a healer. Tis merely that the intent behind the trial is already known by Neve, and it wouldn't be much of a test if one possesses the answer before it even begins. I can say no more on this subject. In the meantime, we will have accomodations prepared for you at the finest traveler's lodging available in the city. I will seek you out on the morrow."

A quick trip to the nearby upscale inn confirmed her words, and the Kirins were left to their own devices until the next day once more...

___

@The Otter @Click This

Some time throughout the day, both Esben and Eliane would find a letter each planted in their rooms, written in standard SEED cipher. When decoded, they would read:

We need to talk. I've a room prepared and sanitized at the merchant's inn three streets south of your lodgings. Meet one hour after sundown, second room from the stairs on the third floor.

-K

When Esben and Elly arrived at the proper time, they would find a room barely of anything but a bed and desk, with one Deputy Director Lambert waiting for them, arms folded.

"Close the door behind you." A snap of her fingers and the glow of materia warded the entrance once that was done, and she stayed still, looking at the two expectantly.

"The two of you weren't supposed to link up." She afforded herself the luxury of a frustrated sigh. "I've had to rearrange no few of our deployments to cover the gap in our network. Now, I want a full report since you left Osprey."

___

@VitaVitaAR @vietmyke @HereComesTheSnow

Goug had asked Galahad, Robin, and Rudolf to accompany him in acquiring supplies, given that they had been the only three remaining at the inn when he'd checked. He had promptly, and very confidently, gotten them supremely lost within the winding, gnarled streets of Brightlam.

One wrong turn into a dark corner had them set upon by a half dozen men in tattered cloaks and theater masks, brandishing thrusting swords of various types.

"Stand and deliver!" The highwayman in lead snarled. When no payment was forthcoming, they attacked. As the fight went on, one detail would be clear to all three: most of the men fought just like Robin did. The same rhythm, the same footwork, the same cut-and-thrust. Much like it had been with Izayoi and the Revenant in the desert, the fact was inescapable.

___

@Raineh Daze @Ithradine

Rumors heard out in the streets had led both of them to the same location.

"Did you hear? That healer, out in the wilds. The one going about saving people from Blight? Soriel, they called her. Someone saw her again, closest to Brightlam she's ever been. And she's got a new hanger-on. Some ginger Mystrel, seems to be a mage of some kind too."

"Eh? I don't know anything past that. You know who might, though? There's an information broker called the Gardener, just off the main market."

Further asking around would lead them to the same location, with the two coming across each other just as they were about to enter the ramshackle hut that had been deemed the Gardener's residence.

Eventually, the two would enter. With the instructions they had received through eavesdropping, bribery, or outright threats, they would make their way through several dilapidated, musty corridors until eventually reaching a trapdoor in a storage room. Upon descending, the world changed before them:

Marble and gold leaf coated the floors and walls, while a bronze sculpture took up the centerpiece of the office. Behind a desk of rich, aged mahogany, a corpulently obese man sat, smoking a pipe.

"Well, well. Two travelers have found little old me. You must have questions. I may have answers. For a reasonable price, of course." A cheshire grin.

Falling Skies (Mecha, Military, Space Opera)

Yeah it's me, I'm here.

The Envenomed: Military Science Fiction Deniable Operations

Salvator Rasch

A barely-concealed, long-suffering sigh beneath his faceplate. A shared misery of field-level command. The Morse code blips resumed.

Trying. You know how it is with some of these brought into the fold. No discipline in their background. He turned away from the workbench, giving King a curt nod of acknowledgement at his words, before looking to Kleo and Rho-Hux, raising his voice just enough to be firm.

"Alright, break it up. If the two of you want to pick a fight together, do it when we're not about to have each others' lives in our hands. I'd like to see all of us come back from this alive, and that means not causing a shitstorm before the mission even begins." The voidhanger veteran slung his sawed-off up, pulling his pistol out and making a show of double-checking it.

"This isn't the regular forces. Less regs means more latitude for judgment. Do something out there that endangers your squadmates, and no one will be complaining if there's one more free spot on the shuttle ride home. I don't care how you got here: we all do our jobs correctly together or we all die together. Don't be a buddyfucker by picking a fight you didn't need to. That's my last word on the subject."

With his piece said, Salvator moved towards the other side of the armory, picking out a spare, secure communicator. Three buzzes to King later, and he'd eventually plant it on Echo before they embarked.

___

One click on his comms from Salvator in acknowledgment of the commands given before radio silence was enforced. He readied his shotgun, looking to the remainder of the squad he'd found himself in charge of.

"Right. I'm sure you all know how close-quarters breaches go: it's a nightmare. Heads on a swivel in there, and keep an eye out for your buddies. Any of us go down, the rest of us are suddenly a lot more vulnerable. Lock and load, people."

He didn't like the entrances they had. Residual energy weapon particles after this long? A miraculously untouched drone port? The damn orb? Time to pick the least worst option.

"Ingress through the hatch. Others are too suspicious. We'll rotate who's on point as we go through, no sense killing any single one of us from the stress. Rho-Hux, you're up first. Let's keep it quiet as best we can."