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In Rise of Rasalhague → 8 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Karel watched the Hunchback’s demise and its pilot’s ejection, tracing the flight path of the seat with his crosshairs. Nah. Pirate or not, there were boundaries better untested. Not like it was any mercy, his buddies in the VTOLs had already run away and it would most likely be a while before they’d dare venture back here, too long for the poor sod to make it in these conditions. ”Hope you’ve got a sidearm on you, guy.” The MechWarrior mused to himself. Puking one’s guts out while going red from radiation buns was not a good way to shuffle off this mortal coil.

He did a quick check, no alarms blaring, nothing feeling off, the row of ‘Really Bad Lights’ along one side of the panel likewise remaining dim. ”Not a scratch on the Mongoose, nothing on the scope.” He reported. Good, keeping this thing in good shape for as long as possible would make life easy for their quartermaster and it would keep him away from the Urbanmech and the rest of the assorted wrecks their ‘Mech Bay had been graced - cursed - with.

Looking over the company, it looked like the commander had taken the brunt of it. It was always nice to see when the commander was leading from the front instead of playing tail end charlie. He waited to see if Firestarter guy asked for help or not, moving to help him out if so and otherwise taking up his post at the formation’s right flank again.
In FALLOUT: ALOHA (RP) → 8 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP) → 8 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Boraro
Souk Semmarine, Marrakesh, Morocco
1410 Local Time
”On the way.” Ebrima replied calmly as soon as Purna’s first request came through, taking a second to get his bearings before setting off toward the cafe. The Cameroonian reloaded both his rifle and shotgun along the way, a fresh drum of slugs and magazine of armor piercing 5.56 rounds ready to clean house. Well, figuratively. Literally speaking, he and Purna were about to send the cafe’s cleaning lady to therapy. Clearing a gap between buildings wide enough to comfortably fit a truck with hardly any effort, he rolled with the momentum to carry as much speed as he could to get over the wider gap between his current roof and the one with the Cafe. He had an idea. An evil idea, one might say, until the presence and need for the anti armor equipment the bad guys carried threw the thought of using his thermobarics out of the window. Stunners would have to do, he thought, once again swapping out mags and moving through the cafe until he had an angle on the men on the balcony in final stages of preparations. Five to twelve, indeed. ”Am here. Grenades, then follow.” He let Purna know before pulling the trigger.

Four stun grenades sailed across the room, exploding in mid air between the Artemis anti tank team. Lightning arced through the air, writhing blue fingers reaching for metal and men alike and filling the air with cries and the smell of ozone, preceded by loud cracks.

The thing about exosuits was that they were made, at least in large part, of metal.

The thing about competently designed exosuits was that they acted as a lightning rod, protecting the wearer from such hazards. The targets cried out more in violent surprise rather than pain, the men stumbling as a result of that and the massive kick their exos just got; a few thousand volts being to the electronic brains of their armor what a pint of Diplomatico would be to a human one and causing the lucky Artemis operatives to have their armor spazz out for a moment or the less fortunate ones’ to shut down entirely.

One tried to return fire, his suit’s mobility unaffected enough to let him turn around and raise his weapon immediately. But with any augmented vision modes temporarily or permanently disabled, he couldn’t see much as he peered into the shaded cafe from the sunny balcony. Until the muzzle flash, and then he could truly see nothing.

The Origin barked, the slugs shredding armor and mincing meat, target selection driven solely by how coordinated they were in their movements. Ebrima didn’t know where Purna was, but he must’ve been there unless the man on the other side of the balcony decided to die spontaneously. Another one seemingly threw himself from the balcony mere moments later. It was over almost sooner than it started, and Raven did not take prisoners.

”I hope you know how to use these.” He said to Purna as they stood over the prepared AT weapons, Boraro recognizing a late evolution of the Israeli Spike-SR launchers. Shalev sold these and their sister variants like candy, able to source ‘the good, home-grown stuff’ with ease that stumped Ebrima even after months of working with him, but that also meant they were always around for Ebrima and the others to learn to work with. Hefting one on his shoulder and picking a target, he called it out to the Nepali cutthroat next to him. ”Be ready to run, they won’t let us be.” He cautioned - likely unnecessarily - and fired, throwing the disposable launcher away and immediately reaching for another one, the first two BTRs doing their best impression of Roman Candles before the pair could reload.
In FALLOUT: ALOHA (RP) → 8 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Couldn't find a date for when exactly the Vault 75 uprising took place, so took some liberties there. Yell at me if it doesn't make sense.
Edit 25/04/2024: -1 PER, +1 AGI.
In FALLOUT: ALOHA (RP) → 8 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
I'll throw my hat in too if you'll have me. I'm cooking up a Vault 75 survivor.
In Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes → 8 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
”Wait, hold up, let me catch up you magnificent lunatic.” Marit protested as she staggered after Ziska, surprised by the sudden shift from being weighed down to being dragged along. The scene that greeted them was about as could be expected if too many fighting folk live in tight quarters for too long. They could have at least saved the fighting for bad times when it was understandable. ”Is it so hard to simply bask in the victory and keep all your teeth? We should- What? Em- Ziska, NO! For Gods’ sake.” She should’ve anticipated that, that was on her. She jumped to the nearest person who wasn’t Ziska and tried to pull them away from the fight, not feeling like getting socked in the head by the madwoman in her blood haze. ”Save it for the Fists!”
“Here’s a fist.” Someone she didn’t recognize in the melee retorted and clocked her in the cheek.

Marit wasn’t good at fighting with her hands, as an oh-for-two score in the Scrap Yard illustrated. It was one thing to wield a bar stool like a bat to even out the odds when some spaceport worker was talking shit, but such tactics couldn’t be applied to the situation at hand because unlike the random peasants in a bar, broken ribs and noses were a concern here. Still, a hit like that did release some small reservoir of Viking blood into her system. Briefly seeing red and subconsciously noting Ziska’s callout, Ziska’s phrasing switching on the fighting autopilot in Marit’s mind, she took advantage of being grounded and latched onto the leg of her assailant, lifting it up and toppling him to clear a way for her to intercept Ziska’s oncoming problem with a blow to the gut followed up by an elbow to the back of the head.

In the corner of her vision she noticed a crowd of spectators assembling. ”Whatever you’re gonna do, do it fast.” She replied to Rivers’ voice, earning herself another bite of a knuckle sandwich with a loud *clack* of her teeth for momentarily dropping her guard.
In Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP) → 9 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Boraro
Souk Semmarine, Marrakesh, Morocco
1350 Local Time
”Did he just say ‘Mech’?” Ebrima sounded almost annoyed, ”Pick a side.” He offered to the Gurkha before making his way upstairs himself. Ebrima was glad he got sent up top. Yes, having been raised in Central Africa’s rainforests, he thrived in close quarters. Heck, it was one of the pillars he built his career on. But not having to mind stragglers when shooting was better. He had to hauů ass to keep slightly ahead of the main team, but not too far ahead in case someone came at them from behind. ”Chaos, if you still have drones up, would appreciate early warning.” He asked as he sent two frag grenades over the heads of a machine gunner and his assistant mid-leap, slamming a new magazine of frags into the M25 and transitioning to the rifle. He kept it moving, thinking less like an infantryman and almost like a fighter pilot - don’t move in a straight line for long, attack with speed and altitude - until he misjudged the material of the roof on landing and crashed through into the room below, feeling something moving under the piece of corrugated metal under his feet.

Three heads, two regular and one exo, snapped to face him. One immediately erupted into pink mist as an armor piercing round went through it. Ebrima’s brow furrowed when the exo-clad operative grabbed the other guy to use as a shield, a surprised “Wat de fok?!” indicating this wasn’t standard Artemis procedure. Some leader this was. Not that he sympathized with the South African, just that his commander pissed him off, even more so when the meat shield turned into a meat missile launched at Ebrima. He dodged him quite easily, leaving a foot behind to help the hapless guy on the ground. A groan from under the metal sheet he initially landed on confirmed the guy under it was still a factor as well. Boraro got his weapon up quick, but the Artemis Exo had a head start, a salvo of 9x18 mm from a PP-19 hammering against Ebrima’s chestplate. In true Russian fashion, the weapon’s designer seemed to compensate quality with quantity and gave his creation 64 round helical magazines, and although neither bullet found any weak spots, it would be a big bruise tomorrow.

The endless stream of lead was only interrupted by the MDR’s barked reply, the Artemis operative recoiling just enough for Ebrima to close in and grab the business end of his weapon and wrench it away from his face. Unfortunately, the other guy had the same idea, landing them in a bit of a stalemate. After a few seconds of pulling at each others’ guns, Ebrima took advantage of his enclosed helmet over the Artemis Exo open-faced design and headbutted him in the face, letting go of the Bison a split second later and throwing the other guy off balance, buying himself enough time to draw his kukri. A quick slash across the torso caught the sling and disconnected the Bison from its wielder, allowing Ebrima to hold the kukri under his right arm and yank the Russian submachine gun away and throw it to his right side. A dull thud and a hissed “Ow!” confirmed he hit roughly what he was aiming at, but the Artemis exo made good use of his now-empty hand and grabbed Ebrima’s rifle with both.

The Cameroonian made the mistake of fully trusting the sling and grabbed the kukri again to make sure he didn’t drop it, but with a sharp pull and a rip of tearing nylon, his weapon left his grip. Okay, now the guy was just copying Ebrima’s homework and slightly changing the answers. The pale merc pushed forward, under no circumstance intending to allow the other guy to aim. The kukri never stopped as Ebrima circled around the other man, the Artemis operative too busy using the stolen rifle as a shield to keep the Nepali blade away from his unprotected face to use it for its intended purpose. Moving around turned out to be a prudent decision, as it allowed him to see the South African picking up the Bison and put the enemy exo between himself and the Russian lead hose. The spray hammered against the back of the artemis exo like rain against a metal roof, the exo and shooter both startled by that turn of events enough for Ebrima to lean around him and finally shut the South African up with his USP, raising his left knee to catch the descending head of the exo operative a split second later as he bent over from the spray, following up with a kukri under the armpit as he straightened up from the blow. Exosuit or not, functioning with that was difficult, even if Ebrima wasn’t sure if he got the axillary artery or not, but the slowdown was enough for Ebrima to shove the USP into a soft spot and keep shooting until the noises stopped.

Another safety round belonged to the South African.

The man under the rubble finally got himself from underneath it just in time to be shot in the face before Ebrima retrieved his rifle, hastily tied the torn sling together and jumped back up to the rooftops to rejoin the fight. ”Still alive.”
In Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes → 9 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
”Hel no, I won’t be responsible for that rising to your head. You want more, you gotta earn them. No freebies in our line of work.” Marit grinned, craning her neck back toward the Doc to give her a thumbs up behind the Raven driver’s back. Not that she expected to be able to keep Ziska from doing stupid things, but it was the thought that counted, right?

”Might even be some silver lining to losing your ‘Mech’s arm, now they get to mount the one from that salvaged Raven and you get to smack the Fire Witch with pieces of her own lance the next time she crawls out of her den.” Marit grinned, imagining the verbose war criminal seething.

”Think I saw Rivers heading to the Colonel’s shack? The rest probably went to get chow before the debriefing. Maybe a nap if-” She began to answer when a commotion from the ‘Mech bays’ direction loud enough to be heard made her pause. ”Vad fan? Sound like your kind of party?”
In Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP) → 9 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Boraro
Marrakesh, 1350
Boraro felt a bit like moving through a town behind an APC, Wilk in front of him practically an impenetrable wall while he busied himself with making sure no one got the jump on them from behind. It looked like something out of a horror movie: Armored man breaches a room, gunshots are heard, maybe some commotion or cries of pain, and then he comes back out like nothing had happened and moves onto the next one. It was a prime opportunity for the Kukri, but with their pace Boraro didn't have a lot of time to spare to draw it, instead resorting to throwing the weight of his armor around where needed. With the exosuit’s strength, a punch or an elbow could reliably disable. Aided by the jump pack, a front kick hit like a small car. Close quarters fighting on its own was a messy affair by its nature, but the exos added a coefficient to it that was greater than one. Maybe it was an exponent, not a multiplier Ebrima thought as he scraped some red goo off his boot, having crushed a man's head between it and a wall.

Clearing the mostly knocked out ground floor and basement quickly, Boraro knelt down beside the VIP, quickly checking for pulse and breath before unclipping the helmet and vest he carried on his bag and getting Simmonds dressed. Adam had been on the same wavelength, grabbing a hold of Simmonds himself to give him more protection with his shield. ”Let the heavies punch a path through the garden first. You'll be slower now unless we want to break his neck by accident.” He gestured to the VIP. They should've brought a neck brace. ”I’ll catch up before you head out of the garden.” And with that, Ebrima took off, taking the stairs by four with the jump pack and hauling ass back up onto the roof. Kicking open the access door he and Wilk ignored before - it opened inward, not like the exosuit cared for small details like that - he went back to the marksman he killed earlier, grabbing his SCAR-H and two magazines and posting up by the roof’s edge. Not his preferred range, but the heavies could do the close-range fighting better than he could. ”Set, go when ready.”

He watched the heavies’ rampage through the scope, picking off any hostiles that were smart enough to keep their distance from the heavies and putting safety rounds into any fallen body Adam would be running past. With Wilk almost at the exit, Boraro threw the rifle away and took a running start to clear the gap between the roof and the buildings they initially attacked from, using the roofs to catch up to Wilk and descending down to street level with the help of the jump pack and some bits of the building sticking out for handholds. ”How’s our passenger?” He asked while setting up waypoints and quickly checking the map loaded into his PDA. Checking that Simmonds was okay and Adam ready to move, he set out toward where extraction was waiting, hopefully without any more human garbage along the way, putting his native French to use yelling at any civilian stragglers to stay inside and out of the way.
In Kingdom of Threndel : Beginning of the End → 9 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Sapiliezen Hill
Early morning
Of course getting the people happy was the solution to most nation’s woes, but ’How?’ and ’With what?’ were the real questions. “Perhaps the citizenry could be encouraged to visit the City of Darkness and look across the strait to see what will become of them if they don’t stand against the tide.” She offered with some bitterness before picking up on the equipment side of things. “All the more reason to secure the Empire’s roads so that foreign merchants and craftsmen are convinced of their safety when they come to sell their wares or practice their craft.”

‘Five years. Better step to it.’ Myrrhis thought to herself, the Elf viewing the passage of time from a completely different angle than a Human or even a Dwarf would. In five years, a Human went from apprentice to Journeyman or decided that the woman he met was the right one. In five years, an Elf decided that the new barn should indeed be painted red, not blue. Barring disease and injury, they had all the time in the world. Perhaps that was among the reasons why they kept to themselves, to spare themselves the pain of having to watch their fellows of other races wither away. Yet at the same time, they had to respect the short lived ones for how much they could get done with a paltry few decades.

Hearing of a bandit attack five days of travel away sent chills down Myrrhis’ spine. No, not that, anything but her former conscripts committing such an act. She had not heard of their order, which gave her hope they weren’t from around Yllaren, but dark thoughts usually prevailed in such situations. Bad enough she failed them, much less if others paid for their mistake with their lives. “May I ask, Father, where you came from?” She hid the worry in her voice well, though Gordon had been by her side long enough to notice, raising an eyebrow before forcing himself to adopt a neutral expression again. “That must be invaluable for reading in bed.” The young squire said with genuine appreciation of the demonstrated magic.
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