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STATUS: Where my ATLA fans at? 19 days ago
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19 days ago
Current Where my ATLA fans at?
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4 mos ago
Is that another mushroom I see?
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7 mos ago
Like a blizzard?
8 mos ago
Hello Monday, I see gatekeeping is on the agenda today! Remember everyone, at the end of the day it's a hobby and these are all opinions! Do what you have fun doing and don't stink on others fun! :D
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11 mos ago
WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP
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In Falling Skies → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Elliot Braide // ROOK

Ensign


Elliot disembarked from his MAS quietly, letting the techs take over with their checks and their routines. Usually he’d have a few scathing words about minding his equipment or being careful around his ‘baby’, but this time Elliot’s mind was still out there, still replaying the events that had just transpired. In a sense he’d been humbled, but that wasn’t how you’d catch him describing the situation. Regardless he stood overlooking the bay as the rest of the squad funneled in behind him to their respective berths to undergo their own round of repairs or refits. It wasn’t hard to surmise that he wasn’t doing enough, in fact looking at the state of the Blackout and its pilot Hex helped solidify that. Did picking up his slack hurt the squad more than his presence aided them? It had felt like Commie had basically had to babysit him and of course there was no denying that he’d lost his cool out there.

It was a wonder he was alive, typically panicking was punished by death in an occupation such as theirs.

Nevertheless Elliot had to put his foot forward in both a metaphorical sense and a physical sense. Metaphorically there was no ground to be gained by dwelling upon his mistakes, his failures would have to be turned into lessons that would have to be turned into doctrines. Elliot had to bring more to the table, if not for himself then for the squad he was supposed to support. And of course physically matters were much simpler as the squad mustered across the way in the presence of Captain Sarret herself. Elliot rushed towards the rest of them, trying his best not to be the last one to arrive. Regardless the squad was practically splitting up by the time he reached them and the captain was finishing her debrief.

"Good kill Rook, first one?" Sabine’s voice suddenly cut through the inner monologue and yanked Elliot back to reality as her hand suddenly grasped his shoulder.
"That's a case of beer for the squad. Oh, first sortie too right? That's another case. Make sure you pack a few in your cockpit before we leave."

Sabine winked at Elliot before rushing off towards medical and Elliot had to do his best to suppress a scowl at her blasé attitude towards his achievements. Elliot hadn’t had much time to really get to know his squad yet but already Sabine’s attitude was something that rubbed Elliot against the grain. Regardless of that though she was a pilot and deserving of his respect, however he didn’t have to agree with the way she conducted herself. It was a complicated situation as it challenged the preconceived ideas he’d held about what MAS pilots were. So did the rest of the squad for that matter, but Elliot had to remember that this wasn’t your run of the mill squad either.

"Up to you if you want to humor her or not kid. You'll never hear the end of it from her either way you go though." Von Brandt’s response broke the awkward tension Elliot was struggling to make sense of as well as giving him an out.

”I don’t really know if I’m in the mood for humor to be honest. Great job out there by the way, I know you don’t need to hear it from me but still.” Elliot responded as admiration quickly steamed forward to take the place of his earlier feelings. Elliot knew very little of Von Brandt outside of his MAS, he’d not had the time to learn and the man himself wasn’t what he’d call an open book. But the way he flew and the way he carried his MAS into battle was very inline with what Elliot believed MAS pilots to be and as thus it didn’t take long for him to fall into a slight state of idol worship.

Before Elliot could rush into the stream of questions that had begun to form in his head he was interrupted as Sagann addressed the squad. "Right, dismissed."
"Reconvene here in three hours, and I'll give you your briefing. Oh, and Rook?” Elliot was caught a bit unprepared when the commander addressed him but paid attention as Sagann seemed to pierce him with a steely gaze.
"I ain't gonna stop you from drinking. Could probably use it, after that first fight of yours. But go overboard, and I'll make damn sure you throw it all back up. Am I understood?”
Elliot’s eyebrows rose at the implied threat but he nodded his head in agreement nonetheless. He didn’t have any plans to drink anyways so it wasn’t something he was all too worried about.
”Since there ain't no chaplain on board, come to me if you got any internal problems of that sort that need sorting out. Anyways, all of you, go catch some rack time."
’Sir.” he confirmed, nodding his understanding with a singular curt tilt of his head.

As Sagann departed Elliot turned back to Von Brandt and, just as quickly as he’d straightened up, he relaxed once more as a stream of questions regarding his MAS and other technical specs began forming. “So…Von Brandt, do you mind if I tag along? I have a few questions if you don’t mind…” Elliot began, regardless of his response Elliot would likely tag along anyways unless Von Brandt ordered him away or some other more interesting thing took his attention; Elliot was persistent like that.



Sagann had told them three hours but Elliot could only distract himself for so long before he found himself idly in the hanger well before the briefing. Elliot always had been the type to prefer solitude over the company of others, his mind just preferred having the time to ruminate and sort itself out and too much time spent around people gave him a headache more fierce than a drill instructor. Here it was no different and so Elliot decided to find a place out of the way where he could watch the crews work as they rushed to finish prepping the MAS for the next mission.

Elliot was silent and drew no attention when Sagann arrived before the others, there was no way of telling if he’d noticed Elliot’s presence and he’d not planned on asking. He waited until at least a couple other squadmates showed before flowing into the group himself. Before long everyone was gathered and Sagann began his briefing.

"Right, 7th. Here's our mission: we're participating in the mass drop and planetfall, if only to maintain cover for our actual assignment. We're to break off from the main force and rendevous with our supply convoy before we set up a FOB for our own secret squirrel shit."

He gestured to a projection that he was using to illustrate their plans and Elliot followed along with every detail, doing his best to analyze the visuals and keep up with the commanders words at the same time.

"We'll be deploying near landing point Delta. Rocky craglands and forests near the equator, so crank up the AC. Our landing site'll be outside the city of Gelcastre: heavily defended, and intel suggests the nanoforge we're after is inside. Help the 5th in taking the city as best you can, but securing the nanoforge takes priority over any allied unit, this one's straight from the top brass. Questions at this time?"

Elliot’s hand raised almost instinctively before his better judgment had the sense to stop himself. With a sudden look of embarrassment he dropped his arm and coughed into his fist before military discipline slid into place once more, ”Sir. Just to confirm, you’re ordering us to ignore friendlies if need be to secure our own objectives?” He asked in order to clarify. As the words left his mouth he couldn’t help but feel like it was a silly question, but Elliot was still fresh and the 7th was his first and only squad so far. Standard by the books tactics were what he was familiar with, obviously the 7th played by a different book.

Regardless of silly questions Elliot had a good handle on the objectives laid out before them and was ready to get this next op underway with a renewed sense of determination.
In Symphony on High → 2 mos ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Dead Head





This was a mess, clearly, and Asher had not a clue in hell as to what was going on. What was supposed to be a simple job was evidently becoming more than that, again, which was a bit of a trend Asher was starting to recognize. The situation stank to hell and Asher was starting to get a bad gut feeling, on top of that an entire flurry of shit had ensued over the few brief moments that had passed while Asher had attempted to recuperate.

That golden haired bitch had carved his arm off, that much he could still feel regardless of the current state of things. The feeling of having your arm severed from your body wasn’t one Asher could put words to, but it was a feeling that wouldn’t be leaving him anytime soon regardless of his having been made whole. Shortly after that he’d found himself whisked away under the arms of some sort of hellish form the priest had been holding under his sleeve, figured. Asher might have given the man a piece of his mind had he not been blown out of the sky in a blaze of glory.

Fortunately for him Black Sabbath had come to their rescue, tending to the worst of his wounds and giving them a much needed breather after the pitched battle they’d had getting here.

The situation was grim, and Asher felt like the snake had just been beheaded. As keen as his ally had been to fight in their earlier battle Asher could tell she was an amaetur, and given that Black Sabbath hadn’t made a move to defend their employer it didn’t take much for him to surmise that the extent of their contract had been fulfilled.

And then there were all the new faces, some old ones mixed in with the bunch. Let alone it seemed there were not one or two but potentially three different forces at play here if Asher was doing any good at keeping up with things.

”So, zombie face.” Bobo addressed Asher while trying to light a new cigar with her flamethrower. ”You blowing this popcorn stand?”

“Yeah…I think I am actually…got any of those to spare?” Asher finally asked, responding to Bobo’s questioning with a mild tone of disappointment. “Say, any chance you know what the hell is going on here? This all stinks to hell, can’t quite say I am familiar with the city and its many players but things are starting to feel complicated and I don’t like feeling clueless.” Asher asked as he surveyed the scene once more.



In Falling Skies → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Elliot Braide // ROOK

Ensign


And just like that, it was over. One moment the Fafnir had been bearing down on Elliot, its intent quite clear. For all it was worth Elliot stayed his course, intending to meet the Fafnir and engage before it could try and take him out.

There, of course, would be no need for that. Rhino bore down upon the Fafnir like a demon from hell whose claws demanded its payment. The Fafnir in its damaged state could do nothing against the awesome might that overtook it before it ever attained a viable threat range for the Venerator. Elliot could only look on in awe as Rhino pulverised the MAS and reduced it to a number of pieces with a few quickly executed moves.

A chill went down Elliots spine, fear and excitement all bundled together. This was what he desired, this awesome might was what he wanted. Destruction at the tip of his fingers for any who would dare stand between his goals and those of his superiors. Elliot’s face contorted in a devious grin as he reimagined Rhino taking down the Fafnir once more.

<<I hear the sentiment, Rookie, but I'm afraid I'll have to pass.>>

Elliot was taken aback at the response and thus quickly moved on from his moment of desire, although the request hadn’t been necessarily one hundred percent serious Elliot had certainly not expected a direct rejection to the offer. Could he have let down his squadmate in the battle? Did Commie not want to share a drink with him because he’d failed to pull his weight? Anxiety slowly crept in, finding a spot to nestle in the deeper recess of Elliots thoughts as he worried about his performance.

”No worries bud, some other time.” he said in an attempt to save face in the situation. ”Rook ready to RTB, taking up the rear.” Elliot wasted no more time on idle thoughts as he prepared to head for the Roanoke.
In Symphony on High → 2 mos ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Dead Head




Well that hadn’t been expected. Perhaps if Asher had been paying a bit more attention to his surroundings he’d have noticed the impending attack but the fiery berserker was far too lost in his emotions to look further than his next immediate action. So of course when the massive shadow whale attempted to take a chunk out of him Asher was a little taken aback, if it hadn’t been for the last vestiges of his shield taking a brunt of the attack he’d likely have been rendered with more than a few new scars. As it were, the whale managed to shatter through the remnants of the shield to impart him with a new row of punctures around his shoulder front to back. Asher could only imagine what would have happened next if his blink hadn’t already fired off and pulled him from the creature's jaws.

Landing off target and a little winded, Asher dropped to one knee momentarily, taking a second to re-orient himself. His intention had been to make contact with the swordsman outright, like how he’d blasted into Bobo back at the church. Of course the whale and its owner had other plans that they’d attempted to carry out and although Asher had managed to slip away his aim had definitely suffered, but regardless Asher had little time to spare to make a move. Asher looked on from his landing point where a short distance away Raphael and Penumbra’s duel carried on.

The fight hadn’t changed much over the past few seconds. Raphael had yet to actually hit his opponent, but not for lack of trying. He kept his club close to him, with one hand on the center of his cross and another at the handle. One of the reasons a spear was so nimble was not only because of its light weight, but because of its length and how spread apart the welder's arms were. By holding his club like this, Raphael could swing faster than before. He came down on his assassin, then stepped in to throw the butt of his club into her face, but they were all deflected. Raphael raised his club over his head to deflect an incoming blow, and his next swing passed right through his opponent like it had before. With a groan, he tumbled away from a blow he knew was coming, and reset himself for the next exchange.

But as soon as he found his footing, she was upon him again. An aggressive barrage of strikes that pinned Raphael on his back heel came out. He growled as the blows came, but he could do nothing but endure them. Unless…

Asher chose that moment to lunge forward in an effort to intercept a downward slash thrown by Penumbra. Throwing his arms up high and crossing them probably wasn’t the best way to block a sword strike and the inevitable bite of the blade into his arm confirmed this suspicion. Asher howled in pain but grit his teeth in determination as the fire boiling within stoked to live once more. Using his less damaged arm Asher quickly made an attempt to grab the blade buried in his other arm as a means of trapping the swordsman.

“Better be a bonus included for all this extra nonsense.” he growled back towards Raphael before focusing on Penumbra, “Time to BURN!” He roared, releasing the pent up fires within him as a blast of superheated fire radiating out from him like the collapse of a star.

”Stubborn fuck.” Penumbra cursed under her breath as soon as she realized her sword had sliced through the wrong person. She tried to tug it back out only for him to grab a hold of it too. Asher made his intentions clear enough for her to know, but there was no way she’d be able to get out of the way in time to counter it without getting hurt. No other choice. But she wasn’t gonna take it without giving something back in return.

Dead Head’s melody set Penumbra ablaze, causing her to cry out in pain, but she managed through it to focus her own melody into her weapon and cleave the rest of his arm off (and hopefully force his free hand off too). In the second after she was freed, she turned back into a wisp and fled a distance away to heal. Despite the temporary form change the effects of Asher’s melody were still apparent, with the flames burning into the darkness.

Dead Head knew he was taking a risk when he’d chosen to charge in as he had, that didn’t stop the shock and anger that set in as his severed arm went flying away from the force. It had taken every ounce of will he had to make himself let go with his good hand otherwise he’d have likely been down an arm and a set of fingers. As it were, Dead Head dropped to his knees as the inferno radiated from him and Penumbra made her slightly singed retreat.

“FUUUUCK- You bitch! My fucking arm! I’ll make you pay for that…” Dead Head wanted to continue, wanted to charge after her immediately and pay her in kind but for once reason won out. “Raphael go!” he growled as he pushed himself to his feet, severed stump held close whilst Hatred hung from his single good arm. There was a gleam in his eye that dared any to step up and try him, Dead Head was down an arm but he hadn’t lost a bit of attitude.





In Falling Skies → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Elliot Braide // ROOK

Ensign


Elliot was awestruck, quite frankly. The battle felt like it was already over when it also felt like it had just begun. They’d tried to impart pacing and realistic expectations at the academy but nothing really scratched the surface of how fast the real deal was. It felt like mere moments prior Elliot had been on a hard burn out of the Roanoke and now they were on mop up and RTB orders. Perhaps that was more to do with the effectiveness of the 7th than it did with the realities of battle, perhaps it was both.

Elliot was awestruck because his squadmates had systematically decimated the opposing forces as if going for a Sunday walk. Sabbine and Kodos had both been exemplary examples of precision, tactics, and everything that Elliot had ever looked up to in a pilot. That of course had tracked with what he’d heard in academy, the exploits of the pilots of the 7th hadn’t been unnoticed by aspiring MAS pilots. Each of his squadmates had padded their killcounts with more than a couple kills each and made it look effortless in the process. Hex had not only neutered the Fafnir’s deadliest weapon but had numerous kills confirmed KIAs to herself alone. And then there was Von Brandt and Kilmer. Rhino, who was likely piloting the scariest thing on the battlefield showed no hesitation in soaking up the Fafnir’s attention to keep it away from his other squadmates; and Kilmer, who’s high octane movements had reduced the remaining Fenrirs assailing the two of them to slag and ensured the funnel drones from the Fafnir wouldn’t have any chance of harrying the two of them.

Elliot was awestruck, and completely out of his depth. Any icy feeling had settled onto the back of his neck, a chill running down his spine. Elliot rushed to suppress the thoughts, clearly he was outpaced by his squad, for a multitude of reasons that were out of his control. Regardless he couldn’t help but feel a growing depth to the divide that ran between himself and those who he was supposed to support. If he was going to stand with his squad things would have to change rapidly, this much was becoming clear to Elliot. A divide stood between him and them but he refused to believe it was insurmountable, he would drive himself to the very end before giving into the sense of doubt that had threatened to creep in. Thoughts of shame whispered in the back of his mind but Elliot refused to give them credence.

"Rook moving to support, thanks for the cover, Commie. Let's help mop up the big guy and RTB, I owe you a drink."

With a sense of surety in his actions Elliot pivoted his MAS and burned towards Rhino as he moved into a more suitable position to provide firing support the moment a chance presented itself. The Venerator stowed its Maul as it approached, opting for the DEW-11 while the Jackknife MMS moved into a standby position and began marking the Fafnir’s softest points. Elliot wasn’t sure of his combat effectiveness against a beast like that but knowing Rhino’s own beast was present meant that he’d at the very least pose as a nuisance if necessary to enable Rhino’s follow up, if needed.
In Falling Skies → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Elliot Braide // ROOK

Ensign


THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP


The Fafnir had swooped in from on high and struck down the mighty in one fell swoop. Flashes of light warning flashes painted a mural of colors across the sweat laden face of Braide all whilst the rush of blood filled his ears and his heart beat quicker and quicker into a crescendo of panic. Chaos had unleashed itself upon them in what had felt like the blink of an eye. Rook had felt so high, reeling from his first confirmed kill as well as feeling like a mighty hero for his and Commie's efforts swooping in to save the two destroyers and their beleaguered defenders.

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP

His brain was still struggling to process how quickly the scenario had changed. One moment that pilot, sorelson or something, had been thanking them. Then he was gone, Braide had instinctively banked away from the Sentry as it's reactor went but barely a second later and the forward destroyer was nothing but a ball of fire and debris. Instinct carried Braide through a handful of evasive maneuvers but they were sloppy and uncoordinated. Indicators on the HUD informed flashed as radio comms were received, likely orders. Braide couldn't hear a thing over his beating heart and some sort of roaring sound that seemed to eclipse his ears. A small indicator lit up informing him that his flight suit was handling the waste, fortunate for him that technology kept piss from running down a man's leg in situations like this. A small part of him knew that he was panicked, freaking out, and entirely off the lamb at the moment. That part screamed from deep within like a prisoner deep beneath the earth peering at the barest hints of light through the most out of reach window.

thumpthumpthump

Everything was moving so fast, Braide's own thoughts were rushing by so quickly that he could barely make sense of them. They’d spent hours drilling at the academy about emotional control and regulating your fear and controlling panic. Braide knew at that moment that most of it hadn’t really meant shit. Or at least that was how he was feeling, something about the scope of destruction had shaken him to his core. The Fafnir was beyond anything he'd encountered in simulation and the sheer fact that within seconds it had claimed such a massive death toll on the battlefield terrified Braide. Something of that caliber would erase him as if he'd never existed and the very thought chilled him. Braide's display had highlighted and magnified the offending weapon and as much as the logical side of Braide knew he had to act it was easily overpowered and overwhelmed by the emotional side of him that knew that the next shot would be meant for him. Already he could see the glowing of the barrel as it prepared to fire.

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP

Braide was practically frozen. Technically he was still flying evasively but his body was on autopilot while his brain attempted to contend with the meltdown and the overwhelming sense of fear and panic he was struggling through. A flash of light that Braide was sure signaled the end of his story suddenly changed. The barrel of the Fafnir's cannon splintered and exploded unexpectedly and sent the Fafnir twirling off of its prior trajectory.

“FUCK YES!!!!!!” He hollered unexpectedly as he let out a breath he’d had no idea he’d been holding. Immediately the rushing in his ears diminished and the pacing in his heart began to feel less weighty. The wave of emotions that he experienced was like the bursting of a dam. Braide surged forward with a whoop and a holler as his terror and fear expunged from him in a sudden wave of adrenaline. He threw the Venerator into a series of high G maneuvers to get himself back into the game as he sought to use the destroyer's lower side as cover while he attempted to gather his bearings once more.

"Rook reporting. I'm not going to beat around the bush, I'm a little shook up. I'm back in the saddle though, Commie what's our plan of attack?" Braide asked as he started attempting to make sense of the battlefield once more.

In Falling Skies → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Elliot Braide // ROOK

Ensign


Elliot winced in embarrassment as the squad chastened his eagerness and the blood rushed to his face in response. No matter, Elliot didn’t plan on making himself a fool on day 1, or any day for that matter. A little voice in his head reminded him that few planned such events but Elliot pretended not to hear anything as he focused on taking hold of the twin sticks that controlled the MAS. Elliot had a combined simulation and practical flight time of over a thousand hours but they always said nothing could prepare you for the real thing. Elliot couldn’t tell if the tremor making its way down his leg was from fear or excitement, and there was only one way to find out. Elliot pushed forward, aligning his MAS with the launch pad as the system locked him in and prepared for catapult.

Elliot’s eyes wandered until he was staring straight up towards the launch bay opening. Time had almost crawled to a standstill; it seemed as Elliots brain had begun racing. Everything Elliot had worked towards had led him to this moment, the moment he’d only dreamed of until now. It was here, seconds away. Elliot’s mind was seized up in a wave of Euphoria mere moments before the catapult released and sent him roaring forward at breakneck speeds. Elliot’s mouth flew open and a whooping holler of joy filled his ears as the Venerator shot from the launch bay narrowly missing the Blackout as it recovered from its evasive maneuvers. Elliot was briefly shocked out of his reverie and instinctively yanked on the controls to pivot away from the Blackout and the launch corridor.

"Welcome to the 7th, Rook. Get used to the chaos. It's all we ever do here." Hex called across as the Blackout made a cheeky salute.

Elliot was a bit taken aback for a moment and the handful of violations that his instructors had drilled into his head jumped to the forefront of his mind. Mr. Brok Would have had Elliot scrubbing the joints of the schools entire MAS contingent if he’d even dreamed of pulling a maneuver like that. Just as quickly as the thoughts came to mind Elliot shut them down, this was battle, the real deal. Elliot had no place to chasten his fellow squadmates on their flying, let alone in regards to evasive maneuvers. These weren’t the posh wimpy boys and girls Elliot had been forced to board with at the naval academy, these were tried and tested pilots. Elliot knew with each passing moment they were taking stock of him, trying to figure out what to make of his mettle. Elliot would do his best to not disappoint, he couldn’t dare look weak in front of his fellows.

”Thanks for the welcome and the shave, Hex. Been meaning to take a few inches off the top anyways. Glad to be part of the 7th!.” Elliot called back, attempting a smooth quip to show that he’d not almost pissed himself by the close call.

Alerts pinged across the hud and Elliot quickly began going on the defensive as he tried to get a handle on the battlefield composition. Elliot’s loadout wasn’t really specced for the distance they were at and judging by his fellows they were already prioritizing the protection of the Roanoke. Thus Elliot chose to direct his attention to the two destroyer’s in need of assistance. Elliot was still a good ways out from his effective combat range and thus engaged the Venerators boosters and swept out towards the allied destroyers.

Elliot pushed the Venerator towards the redline in an attempt to reach the allied destroyers before they or their retinue suffered too much more at the hands of coalie scum. Elliot’s arrival was swift and he took advantage of the coalies being focused on their current targets. Reducing speed enough to allow slight maneuverability Elliot quickly engaged the MAS’s rocket maul. Already systems were diverting energy to the head of the massive weapon as the penetrating spike energized as Elliot joined together the two halves of the haft to give the monstrous maul its full reach. Elliot was rapidly closing on a Fenrir who was wholly unaware of the destruction hurtling his way.

This was the moment when most would hesitate. Simulations never could prepare someone for the true depth of taking a life, for those who’d experienced this dreadful deed would say it was like trading a piece of your soul for each life taken. It was a hefty deed that would and should give pause to most. Elliot did it without a second thought, it was a coalie, nothing more. Elliot had already cared little for those he saw beneath him and didn’t even have a way to really measure what an enemy meant to him. The thought that he’d be ending human lives wasn’t really one that he’d ever really entertained, in fact Elliot wasn’t sure if he’d even call the Coalies human. Whether this coldness was a symptom of his upbringing or UEE indoctrination was hard to determine, but regardless Elliot spared no thought towards what would be his first kill.

Elliot appeared behind the coalie MAS at breakneck speeds, by the time the enemy MAS was alerted to his presence he’d already engaged the rocket maul in its deadly ark. Elliot pulled up hard at the last second as he swung the maul at an upward angle. The coalie MAS turned in surprise, attempting to face his newfound opponent before the heated point of the Maul penetrated the cockpit from beneath. The force of the blow carried through as the Venerator practically gutted the coalie MAS, entirely ripping the cockpit from center mass as the maul continued in its upward arc.

Of course Elliot’s move had been a tad high octane and left him with a lot of velocity to shave off, suddenly the focus of the kill melted away as Elliot rapidly found himself becoming the target for the remaining coalies harrying the destroyers. In a rush Elliot transferred his momentum into a set of evasive maneuvers that aimed to put him on the other side of the destroyers relative to his targets, either to give himself a moment to reorient or for potential backup to arrive. Elliot suddenly realized that he’d rushed off without ensuring he’d called for any sort of assistance and very well might have overextended himself out past the protective capabilities of his squad. Just as suddenly Elliot remembered the capabilities of Hex’s Blackout and quickly opened a line.

“This is Rook to Hex requesting cover if possible, I’ve overextended myself a bit here admittedly.” He called into the comms channel, trying to keep the embarrassment from his voice.

In Symphony on High → 3 mos ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Dead Head


”Ruh Roh Raggy”




It wouldn’t take a dumpster to get Dead Head’s attention but it might take a little more haste to keep it, the Esper was going practically berserk. The moment his current prey had melted away Dead Head’s head had been on a swivel searching for the next target. Strategically speaking the smart move was likely to find the source of the shadowy attacks and seek to silence it. Unfortunately Dead Head’s sense of strategy was on vacation at the moment and rage was in charge. With an almost feral look in his eyes he scanned the battlefield rapidly before settling his eyes on the golden haired girl from earlier.

That was the one that had initially confronted them, she also looked to be giving Raphael a bit of a hard time. Dead Head couldn’t get paid if the guy paying him went down, so of course he’d have to intervene. He needed to close the gap and do so quickly whilst maintaining a bit of a surprise.

There wasn’t much thought behind his next move, merely adrenaline and anger. Dead Head had successfully pulled this one off once before and instinctively attempted to use a beam blink combo to intercept the golden haired fighter en route to Raphael. In the back of his mind a little voice remarked to itself about the entertaining notion of using this move in front of Bobo, unfortunately she wasn’t here at the time.

At this moment Dead Head had forgotten about the shadows and the other nun who’d accompanied them, he was fully committed to giving the golden haired swordsman one hell of a time.


In Falling Skies → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Elliot Braide // ROOK

Ensign


Ensign Braide it said, right there all shiny and polished. Elliot took a slow moment of relishment as he slowly reattached the shiny name plaque back to the dress uniform with an almost reverential touch. Elliot had dreamed of this for so long, for as long as he could remember really. Elliot had wanted to be a pilot since the day he’d first seen a picture of a MAS. Mommy! Daddy! he’d cried out, I want to fly the big boom bots! Of course his parents had brushed him off as usual and instructed Elliot to go play or find some other way to occupy his time. That had never stopped him though, and although they’d seemed to ignore his pleas there had been a certain specific change in the style of toys he would continue to receive and play with as the years went on. Elliot had fostered his own interest in MAS over the years and through a few strings pulled here and the influence of his family he’d finally managed to achieve his goal. Even still though it felt like not quite enough, Elliot couldn’t put his finger on why and as such shoved these feelings to the back of his mind. Here he was finally, a real pilot surrounded by other real pilots with an entire fleet of se-technicians and naval men and women standing by to service their needs and ensure that whatever they needed to achieve their goals would be theirs. Elliot should be relishing in his victory, his achievement. And so he did, dusting and detailing the dress uniform that he’d worn in his graduation ceremony. It had been the best day of his life. Those nagging feelings of emptiness would just have to get shoved in a box to be forgotten about, dismissed.

Elliot turned away from his uniform and surveyed the rest of his room; it wasn’t much, yet. Elliot would change that, with time of course; he’d just need to make some calls and a few demands, maybe twist a few elbows. The only thing that really showed any lick of personality in the room was the rough pile of books that Elliot had gathered on his bed, most of them being the only real possessions he kept. A majority of the books were about MAS, theory and practical knowledge; a portion were more generalized topics that Elliot wished to have a basic understanding of. More than a few had bookmarks, sticky notes, dividers, and all manner of things poking out of them as a way to mark important entries. A few of the technical manuals looked plenty more worn and opening any one might reveal an untold amount of handwritten notes between the lines of text. To an onlooker it was chaos, to Elliot it all made perfect sense. He knew where to find whatever he might need whenever the moment called for it, he’d read most of these front to back numerous times. Elliot's eyes landed on a specific one, one of the only fictional novels in the pile, with a particular sense of fondness. Elliot picked it up and dusted it off, surveying the cover and reminiscing about the days as a child reading through the adventures of the book's protagonist and his cheeky sidekick. This one in particular had a hefty bit of influence on Elliot’s desires as he was growing up and as such would likely never leave his side, a prized possession of sorts.

"General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands to battle stations. I repeat: General Quarters. General Quarters..."

Elliot was so locked into his memories that the call for quarters practically sent him flying out of his own skin. Thankfully the room was empty and no one heard the yelp of surprise he let out as the book he’d suddenly dropped landed squarely on his toe. With a splutter of curses Elliot quickly pivoted and burst through the door into the hallway already bustling with activity.

“MOVE IT! MAKE WAY! PILOT COMING THROUGH! THAT’S AN ORDER! MAKE WAY!”

Elliots voice boomed down the hallway like a fog horn, a sudden air of arrogance taking place upon his shoulders like a form fitted cape. This was everything he’d dreamed, techs and other service men and women scrambled to make way as he barreled down the hallway, those who didn’t move quick enough were not of Elliot’s concern. He did his absolute best not to step on anyway or cause any injuries, massive ones at least. The occasional slow mover may just have found themselves brushed aside in an unceremonious manner though and a couple individuals might have found themselves falling to the ground as Elliot shoved aside. Regardless Elliot wouldn’t let anything stand between him and reaching the pilot bay in 90 seconds. They’d made it very clear that this expectation was an important one and Elliot wouldn’t have his first operation starting off on the right foot, commoners be damned.

Elliot made his way into the bay on the heels of his fellows, unnoticed by the more seasoned pilots. Elliot knew they didn’t hold much of an opinion of him, yet. It was to be expected as the new guy and Elliot had no illusions of his place. To him it just meant he’d work even harder to achieve the respect he so desired. These individuals, his squadmates and the fellow pilots in the flotilla, this is who he’d always dreamed of being amongst. Likely the only figures he ever felt an inkling of respect for were pilots, everyone else was too weak or too useless to get behind the stick and to Elliot that meant they were useless or not worth his time. Nevertheless Elliot had learned to at least tolerate being around those beneath him for the use they could pose in achieving his own goals. These fellows though, his squadmates, were the real deal. Practically walking gods in his eyes. Elliot was tickled pink to finally be amongst their ranks.

Elliot scrambled into his cockpit without a word, sparing little time to admire his MAS. As reluctant as his family had been about his choices Elliot had managed to at least get him to spring for one badass piece of machinery. In the name of his safety, as he’d spun it to his parents. In reality Elliot just wanted to pilot the same MAS as his favorite book character, the one he’d been reading about for years. Elliot had a surprisingly intimate knowledge of the MAS based on that alone, for a fictional story the author had been surprisingly true to reality, or as true as they could be. As for the rest, well one of the more beaten up manuals back on Elliot's bed was for the Venerator.

> Confirming Pilot Assignment: ENS ELLIOT BRAIDE
> ...Pilot Confirmed
> Initializing systems…

Elliot was on time but slightly behind his squadmates as he listened to their friendly bickering, a smile coming to his face. Elliot always had trouble suppressing his joy when piloting a MAS, like a dream come true almost. Simply put, he was giddy as a lune.

> Reactor: Online_
> Life Support: Online_
> Shield Generator: Online_
> Weapon Systems: Online_

Elliot wasted no time as he settled into the cockpit and ran through his pre-flight checks. So far all systems were coming back as expected and he was green across the board. Today was gonna be a good day.

> All Calibrations Complete
> All Systems Nominal
> Standby for Launch

“ROOK SOUNDING OFF! SIR!” Elliot shouted, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and might bit a tad too loud given the direct line to his squad's ears.
In Symphony on High → 4 mos ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Dead Head


”Ruh Roh Raggy”




Asher had honestly expected shit to blow up, for something to start screaming, hellfire or something. What he hadn’t expected was to succeed at basically letting off a stinky flare before getting catapulted into a mass of shadows. What was that weird french saying that everyone liked to use to sound fancy? c'est Fa pie, Br'est la Tie? Asher wasn’t french, or big on idioms. Whatever, there were more important things going on than metaphorical phrasings, like the angry pack of shades doing their best to puncture Asher to bits and bobs. Couldn’t have that of course.

Asher’s instinctual move upon landing was to cast a shield note, but of course he was a little salty at the turn of events and looking to get back into the saddle. Instead of just hardening his skin like usual Asher cranked things to the max. An angry roar erupted from the pack of shades as Asher’s emotions poured out of him in an almost physical manifestation. His metallic skin took on an even harder edge as the fire’s in his eyes blazed to an inferno. Asher started swinging Hatred around with reckless abandon, every time he found himself with enough room to take aim Asher would unload a slug on whatever poor creature found itself beneath his ire. From an onlookers perspective one might assume Asher had turned feral.

Asher’s anger had clearly bested him for the moment as he was fully focused on thinning out the hoard of chaff that was being sent their way and had yet to consider taking on any of the more important targets. Buuuut Asher wasn’t really thinking about things strategically, plenty satisfied with just killing anything that stepped into his gaze.


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