vietmyke

Falling Skies (Mecha, Military, Space Opera)

I appreciate the interest! Yes, we are closed for the moment- there may be other opportunities to join, but I can't promise that unfortunately. Character sheets are always fun, if you decide to write one anyway, I'd happily read it!

Tales Of Endoroth (A Slice Of Life MMO Roleplay)

I don't mind chasing after the Jester, but they might need some sort of reason beyond that- I think as it is, all the players are like, 'regular people'. Its hard to put like super serious stakes into a game unless it directly effects them and they have a way to directly effect it- as it is, as normal players they can't really do a whole lot to the jester even if they do find him.

Maybe admins assign them temporary mod powers to ban him if they manage to track him down or something like that.

Tales Of Endoroth (A Slice Of Life MMO Roleplay)

Rathello

---

"What a fucking asshole." Rath grumbled aloud as the party reconvened in a safer area. The others were sending messages out to moderators, so Rathello let them do that as he headed inside an inn to access his personal stash. Grabbing a few extra potions he headed back out to reconvene with the others, next run would just be a power run to make up for lost time. Goibnu and Elian started sharing their social media, though Claudia seemed reluctant to. Rath merely shrugged.

"I prefer in-game chatter but I suppose ChaosX makes things more convenient, mine is 'Reverett', I think my requests are public- I should probably change that."

Rathello frowned as the Uriel shared what the others had mentioned about this so called 'jester', something about a child being seen with him. Most of the NPCs in ToE were adults, and what children NPCs there were were typically in safe areas- so certain players wouldn't try to hurt them. That more or less meant the only 'child' that could be following the Jester was probably a player. Rath didn't even know they had child models for players- he didn't remember what the rating for ToE was, but he doubted it was particularly a suitable game for children.

"This whole Jester business goes a bit over our heads I think- I mean, even if we could kill him, its not like that does anything to him, and he still knows our personal info to boot. How's he running circles around the mods like this? Can't they just check which players were in the dungeon during that last instance and ban whoever isn't us?"

The Envenomed: Military Science Fiction Deniable Operations

ECHO DOMAIN - PLATFORM #2884

The derelict spacestation was a setting unlike any Echo had been on before. The Echo platform was primarily used to conventional battlefields, maneuver warfare and straight gunfights, so entering an area so saturated in etheric energies was disconcerting. The platform took cautious scans of everything the squad witnessed, though was careful not to directly interface with any of the working ghost machines- having any of its armor of systems compromised would be bad for the health of the group.

Rho-hux took the front position of the squad, his attending microform not far from him as he did. Echo's larger Endoform stuck to the back of the formation, it could effectively see all around it, and the heavy armor wouldn't block the sight or firing lines of any of the squad members should they run into contact. At worst, Echo's Endoform was tall enough that it could fire over the heads of the rest of the squad if they needed more forward facing firepower.

As Rho-hux indicated that he would tap his armor comms to indicate danger, the Endoform chimed in. Acknowledged. Designating triple-ping. Implication. Danger.

As the squad advanced, the microforms stayed at the edges of their formation, close enough to their designated squad members to defend, 'eyes' pointed outward to scan their environment. The Endoform, unfortunately was nowhere near as lightfooted as it's Microform support units, the heavier armor crunching and squelching as it pressed on fleshy organic material and bulkhead metal, but it's 'eyes' were facing the back of their formation, watching for any threats coming up behind them.

Alert. Initiating Multi-spectrum scanning. Elaboration. Relevant information to be overlaid on friendly HUD.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Galahad Caradoc

---

"Are you men of Shilage then?" Galahad toned subtly, "Sure dont act like it." If Galahad held any surprise at any of the information the highwaymen divulged, the Dragoon's helmet obscured it from view. As far as the bandits were concerned, he was as impassive as ever. Deserters Galahad had expected, though Galahad hadn't expected to be hearing names so close to home- there were some untold dozens of nobles and noble families in Edren, but Istvan was a name Galahad recognized. Rudolf was quick to fill in any possible gaps in memory with a quick rundown of what he expected- though perhaps a bit harsher than Galahad might have done with the same information.

Rudolf was harsh, but he was right- everyone had skeletons in their closets, Robin's apparent mentor not withstanding. A heavy, gauntleted arm pressed on Robin's shoulder as Galahad turned to her. "People change with time. Old becomes new." He murmured quietly, his voice low and quiet, speaking solely to Robin. "No one is without fault. Perhaps he recognized the poor path of his ways and resolved himself to be better- If he is how you believe he is, then you are living proof of his attempts to reconcile his ways."

"If they were your mentor's men, they certainly aren't anymore. Just a group of ruffians abusing and distorting what techniques he taught them. No more, no less." Galahad concluded quietly, before glancing back at the men, his tone growing a bit clearer as he regarded them. "Though not very well it seems. You all appear to be too used to fighting those who can't or won't fight back. The footwork is there, but sloppy.

Galahad's hand pressed to his hip, the other swinging the heavy halberd up and shouldering it. The question remained, what to do with the rest of them. The Kirins weren't exactly in a place to be taking prisoners at the moment, they were too few, and those of them that were there hardly had the time to be standing guard. As frustrating as the bandits were, distracting them from their current objectives, they had surrendered, and Galahad wasn't much for executions- though they couldn't exactly let them go either. Nothing would stop these men from just acquiring more swords and doing much the same as they had been doing before running across the Kirins. The idea of Edreni men harrying the people of Drana Asnaeu wasn't a pleasant thought either.

Maybe he'd just escort the men to a local guard's post and let the local authorities handle all of this business.

"If they don't know where Fey is, then there's no sense listening to them any further.

Tales Of Endoroth (A Slice Of Life MMO Roleplay)

I'll probably need a skip this round-things be busy and haven't lightened up

Falling Skies

Persean Sector, Terimon System_

Orbit above Skogsrå_
INS Roanoke, 101st Special Forces Legion. Local Time: 0730_

---

"Ooh! Watch your friendly fire there tiger, I like my eardrums intact before we get into a gunfight!" Sabine's lilted voice half drawled over the tacnet as their resident rookie shouted through the comms. At least he was eager. It remained to be seen whether or not Braide would be an adequate replacement for Sokolov, but at least they shared a few aspects- they were loud and eager. That eagerness had gotten Sokolov killed, but maybe this rookie would be different- he had a fancy new toy anyway. Maybe not as new as Kilmer's Shrike, but probably twice as expensive. The boy was basically driving a lambo to a destruction derby.

"Wouldn't want to question High Command, now would we, boss? Though, that being said- How come we get all the 'fun' sorties? I feel like they're playing favorites or something- they really oughta share the love." Sabine laughed over the crackling net as her machine began to stomp into the center row of the hangar, a set of panels already raising above ground level. Heavy mechanized feet placed themselves firmly in the center of a pair of panels, clamps locking its feet in place, as the panels centered themselves and lifted a few feet higher above the floor. Unlike larger aircraft carriers, with long chute-style catapults, the Roanoke didn't have the hangar space for such fancy gizmos. Instead, the pilots of the 7th relied on a short and primitive grav-launch system, a miniature catapult that could be combined with a micro gravity-generator that would launch them straight 'up' out of the open hangar doors and into zero gravity before their thrusters could kick in. It didn't get them into the fray or into maneuvering speeds quite as fast as a conventional rail launch system, but it meant the Roanoke could deploy its entire clutch of MAS twice as fast as a typical carrier.

Even inside the hangar, their sensors had already begun picking up multiple radar signatures, The Roanoke wasn't at the front of the battleline, but it didn't mean the Coalies were going to just let them go without trying to get their pound of flesh. It was going to be a relatively hot launch. "Hey Hex, bet you the rook pukes before VC does." There was a hiss as the cables connecting the Sparrowhawk to the ship were disconnected, removing the MAS from the Roanoke’s grid, and the hiss of hydraulics as the panels quickly propelling the Roanoke’s MAS’ into the black void of space in pairs. The Sparrowhawk’s thrusters activated as soon as Sabine cleared the threshold of the Roanoke’s hangar, banking off to get out of the way of other launching craft. Cannonfire had begun whizzing by them already, ricocheting off of the Roanoke's comparatively heavier armor, setting off proximity alarms as it passed.

---

Persean Sector, Terimon System_

Orbit above Skogsrå_
Open Space, 101st Special Forces Legion. Local Time: 0740_

---

Taking a moment to orient herself, Sabine remembered how free- and dangerous space combat felt. No solid ground or cover, fire could come from almost any angle- and at any distance. The only thing keeping her from dying in a vacuum was a few layers or armor and a shield generator. She didn't have any more than a moment however, as another volley of cannonfire flew past them, forcing the Sparrowhawk to juke out of the way to dodge a particularly close miss. Talk about a hot launch.

Space around them was chaos. The main battle lines had devolved into localized skirmishes and knife fights, pairs of UEE destroyers chased down Coalition cruisers, battleships traded fire as mechs and aerospace fighters zipped between lances of plasma and flights of missiles, opening up with one another with missiles and autocannons or making attack runs on ships. Directly to the Roanoke's 'left', a UEE cruiser, the INS Ibara leaked fire and smoke, its emergency lights flickering through tiny viewports as it lagged behind the main line. A blast of plasma from a Coalition Cruiser directly in front of the Roanoke struck its starboard gunnery deck, a massive flower of crimson and orange blooming from its side as it ejected debris and bodies into the void. To the Roanoke's 'right' a pair of destroyers were making a run at the cruiser but were being harried by a pair of Fenrir squadrons, their own MAS and Aerospace complement being cut to pieces.

Debris from the station had found its way in between the two formations, large chunks of station blocking direct lines of sight from MAS and ship alike, with smaller chunks threatening to pierce the cockpit of anyone flying into it too quickly if they were unable to weave through it. Flats of massive solar panels formed miniature planes to fight from and chunks of station debris functioned as both cover and firing positions.

Flanking Coalition cruiser was pair of light frigates, pushing forward, seemingly intent on crippling the small carrier before it was able to get a clean attack on their cruiser or before it could fall back to the carrier line. At the head of the small Coalition force was two full squadrons of Coalition MAS, Sabine’s targeting computers tracking a pair of Sköllr, screened by no less than 8 Fenrir IIs, flying in a wide wedge towards them. While the Fenrirs were a target the 7th were used to fighting, the Sköllr were rather resilient, and could prove to be quite the danger for the Roanoke should they be allowed to get close enough. A quartet of Garmr were moving in from the flank, thrusters peeking through the rubble and debris as they weaved their way ahead to intercept the 7th, trying to catch them in a pincer. At their current speed and distance, they'd be within weapons range in mere minutes.

"Talk about a warm welcome, non?" Sabine's helmeted face winked to life in the corner of the 7th's HUDs as she spoke. Leaning back, she pressed a button on her control panel, the Sparrowhawk's legs and arms folding in as it switched to its flight mode. Thrusters flared as Sabine sent herself careening forward, her wingtips spiraling as she rolled to dodge another wave of incoming fire. "I think they like me!"

Regalia

---

_{[Location] Harbor, Landow
[Time] Sunday, 08:30 AM
[Mentions] @Mirandae}

If Akamu was trying to get the monster's attention, it worked. Heavy swings found purchase on the monster's face, but seemed to do little more than bother the beast. A heavy clawed hand grabbed his maul and ripped the large Dominant off of its face, Akamu's landing displacing the water and impacting with enough force to tear apart docks and smaller boats alike as he crashed into the relatively shallow beach. Frigid water crashed around as the waves broke and fell onto him, though Akamu managed to suck in a breath before he was submerged.

It didn't hurt so much, nor did his stone body feel the cold so much- turns out heavy stone was a decent insulator. But while his vision wasn't the clearest under the waves, Akamu saw the massive shadow above him growing and knew what was coming for him. Heavy stone arms lifted to his face, guarding his face and body as a pair of massive claws began to rip and tear at him. Sand surged around Akamu's body as heavy claws ripped gouges through his guard, filling and sealing the gaps in his armor as quickly as the beast tore at him- though sand wasn't quite as protective as solid rock. Now it started to hurt.

Akamu grit his teeth as he could afford to do nothing more than defend himself, practically blind under the water- fighting both a lack of oxygen and the heavy attacks of this monster. Akamu wasn't even aware of the presence of something else until something knocked the beast off of him- someone or something else attacking it. Akamu could feel the rumbling of the earth and churning of water, as the shadow above him was replaced by another, larger shadow, shoving the monster out of the way. Akamu was glad for the reprieve- but what sort of monster was even larger than the one they faced?

Finally pulling himself out of the water, Akamu found himself face to face- or rather face to back with Bahamut, the Dominant of the Void. If his stone body had hair, it would've stood on end, but for the moment, he just found himself rather shocked. At the very least, it seemed to be on their side, for the moment, though he didn't necessarily fancy the idea of fighting it if it came down to such a thing. The color drained from his face as he saw the maw of the great dragon open as it prepared to unleash death upon the creature- and likely anything or anyone close by.

Akamu's eyes caught a glow of green and whipped towards it- Gaia, Laura having come out of her protective dome to help in the fight. The beast seemed practically culled- but now they had something else to deal with. "Kika!" Akamu called out as he bounded over to her, heavy footsteps causing the ground to quake with each step. A powerful arm grabbed her and pulled her behind him, his other arm gathering up what few civilians remained close to them and slammed his foot on the ground, forming a makeshift shield of rock and stone. Would such a thing protect them from the wash of Bahamut's breath? No clue, but probably better than nothing.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Galahad Caradoc

---

"Deserters sounds about right." Galahad nodded, hardly winded after the fight- more like a light warmup compared to the scraps they had been getting into recently. Neither Robin nor Rudolf looked any worse for wear either, not a wound on either of them- not that Galahad had expected any to begin with. On another day, these cutthroats might have found themselves a few Gil richer, but the Kirins were made of stouter stuff than what mere deserters and bandits would be able to throw at them. He looked down at his armor, and tapped the helmet on his head to make sure it was in fact on his head. Blue dragon scales, dragon motifs. "You'd think they'd notice a dragoon before they decided to rob us. Subtlety isn't necessarily a strong suit of mine."

The fact that the men fought like Robin wasn't lost on the bandits either, as they questioned why she fought like their leader? Boss? Former unit commander? Robin was quick to pounce on this as well, obviously upset that her old man's techniques were being used to do harm to innocents- in direct opposite to what looked to be every fiber of her being.

Perhaps notably, Galahad made no attempt to keep the peace this time, he neither attempted to lower Rudolf or Robin's weapons nor did he verbally accept their surrender, stepping forward with weapon in hand. His gruesome halberd remained out, though not at a guarded stance anymore, the spear tip almost lazily pointing at the nearest bandit as he approached. He used the proximity of Rudolf and his spear point to begin backing the men well out of reach of their weapons in case they tried anything funny.

"You'll answer my comrade's questions." Galahad's tone was amicable, but didn't really sound like a suggestion or request. "Quickly and truthfully, if you know what's good for you."

For some reason, Galahad felt some mild satisfaction at the thought of strongarming these weaker foes into following their will. Perhaps Galahad might've been shocked or worried by his own realization, but his patience for bullshit was well on its way towards beginning to run out. "You all were so chatty earlier. Please, do continue."

SPIRITUM

Gerard Biserus

---

"Pull off there." Gerard pointed towards a gas station right outside the old residential district. It was the type that had a service area for trucks, and while theirs wouldn't 'blend right in', it would be out of the way- and not at risk of being towed. It was lucky for them that this part of town was considerably less crowded than the main streets of the city. Clear of foot traffic anyway, the roads themselves were still packed and cramped, it took a solid 10 minutes for them to cross a single city block in order to pull in and park. "Not exactly free from prying eyes... but at least we won't get towed."

Gerard climbed out of the back, helping the princess out as he did, pulling a baseball cap low over her head, for as little as it did to help hide her. Luckily perhaps, no one was too interested in a group of university aged kids getting out of a beater. Though Morden's larger size drew a few more pairs of eyes than the rest of them, no one really paid them any mind.

"Almost home free- no offense." Gerard chuckled, elbowing the princess as he glanced around, obviously in a good mood. "Hey Kali, that Ivan guy said your dad was in town right? Maybe we oughta pay him a visit after all this mess. It'd be good to see family- plus, I bet he'd buy us a round of beers."

The address provided by Veld's men was a short walk away- no longer than 20 minutes now that they were out of the car. Through winding alleyways and old cobble streets, it almost felt like they were going back in time as they stepped through. The target house was a small, unassuming looking thing. It was a townhouse overlooking the cliff, small, mostly brick and mortar, one car garage- currently full- and a second floor balcony. A man was casually smoking out on the balcony, dressed in casual clothes, sweater and jacket, though the sharper eyes among them could spot the corners of a concealed ballistic vest, and the tip of a pistol suppressor sticking out the back of the jacket. Guns and civilian clothes had Spooks written all over it. The door opened before they'd even approached the steps. A man with glasses in a plain suit poked his head out, glancing up and down the street, before focusing in on the WARDEN's, and their guest. Stepping back into the home, gesturing for them to enter.

While the men outside the building wore plainclothes, the ones inside were dressed more like regular Rassvettian army: Armored vests and carbine rifles, magazine pouches and helmets. Some half dozen of them, checking gear, a few loading magazines. They were met by a few nods, an impressed whistle, and the like, but no one got up to greet them or anything like that. "Dirk wants to check the girl, make sure she's good- and real. Upstairs. Office." The spook said in a low voice. His head gestured to the stairs.