6slyboy6

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

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"I'm back!"

Thud

The thin layer of dust that has accumulated in her absence is thrown into the air as Amy lazily lets her bag slide off her shoulder and fall on the ground. Moments later, she too falls down onto her bed, the quite squeaking of the wooden frame filling the quiet air for a moment. Bandages still cover her leg and she hisses as they drag along the edge of the bedframe, so she quickly rolls on her back, hugging her plush bear to her chest as she stared up at the ceiling in quiet contemplation.

Particles float gently in the air above her head as they are illuminated by the sunlight, enough to keep her mind occupied for a while. But just as they drift slowly, so do her thoughts, back on the events of that fateful night at Cae Mayl. Was it some unknown magic? The influence of the battle? Or was it something more... sinister? Above all else, why couldn't she hear Mayon's voice afterwards?

"I should've been stronger, I should've been in control... what happened to me Grumps?"

The bear does not respond immediately, and there's the sound of soft fabric settling as she gently clutches the bear closer to herself, as if looking for comfort and answers from it.

Thud

"Ow! What was that for?"

Amy gently rubs the back of her hand as she stares down the emotionless, yet somehow very expressively upset face of the teddy bear.

"First, I've told you a million times not to hug me so tight! I get all lumpy when you push my stuffing around..." The toy replies as it pats itself down with his stubby appendages, and then shakes itself to regain his former shape. "Second, someone has to snap you out of this... phase!" The small bear lets out a grumpy sigh before reaching up to scratch his chin as it looks out the window. "We both knew this day would come. When your... our demonic powers would begin to manifest. I just didn't think it would be so soon."

"What demonic powers?" Amy asks dumbfounded, the horns on her head clearly eluding her for a moment. But only a moment, as the small stuffed bear delivers the softest slap in history to her face, which prompts Amy to cover her flushed cheeks with her hands. "Snap out of it girl, you know what I'm talking about!" Grumps shakes his head before proceeding to waddle off of Amy's chest and roll onto the bed. As it stands up, Amy sits up as well and looks down at the fluffy bear with a small pout. "Please, stop hitting me Grumps, it's not very nice. But... I guess you're right."

"Hmph, of course I'm right!" Grumps explains and then crosses his arms and flashes a stern gaze at Amy with it's lifeless, beady little eyes. Amy looks away in return, her own arms crossing across her chest, but her ear twitches as she listens to what the toy has to say. "Look, I know it's hard, but it's time you finally admitted that you have not just the looks, but the powers and... tendencies of your parents. Mayon accepts all, but she won't answer your prayers if you lie to her, like you lie to yourself. If you'll be riding with the Knights, you need to stop being a liability, and become an asset. And you can only do that if you accept and embrace who you are."

A heavy silence falls on the room like a morning fog, as Amy does her best to look away from Grumps and ignore what he said, but eventually she ahs to admit that the stuffed bear is right. She did act like a complete fool, almost fainting on her first mission with her fellow Roses. Then she lost control in the heat of battle and came to... enjoy it? The thought sent a jolt of pain through her head and she hissed in response.

Being away from the mundane life she knew at the church exposed her to a whole new world of emotions and feelings that she couldn't properly deal with. And worst of all, she could sense and feel those very same things when they were present in other people and environments. Such a thing simply never happened back when she lived in the monastery... no wonder she lost control.

Amy looked down at her lap, her hands cupped together as she gently pressed her thumbs against each other. "I... I guess you're right. I always knew that my blood would betray me, I just hoped it wouldn't be on my very first mission. I'm sure that my parents would've either not felt a thing, or had complete control of their rampant emotions. I'm the worst of both worlds, huh?" With a sigh, she slumped back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling once again, and felt only the soft touch of the stuffed toy as it tried to console her.

"There, there, that's not true Amy. You have wonderful powers that others could only wish for, you just need to learn to control them, that's all. But for that, you need to let them take control sometimes, to get used to them. Once you get used to controlling your feelings when the world around you is a whirlwind of emotions, then you'll be able to channel your inner powers the same as the ones Mayon gives you!" Grumps explained with the softest of smiles on it's woven face, as Amy pondered what she had to do next.

"If that's the case, then it's time to pray, and make amends. I need to let Mayon know that I'm still following her guiding light. And then-"

Groan

The loud rumbling of her stomach interrupted her thoughts, and Amy quickly placed a hand over her belly as if that would make her any less hungry. Looking down, Grumps laid besides her hand as lifelessly as ever, it's soft and fluffy body offering some comforting warmth for her. She couldn't focus on magic or pray to her goddess in silence on an empty stomach after all.

"But first, I think it's time to raid a pantry~" With a mischievous smile, Amy was already halfway out the door as she began to think of all the delectable treats awaiting her.

~Sometime later~

Amy had just snuck out of the pantry with a literal handful of pastry in her possession when she took the wrong turn in the kitchen, and found herself face-to-face with an unamused looking member of staff. The man in chef's clothing crossed his arms and sized up the thieving demon before beckoning for her to put the 'loot' down. Rose or not, the kitchen staff were the lords of the pantry, and wielded their knives and other utensils with the same skill as knights wielded their swords.

"Hey, cut it out. If you need something, ask the staff for it, and don't raid the pantry. Put pastry back to where it belongs, and we'll forget this ever happened."

Amy froze in motion as he took a good look at the chef, then down at the looted pastries before her hungry stomach interrupted with a grumble. Right, giving up the ill-gained booty was not an option. One more glance at the staff member and... yep, she could take him.

"You'll never catch me hungry! I mean... alive!" She yelled out as she hopped over the nearest counter and dashed towards the door, leaving behind a trail of crumbs and fallen pastries as the annoyed chef began to chase her down, cursing under his breath something about making her clean up the mess she made.

Already running through the hallway and past confused members of staff with the man hot in pursuit, also Amy let out a snicker as she watched the events unfold from behind a nearby corner. "Hehe, works every time, all the time~" Now that the kitchen was empty for sure, she snuck inside and headed straight towards the pantry, eyes set on the prize: yummy pastries.

By the time the staff would realise that it was all an illusion, Amy had already finished her little raid and retreated from the kitchen, munching down on some tasty dough as she made her way to the Chapel to make a confession now that she could focus.

~A slightly longer time later~

"Goddess, I have a confession to make." Amy whispered quietly as she knelt before the small pool in the Chapel, her eyes closed and hands held together. "I have stolen food, even though I wasn't starving... that much." She explained, and as if to make her point1 she'd quickly swipe some crumbs off her dress that were an evidence to her earlier raid. "But, that isn't why I'm here. I have another confession to make, and I see your guidance Mayon."

She opened her eyes slowly, and looked up above the shrine at the colored glass silhouettes of Mayon and Reon, currently shimmering in the glow of the midday sun. "I think... for a moment I have lost my way, and I wasn't truthful to my teachings. I am both cursed and gifted, the demonic blood running in my veins granting me abilities that I've not yet come to accept as my own. I come here asking for your help great Mayon, to help make these powers my own, so I may use it to aid all those who seek your comforting light."

It was a good start, but she felt something was... missing. There was still a little knot in her stomach, something other than all the treats she had helped herself to, a ball of anxiety as she feared that she was only lying to herself more and more. Under the watchful eyes of Mayon, the truth would have to come to light even if it hurt.

"Mayon, I'm... scared. I'm scared of what I'll become, of what my parents were. I've known nothing but your teachings my whole life, but now on my first mission I've felt pain and anger and all these other emotions in such a manner as I've never experienced them before. Even now I fear... fear that I will once lose control and wander from your light into a darkness that I'm not prepared for." Amy took a moment to take a deep breath and clear her mind, her eyes closing as she nervously continued.

"What if I fail you? Or the people around me? The Roses who took me in... what if they shun me for who I am? If they find that I was born of a succubbus parent, and that's why I can't keep my head straight when emotions run so high? The church is the only family I've ever known, and I want these knights as my friends, but what if I lose them because I-I can't control my powers? I-If they see me as a m-monster who can't be trusted, t-then-"

Something warm rolled down her cheeks, and she instinctively reached over to wipe it off, when she realised that it was one of her own tears. Before long Amy was crying slumped down on the floor of the chapel as she fought a losing war against her tears. It seemed like there was no end in sight to her sorrow, the dark thoughts of being rejected and abandoned once more cutting deep into her heart. For a moment she wasn't sure if there was even a point in coming here: she'd only make a fool of herself in front of the Roses, in front of her goddess.

It was then, in her darkest hour, when she felt the creeping hands that had taken a hold of her on that faithful night in Cae Mayl. So warm and comforting, yet so alien for a cleric familiar with the touch of Mayon. It beckoned for her to let go, to stop fighting and to let the emotions win over. To be washed away in a flood of self-doubt and anxiety. Could she ever hope to resist such a force? He very own nature was telling her to give in, did she really have a chance to come out on top after all this? Did she really have a place here?

Amy looked up once more at the image of Mayon, trying to cling on to anything, and it was then when she was it. A trick of the light, a misplaced shadow or an illusion in her own mind, but it seemed like Mayon was smiling down at her. A hand extended to help her up, and to give her the strength she required to overcome whatever hurdles life might throw her way. Maybe there was nothing there and she just really wanted to believe it, but isn't that what faith is all about? Faith, the gift of the church that took her in, the single thing that helped her get to where she was. If she gave that up, would she have anything left? No... she couldn't do that. As long as she had her faith, she could always find her way back to Mayon's guiding light, even if her cursed lineage would have her drown in her own emotions. She felt the hands on her shoulder slowly disappear, the weight disappearing off of her chest as it was replaced with the cold but comforting embrace of her goddess once more.

"You're stronger than this Amy. You put your faith in Mayon... and Mayon puts her faith in you. You will NOT fail. I will not fail! I won't be intimidated by my emotions anymore... they are who I am, just like my faith is!" Sniffing quietly and wiping away some more tears from her eyes, Amy was reduced to a mere sob as she knelt on the cold floor for a little bit longer before she'd make her way over to the pews and sat down in the first row. "My faith is strong... forgive me Mayon for ever doubting you. I know you'll give me the power to see this through. I shall be forever loyal to you, and I know you'll be there in my darkest hours to light the path forward." Amy whispered quietly and clasped her hands together as she leaned forward and began to zealously pray, consumed by recitals as she sat alone in the Chapel with a renewed faith in her goddess.

METAL

We'll get along just fine if you like power metal, that's all I need to know

Welcome to the Guild!

Rise of Rasalhague

Chapter 2:
Retaliation

~Lamar IV, Glacial Valley~

Just as quick as the enemy lance appeared, a brilliant symphony of laser and autocannon fire erupted from his own lines, and sent a warm welcome towards the hostile mechs. He knew they must've been surprised, because one of the Locusts barely managed to fire off a burst of laser fire that tore up the dirt in front of his own mech before a friendly volley turned a good chunk of its right leg into slag. With a mighty mechanical scream the Locust's leg crumpled under itself, and the machine tumbled mid-gait, falling on the ground and kicking up an enormous dust cloud as it proceeded to slide for a good 30 meters before coming to a halt on the ground. A flash of green laser fire erupted from its guns in defiance, whizzing off harmlessly into the air, and the small machine shuddered as the pilot tried to wrangle with the controls to get their mech up and running again. As the Locust pilots so often say: speed is life. And right now, this Locust had none.

With the Javelin still out of sight for him, and the other Locust receiving several barrages from the long-range weapons of his Lance that tore off both its arms, he now turned his attention to the greatest threat on the battlefield: the Jenner, already engaged in a deadly melee with their own Firestarter. The enemy mech glowed a soft orange hue as Overkill's flamers and its own return volley spiked the heat, the fast gait of the mech noticeably slowed down as the heatsinks desperately tried to cool the myomer bundles and other internals.

Slow and preoccupied: the perfect target.

There was a loud crash in the air as Ulrik pulled the trigger, and his Large Laser crackled to life, the sudden discharge of so much energy vaporizing the thin atmosphere in a brilliant flash of light. The right torso of the enemy Jenner lit up in a shower of sparks as the laser dug deep and turned the armor into molten slag within a second. He always adored the large laser, much more than the AC/5 that it replaced. With this one burst the cockpit already felt like the bathrooma after a warm shower, and it was only going to get worse. Not wanting to be a sitting duck in an already cumbersome mech if he fired an alpha strike, Ulrik decided that a salvo of LRM fire would surely scare off the pesky light if it managed to strike something important. With another squeeze of the trigger he let loose a salvo of brilliant orange lights, dancing in the air like fireflies on a moonlit night, before they disappeared in a flourish of brilliant explosions as they impacted the Jenner's hull. The majority of the missiles managed to strike their target, but the fresh puff of smoke obscured Ulrik's vision from seeing what damage they actually caused.

BANG

In an instant dust and smoke was blown in all cardinal directions as the Jenner exploded violently and sent a shockwave through the thin atmosphere that buffeted even his own 55 ton centurion, pieces of metal and other debris sent flying through the air across the battlefield. Only a smoking husk remained of the Jenner after the LRM salvo tore into the exposed structure of the mech, tearing it apart with the help of the Jenner's own SRM ammo exploding. A spectacular show, one that surprised even Ulrik as he marveled at the rising cloud of dust over the battlefield. A few moments later as the moment faded, he'd look at the Firestarter now covered in a thick layer of dust and scraped with thousands of tiny shrapnel from standing in the proximity of the explosion. At least there wasn't a risk of the Jenner's salvo cutting short the life of one of his fighters in the first engagement. "One mech down, focus fire on the mechs that can still walk." He hesitated for a moment, and then continued as he throttled up on the Centurion and continued advancing towards the primary facility, his sensors scouring the horizon. "If they rout, regroup on me. I'm picking up additional sensor traces from the facility, moving up to get a better reading."

As skeptical as he was just an hour ago of his pilot's capabilities, he now felt much more confident that they could take on a pirate scout lance. Though some of them struggled to hit their targets, nobody hesitated even for a moment and focused their fire effectively. He even caught a glimpse of a glorious ramming action as their friendly Locust slammed into the enemy LCT-1V. Maybe a little but foolish, but certainly brave, it certainly rattled the enemy.

With one enemy mech already down, and another one trying to stand up, the enemy had been cut down to half strength in just the span of a minute. The now armless Locust saw the writing on the wall and decided it wasn't going to stick around any longer, and with some fancy footwork it disengaged from the melee with Hamazasp, but not before scorching his mech's Center Torso with a burst of its sole Medium Laser. Good riddance.

Beep. Beep. "Incoming Long Range Fire"

This time the missiles from the Javelin weren't aimed at him, but that didn't make them any less dangerous. With no cover to speak of, seconds passed with breath held back to see where they would strike, before a series of explosions peppered Jaromir's Trebuchet. It buffeted the mech, as a little over half the salvo managed to connect with their sharpshooter's mech. Not enough to eat through the armor, but enough that it would surely need some time in the bay once they got back. "Damnit... Overkill, Karel, take out that Javelin, or make it run away. If that salvo hits a Light mech, we risk losing a few arms."

They might've made easy work of this first lance, but the pirates surely had more than a handful of antique tanks and a lance of light mechs. If that Javelin managed to escape, it could pepper them with long range fire whilst they are fighting the main garrison force of the enemy compound, and that was something Ulrik really didn't like the idea of.

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Combat Info Panel

Enemy Mech:	Distance (Hex):	Difficulty To Hit:	Other Modifiers:
LCT-1V	6 / 11	8	ROUT
LCT-1E	3	4	DOWNED
JVN-10A	8 / 13	7	Can't target from Valley
JR7-D	N/A	N/A	DEAD

The 1V Locust is running away, if it isn't killed this turn it will leave combat. The 1E Locust is currently on the ground, it cannot move until the start of next turn, so its easy to hit. No other rules for this, just make sure to shoot them good. JVN-10A is still in combat and not fleeing (yet), so expect to get another volley unless you manage to disarm it.

Hamazasp took 5 damage in the Center Torso from the Medium Laser, and Jaromir took 5 damage and 4 damage to Right Torso and Right Arm respectively from the LRM-15 salvo of the JVN-10A.

I updated the distance part of the table, now the first number is for the light mechs who fought on the ridge, and the second number is for everyone who remained in the valley with Ulrik.

Combat Rolls

roleplayerguild.com/rolls/25629
Large Laser To Hit Against Jenner - 6 (Hit)

roleplayerguild.com/rolls/25630
Large Laser Hit Location - 6 (Right Torso)

roleplayerguild.com/rolls/25631
LRM 10 To Hit Against Jenner - 9 (Hit)

roleplayerguild.com/rolls/25632
LRM 10 Cluster Roll - 10 (8 hits)

roleplayerguild.com/rolls/25633
LRM 10 First Cluster (5 dmg) Hit Location - 7 (Center Torso)

roleplayerguild.com/rolls/25634
LRM 10 Second Cluster (3 dmg) Hit Location - 6 (Right Torso)

Somehow poor Jenner took EXACTLY the damage it needed in both the Right Torso and Center Torso to finish it off, so I can say that was a pretty damn lucky roll.

@Letter Bee@Psyker Landshark@Forsythe@AndyC@Smike@Abstract Proxy@QJT@Starlance

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

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~Cae Mayl~

As she was handed off to the healers, Amy felt her body ache in protest, the mere idea of moving around making her sore. Still, she was in good hands now, and she did her best not to fall as the burning sensation from wound on her leg made every step hell on earth. Amy hardly regarded herself as a damsel in distress, but as the exhaustion and pain hit her, she would've dropped the tough act if someone offered to carry her in their arms. Right now she wanted to be done with walking... or being awake.

Seconds passed by in the blink of an eye, and she clung tightly to the healer helping her walk. She overheard some of Fionn's complaints towards Clarice, but she felt too confused to really think them over. She could hardly even remember what had happened to herself during the battle, much less towards the curse witch that accompanied them. Still, she could feel the anger come from Fionn, a sharp contrast to the support she experienced earlier from the knight. It seemed like the others weren't lying: the loud knight was quick to anger, and equally quick to come to someone's aid. A good thing to remember for the future.

Then, the sound of silence over the battlefield drowned out the noises of the argument, as her mind began to slip once more. Somewhere along the way back to the healer's tent, Sergio ran into them, and they came to a halt as she looked up at the knight with a hazy glance. His arm hung by his side, his stride weak, but his spirit seemingly as high as ever. The atmosphere after the battle was one of confusion and mixed feelings, but she found it funny that Sergio seemed mostly unaffected, giving off the same energy as he did when he first offered assistance to her after she fell out of the saddle.

The thought made her snap out of her little trance and smile, a chuckle too far of a reach in her condition, her head shaking gently as the man offered a salute. "Please, lower your arm Sir Sergio, you're in no condition to salute anyone, much less a mere cleric like me. But I appreciate the thought." Amy explained in a weak, but nonetheless amused voice as she looked over the knight.

The day had been long and tough on the spirit of the young cleric, but she remembered Sergio as one of the few knights who made an effort to help her fit in. It was a welcome sight on her first mission, especially when it turned out as brutal as this one. She'd beckon with her arm for Sergio and flash him a soft smile. "Come, join me on this... journey to the healer's tent." Amy exclaimed and laughed softly, a decision she regretted immediately as her lung flared up in pain and she covered her mouth to muffle a hearty swear. She took a moment to regain her breath before she looked back up at the knight with an apologetic smile. "Sorry... I hope Mayon didn't catch that one, else she'll be mad at me. And right now... I could really use her guiding light to get me though the rest of this night. And-" Stopping for a second, her gaze scoured over the knight's armor, and the many dents and splatters of blood and viscera covering it. "Something tells me you need it too. More than me. Let's return, and say a prayer for the souls of the fallen whilst the healers do their wonderful magic on us, okay?"

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@VahkiDane@The Otter

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

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~Cae Mayl~

As she touched the dying man's shoulders, her mind was flooded with an image as the cryptic mindscape of the boar's commander poured into her own.

There, in the vastness of a foreign mind she saw the gargantuan face of the pale mask, surrounded by an endless void of nothingness. Bodyless, she still felt miniscule when faced with the ivory stare of the single eye inscribed upon it, the mere presence of the mask making her shiver. In her mind, Amy felt the commander reaching out to her, trying to tell her all he could and the muscles in her arm tensed as she attempted to do the same, trying to fight the intimidating presence and learn all that she could. Moments away from getting something like a name or a location from the thoughts of the man, the world SHOOK violently and her vision was filled with a bright red color as she was cut off from the man's thoughts.

DEATH

Amy felt the violent yank as her mind recoiled in fear, the violence of being inside someone's mind as they died seeping into her own mind as she returned. The finality of the moment carried a weight with it that no human mind could possibly bear, and even a half-demon like her suffered a whiplash from the experience. Her body tensed up and she gasped, her eyes rolling back as any strength left her body, if only for a moment, only Fionn's hold of her stopping Amy from falling over.

It took but a heartbeat until she regained her vigour, even if in her mind it felt like an eternity until the world began to make sense again. The distant touch of death lingered in the her thoughts as she looked at Fanilly, and a few long seconds passed until she mustered the strength to speak up, the image from the commander's head still fresh in her mind.

"I saw... I-I saw a mask, I think. Large and pale, it felt... cold. There was also one large eye inscribed unto the surface. Open, staring. I-I don't remember much else, the..." Amy hesitated for a moment, her gaze falling upon the now dead commander of the Boars before returning to Fanilly. "The image faded before I could ascertain a-any other details. No name, I'm afraid. I hope it helped."

Falling silent and offering a small bow to Fanilly, she contemplated a long day's worth of emotions that were now swelling in her chest. She was more than happy to let silence become her new best friend until she could find a warm bed to sleep in and clear her thoughts. What had happened to her during the battle? Why could she scarcely recall any details of it, or even the encounter at the fort earlier? There was a thick, suffocating fog in her mind that needed to be cleared, but that couldn't be done until she was free of yet another graveyard's influence. So many lay dead at their feet... their pain and fear just as terrible as it was the first time she encountered a massacre, but at least this time she knew how to deal with them.

Feeling Fionn's anger as he loudly called out to Clarice, she was ready to leave his side and let the man fume (or argue) without the need to care for her safety, Amy found it quite hard to find her footing. She knew it wasn't uncommon to experience this sort of fatigue after battle, especially for inexperienced knights, but she never expected to barely be able to keep herself upright, or her eyes open. She was just about ready to pass out, more than happy to accept any form of help that could help her get back to her quarters, but for the moment she kept hanging onto Fionn for a while longer, not wanting to stumble and fall in front of everyone.

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@The Otter@VitaVitaAR

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

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~Cae Mayl~

The sharp claws of a cursehound the last thing that flashed before her eyes, before the sword of an unknown savior felled the beast amidst it's leaping motion. She fell back, stunned as a fog overcame her mind, the near-miss of the attack leaving her reeling from a small panic attack.

Her fingers clutched onto the lute, and with shaky hands she raised it to her trembling to continue a song of sorrow and pain to accompany the viscous bloodshed taking place all around.

There was a blur of colors and shapes moving from side to side, like shadows that danced their ominous rites under the moonlight. Adrenaline. Cortisol. A chemical brew of hormones that drug the mind when in danger, and numbs the senses until all that's left of the world is narrow little peek of the battlefield from outside your own body. A trained man could rip every muscle in their body without realizing, but for someone in shock, they threatened a premature death if not dealt with quickly.

"M-Mayon..." Amy's lips trembled as she called out, eyes closing as she shut out the gruesome melee unfolding around her. She tried to focus on her faith, her connection to her goddess, but her other senses were assaulted even without her looking. The sound of steel against flesh and bone. The metallic taste of the air from the spilt blood. The horrifying aura of the pain from all the fallen that they felt before meeting their demise.

"O' Goddess, guide your faithful's hand in her most trying hour. Lit by your grace, give me the strength to endure." Shaking from the shock and waiting for a miracle to free her from this nightmare, an repressed part of her mind began to wake up from it's slumber. Like a soft hand on her shoulders, it sought to alleviate her pain and whisper tempting lies into her ears. As if someone else guided her hands, Amy's tune on the flute began to shift and change.

It was no longer sorrow, but it was joy. Fear couldn't control the notes as they were replaced by temptation. The music that once shivered in pain now playfully tempted all those who listened to partake in the bloodshed. There was a perverse joy in these tunes, one fueled by grisly murder, an uncanny willingness to fuel the flames of combat. Her fingers no longer felt cold, the hand that guided them filling them with warmth that made her body tingle. She now yearned for a song of war, a lullaby that would sate this wicked desire. Like an offering to a deity she performed her most vigorous melody yet as she finally opened her eyes and took in the battlefield with all her sense.

Deep down, Amy knew that this offering wasn't to Mayon: her hands are cold but caring, her voice commanding but soft, and her presence ephemeral but soothing. This fire from deep within was nothing of the sort: it was fueled by dark desire, by craving and temptation that could never be sated. It warmed her up and gave her strength unlike anything she had felt, and it made her hungry...

It made her crave for blood.

By the time Amy had realised how serious her affliction had become, the battlefield swallowed her up and took control of her.

Hands moving on her own as she performed a melody of bloodshed, the half-demon joyfully frolicked through the fallen in what could only be described as a ghastly jaunt. The once timid cleric now seemed very fond of murder, and she swept across the battlefield like a whirlwind, bringing her warm tune far too close to the frontlines, seemingly ignorant of her own fragility. Only when the curse-beast appeared did she seem to regain her senses a little, her tune shifting to a more playful tone as she kept a distance from the monsters. Never skipping a beat, the flute kept singing it's rallying cry, ushering all to join the fight against the powerful new foe that had appeared.

To Amy, the world was a blur, and she ceded control to this BURNING feeling inside of her that had freed her of the fears that once kept her chained. Not a trouble in the world, she reveled in the battle, appearing besides an ally in a fight, bolstering their spirits with an irresistible song before seemingly disappearing into thin air and appearing besides yet another knight. All those she visited would feel the same burning sensation deep inside of themselves: a yearning for glorious combat, the searing heat of melee and the spilt crimson of blood. No doubt an effect of her magical connection with emotions, whereas previously only one of her fellow knights had experienced Amy's ability to share her feelings, now all those who listened to her son could experience the same fire burning deep within her: friend and foe alike.

It was a hymn of battle... and an ode to slaughter.

To Amy, the world was a blur that only started clearing up once the ferocity of the fighting began to die down. As bodies littered the muddy battlefield and incredibly magic swept across the battlefield, she became numb to the smell of blood. The clashing of swords was but a distant rumble, and she finally felt the cool night air assault her skin once more. Beads of sweat ran down her face as the unknown presence that had kept her fired up now began to retreat in disgust. As the enemy rooted and the last remaining beasts were hunted down by her fellow knights, the fire had no more fuel. The entity retreated, taking with it the soothing fog of war, and left Amy gasping for air as her song came to a trembling end.

For a moment she couldn't even remember where she was, much less what had happened. She lowered her flute, only to realize she had been only using one hand: her other one clutching a bloodied dagger, her hands and dress covered in splatters of blood. Her right leg was covered in blood: sometime during the battle she received a shallow cut that was still bleeding a bit. As her head cleared, the searing pain flooded her mind as well, and she could feel that it wasn't the only injury she had sustained without even realizing. Bruises and soreness covered her body, and panic began to take hold over her once more.

"What happened?" She whispered quietly and looked up at the night sky, seeking answers from Mayon. But the goddess remained silent, the moon hiding behind a cloud as it shrouded the battlefield in a shadow.

Her fellow knights, however, did not, and the last sounds of a fading battlefield finally reached her after an eternity of darkness. "Clarice, Amy, Veilena! Get over here!"

Her body moving on her own, still staring at the bloody dagger in her hand, Amy walked over to Fionn and then collapsed down onto her knees next to him. It took a few moments before she looked up at the knight, and then the leader of the boars, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as she did so. "By Mayon..." She whispered as she examined the bloodied helmet now tossed to the site, and then her gaze returned to Fionn. In the moment, she was far from being in a position to help anyone, her tired body shaking and sore, mind still foggy from the powerful presence that took control of her body previously. With a quiet wince as she stood up with her injured leg, she leaned onto Fionn's back, one arm crossing around the knight's shoulders, whilst her other hand landed on the commander's shoulders. "Mayon bring you peace... just - think about the name. What you want to tell. Quick, b-before we both collapse." Amy wasn't joking, she felt exhausted and more or less relied on Fionn propping her up, but she wanted to be of use one more time before the Adrenaline withdrawal made her collapse. "Think of a name!" She gasped, looking into the man's eyes with the last remaining cinders of the previous fire burning in her eyes. If the man could focus his thoughts in his dying moments, she'd catch them, and tell what she learned to Fionn.

---

@The Otter@VitaVitaAR

Rise of Rasalhague

Chapter 2:
Contact

~Lamar IV, Glacial Valley~

The cacophony of battle slowly coalesced into a musical melody that even the greatest of the classics couldn't match in Ulrik's opinion. As the brilliant blue and green rays of light filled his vision and explosions began to shake the ground beneath the feet of his 55 ton 'mech, he truly felt at home.

He pressed his thumb to the button on his joystick, and a blue beam cut across the battlefield, turning the turret of a J.Edgar into molten slag as the vehicle came to a sudden halt. Like little fireworks, the SRM-2 ammo began to cook off in the remains of the turret one-by-one, and the hatches on the hull flipped open as the crew began a hurried dismount from their doomed vehicle. It showed their desperation that they threw themselves on the muddy ground, and tried to crawl through the lines of fire from both friendlies and opposing forces. Then again, Ulrik understood: seconds later the J.Edgar exploded in a brilliant flash of light as the rest of the ammo exploded at once, and it painted the landscape in a brilliant orange light before sending the disfigured remains of the turret at least 60 feet in the air, and kicked up a dust cloud at least twice as tall in the forgiving gravity of the moon.

A similar explosion rocked the canyon as Jaromir's laser found it's mark and detonated the Thumper's ammunition reserves, detonating it with such force that the shockwave threw up a cloud of dust and snow that managed to obscure even his view from the cockpit, and stuck to his armored glass as an off-white gunk until it started to melt in the heat of laser fire. "Great." He acknowledged with the grumpiness of an apathetic veteran, and then let loose another volley of laser fire at the nearest goblin, this time leashing both his medium and large lasers. Missing it's center by just a foot, the shot nevertheless melted the links of the track together and managed to throw it completely off in the process. The Goblin came to a sudden and violent halt, it's guns falling silent as the rattled crew inside tried to regain their senses.

Beep.

Just a heat warning, surely. The cockpit of a BattleMech was always loud with mechanical whirring and electronic beeps in the heat of combat.

Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeep. "Incoming Long Range Fire"

That was definitely not a heat warning. Turning his attention to the sky, he managed to notice the bright orange streaks right as they reached the apex of their trajectory, and then violently adjusted course towards his 'mech. He loved the Centurion for it's rugged design and decent firepower for a Medium of it's size, but it's sluggish nature was a curse that he would carry with himself to the grave. Janking his joystick to the left, his feet pressed into the pedals like he was going to push them out of the cockpit, and he got the Centurion to change it's stride just in time for the LRM salvo to strike into the shielded right arm of his 'mech instead of his vulnerable cockpit.

He wasn't going to die today, not yet anyways. But he'd need a fresh coat of paint now that half a dozen charred impact marks covered the dented armor of his Centurion's right arm. Using the time between reloads of whatever carried the LRM to break line of sight with as many of the enemy units as possible, Ulrik examined his displays: the enemy mech pings from before had gotten closer, and with the help of the Ankhanne's own sensors, he finally had a good read on them.

"Hostile Light lance inbound from the East! They're pedaling fast, ETA 1 minute or less!" Aligning himself with the eastern wall to give even less of a shot for the approaching mechs, he stepped over the remains of a burnt-out Goblin that one of his Mechwarriors had taken care of previously, and continued the steady advance up the sloped glacier whilst keeping his eyes on the sensor. "Got confirmation from the Ankhanne. Two of them are Locusts, and one of them is a Jenner. Last one is unidentified, but the LRM fire suggests it's a Javelin variant. Run down these tanks, then focus fire on these new contacts: Zohra, stay on the west flank, just in case we get surprises. Overkill, Jaromir, join Karel and reinforce the flanks. Keep fast, that Javelin shouldn't have too much ammunition left." With that Ulrik let loose another salvo of laser fire, cutting a neat hole into the side of the goblin he had previously immobilised, leaving the incinerated hulk to spew fire and thick black smoke into the atmosphere as he kept his eyes peeled on the ridgeline: any second now, their right flank would meet the enemies, and he was much more worried about those mechs than the few remaining J.Edgars that still tried to put a dent in their ranks, but had a hard time hitting the mobile lance with their SRM-2s. Then, before long, the first beam of bright green laser cut across the dark sky and illuminated the glistening snow, and the head of the first Locust appeared as it ran full speed towards Karel's Mongoose, the rest of it's lance not far behind.

---

Combat Info Panel

Enemy Mech:	Distance (Hex):	Difficulty To Hit:	Other Modifiers:
LCT-1V	2	7	+1 to hit from Valley
LCT-1E	3	6	+1 to hit from Valley
JVN-10A	11	7	Can't target from Valley
JR7-D	3	5	+1 to hit from Valley

One Hex is considered 30 meters, I gave distance in hexes to make it easy to see weapon distance on SARNA. Don't apply modifiers to hit or damage based on range, only check if you are in range or not. If you aren't in range, as long as you can move enough hexes in a turn to close the gap you can fire at the target. If you need that figured out, the formula is pretty simple:

Hex (Speed) = KPH / 10.8

Post your rolls for shooting at the end of your post, feel free to use the site's own rolltable function. Don't worry about tracking heat, everyone here is basically an MWO veteran running Override

Rest are in the pinned comment on Discord.

@Letter Bee@Psyker Landshark@Forsythe@AndyC@Smike@Abstract Proxy@QJT@Starlance

Rise of Rasalhague

Chapter 2:
Arrival at Lamar IV

~Ankhanne, Briefing Room~

The chirp from his watch woke Ulrik up from his daydreaming, and indicated that it was time for him to begin the briefing. Looking over the info on his tablet one more time, he finally placed the rugged device down on the table and then stared into the eyes of his otherwise silent pilots. Once more the only sound in the room for a few second was the sound of people shifting, and the sound of barely functioning fans rattling in the air conditioning system. Last time he was here, he wasn't really sure what to say to his pilots given how little info he actually had available. This fact remained mostly unchanged: he still wasn't sure what to say, but at least they finally had intel which did bring a small smile onto the otherwise stern man's face.

He gave himself a second to look over the faces of all the MechWarriors one more time before he sat down on the edge of the table and tapped the tablet besides him with one hand. "I see everyone has had their beauty sleep like I recommended. Good. Hopefully we won't die today then." Hopefully. Taking a mix of rookies and misfit veterans into a dropzone against unknown hostiles was a gamble he didn't like the odds of, but at least fatigue won't be the reason they get shot. At least not mental: he wasn't sure about the metal fatigue of the rustbuckets they received from the Republic.

"I'll keep it short and sweet this time. About an hour ago we entered orbit, and we've had some time to analyze our scans. The good news is that we have a reasonably detailed topographic map that we've updated to all your rides. The bad news is that we'll be fighting an uphill battle in what appears to be a small valley." Grabbing his tablet momentarily, the screen behind him flickered to life and showed a much more detailed version of the map they had seen before. At one end of the gently winding valley nestled at the foot of the crater was a large circle marked as the "drop zone", whilst on the other end a sizeable military structure embed into the side of the hill was marked and outlined in red. "We'll be landing at the foot of the valley, as close as the Ankhanne can get us. Even the best of these eggships don't like it when you land them on an incline, and we're not risking a mission failure before we can even embark."

Ulrik walked besides the screen and pointed at the middle of the valley with two fingers. "This is our route. We identified the enemy base, and it seems to have minimal static defense. However, we've seen an unknown DropShuttle land there just a few hours ago, and we've picked up a few mech signatures patrolling the area, mostly below 40 tons in size. No transponders on either the shuttle or the mechs, so we still don't know the identity of the OpFor."

He slowly switched sides in front of the screen, and dragged a line with his other hand on either sides of the valley. "Zohra, Karel: we'll have the two of you scan either side of the valley in case the patrols start coming back: I don't want to be surprised by a few Panthers peeking over the edge and picking us off from a distance. Fuka, Alvin" He turned over to the two Mechwarriors before patting the screen with his fingers at the mouth of the valley. "You two are with me, we'll take point and push up in the valley. We'll need to take the brunt of the fire if combat ensues, preferably without getting our mech shot out from under us. The rest of the lance will stay behind and follow at a distance. Until we know what we're up against, I don't want anyone to run towards our target."

Turning to the screen, he zoomed in on the compound and used the tablet to highlight a few key points. "We know there is a hangar inside the facility for mechs as well as aersopace fighters and shuttles, but we don't know how big it is under the surface. Our Scans show the facility is old: it must've been established some time after the planet was abandoned and the radiation hazard was gone. Once we get here, we'll make our way inside and secure the facility, by force if necessary. We take any equipment we can move, and destroy anything we can't: remember, the goal is to make sure that our mystery friends can't conduct raids on Rasalhague territory anymore. Bonus points if we figure out who they are."

Ulrik waited for a few more seconds before he looked down at his watch, eyes narrowing as he examined the time: 12:11. That didn't leave them much time before planetfall. "Alright, let's wrap it up and head to the bay. We're landing in 20." With that, he quickly turned off the screen and motioned at the door for everyone to get going. "If you have any other questions, do it once we're all strapped in."

---

~Ankhanne, Mech Bay~

Strapped into the cockpit of his Centurion, Ulrik finally felt at home. He preferred the cold, calculating action of combat to the often confusing role of trying to lead their merry band of mercenaries. But now that he robotically turning switches and pressing buttons, movements that have been burnt into his memory over the years, his mind was finally clear. Finally he pressed the ignition, and the machine hummed to life around him, fusion core and myomer bundles coming to life as the displays in the cockpit lit up. Running a quick diagnostics check, he looked around the bay to see his MechWarriors doing the same, and the mechtechs doing the last, final minute adjustments as the klaxons began to blare and a warm, orange light filled the bay.

"This is your 60 second warning for atmospheric entry. Strap in, everyone." He made sure that everything inside the cockpit was secured tightly, and had just enough time to adjust the chins traps on his neurohelm before the ship began to rattle underneath them. At first it was gentle, almost unnoticable, but over the next few seconds it slowly intensified into an ungodly rollercoaster that felt like they had been put into a paint shaker.

It only lasted a minute before the ship had finally slowed down, but it was enough to remind Ulrik why he hated large DropShips like this over the smoother entry of smaller shuttles. Few seconds later a message popped up in his helmet's HUD, and he frowned as he adjusted his mic into position. "Final checks everyone, make sure your diagnostics show green, we're doing a running start. Plasma blackout is over, and scanners show that the hostiles have finally noticed us: we'll have company as soon as we land. Remember the plan: Karel, Zhora, take the flanks, the rest is with me up the middle. Fall back if you meet anything you can't outrun our outshoot. If things go tits up, we run back here and hope the captain kept the engines warm. Let's not lose a mech on the first assignment." With that he slowly reached down and grabbed the stick of his trusty Centurion, enjoying the familiar touch of the time-worn plastic that had been smoothed to near perfection over years of use.

Suddenly a mighty roar filled the hangar as the retro boosters fired up for the last meters of the landing, and an uncomfortable 2,3 Gs weighted down on the crew for a few moments before disappeared, and with a loud THUD the Ankhanne came to a halt. As the rockets finally died down, an eerie silence follower for a few long seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity, before the gates of the mech bay slowly began to open. Leaning forward in his seat and pushing up the throttle, Ulrik got his Centurion into a light stroll as he walked up to the opening gates, and saw as his MechWarriors left their cubicles too and joined him.

Behind the opening doors laid a long and winding valley covered in lychen and snow, with small glacial flow running up it's length like a river. Either sides the slops of the valley ran at a steep angle upwards until they quite suddenly disappeared into the plains behind at an altitude of 200 feet. It was certainly much more jarring than the orbital pictures made it out to be, but not as bad as Ulrik had feared. Over the slopes that laid in the valley's bends, they could just make out in the distance the blinking lights of the compound they were supposed to storm: a leisurely stroll in a light mech on a good day, but a potential marathon if they ran into stiff resistance.

"No hails from the garrison: treat all contacts as hostile." The ramp had just finished lowering and he got his Centurion to start jogging down the ramp when Ulrik spotted a tiny flash in the distance, from atop one of the ridgelines surrounding the valley. Moments later a thunderous crash could be heard as a supersonic shell crashed into his cockpit, leaving a spiderweb of cracks on the armored glass as it hit it's mark but failed to penetrate. Instinctively raising one of his hands to cover his face, his Centurion did the same, and after a heartbeat of hesitation he let loose a shot from his Large Laser towards the ridgeline, missing the top by a few feet as the bright laser shot off towards space. "Motherf-..." It was startling to receive a blow like this so soon after landing, but he wasn't surprised: he and his infantry platoon had used the same strategy countless of times before.

"Infantry contact on the ridgeline, 1 o'clock! Everyone spread out and keep your eyes peeled! Karel, take the right flank and gives the welcome party a roast! Zhora, take the left, check to see if we have more friends waiting for us. Fuka, you're up front!" He barked orders as yet another shell zipped past, just narrowly missing his cockpit this time and shooting off on a ballistic trajectory as it ricoched off his mech's shoulderplate. Such anti-mech infantry rifles were only useful in numbers, but a direct hit on the fragile cockpit was still a viable tactic. As the rest of the lance began to unload, several more shots rang out, and shooters on both sides began firing in an attempt to score some critical hits. Shrugging off a few more shots as the Dragon began to take the brunt of the rifle fire, Ulrik let loose a few bursts of his Medium Lasers at the ridgelines to keep the infantry pinned as he checked his sensors. "Two lances of vehicles coming just around the bend: they seem like J. Edgars and... Goblins? That can't be right, they still make those?" Ulrik didn't have time to ponder whether or not his sensors were lying to him or not, as the very real beams of the Large Laser from the first Goblin taking the corner managed to hit Fuka's Dragon directly in the Right Torso, sending sparks and molten metal flying in all directions. "We've got mech signatures closing in fast, we need to deal with these tanks before they get here!"

---

@Letter Bee@Psyker Landshark@Forsythe@AndyC@Smike@Abstract Proxy@QJT@Starlance

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

---

~Cae Mayl~

Ever since they have left the accursed fort behind, Amy felt as if a thick veil had been lifted off of her mind. She could think and see clearly, in ways that were previously impossible during their stay in that gravesite of a fortress, when the fog of anxiety and fear swamped her thoughts. Not that this was all good though: she realized she had done very little to actually help the knights in their mission during their stay. She just so happened to be in the right place at the right time to find the shard with the knight captain, but other than that she felt woefully inadequate as a knight. The thought did push her to prove herself though: should the boars try something once they arrived at the location of the meeting, she'd be read for them. During the trip she was preparing herself mentally and physically, brandishing her flute like the other knights would their sword, and whispering quiet prayers for protection to Mayon.

Still, Amy wondered: with the uneasy alliance between them and the mercenaries, was she really the only one who didn't trust them at all? I sounded too convenient and too hard to believe that they would be there JUST as they arrived too. Surely they had been tipped off well before the knights were about the location of the shard: and if they weren't, it meant someone close to the Iron Roses was the one who contracted them. Maybe... maybe she was overthinking things. Usually her senses didn't lie, but this time she wasn't sure if her own paranoia about meeting these unknown mercenaries on her first mission out wasn't clouding her judgement. Still, just to be safe she spent a good part of the ride towards Cae Mayl sizing them up and thinking of ways to deal with them each should the need arise. Of particular interest was their mage: it seemed like they were the only two magic users in the larger group, and Amy was afraid her less than lethal spells would have a hard time keeping her at bay.

By the time they arrived at the shrine Amy felt quite exhausted. Riding for such a long time wasn't something she was used to, and she was eager to finally get off her horse once they stopped. Managing not to fall off the saddle as she dismounted this time, she stuck close to Fanilly just as she was instructed by her fellow knights. Clutching her flute close to her chest, she was on the lookout for any hostile intentions she might pick up on her senses, but she didn't feel anything for the time being. She paid little attention to the actual dialogue between the knight captain and Veilena Cazt: despite not sensing any immediate danger, she was expecting trouble to arrive at any moment.

Arrive, trouble did.

Amy was on the lookout for the mercenaries in their retinue and not any Golden Boars that could be laying in wait, but when the curse hounds emerged from the foliage surrounding Cae Mayl she was ready for them. Already twitchy from taking her job of staying by Fanilly's side a little too seriously, she'd swing around on her heels and scooted closer to Sergio and Fanilly as she counted the number of golden boars and hounds in her head. "Captain, Sergio, please stay close! I'll use my magic on the enemy soldiers, you focus on keeping the hounds at bay!" She exclaimed, and watched as the boars quickly approached, their charge halted momentarily as captain Tyaethe threw herself into combat and already cut one of them down before the fight had even begun.

This was her opening.

This was her chance to show the knights she wasn't just some hapless half-demon that they would have to babysit.

Amy closed her eyes and raised her flute to her lips, her mind becoming silent in the moment as she ignored all the noises from the outside and focused on her magic. Slowly, graciously, it reached out into the void around her, tendrils that wrapped around the beings around her that she could sense. All that hostility, all that confidence she felt from the Golden Boars, they made easy targets for her to focus on as the tendrils finally constricted around the attackers.

The flute began to sing it's enchanting lullaby, a somber song that filled all those who heard it with a deep melancholy. Slowly the song picked up in volume and intensity and Amy opened her eyes, her sights set on the Golden Boar that had previously shouted orders. One by one, the affected boars in the front rows of the charge began to slow down and doze off, hitting the ground as they fell asleep from the spell's effect. Their charge had been halted once more, but as the sweet lullaby of Amy's flute crept into the ears of the fallen Boar's comrades, the quickly realized what was going on. She simply didn't have the magic to put all of them to sleep at once: the ones further back quickly caught on, and she could feel the connection to them break. Once they figured out her trick, that was all she could do to such a large crowd. At least she'd keep the ones already asleep in a deep slumber, in a fake coma that would be hard to wake up from. As long as she could keep playing, they'd have that much less to worry about.

---

Musik

The serious




And the not-so-serious

Rise of Rasalhague

Chapter 1:
Aboard the Ankhanne

Ulrik stood at the end of the long hallway with Elena, watching with a small smirk on his face as all the new pilots chose a mech and got themselves acquainted with their new rides inside the rusty hangar. At the same time, the chief technician seemed to be in a mad dash beside him, jotting down notes and rearranging the time allotments for repairs, prioritizing the issues that concerned the ‘Mechs the mercenaries chose. Even though they had only been on this ship for a few hours, it seemed like they had been doing this their entire life, and the sight sight gave him a rush of nostalgia.

He imagined in front of himself the long barrack buildings, the bays replaced with bunk beds as the room was filled with the hustle and bustle of DCMS infantry from various worlds either trying to rest, or busy making sure nobody could get shut-eye. Back when he was still just a lowly foot soldier, a cog in a much larger machine, the bottom of the battlefield food chain. Still, he missed those days of having nothing to do but still trying to keep busy in front of the boss whilst stationed on the border regions, and he wondered if he’ll ever feel the same sort of belonging as he did back then. Then he remembered his days serving in a ‘Mech lance, but the memories of the 4th Succession Wars quickly snapped him out of his melancholy.

The smirk disappeared from his face and as he looked to his side, he only saw the little spots of machine oil where Elen used to stand, the woman now busy instructing the technicians on the installation of the Firestarter’s cooling system. They still had half a day, but he was already feeling anxious. He didn’t know what to expect, nor from his team, nor from their enemy. And he couldn’t shake this bad gut feeling whenever he thought about “unmarked mechs and vehicles” raiding nearby systems. The last time his unit leader told him that there would be unmarked hostiles in the area, he had to hide for almost a week before friendly forces finally liberated the area and rescued him. If these unmarked forces turn out to be a clandestine operation from one of the great houses, he was more than willing to commandeer the Ankhanne and leave this part of the Inner Sphere behind.

Still, he had pressing matters to attend to. Looking down at the tablet once more to check the time, Ulrik slowly peered back at the mechbay before putting two of his fingers into his mouth and letting out an ear-shattering whistle, muted to an extent by the cacophony of the mech bay but still loud enough to turn a few heads. He hoped it was mostly his pilot’s heads, as his eyesight isn't what it used to be and past the third row he couldn’t make out any of the faces, just blobs and blurs of people going about their business. He took a deep breath and cupped his hands as he brought them to his face, tablet still in hand, and shouted into the bay. “Alright pilots, I’ll see you at 01700 in the mess hall! That’s about 15 minutes, don’t be late!” With that, he waited a few seconds to see if anyone listened, and then decided to send them all a message on their tablets for good measure. Then he waltzed out of the bay, deciding that he’d take his meager lunch and a mug of coffee before the rest of the pilots got to the mess hall.

---

~Ankhanne, Mess Hall~

He had just about finished his coffee when the first of the pilots began to trickle in. Some arrived early, some a little late, but once they were all sitting down and enjoying a delicious offering of lunch leftovers, Ulrik stood up and cleared his throat to get their attention, then motioned with his palms towards the floor for everyone to stay seated. “I hate the rush as much as everyone else, but I need to get orientation finished and some food pumped into everyone before duty takes me to the bridge for the rest of this trip. The time is…” He held a finger up and quickly glanced at his tablet before continuing. “1708 right now, and we’ll be breaking orbit around 1230 ship time tomorrow. We’ll be doing a mid-course flip around 0200 ship time, so don’t eat anything before that if you don’t handle zero-g well. Now, I want everyone to get a good sleep in before the mission if you can: I know tinkering with the mech can be exhilarating, but I’d prefer everyone is awake and ready to engage the moment we make planetfall. The enemy might be waiting for us, so we won’t have time to brew a pot and wake up.”

With that he lifted a leg over the simple plasteel bench and took a few steps away from the tables, folding his arms as he ended up leaning against the simple counter in front of the kitchen. “I’m going to try and press our Republic contacts for more info before the drop, and in the meantime I’ve uploaded everything about the mission and the Ankhane to your tablets. I’ll assume everyone is familiar with the Union-class Dropships, and in that regard I have some good and bad news. Good news is that we’re almost a 1000 tons heavier, minus the rust eating away at this old derelict, so I think you guys will be pleasantly surprised to find that you’ll only need to share a room with one other person: you’ll have to box out who sleeps on the top bunk.” Opening up a schematic on his tablet, he held it up for the crew to see, though everyone could access it anytime on their own if they wanted, so it was more for the show than anything else. “We’re two floors above the ‘Bay, this floor is what the crew have told me they affectionately call the “The Mess”. If you go head right here-” He pointed at the door on the far end of the room. “Then you’ll get to the sick bay, crew lounge and/or bar, and I am happy to say, the simulators. Only two pods, but maybe we can squeeze in some more if this mission goes well. Dr Rachel will give you a tetanus shot if anyone stubs their toe on one of the rusty panels in the ship, otherwise I’m sure you’ll get acquainted with her after the battle. If you head the other way, you’ll find the personal quarters of every officer on the ship, and also the quartermaster’s office. I suggest you go say to Daisuke if you have the time: if you need anything, and I do mean ANYTHING, on the ship for yourself or your quarters, he’ll be the one to ask. He’s also the one who’ll be making sure you guys don’t make a mess, so I suggest being on his good side unless you want to say goodbye to the luxuries of alcohol and clean sheets for your bunk. What else…”

Ulrik looked over the pilots for a second before he stared up at the ceiling above and at the flickering neon lights. “Up a floor is the bridge, the captain’s quarters, and as you know the orientation room. I’m informed that they have gutted one of the truly ancient server rooms that the ship apparently “didn’t need”, so it now serves as the ship’s bar, where I’ve heard our dear Elena makes amazing cocktails, but I wouldn’t expect her to be there anytime soon. And finally, a floor below is the crew deck: that’s all the bunks and cleaning cabinets you’ll need for a lifetime. Daisuke assigned all of you rooms so that all the pilots sleep together and not with the other parts of the crew, but if you want to bunk with a technician, I’m sure we can get that sorted out. Not much else on that floor: a small common area and some storages from what I’ve seen. The rest of the ship is just the engines and storage, so I think that covers orientation.” By the end of his sentence Ulrik had to let out a small sigh. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken this much, but captain Konrad insisted that he told wherever everything was on the ship to his pilots, since the rest of the crew was busy patching up leaks and switching fuses to put the ship into a flyable condition even as they were in transit. The last thing they wanted was for the Ankhanne to be stranded on a moon with a barely breathable atmosphere and enough radiation to kill off anything more complex than moss, lichen and a few plants that adapted to the conditions. Scratching his stubble as he looked over the tablet one last time, Ulrik hung the device onto his belt and gave a nod to the pilots in the mess hall before he pushed himself away from the countertop. “Message me if you need me, or you’ll find my quarters at the end of the hall here. Make yourselves at home, and welcome to the Ankhanne. I want to see everyone in the orientation room tomorrow at 1200 to go over the plan once more before we suit up. Everything else you need to know is on your tablets. That’ll be all.” With one last lingering look over the otherwise empty mess hall, Ulrik pushed himself away from the countertop and raised his ups in a small wave towards the pilots as he disappeared behind one of the doors in the hallway. He was heading up to the bridge to talk with the captain and make reports for his Republic contacts, and he hoped that the new Mechwarriors could occupy themselves for long enough for him to finish his work, get a smidge of sleep, and refine their battle plans before landing. There were a lot of things he still needed to do in the little time they had, but at least they weren’t being shot at, which was a definite improvement over his time spent in the army.

---

@Letter Bee@Psyker Landshark@Forsythe@AndyC@Smike@Abstract Proxy@QJT@Starlance