...dear god you people...is Gerard the only sane one?
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Username history
- Harbringer 10 yrs ago
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9 yrs ago
Current
Why is ecology so dry...
Bio
20 year old skinny asian living in Australia. Nothing much to say really. Despiser of the YOLO generation. Acts more like a crochety old man.
Has two dogs. Pets them a lot and applies the same logic to humans too.
Most Recent Posts
Gerard...carries the hatchet he used to use as an infantryman.
Meanwhile...Delacroix.
"So Yuu...you going to move your adorable little arse into gear or what?"
"So Yuu...you going to move your adorable little arse into gear or what?"
@Harbringer
So...you towed the shuttle...and left Yuu, who's machine already has a hard time keeping up with a shuttle's original speed XD?
Yes. Move your own arse.
Also Happy Barfday.
"YOU LOST ALL HER WEAPONS!?" his chief engineer shouted as Gerard slumped out of his seat, his heart starting to slow as the adrenaline flowed out of him. The rest of the man's tirade was lost to a near constant buzzing in his ears as the other engineers went to work. The Marauder was in pretty bad shape to say the least, considering the fact that several parts were now either damaged or missing. "Ferme ta gueule," he said as he passed, ever so gently swaying from side to side. The battle with the Rose had left him tired both physically and mentally. Not to mention completely unarmed. To his credit, the head engineer shelved any remaining words and began evaluating the damage even as its French pilot staggered towards the rest of his comrades. Somewhere along the way a steaming hot tin of recaff made it into his hands and he found himself chugging the foul black substance down gratefully, feeling the hot liquid scald its way down his throat. Hearing his name called from the other side of the hangar, Gerard began to shamble his way over, his usually unkempt hair in an even more unreasonable state.
As McKnight began to outline his plan, Gerard kicked an empty crate into position and planted his arse down without ceremony. The recaff grew more bitter the shallower it became but that only served to awaken him further, like an unholy creature was seizing his throat. Looking over at Yuu as their part was explained, he offered her a tired smile and nod before his eyes flicked back to their commander. Of course. His grapple system would allow him some leverage in moving the machines, not to mention Yuu's machine's stupid strength. He tossed the empty recaff tin into the corner where it clattered against a wall. "As a melee unit, I would not mind hijacking the space elevator," he said as he stood up, rolling his shoulder and wincing as he discovered a new bruise, "but I will make do." Those disposable packs gave melee units the worst going as they were often the ones that needed to be the most maneouverable. Then again, being stuck on an enemy planet did not exactly appeal to him either, so he would have to grit his teeth through it.
Taking a deep swig of his flask, it was promptly snatched out of his hands and recapped by his chief engineer. "We've replaced all the major stuff and fitted some plates over the broken armour," he said as he handed the flask back. Looking at his Machine, Gerard was only slightly mortified. Its formerly elegant shape was now marred by gunmetal grey plates riveted on roughly to create an unholy frankenstein of a beast. "We've also rearmed it with stuff from the armoury." He felt a fierce grip on his shoulder. "Don't. Lose. These." Delacroix nedded silently before beginning the climb to the cockpit. As he settled into the seat, the pilor took note of the freshly polished weapons, which broke a stark contrast to the scarred and scorched machine in whose hands they resided. He smiled. You had to take pride in the little things. "Marauder is ready for action," he subvocalised into the comms, "on your mark, McKnight."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the Coalition units began to take the field, Delacroix was slightly disappointed that the white and red Rose was nowhere amongst them, although he knew it was for the better. Nevertheless, his fist clenched around his lever. He'd pay her back some day... if not today, then tomorrow. He was snapped out of his reverie by McKnight as he began to bark orders. "Oui, Mon ami," he replied before gunning his thrusters. Significantly faster than both the lumbering Calamity and the cumbersome shuttle, he shot ahead, but turned as he approached the front of the shuttle. Slapping his left hand onto the nose, he felt a small clink as the electromagnet bonded with it nosecone. He smiled. "Hold on marines," he said into comms before turning away, revealing the long line of tough fiber, "You're going for a ride."
Pushing his thrusters to maximum, he began to tow the shuttle along behind him at a speed which it could never have realised alone, although not so much that it was hazardous to human health. It was simply a little boost. He glanced over to the approaching coalition units. They'd make it in time. Probably.
As McKnight began to outline his plan, Gerard kicked an empty crate into position and planted his arse down without ceremony. The recaff grew more bitter the shallower it became but that only served to awaken him further, like an unholy creature was seizing his throat. Looking over at Yuu as their part was explained, he offered her a tired smile and nod before his eyes flicked back to their commander. Of course. His grapple system would allow him some leverage in moving the machines, not to mention Yuu's machine's stupid strength. He tossed the empty recaff tin into the corner where it clattered against a wall. "As a melee unit, I would not mind hijacking the space elevator," he said as he stood up, rolling his shoulder and wincing as he discovered a new bruise, "but I will make do." Those disposable packs gave melee units the worst going as they were often the ones that needed to be the most maneouverable. Then again, being stuck on an enemy planet did not exactly appeal to him either, so he would have to grit his teeth through it.
Taking a deep swig of his flask, it was promptly snatched out of his hands and recapped by his chief engineer. "We've replaced all the major stuff and fitted some plates over the broken armour," he said as he handed the flask back. Looking at his Machine, Gerard was only slightly mortified. Its formerly elegant shape was now marred by gunmetal grey plates riveted on roughly to create an unholy frankenstein of a beast. "We've also rearmed it with stuff from the armoury." He felt a fierce grip on his shoulder. "Don't. Lose. These." Delacroix nedded silently before beginning the climb to the cockpit. As he settled into the seat, the pilor took note of the freshly polished weapons, which broke a stark contrast to the scarred and scorched machine in whose hands they resided. He smiled. You had to take pride in the little things. "Marauder is ready for action," he subvocalised into the comms, "on your mark, McKnight."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the Coalition units began to take the field, Delacroix was slightly disappointed that the white and red Rose was nowhere amongst them, although he knew it was for the better. Nevertheless, his fist clenched around his lever. He'd pay her back some day... if not today, then tomorrow. He was snapped out of his reverie by McKnight as he began to bark orders. "Oui, Mon ami," he replied before gunning his thrusters. Significantly faster than both the lumbering Calamity and the cumbersome shuttle, he shot ahead, but turned as he approached the front of the shuttle. Slapping his left hand onto the nose, he felt a small clink as the electromagnet bonded with it nosecone. He smiled. "Hold on marines," he said into comms before turning away, revealing the long line of tough fiber, "You're going for a ride."
Pushing his thrusters to maximum, he began to tow the shuttle along behind him at a speed which it could never have realised alone, although not so much that it was hazardous to human health. It was simply a little boost. He glanced over to the approaching coalition units. They'd make it in time. Probably.
Well...its time to find the Marauder some new weapons.
If its still going I'm cool to come
Building TNT traps in minecraft to troll people can be so fun. I've wasted about 2 days just Making destroy their own bases and stuff.
Tree bombs that blows up whoever chops a block from it. While they look around for a creeper... Boom.
Even rigged a random tree out in the jungle. I should start a pool to see how long before some poor unlucky bastard out on an adventure runs into that tree bomb in the middle of nowhere.
Thats at LEAST 6 Evils.
Appearance:
Name:
Darius Cezare
Age:
25
Race:
Human
Personality:
Blunt, impulsive and direct, Darius embodies the freedom of youth with near uncontrollable vigour. With little subtlety or patience, one could almost aliken his nature to the lance that he carries. Though the Knights Draconis have instilled in him the martial skill and tactical thinking required to fight his battles, they have yet to tame his unruly spirit and burning passion. Almost never seen without at least a smirk on his face, Darius will face any challenge presented to him head on and at full force, seeking to punch straight through it. Just like his combat techniques. Yet despite this, Darius holds great compassion for people, particularly the innocents. Looking at the atrocities done to the Tyberian civilians by the Asgardians quickly drove him into a fury, pushing for action by his Chapter and fellow Dragoons. However, with his usual lack of tact and eloquence, he failed to truly rile the leaders. Despite this, he still fights for the common people, whether it be at the directive of the Chapter Masters or not.
Backstory:
A victim of the Asgardian's warmongering, Darius' family was displaced from their original home into a refugee camp bordering Tyberia while he was still at the tender age of four. Upon arrival, his parents were able to eke out a meagre living through doing odd jobs and ends, often leaving the young Darius home alone in their family's little shanty shack to do as he wished. As a result, he quickly garnered a reputation for fearlessness and courage to the point of stupidity amongst his peers and community, climbing the tallest spires to watch airships pass, wrestling with scumrats for choicest pieces of junk which he wound then vend to the merchants for pocket money.Though he would end up bruised, bleeding and battered, it did not change his outlook on life or his approach. This idiotic bravery would soon prove to be a boon as he verged on his thirteenth nameday.
While his parents were out, leaving him to manage the house, the young Darius heard a snap and crunch as their corrugated iron door was broken down by a pair of Asgardian thugs looking for an easy escape route. Though they initially threw him aside like a ragdoll, the young boy almost immediately scrabbled to his feet and sought a weapon, or anything approaching one. Finding it in the handle of a well used broomstick, he brandished it at the intruders who laughed it off before turning away, until one felt a sharp jab in the small of his back. Angered, the two drew their blades and advanced on the teen who stood his ground, despite the shaking of his knees. It was then that a glowing green point emerged through the back of one of the thugs, followed by a gunmetal shaft. Before the other could whip around, there was a sharp crack and his flesh seemd to run before he collapsed in a clatter of armor plates. Two helmeted figures entered the hovel, garbed in red scaled armour and cloaks. As the thugs collapsed to the ground, they saw the young Darius standing defiant in the face of death...before he collapsed from shock and fatigue.
When he awoke, he heard voices coming from the veil that served as a wall. From what he heard, the two mysterious voices were Knights from the Knights Draconis and, after seeing the scene today, had decided that Darius was worthy of their attention as a squire. In return, they were prepared to offer his parents a better, more secure life. Though initially hesitant, Darius's parents were surprised to hear the voice of their son as he crawled in under the curtain. He would do it. If only to give his parents a better life. And that was the start of his career as a House Draconis knight.
While he was expected to be a diligent student, he was anything but. Headstrong, blunt and impulsive, he probably would have been thrown straight out of the Knighthood were it not for the extreme patience and understanding of Sir Alpharia. A mentor of many a troublesome student, he good humour and kindly face was enough to keep Darius in check...most of the time. Under his experience tutelage, Darius learned the intricacies of his chapter. Lancing. Tactics. Salamandermanship. Darius was slowly instructed in these fields, and his wild spirit was brought to heel ever so slightly, having gained a great respect for the Elder Knights...when he wasn't cursing their equal hard headedness.
Fastforward to the present, and Sir Cezare is now a respected knight of the Knights Draconis, known for his courage, stubbornness, and concern for the downtrodden. Extremely vocal against the actions of the Asgardians, he leads a small sub-faction of the Knights dedicated to charity and defense of the weak which, while greatly appreciated by those people, is frowned upon by the local chapter for their lack of neutrality, although they could not fault their actions. Thanks to his reputation it was not long before he was contacted by an agent of the Seccessionists, who sought to add his lance to their cause. Impressed by their blatant disregard for their chances of success, he sought to tip the scales in their favour, if ever so slightly.
Skills and Abilities:
Adept Lancer: Darius is an accomplished knight of the Knights Draconis, having participated in many skirmishes against various factions. Skill, instruction and experience have fashioned his lance and lance arm into one deadly weapon.
Adept Salamandermanship: Once again, as an accomplished knight of the Knights Draconis, Darius is experienced in the handling, maintenance and finer points of mounted combat on a salamander thanks to half his life being decicated to his training.
Novice Marksmanship: The Knights Draconis are not exactly known for their affinity with manalocks but thanks to recent technological innovation and necessity, their lances have now been outfitted with an integrated manalock of reduced efficiency and range. Darius, while trained in its use, is not exactly the most accurate shot.
Novice Tactician: With his skill limited to small skirmishes and reaction rather than actual planning, Darius' grasp of tactics is...poor to say the least.
Inferior Chef: Ever had food that looked so delicious it belonged on a nobleman's table? But actually tasted like it was dug out of the foulest of trashcans? That's basically Darius' cooking
Equipment:
Name:
Darius Cezare
Age:
25
Race:
Human
Personality:
Blunt, impulsive and direct, Darius embodies the freedom of youth with near uncontrollable vigour. With little subtlety or patience, one could almost aliken his nature to the lance that he carries. Though the Knights Draconis have instilled in him the martial skill and tactical thinking required to fight his battles, they have yet to tame his unruly spirit and burning passion. Almost never seen without at least a smirk on his face, Darius will face any challenge presented to him head on and at full force, seeking to punch straight through it. Just like his combat techniques. Yet despite this, Darius holds great compassion for people, particularly the innocents. Looking at the atrocities done to the Tyberian civilians by the Asgardians quickly drove him into a fury, pushing for action by his Chapter and fellow Dragoons. However, with his usual lack of tact and eloquence, he failed to truly rile the leaders. Despite this, he still fights for the common people, whether it be at the directive of the Chapter Masters or not.
Backstory:
A victim of the Asgardian's warmongering, Darius' family was displaced from their original home into a refugee camp bordering Tyberia while he was still at the tender age of four. Upon arrival, his parents were able to eke out a meagre living through doing odd jobs and ends, often leaving the young Darius home alone in their family's little shanty shack to do as he wished. As a result, he quickly garnered a reputation for fearlessness and courage to the point of stupidity amongst his peers and community, climbing the tallest spires to watch airships pass, wrestling with scumrats for choicest pieces of junk which he wound then vend to the merchants for pocket money.Though he would end up bruised, bleeding and battered, it did not change his outlook on life or his approach. This idiotic bravery would soon prove to be a boon as he verged on his thirteenth nameday.
While his parents were out, leaving him to manage the house, the young Darius heard a snap and crunch as their corrugated iron door was broken down by a pair of Asgardian thugs looking for an easy escape route. Though they initially threw him aside like a ragdoll, the young boy almost immediately scrabbled to his feet and sought a weapon, or anything approaching one. Finding it in the handle of a well used broomstick, he brandished it at the intruders who laughed it off before turning away, until one felt a sharp jab in the small of his back. Angered, the two drew their blades and advanced on the teen who stood his ground, despite the shaking of his knees. It was then that a glowing green point emerged through the back of one of the thugs, followed by a gunmetal shaft. Before the other could whip around, there was a sharp crack and his flesh seemd to run before he collapsed in a clatter of armor plates. Two helmeted figures entered the hovel, garbed in red scaled armour and cloaks. As the thugs collapsed to the ground, they saw the young Darius standing defiant in the face of death...before he collapsed from shock and fatigue.
When he awoke, he heard voices coming from the veil that served as a wall. From what he heard, the two mysterious voices were Knights from the Knights Draconis and, after seeing the scene today, had decided that Darius was worthy of their attention as a squire. In return, they were prepared to offer his parents a better, more secure life. Though initially hesitant, Darius's parents were surprised to hear the voice of their son as he crawled in under the curtain. He would do it. If only to give his parents a better life. And that was the start of his career as a House Draconis knight.
While he was expected to be a diligent student, he was anything but. Headstrong, blunt and impulsive, he probably would have been thrown straight out of the Knighthood were it not for the extreme patience and understanding of Sir Alpharia. A mentor of many a troublesome student, he good humour and kindly face was enough to keep Darius in check...most of the time. Under his experience tutelage, Darius learned the intricacies of his chapter. Lancing. Tactics. Salamandermanship. Darius was slowly instructed in these fields, and his wild spirit was brought to heel ever so slightly, having gained a great respect for the Elder Knights...when he wasn't cursing their equal hard headedness.
Fastforward to the present, and Sir Cezare is now a respected knight of the Knights Draconis, known for his courage, stubbornness, and concern for the downtrodden. Extremely vocal against the actions of the Asgardians, he leads a small sub-faction of the Knights dedicated to charity and defense of the weak which, while greatly appreciated by those people, is frowned upon by the local chapter for their lack of neutrality, although they could not fault their actions. Thanks to his reputation it was not long before he was contacted by an agent of the Seccessionists, who sought to add his lance to their cause. Impressed by their blatant disregard for their chances of success, he sought to tip the scales in their favour, if ever so slightly.
Skills and Abilities:
Adept Lancer: Darius is an accomplished knight of the Knights Draconis, having participated in many skirmishes against various factions. Skill, instruction and experience have fashioned his lance and lance arm into one deadly weapon.
Adept Salamandermanship: Once again, as an accomplished knight of the Knights Draconis, Darius is experienced in the handling, maintenance and finer points of mounted combat on a salamander thanks to half his life being decicated to his training.
Novice Marksmanship: The Knights Draconis are not exactly known for their affinity with manalocks but thanks to recent technological innovation and necessity, their lances have now been outfitted with an integrated manalock of reduced efficiency and range. Darius, while trained in its use, is not exactly the most accurate shot.
Novice Tactician: With his skill limited to small skirmishes and reaction rather than actual planning, Darius' grasp of tactics is...poor to say the least.
Inferior Chef: Ever had food that looked so delicious it belonged on a nobleman's table? But actually tasted like it was dug out of the foulest of trashcans? That's basically Darius' cooking
Equipment:
Draconis Lance MkII: A newly designed, now standard issue lance in the Knights Draconis, the MkII features an integrated manalock in the lancepoint, accompanying the already deadly mana crystal pointed tip. When worse comes to worst, the Draconis lance features a shaped charge at the head which overloads the mana crystal tip and causes it to explode outwards.
Draconis Lance (Urban Edition): A Draconis lance which is standard issue for Draconis Knights serving in urban areas, this lance has the ability to be collapsed into three linked pieces which lock into each other. While less stable than the standard issue one, the Urban Edition does solve the problem of portability in a crowded environment and fits neatly into a three chambered sheathe worn on the hip.
Light Mana-resistant Plate: Darius possesses both the standard issue red Draconis light plate with decorative scales, as well as an urban version featuring more form fitting armour and leather rather than the heavier plates. Both of these are branded with the silver and red emblem of the Knights Draconis.
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