Bartimaeus

Tyrant Shell: The Answer of Rain [CANCELLED]

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Mentions: N/A
Location: The Beach

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The drawn hiss of The Nest's hangar doors slowly pulling open sounded through the deployment bay as the crew was briefed on their impromptu sub-mission. Each pilot made the final preps and diagnostics on their shells in their own rights, and the Ossifrage was no different. Said pilot listened to the rear hatch of her shell close behind her with its own sibilation. The silver-haired pilot took her position in the cockpit and began interfacing with the systems of her shell immediately, the internals of which began to flicker to life smoothly.

The briefing was short, and their deployment was just as much. Each shell dropped from the bay at their own intervals, falling or gliding to the ground before taking their preferred positions in preparation for the arrival of the Murakumo Robotics forward-team. Luckily for them, such a party would, in likelihood, prove to be a fairly easy one to conquer. General operation for setting such footholds was to send a small, lightly-armed party that was likely to go unnoticed, so as to establish a zone for larger deployments while chiefly unhindered. But, of course, one always ran the risk of being driven out summarily should they be apprehended with such a small force.

But in this age, it was easy to underestimate a force that could possess hidden firepower. Should they allow themselves to operate complacently, being blindsided by an unforeseen cast of shells - however unlikely - could surely spell failure.

And this was why the Ossifrage took every operation as seriously as the last - diagnostics immediately being ran on the environment as they descended to the earth. The heavy deluge that befell said environment made it more difficult to gauge their surroundings than usual, but it worked equally in their favor, providing a layer of coverage that would serve very well in an ambush - which it seemed they were primed for. Ossifrage was fond of ambushes - they were efficient, effective, and demoralizing to larger forces - and they were especially well-suited for agile shells such as hers.

Ossifrage took survey of the battlefield as her shell took measured steps over the rusting and decaying carcasses of shells-past. Would they have arrived under different terms, a part of her would feel a pull to inspect the wreckages more closely in a curious attempt at putting together the proverbial pieces of wars-past and conceiving an idea of what had happened here who-knows-how-long before their arrival. But now was far from a time for reflection on such things.

The Ossifrage scanned its comrades, determining which of them she would directly support for the time being -- in theory, being that they were prepping an ambush, none of them would need too much direct support - but one could never tell how an op would unfold. Her eyes fell upon the darkened-red exterior of King Gizzard as his comms read through her ears.

Her eyes flicked momentarily to a panel in front of her as one of the lights ignited, signaling an input into her comms system. The feminine voice that registered into the comms systems of her comrades would sound squarely neutral in tone, even if there was some lightness to it.

"Ossifrage reading, Vultures. Systems typical. Supporting King Gizzard's position." She spoke in brief, informative sums, even as her shell moved into position, as promised.

Normally, the Ossifrage's visage was one of light colors. An ashen pallor constituted most of its paint, with a few outlying spaces that were hued brick-red. However, due to the densely-vegetated nature of their locus operandi, Ossifrage took it upon herself to touch-up the palette of her shell a few days in advance, and darken the colors by several measures. At least for the duration of their stay in New Zealand, this paint-job would serve to better camouflage the Ossifrage where needed - in situations just like this.

Now that the shells were all drawing towards their positions, it would be time to wait for their soon-to-arrive target. Ossifrage's eyes scanned the sky-line as she interfaced with her shell, reading a smooth, constant feed of diagnostics on her and her comrades as they waited.

Pokemon: Dream

Ripley Lennox

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Mentions: Clarissa (@Crusader Lord) Location: Camphor's Lab > Byjerlfal City Commercial District

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Ripley celebrated internally as he was accepted onto the adventure by his new comrade. In truth, he was a bit relieved to have another trainer at his side for such a grand undertaking. He had never really thought out how such a journey would track out in his head - so the fact that it was happening now was kind of surreal - and he had always imagined he would have to start it alone, with just his Zorua. But now he was feeling a touch more confident.

"Awesome!! We'll be happy to travel with you, then!" He replied cheerfully, with Zorua performing a short few hops of joy at the event.

It looked like the two trainers would be alone for the time being - no telling whether someone would join them after they left or not - but it seemed a good a time as any to get started on what would be, for Ripley at least, an exciting new branch of life.

---

They wasted no time, shortly leaving Camphor's lab and finding themselves thrust into the unknown - Byjerlfal City's Commercial District.

Despite the complete newity of Byjerlfal's densely-populated, bustling streets - and the various areas and sights - within the Commercial District, there was an outlying sense of familiarity to Ripley, somehow. Maybe it was the fact that Rivenwall was a place that lended itself well to workaholics - the atmosphere there, in some places at least, was one of bustling minds and bodies - and perhaps this was the case here, too. It, at least, seemed most people here were similarly occupied with whatever it was they were each up to. This sense of absorption in so many people in one place, along with the buildings that climbed above them, watching over them as they all went about their days, had Ripley feeling said sense of familiarity. Well, except for the fact that Byjerlfal, being a more centralized and supported city, was a bit more modernized with all its digital billboards and stuff - but he wouldn't be the one to complain.

All-in-all, this led Ripley to feel oddly secure despite the new scenery. Moving alongside his new partner-trainer, luggage rolling behind him as Zorua trotted along next to their feet, Ripley's Pokedex wouldn't leave his hand. As they walked, he would scan every Pokémon they passed by - even if it was one with which he was familiar, whether through meeting or reading. Each pop-up on the screen led to a further increase in dopamine as he regarded each one excitedly. Some of the scans were taken in chains as they passed by several Pokémon he knew little of - but those he'd get to save to read for later, once they were idle or something.

Clarissa speaking broke him away from the his excited-ingrainment in their surroundings, pulling him back to his senses. He turned to regard her as she spoke, offering a couple options for them to partake in. He thought for a moment, picturing said options. His eyes flicked to her for a moment and he felt a sense that she was really interested in seeking out the Murkrow. From what he knew, Murkrow were Dark-type Pokémon with a penchant for stealing and mischief - his eyes lowered to glance at his sidekick Pokémon - just like Zorua. Well, who was he to deny such a wish?

"Hmmm." He hummed, one hand moving to tap his chin as the other rested on his hip lightly. "Chasing Murkrow seems like fun! I'm cool with whichever choice, but I reckon you're more excited to follow them birds more than anything, huh? If that is the case, let's do it!" He replied, his features bright as usual. He took it upon himself to start walking in the direction his psychic partner gestured to, half-turning back to motion her to come along. He turned to look ahead once more as he mused aloud, stepping forward with a casual pace. "I wonder how easy it is to catch a Murkrow.. we have 'em back in Rivenwall, too, but I've never tried to catch one." In reality, he wasn't sure if he really wanted to catch a Murkrow himself, but the thought was worth having. Matching Pokémon with his new travel-buddy could be fun, but he wasn't sure. His hand shifted down to his jeans-pocket. Inside were two of the five pokeballs they'd each been given - the rest he had stored in his suitcase for the time being. They had a few pokeballs, so depending on how lucky they were, they'd be able to catch a Pokémon or two with what they had. There were techniques for making such captures easier, but for now those were probably out of their reach considering their lack of experience..

Either way, his eyes scanned the horizon and the various perches above as he looked for any sign of the Murkrow that had been flicking around through the air moments ago.

Tyrant Shell: The Answer of Rain [CANCELLED]

Shell: Ossifrage-80

HEIGHT: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Eleven meters WEIGHT CLASS: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Light SPEED: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ High ROLE: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Scout, Disruptor, On-site repair

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ DESCRIPTION: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Ossifrage-80's frame stands eleven-meters tall, close to minimum for a standard operable shell. It is a slim, light shell with little ancillary armor to speak of. This allows the shell to maneuver and operate at very high paces - sacrificing safety for sharper work. This, combined with its armaments and devices, enable it to be a supportive menace on the battlefield. One would think a device of such speed and maneuverability would be relegated to a weapon of direct attack - but the Ossifrage instead takes on a disruptive role. Its directional shields allow it to intercept attacks or maneuver with more safety than would be usual for such an unarmored machine. Additionally, its mid-field repair apparatus can prove to be a huge boon to shells that are just-barely rendered inoperable in the field of battle. Though, one would be mistaken to underestimate the shell's offensive capabilities, too. Equipped with the EMA, Ossifrage is a shell that can close a distance, attack, and retreat much faster than one would expect, even for a shell as light as it is. This can be used to devastating effect with the shotgun-esque weapon with which the Ossifrage is equipped - something which, while it has little penetration, as mainly a weapon used to maim operative pieces of shells and render them unable to counter-attack. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ARMANANTS & EQUIPMENT: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ G1 Cranegun - The Cranegun is a rather light-weight weapon when compared to the majority of shell weaponry. It is visually and operationally reminiscent of a double-barrel scattergun. The weapon fires a semi-tight, if slightly unpredictable, spray of superheated plasma, which is rather effective at burning through shells. The weapon has very poor penetration when it comes to piercing armor, so much so that even light armor is a hurdle, but is designed to fire in a wide-enough cone that it is likely that the spray will hit an unarmored location - which it is very effective at eating through. This weapon is designed for super-light shells that cant sacrifice much weight, but still need to retain combat effectiveness -- in return, a weapon such as this isn't great at taking down shells head-on. Instead, it is used to maim an opposing shell's joints, hands, or other facilities so as to disable use. It is also a great weapon for disabling external devices such as antennas, anti-radar paints, exposed weapons, etc. E.M.A. - The E.M.A. (Explosive Movement Array) is one of the several devices the Ossifrage uses to great effect in combat. The purpose of the system is simple. Through an array of ports situated all over the Ossifrage, it is able to consume bursts of fuel - from a subsidiary fuel-supply - to engage thrusters that enable explosive, super-quick movements for very short periods. This system alone allows the Ossifrage to wield the most speed on the battlefield at any one time - but one must manage their fuel carefully. Directional deflectors - An array of directional shields which can be engaged through the Ossifrage's hands or feet. These deflectors appear as a barely-visible, rippling, bluish screen of energy roughly three-meters-by-three-meters, making them rather small - meaning the operator has to be very accurate. Normally, the diminutive nature of such a shield would render them ineffective against explosive weaponry, but the shields in question possess a specially disruptive function which disrupts impact-detection and allows the wielder to deflect such weapons, should the pilot possess enough efficacy. M.R.A. - The M.R.A. (Mid-field Repair Apparatus) is a boon upon any squad in which it is deployed. This device, which is transported in a backpack-esque method on the rear of the Ossifrage, is a removable rig that can be placed on a damaged shell to perform on-site repairs. The reparative capabilities of the apparatus are only just-sufficient, generally due to the lightweight nature of the device's fuel supply, and can extend only to mechanical and electrical repairs -- any digital restoration is up to the shell and the pilot themselves. Despite this, these devices have proven many-a-time to be potentially life-saving, as they can turn a barely-inoperable shell into one that can safely evac, or support its comrades further. Notably, this device is powered by its own connected fuel supply, or can be connected to an adjacent shell to siphon fuel from. One must be mindful, as mending too much damage can drain the device of its personal supply if not managed well. High-power magnet array - The Ossifrage possesses a simple array of powerful magnetic tools, with key points situated on various locations across its frame. These magnets are nothing too powerful, generally used to pull or push objects or fallen allies when moving them by-hand would otherwise be inconvenient or impossible. The magnets can also be used in short bursts with more power, which could be used to feasibly stumble a medium-class shell if used wisely. When used in these short bursts, their range exceeds no more than roughly ten meters. Miscellaneous tools - The Ossifrage is otherwise equipped with a wide array of supportive tools and apparatuses - as long as they're lightweight, the Ossifrage probably has it. Blowtorches, chaff and flares, various minute reparative instruments, etc. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ OTHER: ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Nothing, for now. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ .................................................................................................................................................

Pokemon: Dream

Ripley Lennox

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Mentions: Clarissa (@Crusader Lord) Location: Camphor's Lab

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Ripley was instantly enthralled by the sight and promise of these "special" pokedexes. He'd always wanted to set out on the world, pokedex and partner at his side to see what the world have to offer. So, as one was put towards him, he immediately took it and booted it up, diligently taking in what it had to say.

"Ahaha, it's so cute!" He commented aloud to the group, barely being able to tear his eyes off it as he pointed to it in its novelty.

He was, immediately after its info drop on his beloved partner, finicking with the screen and any buttons he could find, filtering through the various apps and settings in an excited exploration of the new technology bestowed upon him. He was never much of a techie himself, but countless young souls thought of a pokedex as a dream-tool for any aspiring trainer. It was truly invaluable. And this one was even playful, to boot! His thorough inspection of the device was interrupted only by the delivery of a small carepackage, containing a couple potions and a few pokeballs, to his person. Which he accepted gratefully, a smile on his face as his head dipped lightly in thanks.

After that, he tuned back into Camphor's dismissal of the group, offering them the last bits of info they needed. Hopefully he wasn't forgetting anything important that he needed to ask - though, there was so much to think about for such an expansive and unknown journey that it was likely he indeed was. Either way, if he really needed to ask something, there was always Camphor's number on the 'dex. The consequences of using it, well.. hopefully he wouldn't have to find out. It was probably something like eight-million pushups..

Either way, once they got back to reception it seemed everyone would be thinking about their next steps. As they walked, Ripley couldn't help but feel energy buzzing through his legs. He was brimming with a desire to get out there. But, if one thought about it.. where was the rush? He and Zorua had all the time in the world to explore wherever they wanted. So maybe they could take it a little slower - after all, he never even left Rivenwall, and all 'the sudden they were in Byjerlfal, of all places! As the others debated their next steps, so did Ripley, internally, as his companion skittered about.

Said companion seemed to be doing its own exploring as it paddled about beneath the other trainers, examining them each briefly and managing to catch their plans in the process. Nobody could really tell what was going through the creature's mind, but Pokémon had their own way of thinking that led them to gravitate towards whatever it was they gravitated towards. And in this case, it seemed an offer from one of their fellow trainers interested the little thing. As Ripley stood not-at-all still, thinking as he flexed his calves subconsciously in anticipation of their departure, Zorua pattered up to him and nudged him to draw his attention.

The boy's attention shifted downward towards his companion and drew the conclusion, based of its gestures towards her, that it wished to accompany.. Clarissa, was it? in her offer. Ripley had heard the couple-of offers so far, and was currently taking them into account as he tried to decide what their first course of action should be. He had yet to decide - but if Zorua wanted to go down a particular route, well.. what reason had he to deny her? His gaze shifted back upwards and towards Clarissa. Hmm. Well, she didn't seem like a stickler for fun, at the very least! ..He hoped. But, it seemed she was interested in scoping out some more urban-based Pokémon - and he was definitely not going to scoff at that!

In truth, he himself had never really planned on what sort of companions he had been hoping for, in terms of Pokémon - he more-so just expected certain Pokémon to.. make their way into his life, if ever a thing were to happen. He knew there were trainers who treated the capture of Pokémon more like a collection of sorts, and he supposed he could see the gratification in that. But he wasn't the sort of person to limit himself in such ways. That is not say he was not the type to not have a type - he had some ideas in his head, in terms of Pokémon-interest. Really, who wouldn't? Living in Rivenwall, he had seen many-a 'mon brought to fight in the tournaments they held there. Some of them more exotic - but the ones that were domestic to the area were those with which he could grow to appreciate the profile of, being as knowable as they were. Being that they were mostly urban Pokémon in Rivenwall, and he had never owned a pokeball to catch them, it was only natural that Rip was just dying to get his hands on at least one of them - so he might have plans parallel to the pink-haired girl himself.

But for now, he'd see about addressing the matter at hand. Breaking out of his thought bubble, Ripley took it upon himself to approach the offer casually, walking up to Clarissa until her attention visually shifted to him. His features rose as he offered a smile in greeting. "Heya- Clarissa, yeah? I wouldn't mind waitin' around for a day if you're lookin' for a partner or two!" He spoke, looking down to his side as Zorua skittered up between the two trainers, eyes affixed upwards towards Clarissa in hopefulness. "Pa's always said I need to cool my heels when it comes to making big decisions, so maybe that day could be what I need for the journey-ta-come. Well - if you'll have us, of course!" He finished, a hint of considerate hesitation creeping into his last few words. He'd understand if someone as.. loud as him was unappreciated as a partner - he had been confronted with such scenarios before -- but it'd never stop him from trying. Even if he was denied, he still had Zorua, and that was more than enough for him, in the end.

Recollections: Who Is Eleanor Black [CANCELLED]

Zeltzin Sandoval

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Mentions: None Location: Webb Family Coffee House / Summit Motel

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Zeltzin audibly scoffed - not purposefully, but reactionarily - at the mention of silver bullets and ghosts. She set her mug to the side on a small singles table next to her as she shook her head at the notion. She had heard about enough of what she needed from this meeting - it seemed they were all serious about heading into the swamp. She wasn't sure if it was the right path to their end goal, but really it seemed nobody did, so she might as well try it. It couldn't hurt - or, at least probably wouldn't.

The notion of acquiring protection from the swamp's elements was an appealing one, and she was pretty sure she had seen a small gun shop at least once as she rode through the town. But there was something else itching at her as she planned our her route. So far, there were a lot of warnings and contextual signs that would naturally lead one to believe the swamp was more dangerous than just gators - they alone were unlikely to harm humans. Sure, cry wolf and all that. But there seemed to be too much crying for there to be no ground for the claims to stand on. Maybe there was something in that swamp - maybe some fucked-up buffalo-bill character - or some super-gator or some shit - who knew? Zeltzin didn't plan on getting flayed by anything, be it gator or serial killer, so she'd make sure to be prepared even if it meant wasting a bit of green to do so.

She didn't stick around for lengthy goodbyes, leaving her mug on the table and making off through the front door to reconvene with her motorcycle.

---

A short bit later, Zeltzin rolled up to the Summit Motel, her bike rumbling beneath her as she drew it into a spot and disengaged it. In the hour that it'd taken the lot of them to collect themselves, she had taken a trip to a local gunstore and made a quick transaction with the owner - a bit of an older guy - that was honestly rather painless. She'd scraped together any money she'd brought with her, totaling to a few hundred dollars in cash, and found something that would be suitable for gators, at the least. Resting on her back was a lengthy, black canvas bag. Inside it was a side-by-side breach-loading shotgun - not brand new, but in solid condition - something that was definitely serviceable for any mundane tasks they might have to undergo, like clearing a gator off a path or something. Assuming the swamp even had any paths leading to the manor.

She wasn't sure what preparations the others had made, but she only really accounted for herself. After she dismounted the bike with a restrained grimace, she popped open one of the saddlebags and plucked out a drawstring bag weighted with a couple water bottles, a box of assorted shotgun shells, and all her knives packed inside.

Looking around, it seemed a handful of them were already reconvening with one another. Her eyes were drawn to the silhouette of Ophrenia, a bare shotgun slung over her shoulder as she arrived. A part of her felt a little queasy about the idea of trusting the girl with a gun. Either way, she didn't exactly expect another of her party to bring a long-gun along, but she could've never known what the others would think of. It seemed a bit redundant, assuming all they would be trouble by was gators - which Zeltzin very-much surmised would be the case - but, if they split up for any reason, at least it would be useful in that regard.

For the time being, she took it upon herself to rest her butt against the seat of her bike as she sat back against its side and waited for the rest of their squad to arrive.

Recollections: Who Is Eleanor Black [CANCELLED]

Zeltzin Sandoval

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Mentions: None Location: Summit Hotel / Webb Family Coffee House

---

Waking up with Ophrenia already gone was, honestly, a blessing. It meant Zeltzin could handle her morning routine alone and without interruption. Said routine started with her sitting up in bed and thinking over the events of yesterday, the thoughts turning in her head as she shook it in a measure of disappointment. Why couldn't this just be something simple?

There was a moment of pause as she sat there, legs hanging over the side of the bed, before a sharp grimace developed on Zeltzin's face. She was quick to reach over to her suitcase and wrench one of its zippers to the side, digging into a pocket in search for something, with the faintest hint of a tremor in her hand. It was a moment before the rattle of a bottle-of-pills made itself apparent. She was quick to dump an unidentifiable number of pills into her mouth, dry. For a moment after, she sat with a grimace as one hand woefully massaged her right thigh. After a time, the agony calmed and she took it upon herself to stand up, and get ready for the day.

She did so somewhat slowly, as was usual, but unlike every other day, there was a hint of purpose to her morning regimen.

After a bit, she was ready to take her bike and join the other at the Webb Coffee House, where she did little more than listen and offer what little 'info' she and Ophrenia had gathered at the Black Mining Co. Office.

Nothing that was said at the congregation was much cause to raise brows for Zeltzin - it all seemed to fit within reasonable quotations. Neko's suspicion - Jen's suspiciousness - all in likely course. Zeltzin had to admit, Jen might've seemed suspicious in certain lights - but she didn't fully trust anyone here anyway. So it was really all the same. But Jen did manage to explain herself some, at least.

Going into the swamp wasn't something she expected them to plan though. She didn't mind too harshly - she was more accustomed to swampy environments than any present city-dwellers - but losing her other leg to a gator or her life to a Cottonmouth didn't seem exactly ideal. Though, thinking on it, it was far from the worst way to go.

The topic of weapons did pique her interest, notably. She did like weapons. Unfortunately, she hadn't the need of a firearm for a long time - Eleanor had made sure of that - and Zeltzin had never found it necessary to acquire one after her disappearance. Her mind flicked to the saddlebags of her bike, where she carried a small armory of large knives -- for recreational purposes. Obviously, a firearm would be ideal if one had to defend themself from a gator or clear out a snake, but a nigh-foot-long blade was better than nothin'. She had mind to maybe search for a piece from a local store, but she wasn't sure if she'd even brought the green to do so. If she recalled correctly, Louisiana didn't require a permit, so she'd have to take a look around.

She took a long gulp of the hot coffee from her mug as she watched the proceedings of her.. comrades from a slightly-distanced chair.

Pokemon: Dream

Ripley Lennox

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Mentions: Everyone Location: Camphor's Lab

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Ripley was amongst the first to enter the lab, being that he was doing more skipping than walking. He matched Frieda's lead as the group entered the outwardly-dull-looking building. His eyes took in the initial reception area of the building as they entered, the inner style being much more pleasant on the eye. He had to admit, the styles of the big city were a lot more enjoyable than some of the more utilitarian-industrial designs that'd make sense in Rivenwall. He smiled lightly at the cozier nature of the room they were greeted with.

He absent-mindedly released his suitcase from his grip and let it rest near the doors. Zorua pounced off the luggage and zipped right along beside Ripley as his skips came to a halt in the middle of the room, his hands coming to rest on his hips. "Hmm.. I must admit, the design is unexpected! I expected it to look like a hospital or something." He said to nobody in particular as he turned around to face the group, which had unexpectedly almost doubled at the door. Upon scanning all their faces, and the ones of the trio sitting at a nearby table, he took it upon himself to take position at one of the more central tables, opting to sit himself on top of the table instead of in any chairs. His partner-in-crime leapt up on the table in similar fashion and immediately goblin'd away one of the snacks and started to nibble at it.

Rip turned his attention towards the three strangers as his feet kicked lightly below his perch upon the table. In classic Ripley fashion, he took it upon himself to address them openly across the room, even if one of them was seemingly completely conked out. "Heya! You guys in the same boat as our lot, huh?" He asked to the trio as he looped his finger through the air in reference to the group he had entered with. "We get to be guinea pigs! For money!" He said, his eyebrows lifting excitedly.

Well, maybe guinea pig wasn't the exact term.. but it was close enough.

Recollections: Who Is Eleanor Black [CANCELLED]

Zeltzin Sandoval

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Mentions: @silvermist1116(Ophrenia), @Punished GN(GM) Location: Black Mining Co. Main Office

---

Zeltzin's brow rose a few slight degrees at the pause that followed her query. But her expression grew into flat annoyance at what followed. Of course he wouldn't be helpful - she could've bet money on that. She supposed he could've genuinely had no clue what they were talking about, but it was.. unlikely, to say the least. With the noteworthy pause, and the clear same-last-name thing in a town as small as this, it was clearly not coincidence. Which meant that, even though he told them nothing, he told them something. There was something to hide here.

But how was Eleanor something to hide? That she had to know.

In a time past, the presence of a witness would've meant something in a situation like this but, even still, it had admittedly been a while since Zeltzin had put on her.. charms. Eleanor had made sure of that. But in any case, it was clear that Callum wasn't going to give them anything. She began to turn away as she allowed a knowing glare to stick onto Callum for a second or two. After the moment she turned and began to step towards the door with Ophrenia, shifting her shoulders to adjust her jacket. Had she really thought they'd get solid results from this place, her frustration might've led her to spit on the floor at Callum's feet in anger - but this, while uninformative, was at least a little revealing.

What they would do with the knowledge that Callum - or in other words, the Black family - was hiding something? She didn't know quite yet. But she'd figure it out. Well, they'd figure it out.

Zeltzin didn't speak another word until they were out of earshot. It being obvious that they wouldn't get what they wanted here, it was better not to reveal anything about themselves in case they were to run into Callum again later. Which she had a feeling they would, considering the size of the town and, well, the fact that they were looking for a Black-family-member.

This time she held the door open for Ophrenia as she held back the urge to facepalm. "Que mierda, Ophrenia.. you're really not good at this.."

Recollections: Who Is Eleanor Black [CANCELLED]

Zeltzin Sandoval

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Mentions: @silvermist1116(Ophrenia), @Punished GN(GM) Location: Black Mining Co. Main Office

---

The look on Zeltzin's face remained still as her eyes shifted over to the source of Callum's voice. Her eyes scanned over him briefly, taking in his classically-inspired visage and the contents of his hands. She listened as he introduced himself, silently discarding the theatrical aspects of the way in which he did so. Cogs began to work as he started asking questions, as one naturally would when confronted with such an accusation as they were presenting. In truth she supposed the charade was just so they could get an audience with someone who'd know something about Eleanor - but when Ophrenia immediately dropped the act at the first sign of friction, Zeltzin's eyebrows rose in surprise. A part of her felt the need to facepalm, but she supposed it ultimately didn't matter - aside from their initial image seeming rather.. untrustworthy now. But perhaps that was inevitable.

Zeltzin rolled her eyes at Ophrenia's assertion, admittedly slightly amused at it, and lifted her hand from the desk as she started to step alongside it towards Callum, pushing Ophrenia out of her way with her elbow slightly. She let her hands lift up slightly at her waist in a preemptively placating gesture as she moved closer to Callum - though not too close - so as to avoid talking through the lady at the desk. She made no move to hide her limp as she did so, and her face was no longer one stained-irate - instead it was replaced by her usual neutral-if-irascible countenance. She looked into Callum's face before she dipped her head in admission as she began to speak, her hands splaying out on either side in a concession-esque gesture. "Alright, yeah- like she said, the damage's fake." She began, lowering her hands to her side once again. "But we ain't tryna scam you, if that's what you're thinkin', Sr. Black."

The respectful designation wasn't usual for Zeltzin, but shows of respect, no matter how small, were often a good way to get things you wanted. She didn't know what kind of man Callum was - just that he was a member of the Black family - but maybe he'd appreciate it. "I apologize for the trickery - we, just, ah.. we wanted an audience with anybody who could enlighten us as to the current.. status of a member of your family." She stopped for a second, hesitation evident as her eyes shifted downwards. There was a pause before her gaze rose again, this time her eyes steeled in determination. "Where is Eleanor Black?"

Augmented Machine Mobile Armor: A Gundam and Armored Core-inspired Mecha RP

Shrike

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Pilot

• Name: Caveira Allo
• Callsign: Shrike
• Age: 23
• Gender: Female (Biologically male)
• Appearance:
  Caveira's appearance is known to some, but not all. This is due to the fact that she, as often as she doesn't, wears an odd mask that obscures her face. Said mask is a technologically-infused piece of alloy of her own design, and is often accompanied by a feathered hood that aids in her supposed desire to veil her appearance. If one were to look under the mask, however, they would find someone who doesn't quite match what their outer visage might suggest.
  
  Beneath her darkly-paletted, masked outer-shell, Caveira looks mostly like a normal person, even if she's rather androgynous. Her long, black hair frames her heart-shaped face loosely, with her bangs often resting between her eyes, or occasionally getting in the way of them. Said eyes are large and expressive, and possess a light, minty-emerald tone to them. Her skin, while clear, is pale and dull - except for a few dark tattoos that run across her cheekbones, beneath her eyes. In final account of her facial features, it is often easy to determine her current emotions, as her eyes and dark eyebrows are awfully expressive, unbeknownst to her - though this can sometimes be useful, as her somehow-pale-and-dark appearance is well-suited to looking more intimidating than she often means.
  
  Aside from her face, Caveira is, physically, not intimidating at all. She is somewhat petite, standing at 5'5" and weighing about 145lbs. Though it would be difficult for anyone to gauge it, with her wardrobe being quite unrevealing, Caveira is actually pretty toned, despite her small stature - with particular focus to her biceps, abs, and thighs - the result of many years of laborious work and routine workouts. Her most particular physical feature, however, is the nature of her left arm - which has been replaced by a matte-gray, cybernetic limb.
  
  Additionally, although it is not a feature of her physical appearance, one of the most immediate things one would notice about Caveira is the neutral, croaking rasp of her voice - much akin to something like light smoker's voice - something that, much to her chagrin, draws more than a few stares.
  
  All biology aside, though she can seem somewhat odd, Caveira carries herself neutrally, but readily - shoulders even, head on a swivel, and muscles half-tense at all times. A nature she has picked up from her years amongst the outer colonies.
• Personality:
  If one had to describe Caveira in few words, one of them would most definitely be adventurous. Many things she does are simply for the experience itself. Discovering new horizons is one of her many specialties - and she will readily take up a challenge if it means flexing her explorative or technological prowess - not to show off, but to test and improve herself for the next adventure.
  
  However, few can or are willing to adventure to the lengths she will - which has left her, for the most part, socially deprived for long periods at a time. Not that she minds - she more often than not takes on a lone-wolf mentality - but it does cause her to be somewhat awkward when it comes to casually conversing with others, and she is often socially apprehensive.
  
  Aside from these main features, she is very much so a multi-faceted personality. While introverted, she is stubborn - some might say 'stuck in her ways' - but, being a girl of science, open-minded enough to consider possibilities outside of her initial determinations, usually. She is, by nature, also a playful spirit - but her social ineptitude and self-consciousness bar her from engaging in some portions of her true character. Finally, outside of her social incapacity, she is a cautious person - some might even say paranoid. She usually prepares for the worst, even if it is unlikely, in most situations. She is untrusting of both fate and other people, for better or worse.
• Skills:
  Caveira possesses a particular array of skills that include many common mercenary aptitudes, as well as some more niche expertises from her more secular jobs.
  
  • Tech Adept - Caveira is a particularly skilled operator and innovator of complicated technology. While she generally doesn't take it upon herself to create great machines from scratch, over the years she has gained enough prowess to fix, operate, or improve most things. This is evident in her work with her AUG, her ship, and even her artificial limb.
  • Experienced Pilot - Caveira has piloted her own spacecraft for a few years, and has learned to captain similar light ships pretty well - and she knows how to fix 'em up, too. Aside from spacecraft, she has also piloted a couple Mobile Armors and her own Augmented Armor for years, leading her to be comfortable piloting and repairing those as well.
  • Poacher Specialist - Caveira's most lucrative and long-standing occupation has led her to gain scores of information on the various behaviors and biological functions of different species and classes of animals. Even when engaging with un-recorded species on largely uninhabited planets, it's likely she could glean details about the creatures and their environments even from short periods of study.
  • Combat Adept - Being a mercenary of various occupations often leads one to develop a sense for things of a more.. violent persuasion. Caveira is thoroughly knowledgeable when it comes to different forms of armaments, whether they be small arms, mounted artillery, ballistics, energy-powered, etc. She is also knowledgeable in most things violent, such as hand-to-hand combat, armor-maneuvers, ammunitions, etc.
• Brief History:
  Caveira was but a baby when The Lemnosian Territorial Space declared war on the UEC. Born to a single father who worked as a hewer mining various materials from various planets in the galaxy, life was a bit bumpy. They traveled often between planets where work was a prospect, but not a guarantee. Planets that were often besieged by war efforts on both sides - whether they be points of common attack, or corrupted garrisons. Life was unsure, and comfort was but a dream for the lonely duo. But, they made it through, for the mostpart.
  
  Caveira's father, Emis Allo, managed to care for his child throughout her infantile years and into her young-teens. Eventually, the turmoil that filled the galaxy came to an official end with the death of Anthen Nilsk when Caveira was eleven years old - and though times grew less-hard, it wasn't saying much. Unofficial warfare still raged on in some places. And, unfortunately, one could never tell when a rogue attack would strike an otherwise peaceful colony. A few years after Nilsk's death, such an event would cause the tragic death of Caveira's father - something that would leave her alone in the galaxy for the first time.
  
  Being alone, young, and without direction was a dangerous combination in a galaxy like theirs. It led many to take on paths which they didn't fully understand, or which would get them killed. Caveira was.. one of the lucky ones, if you could call it that. The rocky path she chose, that eventually led to her becoming a mercenary of considerable skill, was filled with potholes and pits. Robberies, mercenary-esque occupations, jailbreaks, and even some undertakings as extreme as illegal experimental-biochemical-products testing - which are a direct source of her vocal damage and the loss of her arm - all scarred the timeline that led to who she is today.
  
  That being, a mercenary who has made a number of small, shaky wealths mostly through the poaching of exotic creatures. And wreckage-delving. And tech commissions. Really, just a garbage bag full of tasks which she can claim to perform "professionally". Most often, she performed her mercenary activities alone - allied or banded with nobody. But a part of her, no matter how small - and no matter how long it's been alone, does want to be with people, even if she doesn't realize it - and fortune would have it that a place she spent a good amount of time growing up - Bifrost - was the operational base for a mercenary guild, of sorts.
  
  And so, a new horizon it is for her to explore.

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Augmented Armor

• AUG Name: 113-BLS-1 "Bolis"
• AUG Appearance:
  When compared to the average AUG, Bolis is a few meters shorter, at 16m, and a tad more compact. It retains a largely humanoid figure, but possesses digitigrade legs and plantarly wide feet, which greatly aid in its maneuverability and stability within steep, rocky, or
  difficult-to-navigate areas. Aside from its legs, and its relatively diminutive stature, the only immediately notable feature about Bolis is the lack of any bulky or protrusive gear or artillery on its chassis.
• Armaments:
  Bolis possesses an array of armaments, both intended for combat and explorative purposes.
  
  • 120mm Cannon - Bolis' main piece of artillery consists of a single-barrel ballistic weapon loaded in 120mm caliber shells, which can be called to extend several meters from the armor's left arm, directly beneath the palm.
  • 20mm Cannon - A weapon very similar to the first that can be engaged directly next to the 120mm - though this smaller cannon is mostly used for game that Caveira wishes to de-pelt.
  • Magnetic Pulsator - Perhaps the most useful piece of Bolis' arsenal is a medium-range manipulation device that can manipulate the environment through magnetism, as well as some measure of raw energy expulsion. This device is pretty effective at violently repulsing objects away from the user, or pulling them in - though the former only in short bursts. This device is not powerful enough to fully manipulate objects as large as Mobile Armors, of course, but it can cause them to make missteps or leave them staggered. This Pulsator device can be engaged through either of the armor's palms, as well as its feet and knees. It has an effective range of around 100 meters.
  • Ballistic Grappling Devices (BGD) - A simple, yet useful, array of devices that allow Bolis to maintain stability or safety in treacherous areas, or to maneuver cargo. These devices are rather simple, consisting of high-tech grappling hooks that can fire out of various ports on the main body of the armor. These devices aren't really designed for combat - moreso exploration - but a creative mind could surely find them some use for that. These launchable tethers manage to be just strong enough to manage the weight of the Bolis for shorts amount of time, were one free-hanging from them, but heavier prospects are pretty much out the window.
  • Various exploration gear - The rest of Bolis' arsenal consists of a toolbox of utility features, mostly used in exploration. This includes some number of torches/heat-cutters, flares, and even nets and taser-esque devices(for poaching), amongst more.
• Specifications:
  Bolis is an armor that focuses on agility, flexibility, and utility over armor and direct firepower. Due to the smaller nature of the Bolis, and its lower center of gravity, the armor is very stable and agile over short distances, in bursts, and over situational terrain - however, it can do so in exchange for land-speed, causing it to cover less ground over distance. It also must be relegated to using medium-light armor, making it not-so-durable in the line of direct enemy fire, compared to the average AUG.