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    1. Dragoknighte 11 yrs ago

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10 yrs ago
Current @Lady Amalthea, does that mean every post is a Horocrux?
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Roger scowled at Lorenzo's words. Yeah, it sure is easy to high horse when you give out vaguely-worded orders and then get to call out others on misinterpreting them. Fucking asshole. In any case, at least it was good to know that he wouldn't have to worry about teammates attacking him or any other shit like that. Besides, they were likely to suffer similar setbacks against the Cruxi. Actual combat experience with Yeager, learning how his Framewerk syncs up with everyone else's, this suited him just fine.

Yeager went out into the field, a bright white soldier, ready to do battle. Its paint job would allow it to hide rather effectively in snowy climates, areas with lots of light and among clouds, but right here, it stuck out like a sore thumb. No matter, if he activated its Primary systems, all they would see is a white glint.

"Thank you very much, lady." Roger replied, giving his copy of the map a brief scan. Not great for Team Sigma, but doable.

"So you want us to engage in guerrilla warfare? Works for me. I'll go in ahead and help scout out the area." Roger barely touched the Overboosters, turn it on for just a split second to get an explosive start to the boost, it was something he'd been practicing any chance he got, and was the only way he could really utilize them right now. Just the lightest of touches to reach top acceleration for the "normal" thrusters near instantly. Roger and yeager moved into the Forest of Pillars.
May I suggest this to be Team Sigma's battle theme?


I see your suggestions, but instead of orchestral pieces, how about the soundtrack of the RP be awesomely cheesy 80s pop songs? Would certainly set it apart from other military robot RPs.
I mostly used AD&D for my character too, but a lot of people seem to have used 3rd edition and/or Pathfinder
All you gotta do is roll a Sense Motive check on me and see that there's no trap, nevermind that my Charisma is among the highest in the group and that we don't actually us a dice roll system.
Oh I know.

I wrote it out.
I looked at it and saw it was super suspicious, and then pressed Post Reply.
Cyneburg

Location: The forest by the Road North of Salarn
Interacting with: Would-be Ambushers


Cyneburg walked noisily through the forest. She was going overboard, but in her head if she didn't overdo it she would probably underdo it and end up silently stumbling upon some camp of travelers. At least, that's what she was thinking before she heard footsteps in the trees coming from the direction of where she had smelled the smoke. Most people didn't leave their campsite to go greet other travelers. How gracious of them to do that.

Wait.

What if the people were bandits? That was something she hadn't thought about. Well, it's not like she had a lot of valuables on her, and she still had 2 shape changes she could easily switch to today, so if they weren't friendly, it's not like it would be difficult to escape. Still, getting ambushed would mean that she left bear shape for nothing, which would be mildly disappointing. Then again, it's also getting dark, this group of people might be especially jumpy at night. Well, the fastest way to find out the intentions of these people would be to greet them early before they can jump to any more conclusions.

"Hello!" she said loudly into the forest in the general direction the footsteps were heading. "I'm a lone traveler without any real valuables on me, so you wouldn't get anything from robbing me. If you're friendly people, I'd love to have a meal with you!"
"It's been an hour already?" Probably a good thing. It looked like if the conversation had kept going, half the pilots would have completely given up on the other half. Guess that's what happens when you throw a bunch of strangers in the room and give 'em vaguely, somewhat antagonistically worded orders and then tell them to get familiar with each other.

Rather than look for the changing room himself, Roger opted to just follow Harold. He looked like he knew where he was going. Well that, and he was looking at a datapad for directions. Why do work yourself when somebody's doing it for you?

In the changing room, Roger found his pilot suit. White with a large blue on both sides of the torso for visual flare. It was something he'd had to wear many times over the last few months so that he'd get used to it, even though he almost never actually got into the Framewerk. It never stopped being weird to put on. You had to force it to stretch every time you put it on, and if you didn't work it right, the suit would hug your junk against one leg, and that was not comfortable. But if months of shoving his body into such a small suit taught him anything, it was the most efficient way of shoving your body into the thing until it fit.

Roger found his way to Yeager and listened to the orderly fill him in on the details as he made his way towards the cockpit. Both his training as an airplane and Framewerk pilot allowed him to understand about 85% of everything he was told, but it was quickly apparent that there were no problems with the suit, and the guy just had a roundabout way of getting that point across.

After getting seated in the machine, Rooney went through all the parts and what they were for: sensors, controls, system monitors, Synch ratio, communications... everything was green, and he had a somewhat decent mental map for everything, even though his hands were much slower. It was a good thing he could naturally synchronize with Yeager as well as he could, otherwise he'd be unable to move the thing with his current level of experience, let alone pilot it in battle. Roger enabled communications and set the channel to the open comm.

"Roger and Yeager, all green. Standing by for deployment."
I'm going to be awhile before I post. I've been sucked up into Old English linguistics
Jonathan looked at the name and date on his arm. The meeting would be in a few days, which just so happened to be the day he was supposed to start working at the new office. Logically, this would mean that his soulmate was probably going to be a new co-worker, probably another middle-aged guy like himself. Maybe if he was lucky Jonthan would be the less bald of the two. His hairline was receding, but right now it wasn't too bad. He had maybe another 10 years before something would have to be done about it.

The thought of that dark future made his stomach settle. Jonathan truly feared few things, but male pattern baldness was definitely one of them. Not only was it a sign of growing old, but an indicator that you would not even have the luxury of aging gracefully.

The honk of a horn behind him woke him back up to the reality of the present. He was driving a moving truck, on his way to his new apartment in New York City. The radio was broken, as was the air conditioner, but the fake leather seating was that comfortable softness that it gets when it's been used enough to get kind of cracked and squishy, but before the whole thing totally breaks down and needs to be replaced with new seating. He was bored at a red light when he started spacing out, thinking about the Baldest Timeline.

Jonathan sighed as the engine of the truck groaned before moving forward. According to Google Maps, that was the last stoplight he would be at before reaching the apartment complex. He was not looking forward to moving a decade's worth of boxes and furniture up four floors and down three hallways.
It feels weird writing up a mundane intro post when the one immediately above it is a super emotional, dramatic moment.
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