Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Faira looked over the battlements as the day was still young. She leaned on the wall, and said nothing to her companions. She quite agreed with her placement here, and Manald's as well. A great deal of extra strength would be needed to dislodge any ladders that found the wall. Her armor was in its loosened state, ready for her muscles to expand when she let the blood heat flow.

Suddenly, Faira stood up fully, her hands planted on the wall as she looked out to the east.

"They come. Ladders and... gods damned trolls!"

She couldn't do much but watch as they approached. She commanded that the rifles focus their fire on the trolls, as she trusted that the ladders could be dealt with in their turn. They had prepared for a scaling attack, but nobody had made any real consideration for defending the gate.

When the first ladder arrived, Faira, having watched its path, was already in position. Her muscles bulged as she let her magic flow through her body. Immediately, she began to sweat, and her hot breath hung thickly in the air. She grabbed the ladder, and simply pushed it away. The ladder tumbled backwards, landing heavily on a few goblins in its path. The remaining goblins, however, were undeterred and began to right it again. What's more, the next ladder that went up was braced more heavily, so that it was quite immovable and Faira was forced to content herself with drawing her sword and beheading any goblin that showed its face above the wall.

When she had a clear moment, she drew her dagger, and slid the blade along her wrist, leaving a small cut. Her blood activated the magic in the weapon, and it quickly began to glow as if she had pulled it from a forge. Faira thrust the dagger, halfway up the blade, into the wood of the ladder, which quickly caught fire itself, and began to burn. She moved to the next ladder to repeat this while the spell still held, her soldiers were meanwhile working with axes to splinter the ladders so that they could not be easily braced on the wall.

"Manald!" She called suddenly, looking down into the mass of foes. The trolls had been slowed by the peppering of lead from the rifles, but they were far from stopped, and had nearly made it. "We need to do something about those trolls!"
“Tell me you and yours able to hide out deeper in the mines until this storm passes?”

"You what? We didn't get all them rifles so we could bury our heads while a bunch of grunts turn our home into a battlefield!"

"Infantry may still have a role in this fight," Holly mused. "But even if it does, we want them out of reach from the cavalry. If you lay low in the buildings, you can fire on anyone who's on foot that tries to come in. And you'll have the mines to retreat to."

She looked around at her boys. She didn't like Gaby's lack of opinion, but he was newer at this and would gain insight from the fight to come. If he lived.

"I agree that masking our presence is the best plan. I'll take the ship and land it away from here. Vulcan, set those mines, Patrick, have your folks help. Then hide Storm as best you can. Jaeger," she turned to him, "We'll want that ranged support, so let me know where you're going to station yourself, and I'll set my Jericho hard cover there for you. You might even go up the mountain a little, though that could be risky if you need to get back to us quickly.

"Phoenix," she shortened his callsign, "You and Crusader can take the hangar. Or else hide behind the walls to the courtyard. If you do that, we'll have you crouched and covered by tarps or something. I'll take Recluse with me in the ship, and approach from the forest, and attack from behind once everyone has engaged. Thoughts?"
@PandaBrady

Certainly, though if you join later you may need to wait for between missions, or else approach me via PM and I'll see how best to work you in.
@ERode@Dead Cruiser@Penny@Duthguy@Martian

Just a bump for those folks I haven't seen move over.
I have made the first post! If you've been approved feel free to post. Basically at this stage, we'll be entering the town, and deciding where to place ourselves for the defense.
A harried woman was having a moment of peace in her field, tending the rows of coffee shrubs. Her crop was in tiered rows, up the hill toward one of six mouths into the cavernous mine that McDonough’s Rest was built into. The plants went all the way to the tall, electric wire fence that abutted the edge of the lush jungle. The fence kept out the worst of the predators on the planet, but was irritatingly ineffective against the arboreal herbivores, who had developed a taste for the leaves and branches of the coffee plants.
A boom, and a shift in the air made her look up. There was a ship, just now arriving in the atmosphere, and moving quickly toward McDonough’s Rest. The woman looked at it with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. She switched to outrage as the ship - some basic sort of shuttle - landed on the outskirts of the field, crushing a segment of the security fence.

“Patrick!” the woman shrieked over her shoulder, back toward the sheltered supply shed, “Get the slathe-gun!” There was an indistinct response from within, but a moment later a man in dirty coveralls stepped out with a large bored, revolving rifle. He was moving with a bewildered caution toward the ship, while his wife stalked furiously ahead of him. As they approached, the ramp unfolded from the bottom hatch, revealing a wide entrance into the belly of the shuttle. A man stepped out. He had jet black, unnaturally neat hair, and a tan complexion. He was dressed in all black as well, the collar of his long jacket coming almost to his chin.

“And I suppose you’ll be paying for those crops you just ruin’d?” the woman asked in a fury.

He looked at her, a cruel laughter behind his eyes. “You suppose wrongly. As I own this land, anything planted here is mine to keep, or destroy, as I please.”

She was apoplectic. “I was born here! Ain’t no prissy space man gonna land his ship on my land, squish my crops, and then look me in the face and tell me it’s his!”

“I think you’ll find,” he began silkily as the woman crossed her arms and glared, “That my paperwork is-”

He was reaching into an interior pocket, presumably to produce said paperwork, when she interrupted him. “Patrick, shoot ‘im.”

As Patrick was bringing his slathe-gun to bear, an enormous metal arm reached out from the mouth of the shuttle, and put itself between the stranger and them. It was followed by a similarly black clad mech, which had to duck its way out of the ship’s belly.

“If that’s the way you will play this,” he said, ice creeping into his voice, “I think you’ll find my armament is every bit as orderly as my paperwork. If you would be so kind as to allow an introduction - I am Hector Federico Alvarez. And you are?” The mech had moved its hand away so that they could speak face to face, but it had a nasty looking gun trained on the both of them.

“Maggie McDonough,” she replied through clenched teeth. Other townsfolk were gathering to this side of the mine, peering from the opening, or approaching from around one side or the other.
“Patrick,” Patrick said simply, holding his rifle down at his side.

“McDonough as well..?” He asked, pointing slyly between the two of them.

“Aye.”

“Well, always nice to have good company. Either by rule of law, or rule of gun, I think you’ll find this land to be every bit mine. You are in some amount of luck, however. My equipment and workforce is a few weeks behind me, so you have the fortune of a bit of a grace period. I will be returning in,” He waved his hand in front of him, producing a holographic screen that he consulted, “Sixteen standard days. You have until then to vacate the premises. When we arrive, we will use whatever Force is necessary to clear out all of… this. It has been quite the pleasure, Mrs. McDonough, Mr. McDonough. I hope I won’t see you again. Fairwell.” He turned on his heel and marched back into the shuttle. The sleek black mech seemed to look them over a moment longer before following suit as the ship’s engines began to came to life with a whine.

~~~~~~~

Patrick set out with the settlement’s only shuttle to look for help. He was met with any number of combinations in sympathy, apathy, and general unhelpfulness. Some towns simply couldn’t spare their militia, some were watched over by mercenaries who might have helped, if he had the money to outbid their current employers. One place had already heard of his plight and asked him to leave before he had even finished landing. At his last stop, Patrick was offered a crate of rifles and ammunition by the local militia captain, with the promise of a hogshead of tobacco and barrel of coffee beans from their latest crop, should they survive.

And so, already in debt and without any extra men, Patrick was loading the crates in the town’s landing bay, with little hope that they would help, when he heard a voice from nearby.

“You might need a bit more than that.”

“You think I don’...” his voice trailed off as he turned and saw what she had parked nearby. “Aye, but I can’t afford that.”

“I know, that’s why I’m approaching you. I heard about your little problem. Me and Rec here can help, and maybe a couple others. You got plas-carts and fusion cores?”

“Aye. Nuthin’ military grade, but…”

“I’ll make them work. Here’s the deal. As many of those as we need to keep our mechs running and gunning, all the spoils of the fight… and half those rifles when it’s done. I’ll be there, and however many other good souls I can get.”

“Sounds a little too good to be true.”

“Sounds like you don’t have a choice. Have faith.”

A mechanical voice boomed out from the mech crouched in the corner of the bay. “Have faith.”

~~~~~~~

On another fine day, the people of McDonough's Rest looked to the sky to watch a ship landing. Quite unlike the sleek shuttle of two weeks prior, this was a utilitarian freighter provided under license by the Frontier Branch Mercenary Union. Also unlike the shuttle, this ship was both expected and welcome. It landed, directed to do so by the townsfolk, on a field that had only recently been harvested of its corn. The engines were still winding down when the cavernous loading ramp opened up to show a bay that was positively crammed with the titanic forms of mechs lines up as neatly as could be managed. At the forefront, a woman walked briskly down the still-lowering ramp, but others could be seen behind her.

She carried a data pad, which she immediately handed to Patrick McDonough as he approached to greet them.

"Er, what is this?" he said, looking it over.

"Contract," she answered shortly, "We need something to turn into the Union after all this is over, to show we did some work. Look around, boys!" she shouted this last over her shoulder, "We need a battle plan ASAP. I wouldn't put it past this Alvarez guy to show early."
@Arthanus@vietmyke

Both are quite acceptable, and may be moved to the characters tab.
Faira, unsure how the record hunter worked, borrowed a quill and ink from the guard house at the eastern gate, and while she waited for Faira, set about muffling the metal fastenings on her saddle, using bits of cloth to prevent noise as they rode. She assumed Zatana would utilize a similar trick. When the elf arrived, the two set out silently toward the mountain.

Faira got off her horse as they approached, and practically laid down on the ground to crawl into position to watch. Though she was far from known for her stealth, she moved like a beastman when hunting, and did what she could to lower her large profile.

While watching the scene play out, she pulled the record hunter from a pocket and gave it ink and quill, taking care to open the bottle for the small creature. As the paper familiar went to work, Faira murmured to Zatana.

"Bad. And who's directing this? Goblins aren't this smart. Do you think we should skirt the mountains west? See if others are doing the same?"
Well you will have the honor of posting it in the new thread.

If you would all do me a favor and repost your sheets there as well.
© 2007-2017
BBCode Cheatsheet