HereComesTheSnow

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

I lift from various games shamelessly

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

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"A breathable atmosphere." he repeated simply, as though casting aside every other detail as extraneous. He'd already guessed she was old, no point stressing that. No mission would take him near the unlivable equator to begin with— not important. Vegetation would naturally lead to the detail he had focused on, so it in essence was relegated to the realm of an explanation rather than an important finding. He understood its scientific merit— exobiologists held alien flora and fauna as the Holy Grail of discoveries in their fields, but Konstantin had grown into a much simpler creature than they. Seas, if not oceans. Lakes and Rivers. Liquid water would regulate temperature, provide a cycle of both humidity and air currents, predictable patterns of wind between the airmasses that hung over them. Closer to the mark.

But breathable.

In some manner, Earthlike. He began to steeple his fingers in front of him, furrowing his brow as his eyes took on a new and intense light. His plain affectations were replaced by a bombardment of muttered conclusions, as if the pilot was attacking the questions in his mind as they came.

"Putting aside the obvious necessary similarity in composition, that means a similar barometry, if our lungs could process it. The same regarding density. Maybe closer to the top of a mountain or the depths of a canyon than sea level, but all told, human respiratory systems have a definite range of what constitutes proper breathability. So long as there are no curveballs on the fluid dynamics, that means lift generation isn't unthinkable. Did the probe get readings on airborne dust, by chance? Any sort of particulate that would jam a turbofan?"

He was already confident his Orbital could truck through most skies one might expect to encounter, but if traditional engines were capable of working, that opened a whole slew of possibilities.

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

if caas doesn’t shut up i’m redlining the beam saber and accelerating operation morgan just to spite him

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

Nothing wrong with a little overlap— almost every modern military prides itself on generalism and redundancies (for better or for worse). Sometimes two people who can fill a certain role are much better than one. What if something happens to the other guy?

To speak of that— heads up to anyone i haven’t told, but my keyboard is out of commission at the moment. Hopefully I can get this issue solved by the end of the weekend, but if not don’t feel obligated to wait on my account.

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

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"Hn! Colonel, white man I may be, but we Serbs can handle a little stronger than a Jalapeno. With due respect, I think your number's a couple zeros short." he replied with a chuff as the newcomer took both his hand and the time to try and get her throat properly lubricated, affecting the slightest air of indignance. Certain Ajvar blends were hotter, let alone the nigh-ubiquitous Tabasco... Probably a little joke.

"Konstantin Stojanović. Charmed, Isra."

Anyways, traded jests aside, he hadn't missed the degree of creakiness in the young woman's voice— worst case of it he'd heard by a long shot. For as much as certain people's bodies differed in how well they re-acclimated to room temperature, Konstantin had to wonder— just how many extra years in cryo did "some time" equate to? The humidity of the showers had gotten most everyone else working, even after 15 years, but this one still hadn't shaken it.

Even her grip seemed to still be weak. For all their sakes, he hoped she'd be up to scratch by the time they went on sortie.

And to speak of such:

"Likely some magnetic field generator. If anywhere'd have one, it'd be us." he regarded the eternally masked Gypsy Alexandros, an oddball amongst the expedition in so many ways, moping her way through an MRE of her own. "I doubt we didn't expect some rocks with dead cores and thin atmospheres. Mars all over again."

Or Ganymede. A rocky moon nestled within the magnetosphere of a gas giant certainly didn't seem terribly uncommon as far as exoplanets went, if memory served— certainly helped avoid radiation playing hell with your flight systems.

"On the bright side, it isn't as if there'll be many beaches to worry about that on. We'd have heard of a planet like Earth by now."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

this account has coach's heart beating within it

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR

A blued gleam behind the crook of the opponent's elbow heralded a howl, full of rage, pain, swearing vengeance. He had opted for maximal safety, retreating from their range immediately after diverting Gerard's strike with his own blade and imposing a skeletal wall between the pair of Roses. It had proven to be an obstacle beforehand, something worth taking note of, but now...

"Kill her, kill her!" he howled, glaring fury in the direction Vosahnn must have fled.

Bone snapped beneath steel as the Captain darted to the side, following that same wall of reanimated corpses and interposing herself between it and their young Nem charge. New orders given, they began to move as one towards the side of the chamber. Gerard was similarly quick on the uptake—

But rather than dashing to the right side of the room, he instead surged forward. This was an opening he would be braindead to not take, even within the deepest pits of the fervor that consumed him. His Captain could more than handle keeping young Vosahnn safe from mindless skeletons— that much he could plainly see. Here, against this man, she could be said to lack size, strength, experience— her training was nothing to sneeze at, but Gerard did not believe it was particularly boastful to conclude that this fight suited him better.

He would ruthlessly push the advantages on the table.

A compromised arm.

A distraction, blinding lust for reprisal.

That same horde Fanilly engaged, now so far away from him.

Fights were decided by moments, and this one Gerard seized.

Naturally, the burst of motion in his peripheral was noteworthy enough for this man, experienced in spite of his clear outburst of anger, to take note of. To catch a man like this wholly off his guard would be asking too much. However, he was nonetheless forced to react rather than act— Gerard had all at once filled the space that existed between them, bearing down on him with blade drawn.

Immediately, in the same instant the armored man's eyes widened, Gerard swung.

A zhornhau to open. Diagonal cut starting from the right shoulder, something quick, high, and immediate— draw the eyes. Feint.

Off-balance, stuck in readjustment, he would bite on defending it. Heavy strike right for the head again, no chance that did not flash every warning signal.

He felt the clash of blade on blade, but not the pressure of a bind. Immediately, Segremors stepped forward and to the left on a diagonal, his longsword riding rebound and twisting in his grip to attack the other side. Zwerchau, a windmilling horizontal cut at head height. Delivered by the twisting of the arms above oneself, it could rapidly attack either side with successive strikes. Great for pressing an advantage and driving forward, further and further into space.

His step in had served a dual purpose— not only did it activate the legs and hips in powering the Zwerchau, it took his foot position much closer to that of his unnamed foe.

If he could get close enough, he could initiate a wrestling exchange by tripping him over that lead foot if he barred his vambrace over the man's throat, and the Knights would have their prisoner with a fresh blade against his neck quite quickly. No way this one wasn't some kind of big shot within the present corps— the plate alone was reason to believe he fit the desired bill.

If he could not, and his opponent gave ground, he would continue his furious assault with more strings of cuts, either herding him away from that talisman or outright killing him, ending the threat for good.

As long as they won, Gerard personally found himself unbothered with either outcome.

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

pandora is a city of gamers

Lostman Graffiti

Thanks for having us. I’m sorry I let the schedule slip on my end, for whatever that might be worth.

I look forward to seeing and playing with you guys again, wherever down the road that may be. Stay cool, Team Sharehouse.

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

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"So it'd seem," he replied evenly as the hulking form of the old Russian bear, Zakharin, filled his peripheral vision while taking his seat nearby. "At least I get to feel all ten fingers nearly dropping my tray instead of one set. A good tradeoff for not being so interested by the idea of electromagnetic warfare that I can stay awake during the powerpoints."

Another bite, and and a tilt of the head to his right welcomed the man likely their senior even with ages combined. Unlike Volana's lilting, measured Inner-Colonial accent, the rough bass of the larger man could never have fully hidden his homeworld Russian heritage, even if his command of the lingua franca was as flawless as you'd expect from a hardened vet.

"Zdravo. Good to see you again, Colonel Iron Side. You look damned good for eighty, have to say."

He would be a wealth of invaluable battlefield experience on this mission. Granted, they were officially security detail, but packing upwards of a dozen orbitals straight from UN active duty had Konstantin guessing that somebody was expecting some kinda fight somewhere. A bureaucrat or a scientist somewhere, perhaps— the kind of people who could definitely be wrong, but usually were right about enough things to listen to.

They'd find out when they got out there, confirmation only an hour or so away. However, to speak of unknowns being walked straight into—

"And I may need to take you up on that one. Jacira's got a bogey to her nine. Don't remember her face." he stated, regarding the demure, almost skittish young woman that had quietly taken up residence a little further down the table. She had the air of a new arrival, unsure if she was welcome amongst the rest of them... on a ship that had ostensibly been crewed by the same people (albeit in rotation) for over a decade.

Probably some need-to-know bullshit, but since her garb was very pointedly an ancient model flight suit, chances are they did need to know, and she'd be joining them out in the void. Best not wait on that. He extended a hand across the table, dropping his cake into his muesli without even a hint of fanfare.

"We don't bite, you know. You are?"

Besides, even if he had lost most of his youth's decorum, being a gracious host was part of his culture.