Avatar of Hexaflexagon

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6 yrs ago
Current I teach my first online lecture today... this shouldn't be too hard right?
4 likes
11 yrs ago
Tout ce qui est fait n'est plus à faire
11 yrs ago
"Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul."
11 yrs ago
"El amor es como el fuego. Suelen ver el humo los que están fuera antes que las llamas los que están dentro."

Bio



Hexaflexagon (Concept)
In geometry, flexagons are flat models, usually constructed by folding strips of paper, that can be flexed or folded in certain ways to reveal faces besides the two that were originally on the back and front.


Hexaflexagon (Person?)
Academic who somehow got conned into working for the Government. Been role-playing both on forums and TTRPGs for close to twenty years at this point. I'm like 99% retired from active RPing on the Guild, but I still like to poke my head onto here once in a while to make sure that I didn't leave the lights on.

Most Recent Posts

“Odin, once you and your team have dealt with the hardballers, withdraw and stand by on reserve as well."


”You know Captain, a please once in a while could do wonders on troop morale.” Odin mused more to himself than anything else. His casual joking manner was not some sort of insubordination, more to keep his attention off the battle preventing him from getting lost within it. He did not even have to order the command as the rest of the intercept team were already moving out into position. Wizard and the rest had dealt with the rest of the hardballers with an efficiency that he expected from a pilot of the quality of Trent. No good jobs were needed, Trent already knew he was one of the best pilots in all the 101st he didn't need Trapp to confirm it for him. They moved into support positions quickly heading to rendezvous with the shuttle.

As they did a warning flashed across his screen as the Lincoln prepared to fire. He managed to afford a glance to his side to see the thing fire. For one moment in time the black void of space lit up in a beautiful display of energy and death. While the Coalition excelled in MAS outpacing them at every step, the UEE was still knew how to make bigger and badder warships. The naval engineers had a joke that they designed the guns first and built the ships around them. As the concentrated ball of plasma hit home and the Coalition aggressor was destroyed Trapp could only let out a low whistle of admiration. He drew his eyes forward again as they pulled into defensive positions and started to lay down covering fire for the Admiral’s ship. Normally he would have disagreed with helping out a man that was just so obviously asking for it, but the Admiral was part of the Imperial family as it where. Soldiers that failed to protect the Emperor's kin risked enraging the man himself and when the Emperor got mad people had an overt tendency to vanish mysteriously.

”Alright seventh you know what to do. Hatchet, Echo I want you so close to that damn shuttle you can smell the Admiral’s imperial privilege. And Echo, weapons free on the Calamity give em hell. Everybody else fan out into a protective perimeter, not a single shot gets through!” Trapp called out as he pulled the Sentry up to the front edge of the forming perimeter and started opening fire. Hatchet and Echo could handle the Ferirs coming in and with the others in close proximity they could move in to help if needed. Targets started to ping on his console and looking outwards he saw dozens of little red lines hurling towards them. The Cruiser had just launched a missile barrage at the Lincoln and it seemed that the majority of the 7th and the Admiral were caught in the middle of the firing solution. He would have called for evasive maneuvers but the damn shuttle would of been too slow to move out of the way. All he could do was let out a curse under his breath before he bellowed over the Comms.

Omega on me! Missile Intercept procedure in two!” Astelion pulled up to him with a affirmative and the two began to unload their heavy guns on the incoming volley. Trapp’s hands moved in a frenzy as he punched in a series of commands and moments later the Micro Missile Launcher fired all six shots out, the six became twenty four little carriers of death. Explosions rocketed across the sky as his own missile volley slammed into the oncoming offenders. Astelion was dealing with his own problems swimmingly as his autocannon and machine gun blared through space. Explosion after explosion came but he was not sure how much more of the volley they could handle. Then Astelion’s gruff voice came over the comms.

”Odin! Left!” Trapp turned just in time to see a missile streaking by heading on a collision course with the shuttle. Trapp let out a curse and floored the accelerator and the sentry chased after the missile. Now he couldn't fire off at the damn thing without risking hitting the shuttle ahead of it and so there was one option left. Trapp didn't like it, he never liked anything that relied too heavily on luck but it was either that or the Admiral died. He let out a single in his native tongue sounding something like scheiße before he acted. He cut ahead of the missile and drew his MAS in tightly in a bracing position. For the outside observer what happened next would seem to be moving in slow motion, the heavy missile came to abrupt halt against the Sentry and moments later there was a flash.

Trapp heard the sudden whoosh as his shields collapsed and then it all went black as the alarm rang out in his cockpit....

Status.....
Armor Integrity: 38%
Warning Cockpit breach detected
Reactor: 70%.... 69%....68%
Shield System: Rebooting
Main Thrusters: Disabled
Pilot Status: .......... Alive.


Trapp was jostled awake as the Sentry smashed into some debris. His console flickered and stuttered as it came back online and bathed the cockpit in gentle light. The first thing he noticed was that his emergency oxygen overtake had switched on, which told him that the cockpit had been breached by the explosion. Looking he saw that the heavy reinforced faux glass/transparant alloy had a hole in the middle of it. Next he noticed the pain mostly coming from his side. Looking down he saw that a shard of said clear substance had embedded itself into his lower abdomen puncturing his flight suit, along with many smaller pieces having cut up the outer protective layer. In short he was bleeding and he wouldn't be able to eject without risk of death. The mask failsafe had saved him from the decompression but he was nowhere out of the woods yet. He took a slow breath to stop his shaking hands before setting to work to at least stabilize the Sentry.

First he moved his right arm upward and found the large emergency switch and flipped it, his abdomen screaming in pain as he reached up. There was a clunk as out in front of him right behind the punctured plating a thin line of metal plating slide out and locked into place. Sentry pilots for the most part tried there best not to use the emergency sealing plate because it blocked vision and forced the pilot to fly either by just the console or through the head mounted helmet camera. As the cockpit was made airtight again, his oxygen mask clicked back from emergency position as it sensed that things leveled out. Next he had to address his currently failing reactor that was slowly dropping now at 58%, he made a quick series of commands into his stuttering console. He was directing coolant out of other major systems such as propulsion and weapons to at least appease the damage device for awhile yet. While it was the equivalent of strapping duct tape on the thing and hoping for it to hold it would at least prevent him from blowing up. The only downside being he had to be very careful to not overheat any of his other systems not running at reduced capacity. Next he had to deal with the whole transparent alloy embedded in his flesh. He reached under his seat and pulled out the standard issue med-kit that was provided for all pilots. He took out a small cylindrical syringe filled with biogel. What he did next would make any trained medical professional cringe. Using his free hand he grabbed the shard hard and ripped it out of his body, while it did more damage coming out, he needed the pathway to be unobstructed for the gel to be applied. He grinded his teeth together in pain as the shard pulled out and before he pass out he slammed the needle into the wound. The smart, expanding, self-sealing antibacterial gel was made to temporarily seal wounds until proper medical attention can be administered, primarily in use by the 101st Special Forces Legion, it still found its uses in the mobile armor division as well. He breathed out in relief as the gel dulled the pain. It would keep him functional at least to the end of combat. Than the Lincoln’s medical crew would have to patch him up fully.

Trapp flipped one final switch and with it he activated the head mounted camera on the Sentry. Coming out of its small concealed port it stuttered to life and a display of the outside world came into view. For a moment all Trapp did was look out in awe at the wondrous display in front of him. Plasma lighting up the void as each shot was cast into the void. It would take more than some damn missile to keep him from witnessing something like that. Finally his comms and shields slowly came to life as power began to pump back through the Sentry. The first thing he heard was a dry and unamused voice calling out to him.

“Yo Odin, you dead yet?”

“Only in your dreams Astelion.” Trapp called back a smile on his face as the Sentry came back to life. A solid hit could rip through the Sentry which was already in bad shape as it was, he was going to have to play it safe. He spoke again was calmly as possible sending out a status report. “This is Odin. Structural integrity is damaged, main thrusters are blown and I’m switching to reserves. I would not recommend getting into close combat with the MAS at this moment but she won't blow up yet. Moving back into reserve position, let’s make sure that damn shuttle gets back.”
An Update


Well there are now less of us than I expected but that is okay! The race will go on if all of you still want to give this a whirl. The first real story post is already waiting to go, and as soon as everyone is ready I can hit the trigger.

@La Inquisidora to answer your question. I write all the things.... all of them.
It's Ferir, there is no 'n' in the name. There was some reason for not calling it a Fenrir when I first created them, but that reason has been lost to me for a while.


Well Ferir does mean to hurt, harm or strike in Latin, but I may just be grasping at straws here.

EDIT: I was confusing my languages sorry, but it does mean to hurt or harm in Old French among others.
There are indeed G-forces in space. Centrifugal force applies.


Yep, Newton is everywhere. He just enjoys messing with everyone. XD
Numbers slowly counting down flashed before eyes. The light from the console being the only thing to illuminate the cramped cockpit. Zero flashed across the screen and somewhere above him a green light flashed. Moments later the feeling of being thrown backwards as the Sentry gets accelerated forward; going from 0 to 300 kilometers in under 10 seconds about 1.45 times the force of gravity on a standard planet. Even in space Newton's laws still dictated every action. The Sentry rumbled and shook; there was a reason they called it a walking coffin. The piece of metal inserted in his breast pocket felt as if it was going to burn through his chest. A constant reminder of what would happen if they made just one mistake. The rumbling reached a crescendo as it reached the top of its ascent feeling as if at any moment a screw could come undone and the whole Sentry would fall apart. A blast door opened and moments later the rumbling stop, everything stopped.

Trapp let out a long release of breath as his helmets combat display updated. Names appeared in the top right corner; they indicated each member of the 7th currently they were all blue indicating all was clear. The Sentry its self was a bit antiquated in its control scheme, while most had advance high response displays the Sentry had a small console that would funnel most useful information and provided targeting solutions. Everything else was for the most part was controlled by an array of pedals, knobs, switches and sticks. It was a pigeons worst nightmare with all the shining things blinking ready to be poked about. Trapp accelerated the sentry forward falling in formation with the rest of the squad. As he did the console beeped and several targets appeared on his helmet display, each with distance markers closing in at a rapidly advancing pace. Trapp noted there positions before flipping another switch and switched his commms over to the Lincoln's CIC as the Sentry withdraw the autocannon from its back.

Trapp was bombarded by information as soon as he switched channels. All active squadron leaders were funneling their own information to the Lincoln as tactical support provided orders and information back. The UEE was all about efficiency even in war and every cog had to know its place to make sure the grand mechanism ran. Trapp funneled data through before switching the comms again this time to his direct communication line with the Captain. He spoke in a calm tone as if he was telling her about sports scores rather than combat information. " Fox, this is Odin the 7th is in the air and approaching the target. Current positions is x: 373221.46 y:21495853.3, contacts spotted and coming in fast probably here in under 3. Oh and Captain? I know how much you like firing you big guns into space and all but if you could refrain from hitting any of us, because we would hate to not be able to perform our potato duties."

After a response was given he switched the communications back to the Squad. He raised the autocannon as they accelerated forward and soon the C-MAD squadron came into range. As soon as the console flipped green he pressed his fingers down on the trigger. As he launched hotlead across the void, shots were returned. He wasn't aiming for kills in particular instead it was more about keeping as many off of the two fling bombs as long as they could. Not that Brick and Guillotine couldn't handle things themselves. As he provided covering fire his comms flared up as the Squad started throwing up reports and kill conformations. As the others moved in his eyes scanned the field. He was looking for something, among the chaos and he soon found it Hardballers having broken off from the main combat group and heading straight for the Lincoln. It was a shame that wouldn't be able to get there.

"We got Hardballers coming in. Wizard, Rabbit, Omega we are running intercept procedure C, Gallant your in charge of bomb team make sure that package gets delivered." He spoke in a firm and controlled matter. Soon afterwards his MAS broke off from the group with the rest of the intercept time and moved into position. Rabbit and Wizard were comfortable with dealing with high value targets and he knew they wouldn't crack under pressure and he wanted to keep at least Him and Omega with them for staying power just in case things got rough. He moved right into the lead hardballers trajectory four in total, the strike team was fast approaching. He raised the autocannon once more and pointed it down range. He waited as the sights swayed across his helmet, the console trying to get him a firing solution. Soon it hummed in acknowledgement as the sights locked onto the target. He pulled the trigger again and the ammunition flew and hit home slamming into the heavily armored Coalition MAS. The Hardballer took it and kept on moving forward across the sky.

The Coalition pilot took the shots in stride and launched its own volley of return plasma. Trapp moved quickly as it barreled across spacem one clean shot could shred the Sentry if it hit. He pulled to the left hard and his own helmet flashed as he quickly pulled right out of his g-force limit. But it worked as the plasma rushed by hitting empty space where he once was. Trapp was getting tired of this game very quickly and deiced it was time for more drastic measure. He strapped the auto cannon back and instead pulled out the combat tomahawk. People also underestimated the tomahawk pilots are taught to only use it in extreme circumstances. But a creative pilot could use it in other ways if they were feeling suicidal. Trapp realigned his path with the Coalition Mas and pushed the thing to ramming speed. The Hardballer's pilot was unphashed and pushed his own engines, it was a game of chicken. The pilot knew that the Hardballer could easily overpower the smaller MAS and swat it away like a fly if it got too close. As the two got close the Hardballer charged up another plasma shot and fired, at the same time Trapp slammed his controls and the Sentry pulled hard to left at the very last moment. The moments had to be perfected as one second too late and the Sentry would be gone.

His shields flared as the plasma bolt brushed past the Sentry, not making contact but the raw energy still enough to make the system flare. The Hardballer had little time to react as the Sentry suddenly moved but he was confident it had pulled out like the UEE coward it was. Soon after warning lights flashed through his cockpit as a tomahawk was buried into his left thruster. Trapp knew that piercing through the cockpit armor would of taken more resources and probable use of the Claymore Missile Launcher. But he did'nt need to kill the pilot or even pierce the reactor all he needed to do was make it go away. The thursters of any MAS were sensitive and making them malfunction was easier than blowing it up any other way. The tomahawk had just enough kick and piercing potential to it to do exactly as Trapp wanted. The thruster sputtered and then started blasting hard to the right. The resulting thrust and forced as Trapp pulled the tomahawk through and out effectively sent the MAS into tailspin spiraling to the right and away. If the resulting forces didn't knock the pilot out than it would be a while yet for him to come back for another run.

"This is Odin enemy disabled. Gallant what's your status??"
When you're 6'3"(which isn't even that tall... just tall for asians.) with hella long legs, you don't fit in much. My friend drives a Miata. I literally don't fit in the car unless the convertible top is down.


Could be worse you could be me. 6'6", You can't fit in cars. I can't fit in cars, and have to duck through door ways! tallpeopleproblems
Personally I prefer the seminal classic of, "I'm getting too old for this shit."

Oh and well I'd assume they would have some sort of artificial gravity. At least until it gets knocked out and hilarity ensues. That and you know these people are spending extended periods of time on these ships and than launched into ground operations. If no artificial gravity existed their muscles would be all squishy like astronauts coming back from the ISS.
And since Approval has been received for my rather odd idea, CS depositing in 3...2....1...
CS Initiated







(He wears standard leather armor, not the Greywarden variant.) Kinnard stands close to six feet in height and is built of compact muscle. While he does not have the build of strength of a warrior he can still hold his own in a fight. His dark eyes glisten with a knowing twinkle behind them. His body is a patchwork of scars that have healed over and more scars having been created over them. The grey hair appearing in his beard and hair marks his appearance giving him the look of a man much older than he actually is.

Name:
Kinnard Armfield

Age:
35

Sex:
Male

Race:
Human

Class:
Rogue/Tempest

Title:
Hissrad

Magical Abilities:
N/A

Personality:

A charming face, an arrogant smirk and a deep hearted chuckle. Kinnard is exactly the opposite of what you'd expect from a Ben-Hassrath agent. He appreciates solving problems using well placed words and well forged documents as much as he can. While straight forward violence and outright barbarism leaves a dirty taste in his mouth. Having a storyteller's heart and a silver tongue he enjoys leading people on with grand tales of heroism and joking barbs. While most see him as a uncultured rogue interested only in secrets and getting inside as many peoples small clothes as he can, he has a heart for the little people and does what he can to aide those in need.

History:
The boy who Kinnard as the story goes was the sun of an Antivan merchant prince and his love affair with an Orlesian peasent. As he puts it was a romance destined to end in heartbreak like in all the stories. So soon after the boy was born, the Antivan had to leave once again never to be seen again. Later he would find out through his own channel of sources that his father died two years later defending his treasure ship from pirates. The boy's mother raised him until he was eight years old and that was when bandits raided their small farm and killed his mother and left him for dead. He would of died in the wreck of the farmhouse if it was not for the Ben-Hassrath Agent in the area named Korn that took pity on the boy and saved him.

Soon after he was brought back to Par Vollen when Korn was recalled by the Ariqun. On their travels back Korn introduced the boy the Qun and soon afterwards when they arrived at the island nation, the boy was converted under the watchful eye of the Ariqun. It was here that through Korn's persistence that the boy would be trained to become one of the Ben-Hassrath. He was thought to be as strong as the ocean and as formless as dust. He was taught the ways of Assassinations and the art of spying, blackmail and blending in with the populace. To be a member of the Ben-Hassrath was to be able to adapt to any situation. To be able to sneak into any city and gather information that would further the will of the Qun. While he excelled in this clandestine arts, he also devoted himself to his religious studies and deciphering the words that determined his life. In the Qun he found peace and understanding he was able to have a place and know his purpose.

When he was deemed ready he was given the title of Hissrad a spy and was sent back over the seas to Thedas. It was here that he established himself as a Rogue of much skill. Being hired out by Dwarven Cartas, Human mercenary groups and freedom fighter elves. He even spent time among Tal-Vashoth traitors. Soon the name he had given himself to blend in Kinnard Armfield had become known in less than nice places. Nobody suspected the smiling, arrogant, drunkard to be a Ben-Hassrath Agent. But he did his job well underneath the silver tongue and facade he was a loyal member of his people and diligently sent out reports. As of recently Kinnard had found himself among the members of the Cold Iron Mercenary Company who had just taken a contract with The Order of Silence.

Other:
Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun.

And now after reading @Howler's post now in my head Trent will always look like this.
I've been working on a CS/VS, but looking at the other sheets it seems like it'll be overpowered. I dunno, I was taking the 31st century "over the top" description pretty seriously.


Eh, if you want you can throw it up or even PM it to me. Just to smash ideas around. It may not be as unbalanced as you think.

Hi. I'm finally in a position to post more here- should have app up tomorrow or so.


Alright! No problem.
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