JonTheArchivist

IH Phoenix Corp Turkey Shoot

Locke smirks ever so slightly under the helmet. The Greatspurs Yumi felled went down in such spectacular fashion. Even out of the corner of his eye, the absurdity of the moment was not lost on him. Just one last push now. One last strike, and they’d win this.

Aramis’ magic flares around him, drawing his notice. He pauses firing and repositions, reloading his weapon as he flanks right around the flailing, panic stricken turkey. Enemy off balance, defenses hardened, and enough handholds for him to draw on an old tried and true battle tactic.

The last Greatspur is turning to flee now, but the fallen corpses of its companions waylay its progress. Perfect angle. Locke surges forth, jump jets burning… then he leaps up, kicks off of another tree to gain more height, then grabs a handful of heavy feathers on its back. Time to rodeo this bastard.

He clambers upward, timing his movements between the Turkey’s panicked attempts to shake him off. The jumpkit aids his progress as he clambers up atop its head… Then he levels his rifle at its eyeball as it cocks its head back to look at him.

CRACK CRACK CRACK

A spray of blood and the pilot kicks off, using his jumpkit to cushion the descent. He lands at a crouch… and silence reigns for the briefest of moments, broken shortly after by the thundering boom of a massive body collapsing on the ground.

IH Phoenix Corp Turkey Shoot

Locke stares at the scene before him, utterly bewildered. Were it not for his helmet, an awkward expression would be on display for all to see.

”Friggin Kaiju Turkeys…” he mutters.

An apt description. But, now wasn’t the time to get caught up in it. As amusing as the scene might be, Aramis is in a spot of trouble. Those giant feathered monstrosities were bearing down hard and fast, gaining on the panicked mage.

Locke leapt from his perch to intercept, closing the distance with speed, jumpkit glowing with accelerating power. He hefts his rifle, and fires on the move.

Just as a turkey foot slams and cracks earth right behind Aramis, a round connects. Between the loud cracking of the rifle and the sharp impact in its neck, the beast turned to face the new threat, half panicked by the startling new factor.

Still… that didn’t stop its heavy stomp from throwing an alarmed Aramis off his feet. It’s only by virtue of Locke’s distracting efforts that they weren’t making a move to finish him off. That said, the lead turkey’s panicked thrashing might do the trick if he doesn’t move quick.

IH Phoenix Corp Turkey Shoot

As Locke found himself a perch from which to take advantage of the bottleneck, he glanced to his left. Surely enough, the Greatspur flock is altering their course, gobbling turning inquisitive as they sniff out the bait.

The pilot quickly clambers up to a high and sturdy tree branch, his chosen perch, and from here, his visor is able to highlight everyone present. Yumi may be distant, but he can identify her by the scythe leaning into her hold.

Everyone is in position. He watches and waits, smirking a bit to himself at how cartoonish this was probably gonna look in but a few moments.

The thunderous, ponderous steps of the Greatspurs grows more intense as the gap closes… before they spot Aramis, and the tasty snack he carries. Their gobbling turns aggressive, and they bristle as they prepare to charge.

GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE!

Thus, with the absurdly ground-shaking call of their kind, the chase begins.

IH Phoenix Corp Turkey Shoot

Locke can’t help a bemused smirk under the helmet, shaking his head slightly before standing and shouldering his R-201-C at parade rest. He pulls the magazine to check his ammo before sliding it home with a satisfying click.

”Honestly… Aramis, I have half a mind to recommend you as guild strategist at this point.” He glances back at Yumi. “And Yumi the guild’s lead huntress,” the pilot adds.

He chuckles softly and calmly starts for his position in this plan, beyond the end of the bottleneck, where he can sight in on some turkey heads and eyeballs and squeeze rounds downrange. ”Alright. Let’s do it your way. Should be fun,” he says with a a half excited grin. Though they couldn’t see it under the visor, they would certainly hear it in his voice. ”Make sure you’re not in my line of fire when they reach the kill box, okay?” he adds with an element of care in his tone.

They know what he’s talking about by now of course. The only recipients of muzzle velocity rounds from his weapon in the field should be their targets, not allies. He’d much rather avoid repeating the close calls that happened in the dungeon way back when…

He doesn’t wait for further input, just picks up the pace, jump-jets flaring as he sets out for a better firing position. Time to set this plan of theirs in motion.

Before long, those earth shacking gobbles would cease and be replaced by the aroma of roasting turkey meat. He could picture it now. Slabs of it seasoned to perfection, complimented by gravy, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and a variety of casserole dishes. Oh how he hoped the look on Evie’s face would convey such joy at the end of this. He could already imagine Roscoe’s wagging tail too.

Best not mess these shots up…

[Ryke - Dungeon] Languishing Large Loner

Even as he moved with a frantic pace, Locke bore witness to half the team being downed in seconds… It was like watching a Titan tear apart a squad of ill equipped riflemen, just more ponderous and reckless, animalistic and primal.

His heart sank when he heard the mage’s words… Get the girl? Fuck no.

He almost diverted course before witnessing Yumi’s insane maneuver to get the trunk. Pole vaulting with your weapon? That takes guts and skill to pull off in combat, even if you’re not injured… but the woman seemed to be experienced with that style of combat.

Evie’s order rings loud and clear. Get the mage. Fine by him. Locke’s rounds did nothing to the mammoth… but they could certainly rip through its human master. There is no choice anymore. It’s kill or be killed. The only way to protect Evie, Roscoe, and the others is to take out the controlling element. That much is now clear.

Locke remains mobile, tapping his visor as he does, utilizing his years of training and available gear to seek out signs of the real enemy. The illusions en masse may yet bear flaws that make them seem inorganic. Synced or mechanical movements, no breathing motions, still as a statue, anything that might set them apart from the real mage, he sought to identify and use, and with the help of his visor and helmet sensor suite, he would narrow it down… He swaps magazines as the mental commands are issued…

Search and destroy. For a Titan Pilot of the Frontier, this is a familiar modus operandi.

Actions:
- Evasive/distracting Maneuvering [Speed D]
- Ability: Basic Battlefield HUD Scan - [Intelligence E, Perception F, Survival F, Appraisal [Isekai] F] | 1 Post Cooldown (Attempting to identify the real Mage among the illusions)
- Preps Weapon to engage target

IH Phoenix Corp Turkey Shoot

Great crop fields lie ahead, beneath the ridge, being prepared for harvest. Granaries in the distance lie brimming with the year's harvest at the edge of town, and the distant Paizu mountains peak over the horizon. The scene might've been a picturesque moment, photogenic in every sense, worth enjoying as the sun rose to illuminate it all in golden light... Though, Locke and team had only but a moment to take it in if they so chose.

The Adventure Guild's call had been heard, and many came to answer the threat of the Greatspur Turkeys. One such flock on the move, their size certainly rivalling that of the Frontier's Titans... Such bizarre foes, Locke thought, but their eerie gobbling certainly rattled the landscape, true to the rumors.

Still, they would make an ideal objective today. Earlier that morning, as the date for Thanksgiving approached, he had come across one of his guildmates in a sad, forlorn state. Memories of home, of family, hung heavy for her. He had tried to console her, encourage her. Evie still remained unsteady however. Words alone would not be enough. Then the call came about these giant turkeys, and the idea hit upon him. What if the team got together and made a feast to share in with their friend? He enlisted the help of friends and guildmates alike, and now, here at the ridge overlooking the fields, they prepared to engage this flock.

Three targets, simple objectives. Intercept, waylay, eliminate, and cook 'em up alongside sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce. Classic Thanksgiving feast to uplift loved ones. Well, he certainly hopes it'll work for Evie. It's the thought that counts, right?

He lowers his rifle and looks away from the optics, glancing back to check on his team. Best to take stock once more now before they press forward. They had a moment, and it's not like these giant featherbrains were hard to track...

IH Phoenix Corp Turkey Shoot

Alright guys. Here's the game. We gotta hunt the giant turkeys, save the year's harvest, and cook these giant buggers up for a feast to cheer up a friend who's mourning her lost family. Simple objectives.

Gear up your characters, and let's get to it.

[Ryke - Dungeon] Languishing Large Loner

Locke’s eyes widen behind his visor as he watches the ladies make their daring close range maneuvers. He keeps mobile though, despite the fact that he just watched something that felt like it was straight out of anime… (har har, irony).

The pilot’s gaze sweeps their surroundings as he maneuvers evasively, waiting for his own opportunity to strike. Preferably after his allies moved away from dishing out their attacks… He didn’t want another incident like earlier on. Near miss was lucky that time…

Only when he’s sure his compatriots aren’t going to be downrange of it would he pause to fire.

He skids to a halt briefly near the mammoth and aims high, for its eyes, then squeezes the trigger. The rifle cracks off a short burst of rounds before he lowers it and daets back into a circling pattern around the perimeter, running interference. Blind the enemy, disrupt and distract, be a nuisance. For now, it’s all he could do with his limited ordinance…

He still made sure to coast past the illusions, searching for any reactions that might clue him in to which one is the real guy…

He’s probing, waiting for his next opportunity…

- Move [Speed D]
- Precision Shot, aims for mammoth’s eye. Range F, Penetrating F, Gunplay E]
- Back off and maintain distracting movements [Speed D]

[Ryke - Dungeon] Languishing Large Loner

Locke smirks slightly under his helmet, a surge of respect for Evie’s quick thinking passing through his thoughts as he moves automatically to follow the order.

His weapon snaps up with little fanfare, no announcement, no warning, just level, sight in, the brief staccato of automatic fire flinging lead downrange echoes as he shifts rapidly forward and to the left, making room for his comrades, but keeping his crosshairs on the enemy as he closes the gap enough to let him land shots more consistently.

Just as asked, he’s aiming for leg and limb, seeking to cripple, not kill, running and gunning as his jumpkit fires to speed him up. Don’t bunch up, but cover the team, and interfere with the enemy. Habit and training kicks in like clockwork. He stays on the move between trigger pulls, letting his jumpkit help guide and augment his maneuvers, making himself a hard and very annoying target quite deliberately.

No words, just orders followed, tactical movements made, rounds squeezed off at the target.

[Run and Gun - Fighting Style - Guns - Gunplay E (Penetrating F, Range F), Steady Hands E | 1 Post Cooldown]
[Movement and evasion augmented by Jumpkit after firing, Speed: D]

[Ryke - Dungeon] Languishing Large Loner

Locke remains close at Evie’s flank, opposite Roscoe. His rifle remains close at hand, safety on, held at parade rest, but thumb on that button, coiled and ready to spring into action. He’s alert, on a swivel, or as well as he can be, given how this journey has gone.

The localized miasma of sorrow and grief sat heavy in his lungs, challenging him to stay lucid and awake… But he’s been through the wringer before, awake for days, even literal weeks at a time while surrounded by enemies. He could hold out a little longer, especially if it’s to protect his squad and friends.

The visor of his helmet gazes emotionlessly at the throne perched individual… all high and mighty like. Left a bad taste in his mouth. Reminded him too much of those archaically governed segments of Frontier Space, holier-than-thou tyrants in charge. Underneath the visor, he’s contending with a strange mix of emotions and neurodivergent thought patterns, whether it’s the mist or the past, he couldn’t tell.

All he could do is hope the diplomatic approach works, so that they can all get out of here quick and breathe clean, free air again. Failing that, put up a hell of a fight and hope they can still complete the quest without losing their sanity…

Regardless of the circumstance, he remains quiet, standing loyally and protectively at Evie’s side, while letting her take the lead here. Far be it from him to interrupt a medic when she’s trying to get through to a potential patient…