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7 yrs ago
Current You did good, McGregor. Made us proud.
4 likes
7 yrs ago
No offense intended. But there's a sweet spot on the sliding scale of realism, and most of the interest checks I usually see skew too far to the realism end for me.
2 likes
7 yrs ago
Can't describe how quickly I go from excited to sad when a mecha premise turns out to be realism wankery.

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I've got a sheet in progress. Don't have enough to show as a WIP yet, but wanted to make sure it was clear that i was still here.
I mean I was just pointing out how every single person up to that point was only expressing interest in playing as a servant.


I...

I wasn't expecting an existential crisis tonight...


"That's not even a fitting reference."

It wasn't hard to hear the Irishman, even up here. Not that Umeko was paying much attention yet. Shitty pun aside, she was furious about that asshole getting away. She could have had him. His continued retreats proved he couldn't take her in a fight, she could have had him if he hadn't had a fucking escape route. She noticed the desk offered by the younger student, but declined to hop up on it; she'd already had to drop one story today, dropping another wasn't going to matter. Her boots were already fucked.

So the Japanese girl simply stepped out of the window, scowling to herself as she landed; bending her knees and spreading the landing dispersed the force out to three points. The sound her ability took care of, though apparently it wasn't able to take the heat out of her expression.

"Bastard got away. Shitty jetpack under his coat. This is why I say I should take things from the lab with me." Someone was already helping the most affected member of their little party, so Umeko walked over to her bags to verify that her purchases were unharmed. Nothing was to be done about dinner, another mark against the night, but if anything had happened to her bags... "Good work getting the body back. I'm not going to ask what happened to your vest. Or the bus. Or the blood. I want to go home."

She gestured back up to the window.

"Kid with the desk saw everything important. He can report it."
<Snipped quote by Plank Sinatra>

I have no issues with that. Anyone who wants to pair up can, and those who want random pairing will get that.

<Snipped quote by Krayzikk>

Yes, I'll get sheets up hopefully today.


Awesome, I really appreciate it man. Bored as hell resting, doing some pre-planning will keep me entertained.
Speaking of characters, I don't suppose we might get a sheet soon? Sick right now so I can't start immediately anyway, but it'd be nice to be able to plan ahead.
Oh ye of little faith.

Poking my head back in as promised to confirm I'm interested, and I'll be planning a master.
Tentatively interested, depending on a couple of factors. Will check back in after I check on said factors.



Acknowledgement lights winked at Maine-1’s broadcast, but that was the only response from the Gespenst Mk. TT keeping pace with the rest of UTX’s units. It was the heaviest unit by far; when things got hot, it wouldn’t keep pace with the other machines on the battlefield. Not in raw speed. Lions were nimble things, and the sky was their domain. The TT was an interloper, objectively the most antique machine on the battlefield. No doubt the least feared amongst modern Federation units, let alone one of the Crusaders’ own aces. In other hands, maybe that would be the case.

Not this time.

Sixteen units, confirming Maine-1’s report. Local forces were engaging the eastern flight of remnants, leaving the eastern for UTX and the Landlions unopposed. That wasn’t something that could be allowed to stand. Someone would need to keep them from getting to the Loch, but to do that UTX would need to punch through their escort flights. Not so easy to do when there were enough craft to cover UTX one-to-one and then some. Too much of a stalemate for Hazel’s taste. They didn’t waste any time, either; Hazel could feel that they’d launched missiles even as her PT warned her of the same, and enacted countermeasures reflexively. Homing missiles were standard on Lion-series units, a weapon she’d encountered plenty during the war. Their tracking algorithms were far from sophisticated. No evasion built into them.

The TT responded better than she could have hoped. She was used to her Mk. II, had grown accustomed to how it reacted. but the TT felt almost like an extension of herself. Thought became action almost seamlessly. A flick of the wrist killed the Tesla Drive, in the same breath gunning the Gespenst’s primary and left lateral thrusters. Gravity took hold and the machine dropped like a rock, rolling on its side to look up at the enemy. The Drive kicked back in and stabilized its flight but not before the TT’s hands found its weapons. The next moment was half targeting sensors, half intuition; the mute let go of her conscious thought and trusted that she knew what she was doing. The Burst Railgun crackled once, twice, thrice in a single volley; the first projectile lanced through the missile altering course to hit her while the latter two continued on their course to the Lion that fired. In her gut she knew it was the right angle, and she knew the TT could follow through. The Lion was quick, but she was willing to wager its pilot wouldn’t bank on the same shot putting him at risk. A gamble, yes; but that explosion could mask it. She trusted her gut.

Not enough to refrain from hedging, though; the rifle in her machine’s right hand reported second, aimed at the same Lion.

”Summers. Anju. Breaking through their line. Cover me. On mark.” Her comm reported monotonously, but clearly; it wasn’t a request. Hazel didn’t much care what ground she had to give instructions. Her decision was clear; someone needed to cut off the Landlions, and the TT was best suited to it. If she could just break through their line. From below them, perhaps, they wouldn’t notice. If they did… She’d deal with that if it came to it. Bracing herself for the discomfort that would come, opened the thrusters wide and slammed the controls as far as they would go. Inertia didn’t agree with her, it pushed her against her seat hard, but she was accelerating; with any luck her colleagues would keep their attention off the PT passing from below.

It was their first outing. Playing it safe wouldn't win this. Time for a leap of faith.

”Mark.”


The explosion threw dust up into the air with crack like thunder, clouding the area a thick veil. The heat radiated out with it, a the water and particulate trapping it in like a choking sauna. It was mostly focused on propelling away the blonde attacker, but his foe still would've been walloped with a wall of heart and sound on top of the kinetic pressure. Mostly unharmed, for sure, but a little dazed. Enough tinnitus to wreck anyone's evening. Removed from the pain, now, the explosion seemed oddly... Quiet.

"T͠hat̸ ͜s͡o͜uǹds l͟i̧k͜e ͢A-͞LAW̶S͘ ta͢lk."

Umeko stepped silently out of the cloud, eyes almost audibly locking onto her target. Her hair was a mess, blown back with strands standing up as though an electric shock had run through her whole body. She'd rocked back on her heels, slapped head on with the kinetic energy, but it was like the heat hadn't touched her; unlike Dhṛtarāṣṭra her skin hadn't reddened at all. Steam had begun to condense again to moisture on her skin, wherever dust clung to her, but the vapor still radiated off of her as though something still kept the air around her from cooling. The Japanese student shook her head, trying to regain some sense of consistency to her hair, and continued her slow advance towards the athletic blonde.

"And this," She continued, shrugging off her vest before draping it over a nearby chair. The air crackled where her fingers brushed the metal, picking something up off its surface, but she persevered undeterred. "Is a twenty two thousand yen vest that I'll need to have dry cleaned. Strike two."

"And you took a shot at Brennan. Strike three. Kid, he tries to run, grab him."
The kickboxer's weight had transferred to the balls of her feet, each step a smooth transfer of potential energy on silent tread. She leaned forward a little, something in small smirk playing about her lips turning predatory. "Call this an armed intervention."

Her right hand blurred, whipping the pair of scissors in her hand end over end in the blonde's direction with unnatural force. Potential turned actual and she lunged, low and controlled, with supernatural speed toward the assailant seeking to cover as much ground as possible before he could react. He'd been hit on his left shoulder, he was unconsciously favoring that a little. That was where she'd focus her attack. If he swung that leg she could shift and take it on her right shoulder, it'd hurt but she'd had worse. She just needed to get one jab in to put him at a disadvantage.
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