Krayzikk

Breaking Point (Mecha RPG)

<Snipped quote by Krayzikk>

Lost interest.

@Burning Kitty

No worries, thank you for checking in.

Once you destroy people's Transformers Starscream dreams, the interest is lost.

@Lurking

Depends on the Starscream, either perfectly understandable or terrible taste.

Breaking Point (Mecha RPG)

Would a transformable mecha be acceptable?

Fighter Jet to Robot Mecha

@Burning Kitty

Yep. One of the models available for use at the moment, the Raptor, is exactly that. It's worth noting that they're not very advanced yet; transformable frames, in universe, are pretty new. Midair conversion and such is pretty limited by lack of flight capabilities in mecha mode.

Breaking Point (Mecha RPG)

My interest has interest

@Lurking

I'm down!

@GingerBoi123

Awesome! I'll get invites sent out to people that are interested pretty shortly, so people can chat on the Discord.

Are we talking about the eastern gundam style of mechs or something with a tad more grounding in reality? Reading through it sounds like it leans to the former.

@Sierra

It does lean a little more to the former, yes.

Breaking Point (Mecha RPG)

can we play as spacenoids?

@Caasicam

You already know the answer to that, troublemaker. Glad to have you back.

I'm very interested.

@Raider Dog

Happy to hear it!

Breaking Point (Mecha RPG)

It is 86 CE, almost a century after the founding of the Earth Federation. The Earth Federation, a central governing body for all member nations, was formed following the world’s third major global conflict. This conflict only narrowly avoided mutually assured destruction due to, as it is colloquially known, the Berlin Accords. The treaty was signed by all officially recognized nuclear nations approximately ten years prior to the outbreak of conflict, debated by some historians to be in recognition of the coming war. The treaty outlawed the use of nuclear weapons against another nation in the interests of safeguarding civilian life. The treaty, surprisingly, remained unbroken during the war. Most suspect that it was respected only due to the short lifespan of the conflict and the unwillingness of any nation to break it first. The deliberations were almost as long as the war itself had been, and the ratification of the Federation’s members would stretch well into the next decade.

The conflict, however brief, was one of the bloodiest in Earth’s history. Age-old rivalries flared white-hot in an instant, with then-modern technology devastated the land on almost every continent. No side won; not in such terms. After a few years the governments of the world were appalled at the loss of life, and agreed one by one to end active hostilities. But even that was neither quick nor bloodless. Even after the Federation’s formation, hostilities between smaller states continued to rage requiring the intervention of the Federation’s own forces to quiet.

But as time went on, Earth began to enjoy an era of peace not seen in its history. Greater cooperation lead to the rapid advancement of technology, including the construction of the planet’s first mass driver in Cape Canaveral. In the first year of the Colony Era the first permanent settlement on the Moon, Armstrong, was established. Dyson, the first extra-planetary colony, was established a little over years later. Colonization expanded rapidly, fueled by the EM drive and the construction of further mass drivers on Earth’s surface. Each new colony was a springboard to push just a little further out, until humanity’s burgeoning expansion reached all the way to Mars.

Like most frontiers, colonization was… A little less than lawful. Disproportionately established by private entities, colonies further from Earth’s reach proved havens for those seeking freedom from the more stifling restrictions on planet Earth. Such a tightly knit, interdependent community quickly began to consider itself separate from Earth and reorganized as the Ark Union. It would take time for the Federation to acknowledge the Union as a legitimate government, but by then the Union’s government had already been meeting at their capital of New Berlin, a colony in orbit around Mars, for quite some time.

With tensions on the rise and the advent of new weapons, the longstanding peace seems to be at its breaking point.

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Colonization

With its newfound peace, the world was able to devote more resources to tackling larger challenges. Challenges like curing medical conditions, solving world hunger, and once more turning its attention to the stars. It started relatively small. Longer and more frequent trips into space, expansion of the International Space Station, and eventually, eyeing the possibility of permanent colonization.

The Federation, twenty years into its existence, was the dominant force on the planet. Most of the member nations, though maintaining varying degrees of autonomy, were subsuming themselves more and more into the composite whole. They were not, however, the dominant scientific force. That title still laid with the private sector. Indeed, with government support and cooperation, it was the private sector leading the charge into space. The first permanent facility in space was on the Moon, a small city in the Sea of Tranquility, a few miles from the Apollo 11 landing site. It was named, very quickly, Armstrong and given a charter as an official city in the eyes of the Federation. The project that made it possible was carried out by a coalition of private organizations, with the funding and backing of the Federation government.

The first permanent colony in outer space, one not reliant on an existing planetary body, was spearheaded by one of those organizations; the Dyson Foundation elected to use an O’Neil cylinder design, and spent ten years designing and manufacturing the components for the city that would become Armstrong. Shortly after Armstrong’s founding the Federation had begun developing the technology to more efficiently launch materials into space. By the time the Dyson Foundation’s project was ready, the first fully operational mass driver had been in operation for three years. It took another year to assemble the cylinder, once the components were in space, and a little longer to move it into position at the L5 Lagrange point between Earth and the Moon. Forty years into the Federation’s existence, Dyson, the first extra-planetary colony, was safely established.

The Dyson Foundation’s, however, was not the only project. Just the first. Dyson’s success spurred a massive increase in the rate of colony creation, with several more completed just six months after Dyson. The first set were created at Lagrange points for convenience, as it was easier to keep them in a stable location. Even the less stable L3 and L2, and L1 points were used as the EM drive that powered most ships made it simple to maintain their stable position. The next wave, a mix of public and private initiatives, pushed out further. Experimentation made it clear that colonies equipped with EM drives could easily maintain a relative position in space even without helpful orbits to do the job for them, so they tested with colonies out beyond the Moon. A hiccup quickly emerged, however; the standard design for an O’Neil cylinder only allowed 131 square miles of usable space per colony. With the needs of those living on board, and the number of people seeking to leave for space, that simply wasn’t enough.

So while humanity pushed further outward, engineers revisited the drawing board. It was easiest, they found, simply to make more cylinders. Rather than reinvent the wheel, they expanded on the design. Colonies on this scale wouldn’t have been feasible on Earth, but there had been a manufacturing industry on the Moon for nearly ten years by this point. Using the Moon for their launch point, they created and pushed out their newest design. Like the cylinder of a revolver, the new design used an octogonal base to hold eight individually rotating cylinders. This design increased the living space of each colony by eight times, and allowed for a larger agricultural ring and a larger docking bay at the center of the ring. The design saw widespread adoption, and the smaller O’Neils were largely phased out of production, but the older colonies remained.

Ten years after the founding of Dyson, the human population in space had exploded dramatically. And with their drive to constantly expand further and further into space, many of these colonies were closer to each other than they were to Earth. The off-world community was a tightknit one, with each colony generally an autonomous political system in and of itself. But survival in space required them to cooperate. With such a vast distance between them and their planet of origin, it was in each other that they found their support.

The Ark Union, as they came to call themselves, was the result of a similar system as that of the Federation. A confederacy of independent systems united for a common goal. It took a few years for the Federation to recognize the new government, but the Ark Union’s governing body had already been meeting in their self proclaimed capital, the colony Montgomery, for two years by that point. The Union was governed by representatives from each colony serving an agreed-upon constitution. Each individual colony was free to govern themselves as they saw fit, provided that they stayed true to the Union’s overall constitution.

For the first few years, relations between the Federation and Union were excellent. The Union mined resources found out in space and shipped them to Earth, while companies on Earth shipped resources that were harder to obtain in space to the Union. But the agricultural needs of the Union, even with technology designed to make their job easier, required more manpower than the citizens were willing to provide. It was a small colony that had been founded by a consortium of scientists backed by Pascal Industries, Newton, that first settled on their answer; clones. Clones created to do the extra labor that they didn’t have the manpower for. The solution was of highly dubious morals, and significant controversy in the surrounding colonies, but they continued. In fact, the practice slowly started to spread to other colonies.

It took years for the Federation to find out about it, due to the remoteness of the colony and the relative obscurity of the practice, but find out they did. Such practices were outlawed in the Federation, but no such explicit prohibitions existed in the Union’s charter. Attempts to add it to the constitution, and thus get the Federation’s sanctions lifted, were stymied by the colonies that did make use of the practice. So the sanctions remained.

Needless to say, as the practice slowly spread and attempts to outlaw it remained ineffective, relations between the Federation and the Union began to grow more frigid. Especially since the sanctions in place made it more difficult to manufacture new colonies, or cities, to house the growing spaceborn population. The lack of trade with the Federation due to these sanctions made the supplementing of the Union’s own food supplies difficult on top of preventing expansion. Eventually, the Union’s government came to an ironic conclusion; they needed to send some people back to Earth, and make use of some free space there until they could continue the previous rate of their spaceward expansion. The Federation, naturally, refused. Multiple times in fact.

The problems persisted, with the Union’s frustrations rapidly shifting towards the Federation.

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In the fifty years since colonization began in earnest, the human population off-world has grown drastically. What began as a single colony in geostationary orbit has expanded to dozens of settlements between Earth and Mars, ranging from the oldest settlements on the Moon to the newest on Mars’ surface. Attempts at terraforming have begun on the red planet, but even with humanity’s increased longevity no one will live to see it completed. Nevertheless cities grow on its surface, utilizing the same technology as their offworld cousins. Colonies are primarily of the O’Neil cylinder variety, utilizing centripetal force to simulate gravity on their interiors. Larger colonies are self sufficient, agriculturally, but trade is key to survival in the Ark Union. What one colony lacks, another is likely to have in abundance. Few are truly self sustaining. The Union’s capital is New Berlin, a colony in orbit around Mars.

Populations vary significantly, in part depending on the colony’s purpose. With the privatisation of so many, purpose-built research colonies could have a population in the dozens while a civilian populace on the largest colony might have upwards of a million people. Planetary settlements, in time, may be larger still.

The EM drive permits ships to make the trip between Earth and Mars in about two months, making travel between colonies practical. Few residential colonies exist beyond Mars, though permanent industrial facilities exist as far as the asteroid belt.

Colonies are based upon rotating cylinders to provide artificial gravity, both in the standard O’Neil cylinder design, and in the revised octogonal design.

The O’Neil cylinder is twenty miles long, with a five mile diameter. The cylinder is divided lengthwise into six panels, three of which are used for residential population, and three of which are transparent windows to allow light in. At one end is a ring ten miles in diameter to be used for agricultural purposes. More information can be found here.

The octogonal revision is a larger octogonal container that does not rotate. At each point in the frame’s shape a single O’Neil cylinder is held. Each cylinder rotates and generates its own artificial gravity independent of the others. The center of the framework is a large zero-g spaceport, suitable for docking larger ships and industrial purposes.

Most large machines are powered by fusion reactors, due to their high degree of safety for the operators and large power output. Most Walkers use fusion reactors for a power source, as do most ships.

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Development

Conflict in space is not new. Pirates have existed as long as the colonies have, harrying trading vessels and transport ships to make their money. The earliest armed ships, in truth, were jury-rigged. Weapons designed for use on the ground modified to be used on ships, with boarding parties using standard weapons. As humanity moved into space, however, the Federation needed to create actual warships to defend against these pirates. It took time, but the first class of space-capable warship came out of drydock shortly after Dyson’s founding. Over the following years the technology became more advanced, and more prevalent.

The first ships utilized EM drives and powerful fusion reactors to generate as much power as they needed. Power used, in large part, to run the large railguns they used for their primary armaments. Only a scant few years beyond their creation the Federation’s armament was expanded with fightcraft for use in space, technology that spread through private hands to the Ark Union quite quickly.

But warfare would be revolutionized again with the creation of the Arsenal Walker. Originally the term was merely the name of the Dyson Foundation’s project. The concept was based off of machines used for agricultural and industrial purposes; vaguely humanoid machines with legs and arms used to carry heavy loads or complete tasks quicker than an unaugmented human could. Such industrial machines proved to be the perfect basis for a war machine designed for use in zero-g environments. Humanoid machines with hands for finer manipulation of the environment, in-built and hand-held weapons for greater versatility, and thrusters to permit maneuvering in the vacuum of space. The original prototype, the AW-001 Monitor, wowed the world with its combat demonstration. And the Dyson Foundation was willing to sell the frame to whomever wanted to buy. In the outer reaches of colonized space, near and on Mars, the Ark Union purchased the frame for development of their own Walkers. Private corporations purchased them, as well, and the Ark Union was all-too-willing to offer lucrative mass production contracts to the companies that could create the most effective designed. Thus the Colony Walker line began, eventually culminating in the CW-018 Assaulter that is now standard for Union use. This competitive environment enabled the incredible rate of Walker development in the colonies.

On Earth, the Federation got their hands on the AW-001 frame a five years after the Ark Union did. Their greatest initial challenge was making it function properly planetside. The Federation’s Research and Development arm went through six iterations, six attempts at reverse engineering the AW-001, before their seventh attempt was a success. It resulted, first, in the FAW-007S Warrior. The specification S was added early on to denote the model’s intended use in space, and almost a year later, the FAW-007[G] made its first successful test on the ground. The Federation began producing the Warrior, and more importantly testing it, immediately. Pilot candidates were selected from the pool of existing tank or aircraft operators to begin simulated war games with the machines immediately. The Federation, by the time they began producing Walkers, was well aware that war with the Ark Union was imminent.

Production did not cease even while the first generation of pilots, the majority of whom have gone on to be commanding officers for the Federation’s Walker Divisions, were busy writing the book on Walker combat. Federation R&D, both on Earth and the Moon, were developing space-use and ground-use Walkers as quickly as they could in order to be prepared for the inevitable war. Additional resources were directed towards amping up recruitment, training, and developing an airborne Walker. Several years into Walker development the Federation began designing new classes of warship suited for use with Walkers, as well as determine how to retrofit older vessels.

On the other end of human space, the Ark Union was going through much the same process at a much later stage.

Federation AWs

Arsenal Walker technology, to this day, is rooted in the Dyson Foundation’s original AW-001 Monitor frame. The corporation sold the designs for this frame to anyone willing to pay, leading both private corporations and governments to gain access to the initial design. Federation Research and Development got a hold of the designs a few years after the Ark Union, but initially struggled with adapting the frame for use in-atmosphere; the FAW-007S was their initial testbed, a space-use unit, adapted shortly thereafter to the FAW-007[G] for use on the ground. With the notable exception of the FAW-022, all Federation Arsenal Walkers are derived from the same basic frame. This allows for an extreme degree of modularity in Walker equipment, as most weapons are compatible across all Walker platforms. Interestingly, Ark Union machines have a high degree of compatibility as well due to their shared origins. Despite outward similarities, all Walkers are powered by a miniaturized fusion reactor located in the torso. The cockpit block is the most reinforced section of any Walker, and come standard with effective ejection systems in an effort to save the pilot in the event of catastrophic system damage. The sole exception to this modularity, for the moment, is the FAW-022 which makes use of a linear recombinatorial substructure (LRS) for a reconfigurable frame. Though it maintains compatibility with other Federation machines as much as possible, it is limited by the requirements of this frame.

Weapons for Walker platforms are, with few exceptions, scaled up handheld armaments. These are, primarily, chemically propelled with some notable exceptions. Melee weapons are generally heat-based to aid in penetrating enemy armor, though smaller armaments that cannot support this technically are fitted to act as vibroblades. Weapons of this smaller class are, for example, knives, daggers, or bayonets. Larger scale bladed weaponry, along the lines of swords, machetes, or axes make use of heat technology.

The FAW-007[G] Warrior is the first successful ground-use Walker, and has remained the workhorse of the Federation for nearly ten years. At 22m tall and fairly basic in construction, the Warrior proved extremely customizable and has served as the testbed for several successors. It can be easily converted for use in space, its earlier S variant, and remains simple to maintain. It does not particularly excel in any given area, especially compared to later models, but it remains the most common Walker in service on the back of its sheer versatility. It manages average maneuverability, survivability, and ubiquity on the back of easy reconfiguration for any given mission.

FAW-014 Scouts is the Warrior’s most immediate successor in ground operations. The Scout clocks in at 17m tall, one of the shortest machines fielded by the Federation. Its smaller size comes with increased maneuverability, but decreased armor and difficulty with wielding larger caliber weapons. The Scout, as the name implies, is an advance reconnaissance unit. It is meant to scout out or otherwise engage enemy units further from Federation space, primarily utilizing hit and run tactics. To this end, Scouts are generally outfitted with radar-reducing silhouettes to allow them to close to range easier in denser environments. Obviously, they are difficult to hide visually; but sensor reduction enables them to close, and get away, easier than other Federation Walkers. Scouts primarily specialize in smaller scale weaponry like carbines, where Warriors can handle a wider range.

FAW-016 Gunners are the artillery machines. There is nothing subtle about a Gunner. At 25m tall, they are the upper end of the scale and they are stocky. It shows in their maneuverability, as well; Gunners are slow moving, and far from nimble. As a necessity they boast the thickest armor of any Federation Walker presently in use, and weigh by far the most. Gunners are meant to bombard a target with a wide variety of munitions, but by far the most devastating are the pair of linked 150mm railguns over their shoulders. One of the sole magnetically propelled projectiles in use at Walker-scale, these railguns are linked directly to a Gunner’s reactor for power. As downsized versions of ship armaments, these reactors require the power of all but the most basic systems for firing. A Gunner is completely immobile while its railguns are in use, but they are the weapon with the most destructive capability at this scale. These machines are most frequently specced for long range bombardment, with personal weapons designed mostly to deal with enemy units that get into close range. Larger melee weapons like axes, short range weapons like shotguns, and large ballistic shields are frequently employed by Gunner units. The scope of controls necessary for the operation of an artillery unit such as this lead to the creation of the FAW-016A, a two-seater variant that allows one pilot to handle long range targeting while the other controls movement for more direct confrontations. This solution is not perfect, but significantly more efficient than the original single-pilot configuration.

FAW-022 Raptors are top of the line. At this point in time, only a few dozen units are in circulation pending mass production. The Raptor Program, which developed the LRS used as the basis for these units, has been in the testing phase for several months. The Raptors in circulation have been used for gathering field data, though their numbers are slowly increasing as production shifts into gear. Raptors are 19m tall, the lower end of average, and the most lightly armored of all Federation units at this time. That said, they are the most agile bar none; their alternate configuration requires significantly more thrust than any other unit presently in production, and this carries over to their humanoid configuration. Their alternate, or arguably primary, configuration is as an air-superiority fighter. A Raptor can dogfight evenly with the best fighter jets on the planet, and engage ground targets from an advantageous position.

That said, as first-generation transformable units, they are not perfect. Raptors in their present form require exceptionally talented and hardy pilots due to the specificity and resilience required to perform certain maneuvers. The book has yet to be written on aerial Walkers, so piloting one is a very, very new frontier. Strain to the pilot during high-level maneuvers has been one of the black marks on the Raptor’s record. They are not, in addition, able to carry as many Walker-based weapons; they are generally limited to a single primary, small bladed melee weapons, and the in-built munitions from their fighter configuration. These munitions generally include missiles, air-to-air or air-to-ground, and small-calibre machine guns for point defense. Flight is not possible in Walker configuration, so mid-air transformation is strongly urged against.

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The game opens in the city of Horizon, one of seven mass driver cities on the planet. Horizon is located in Panama, a Federation member state, and acts as an immense travel hub for the world. Its mass driver, and connected spaceport, bring ships both civilian and military back into orbit. Its harbor and airport can ferry travelers to any part of the globe. As such an important city, Horizon is also the site of a major Federation military base staffed with a full Walker complement.

The city itself is a diverse, vibrant travel destination. Even the soldiers on base make regularly trips out into its districts on leave, and some even reside in housing within it rather than on the base proper. Its beaches are one of the most popular destinations for pilots and personnel free on personal time. The city, at the moment, is in full swing to gear up for the celebration of Armstrong’s foundation anniversary. Federation brass may be wary, but the common soldier and civilian alike are looking forward to the holiday.

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1. Respect the GMs (Krayzikk and Plank Sinatra) and their rulings. We are reasonable, but if we have given you an answer please respect it.
2. Respect your fellow players. Arguments happen, but please keep it civil.
3. There is not a hard character limit. If you wish to write more than one, that is permissible but please keep it within reason.
4. This is a futuristic, but still grounded setting. In all situations, but especially combat, please bear this in mind.
5. This is a Casual game. We will not require an essay for every post, but a reasonable degree of both quantity and quality will be expected. At the same time, we understand that real life takes priority. If you think you will not be able to post for a while, please inform us. We’re happy to work with you.

Character Sheet

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Characters:

CS

Name: Pretty self explanatory.
Age: Also self-explanatory, but please bear realism in mind. The military is not going to employ a fourteen year old pilot, for example.
Sex: Aaaalso self-explanatory.
Profession/Rank: What do they do? Are they a pilot? A technician? If they’re in the military, what rank?
Appearance: What do they look like? Written appearances are accepted, as well as pictures. If written, please be detailed.
Personality: How do they think? Act? Again, please be detailed.
Skills: What are they good at? Professionally, of course, but what else? Marathon runner? Trivia master? Are they a good cook?
Weakness: Nobody’s perfect. What are their flaws?
History: What has their life been like? Worldbuilding is encouraged, and detail welcomed.
Equipment: What do they have? Be it gear, personal possessions, or anything else within reason please list.

Walker CS

Arsenal Walker:

Base Model*: What is the stock unit? Custom units are permitted, but please see note below.
Designation: What is it called? Any unit you’ve made your own is bound to have a name.
Appearance: What does it look like? Please pay special attention to anything that differentiates it from a stock model.
Armaments: What is its loadout?
Weakness: Everything’s got one. What’s your unit’s flaw?
Pilot(s): Extra self explanatory. Who pilots it?

* Custom units are permitted, but. They will be subject to greater scrutiny than customized versions of stock Walkers. This scrutiny will cover everything from game balance to how well it fits with the tone and lore of the game. Significant detail will be expected if you pursue a custom unit.

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Welcome to Breaking Point, a game I hope will catch your interest. There are more setting details available, but we didn't wish to overload the interest check. There is a Discord, which I'll send invites to anyone that's interested for.

Heroes of Beacon - Contest of Champions

The Wrong Lesson

“Morning, kiddos, everyone bring their gear?”

A chorus of affirmatives echoed around the airship. A couple of smartasses rolled their eyes, but they answered anyway. No one ignored the question. The students all knew better than to ignore their teacher, even if it was something that had taken ‘em a while to learn. She was pretty easy going, all things considered, but she demanded respect and your attention. Especially in this class.

“Don’t any of you roll your eyes at me. If you’d left your gear you’d have to stay on the ship, and I didn’t go through a buttload of paperwork for you to skip it.” Saeva Sareta leaned against the back of what was supposed to be her seat, looking her class over with a faint grin. They were excited. She was a little excited, too. She didn’t get to take ‘em on a field trip like this very often. The class was “Field Studies”, but usually that meant poking around in the woods on Patch. It had been a lot of work to get the principal to sign off on it. It took them out of their other classes for the day, and in theory entailed a lot more danger than Signal students were usually exposed to. She’d had to extensively prove that it’d be safe to get permission. “Let’s run through the ground rules, as usual. Who wants to give us a refresher? Samantha?”

“Stay in sight, stick with your buddy, and obey instructions.”

“Attagirl. And if I say back to the ship?”

“We go back. Immediately.”

“Bingo.” Saeva glanced over her shoulder towards the cockpit, doublechecking the landing site. The pilots knew what they were doing, but she was gonna dot the Is and cross the Ts. This whole thing was her responsibility. “Who remembers what we’re exploring today?”

“A controlled burn, Ms. Sareta?”

“Yep.” She flashed the speaker a grin and a nod. “A controlled burn, just a few days old. We’re a couple miles from the coast. A mid-level Datura has infested the area for years now. Why do we perform a controlled burn?”

“To prevent it from spreading?” The same student ventured, after a minute. A lot more hesitantly. Saeva wasn’t surprised, Datura weren’t covered until Grimm Studies at Beacon. She’d given them the basics a few days ago, but that was just a crash course.

“Mhm. If anyone remembers what we talked about, Datura grow by infecting adjacent vegetation. Left alone, they can get big. Stories from a long time ago talk about Datura that managed to be classified as Grausam, rather than Riesen. But even the normal ones can be bad news if we don’t keep ‘em in check. Some of you are from Shiroyama, you guys know about Vlitra, right?”

A few students nodded solemnly. Excited as they were, that was still a name that could give them pause. She didn’t blame ‘em. She’d seen the monster once, and it wasn’t something you forgot.

“Then you know what I’m talking about. So we keep track of known Datura. We kill ‘em, when we can, but when they’re hibernating we can’t find all of ‘em. So we do a controlled burn once a year. Kill all the plants around where we know it is, destroy any biomass they’ve grabbed. It’s a hard job. Infected forests are filled with all sorts of nasty critters, and we have to keep the fire under control. But it’s important. It’s how we prevent another Vlitra from being created.”

“You ever done one of the burns, Ms. Sareta?”

“Yep! I did this one, when I was out of class on Monday. Now, this one is pretty safe.” Her tone turned serious, and she looked over the class again. “The fires only just went out yesterday, and we cleared the area pretty thoroughly when we were here. We shouldn’t have anything more than a couple Feind to worry about, if anything. But anything bigger than that and you back off, got it? That’s what I’m here for. And if we find anything really big, you guys haul ass back to the airship. Capisce?”

Her students nodded.

Man, it was weird being the serious one. Being a teacher. Yeah, it had been a couple years but it snuck up on her every now and again. She dressed professionally most days. The monkey’d laugh at her if he showed up to one of her classes. Not after she punched his teeth in, but definitely beforehand. That was part of why it was so nice to get out in the field. She got to go back to combat gear. Not as much as if she were going on a mission, yeah, but still. There were boots on her feet again, and not heels. And her sword… God, it was nice to feel that on her back again. The blade, wrought iron, scarred and pitted, looked little like the clean, well-crafted weapons that her students bore with such pride. Half of those were mechanical marvels, the sort of sh- thing she’d never understand. But they’d come to feel as comfortable with theirs as she did with hers. It was a journey they were just starting. Most of them had only built their weapon recently, let alone spent much time training with it. Field Studies was an elective but it tended to attract the younger students, since it was a prerequisite for the handful of more advanced classes taught at Signal. Most of her students were first or second years, with a couple of outliers.

It would have driven her crazy dealing with them when she was younger. As a teacher, at least. She always got on fine with kids. They had fun, unlike way too many adults. Being their role model was a little different. She needed to watch her mouth, set a good example, all that jazz. Saeva had almost laughed Sloan out of the room when he told her about the job opportunity. But he made a good case. These kids… All the lessons she’d had to learn, they were going to have to learn too. There was no one better to teach them than someone who had to work at learning. Someone who could understand where they were coming from and show them how to grow.

She’d mellowed out a little. That was her thought, at least while she started to lead her class around the burn zone. Most of it was as she expected. The fire hadn’t been put out until the night before, so there wasn’t time for the Grimm to start to flock back to it. As long as they steered clear of the contaminated zone at the center of the area, there wouldn’t be much to worry about. Blackened vegetation crunched underfoot, and every now and again she would stop to point out the telltale signs of Datura infestation in the charred area. It was a bit of a hike towards the clearing she had picked out ahead of time, a welcome bit of exertion in her opinion. She had to keep the pace even for her class, but getting to move at all was a welcome change. Saeva had to spend most of the day behind her lectern, at most pacing about the front of the blackboard. It almost had driven her up the wall, her first few days on the job. She couldn’t understand how other professors could sit so still, she needed to move. Field Studies was her best compromise. It wasn’t exactly riveting, but at least she got to move around.

This hike was the best class she’d had in ages. Nothing like stretching the legs.

Gave her a chance to admire her handiwork, too. The burn had been all her. Some of her colleagues had helped start it up, yes, but controlling it? That was her. Her Semblance made her uniquely suited to it. It still took ages to learn. A burn like this one needed to be controlled strictly to prevent it from spreading beyond the intended area, and it just wasn’t something she’d ever had patience for as a student. Or the temperament. It was a lot more fun to let it blaze than keep it stifled. ‘Collateral damage’, that was a term she’d had to learn a lot.

Weirdly enough, that one took a while to learn. Beacon was all about teaching the skills, but it took much longer to get around to controlling the strength you learned. Some things hadn’t changed. Earlier this year she’d heard about some overzealous kid that’d burned down an entire area, just to kill an Ariadne. Saeva had winced hearing about that one. It was the sort of behavior that tended to get her a lecture, and she had to imagine he’d gotten one too. It took a while, figuring out how to mete out reasonable responses. The requisite amount of force to deal with a problem. Young Hunters, they tended to be more than a little over the top. Whatever force necessary, no-holds-barred, all-or-nothing. Lacking in restraint. That tended to come with experience, as did a more measured approach. Dropping napalm on an area could kill every Grimm inside, yes. But it could also do significantly more damage than necessary. A measured approach for every situation was the sign of an experienced Hunter or Huntress.

…

She would’ve scoffed at that sentiment ten years ago.

“Ms. Sareta?”

“Hm? Yes?” She blinked a little and looked over her shoulder, where one of her students was looking at her curiously. “What is it?”

“Where are we going?”

“Right up here.” She pointed to the clearing ahead, picking up the pace just a little. The rest of her class had chatted between themselves while she had her little moment of introspection, but it was time to pay attention again. The Mantle native raised her voice a little and turned to address her students again. “Class! This clearing was a major point in the Datura’s infestation. That big tree trunk, there, he;d part of its mask. It was from right here that it spread its biomass.”

Saeva gestured expansively, encompassing the clearing with a sweep of her arm.

“Take a look around. Stay in the clearing, stay with your buddy, but look around. I want every group of two to bring me the best example of infected biomass they can find. Remember the signs we talked about.”

The students all chorused their acknowledgement and scattered in a heartbeat. Nothing was quite as fun as getting permission to go exploring. Hunters and Huntresses in training they might be, but they were all still kids. Getting to roam about a cool bit of forest, even burned (or perhaps especially burned), was cool as heck. She would’ve loved it, when she was their age. Gone looking for the neatest thing she could find. Made Negasi give her a boost to check out something at the top of the burnt trunks. Maybe found a Grimm to fight. Or fought the monkey. Maybe taken the time to gossip with Tor. The thought brought a smile to her face, while she leaned against the big trunk and took a sip of her water.

It wasn’t too hard to keep track of the class. They all knew better than to wander too far off. She’d give them about half an hour, then they’d get moving again. They were going to get to about kilometer from the edge of the infected zone, close enough to get a look at the still-infected part of the forest with their binoculars. Back to the clearing for lunch, and back to the airship to get back before the end of the school day. Easy peasy. Everything was going according to plan, too. She’d thought there might be a few Klein-class to deal with, but the Grimm hadn’t come back at all. Not a one.

… Actually, that didn’t sound right.

Normally it took a few hours for Grimm to start venturing back out of the infected area. The Datura would begin to try to spread again in a week, there just wasn’t enough vegetation to support it. Even if they didn’t dare engage a large group, she should have seen something. Saeva hauled herself back to her feet and dusted off the back of her pants, beginning to walk towards the far end of the clearing. Maybe it was nothing, but she needed to be sure. With the type of Grimm that lived in this part of Vale, she had to be sure. So as soon as she reached the edge she started to walk the perimeter, peering into the hazy, smoke-laden horizon looking for anything amiss. Students to her right, forest to her left, she continued her march in silence. Checking for tracks wasn’t easy when the ground had been disturbed by an inferno for almost two days, but she kept an eye on the ground anyway. Something didn’t feel quite right. One rotation, two, another half, and nothing.

Until, when she looped around to the far end of the clearing again, that the particular set of jagged tree trunks beyond the edge, a few dozen meters away, were not trunks at all. It had to have been there since they arrived, but it had stayed buried under a thin layer of ash. Probably sizing up the group, trying to decide whether or not it could attack. Riesen were aggressive, but not stupid. Especially not Ankou. They were the smallest of the class, but no less deadly than their insidious colleagues. Now that it had been spotted, she needed to proceed very carefully. Measured response was the key to getting everyone out of this unharmed. She kept walking, trying to pretend she hadn’t seen it, but turned towards the center of the clearing again. A single sharp whistle cut through the air, and served to get the attention of her class.

“Back to the airship, class. Now.”

“But Ms. Sareta-”

”Now.”

Something in her tone clicked for them, that time. Saeva was very careful to be measured and calm with her class, the sharp undercurrent to her voice was alien to them. They all turned serious and started filing back the way they came, while Saeva turned to try and monitor the Grimm behind them.

Fighting it wasn’t Plan A. It wasn’t a matter of winning or losing, it was a matter of making sure this didn’t escalate. She could report the Riesen later, but getting the class out of harm’s way needed to take priority. The Ankou had made up its mind, shaking off the ash and beginning to lumber into the clearing. Smallest of its class it might have been, but it was a nasty creature. Powerful hind legs, a pair of front legs that doubled as wings and a smaller, secondary set of arms. Without getting into the absurdly tough armor that protected its body. It wasn’t slow, either; it had crossed about half the clearing while she backed away slowly. She clicked her boots off of each other in a shower of sparks, just once, and slowly pulled her gloves onto her hands. A fight wasn’t the plan, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t be ready. Saeva clenched her fist, hard, and sent a small shower of sparks raining to the ground.

The beast gave pause, for just a moment.

Not for the reason she hoped. A screech cut through the air, emanating from the Ankou’s beak-like mouth. It was calling in the cavalry, and it wasn’t waiting to get into the fray itself. It lunged with surprising speed, and she was forced to duck under its claws. She drove her fist upwards into its underbelly, but the Grimm was so armored it barely noticed. Her boot ignited to propel her backwards as the air slowly filled with the growing cries of the oncoming Grimm.

“Class! Double time! Upperclassmen, guard the flanks. Schwarzes, I swear to God, if you try to pick a fi-” The next swipe caught her square in the stomach and knocked her aside, making the professor spit out ash when she landed. And say something severe in old Atlesian that she was pretty sure made one of the aforementioned Shiroyamans gasp.

God, she was getting slow.

And wishy washy. When the fuck did that happen? What lesson was she teaching here, really? How to run away? How to let a Grimm push you around? What was she sparing them, by holding back? She could have killed it, first. Prevented it from calling up its flunkies. And where were they going to go? They weren’t going to run that entire hike.

Somewhere along the lines, she’d gotten wary of letting loose. That wasn’t the lesson she needed to learn. It wasn’t the one her students needed to learn. Discretion was important. But it was a scary, scary world out there. Everything they fought, everything they would learn to fight, was hellbent on killing them. That was a frightening concept. It was something they’d need to grapple with, every day between now and retirement. They didn’t need a role model on how to fucking prevaricate, when push came to shove.

They needed to see how to stand up.

They needed to see how to fight.

They needed to see how to face a foe and kick its fucking teeth in.

“Change of plans, kids!” Saeva rolled, letting the Ankou’s claws stab into the ground she had occupied a second before. “Group up! Third years, the front. Second years the flanks. Firsties, anything that slips through and that means you Schwarz! Class is now in session!”

“Ankou are armored! Brute force isn’t gonna do shit!” Her boot hit the ground, hard, the ensuing explosion propelling her up and back. Showy, sure, but practical; it gave her some room. She drew her blade off her back, parrying the claws that swiped her way and stepping into effective range of the Grimm. It sure as hell didn’t shrug off the riposte, screeching as the blade bit into its armor. The blade began to glow, dull red at first but brightening intensifying every second she held it, biting into mankind’s enemy again with a deep slash across its chest. The Ankou backed off, this time, growling long and low.

And getting the same growl in return.

“You have to use something sharp! And you have to watch out, because-” The Grimm screeched, and bathed the area before it in fire. Only it didn’t do much. Wherever the flames hit the Atlesian professor they simply stopped, soaked in by her very body. A stream that abruptly ended when her left hand slammed into its throat, wrapping around as much as she could grab. Its flesh started smoking where her skin touched, softer plating melting under her grip. “These bastards breathe fire. More of a problem for you guys, but worth knowing. Now, those Grimm charging us? Those are Salamanders and Itzamna. We’ll deal with those in a second.”

“First…” She growled lower, ignoring its attempts to pry her off. Her blade sunk deep into its chest, and kept it there until it started dissolving. The flick of her blade as she withdrew it was contemptuous, and she turned to face the assembled students besieged by a dozen Grimm. “The Ankou. Avert your eyes, class.”

“Before I let you harm my students, demons, I will burn the whole world.” Saeva snarled, stomping her foot once and letting the jet of flame erupt from where boot met earth. The flame squirmed like something alive, lancing from one Grimm to the next. It clung to their jet black forms, scorching until nothing remained. “Make them bleed, and you’ll burn.”

They hadn’t been in dire need of her help, to their credit. Ankou aside, they probably would’ve been okay. But the Grimm had made her lose her cool in front of her students.

That wasn’t allowed.

“Back to the ship, kids. If anybody’s hurt, come see me on the way. Weapons drawn, in case there are more.” A beat. “... And please don’t tattle to the headmaster on me for language. I don’t need that headache, too. Keep that our little secret, and I promise to tell some stories next class.”

Man, Sloan is gonna want to know about all this….

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

@Plank Sinatra @Kaithas @HereComesTheSnow @Crimmy

Damn.

Ben wasn't a stranger to working with Dust, it was one of the skills you kinda had to learn when you worked on weapons for Hunters and Huntresses. As soon as you'd learned the more structural stuff, of course. You had to have that background, because Dust could be involved anywhere in the process. Could be at the end, as something added on. Could be worked into the very metal you were working with. Hell, back in the day some people had it imbued in their own bodies. Kinda extreme, but that just showed how versatile the stuff was. He must've used it at least a couple dozen ways since his Dad started teaching it to him.

But if how he used Dust was like a caveman discovering fire, the teacher was like a pyrotechnics show. The gap was that wide.

It was why he signed up. Practice was important and all, but he could do that any time. This was a chance to learn the applications of Dust from someone who clearly knew what they were talking about. And, admittedly, learn from a legend.

He'd been a kid, too. He wasn't going to pass up a lecture taught by the T in TSUN.

Now taking notes, that was going to be an issue. His arm wasn't exactly pinned, but he couldn't exactly reach the desk, either. He'd have to set his Scroll to record the audio, copy it by hand later. He ruffled Lauren's hair in the meantime, at least as close as he could get with that cap on her head (that was going to be a story later) and gave her a grin. That answered the question as to where she was.

His arm dropped back down to help support her waist. Didn't look like the easiest posture for her to maintain.

"Right?" He said to Luke, under his breath. Last thing he wanted to do was be caught talking in Cirsium's class. "Gotta learn how to do that. See you saw her Festival, too, Lauren. Hey."

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

@Plank Sinatra

"Yeah."

She let go of the carton reluctantly, she wasn't keen on sharing her Musashino when they were so low, but she had enough for her cereal. She took a few bites quietly, acknowledging the ruffle by affectionately bumping him with her shoulder. She would've done the same to mess up his hair, but her hands were occupied. Umeko wanted to make sure she had a little food before she really started to engage with her other half. He was already awake, she wasn't yet awake enough to be a smartass.

"We still need to pick up a few components, right? We were interrupted yesterday." A few more bites of cereal. "I'll just need a couple minutes to get dressed."

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

@Plank Sinatra @Kaithas @HereComesTheSnow @Crimmy

PE went by pretty much the way it started; quick and chaotic.

There wasn’t a ton to say on the subject, no one really knew the rules so it was pretty much everyone’s best attempt. It was fun, though. Coach called it ten minutes before the end so everyone could hand their colors back in and change, if they’d changed into exercise clothes.

Ben had no fuckin’ idea what Trad was gonna do. Poor guy.

He’d lucked out, though. For the most part his uniform had dried back off during the period. He was way too hot to put the blazer back on right now, but he draped it over one shoulder and picked up Joyous Guard after he exchanged a few pleasantries with his team. Most of ‘em he knew, but he made sure to catch the contact details of the new guys. Blaine seemed pretty cool, especially, and it seemed like his team was all new. Luke and Amy were headed with him to the next period; Dust Apps. That… Actually was one he hadn’t taken before. Man, between starting up late and the week Trad was gone everything had been fucky.

Was student and teacher turnover always this high? What the fuck, Oz?

Still, that meant something important had to happen. The staking out of the unassigned assigned seats. Everyone except Sangue was there, Luke was there, that meant at least three seats right there. Probably more, if any of Luke’s team was in there. Had to get there quick to stake out a set of seats like that. So he clapped Luke and Amy both on the back, told ‘em to keep up, and took off at a light jog for lecture hall I707. Seeing as they were coming from the gym, that was a bit of a haul.

”Hey, Luke, you know anything about Cirsium?” He queried a little over halfway through the trip, pivoting to walk backwards for a second so he could see the Shiroyaman. Better chance that Luke’d know something about her than him. ”She was in the Vytal Festival a few years back, right? Met her yet?”

“And hey,” He continued, pivoting back around as he stepped into the hall. The rows near the back were mostly clear, so they’d do just fine. This group, he knew better than to try and put them up front. He glanced around, a little exaggeratedly, and held his hand palm-down at about chin height. ” Anyone seen my Lauren? You know, Negasi?”

“About this high, bit of a pain in the ass? Lovable anyway?”

The Treasure of Emily Gray

Lt. Charlie K. Jackson

“Y’all got some issues, don’t Addison pay for shrinks?”

Name: Lt. Charlie K. Jackson, formerly of Her Empress’ Royal Navy

Race: Human

Age: 25

Sex: Male

Appearance: At 5’9”, Charlie’s built solid. Not like a bodybuilder, all about mass, but like someone who’s used to working summers outside. He didn’t have any problems with the fitness reqs in the Navy, that’s for sure. His brown hair used to be regulation length but he grew it out a little on the trip in from Chi Herculis, though it still isn’t much over average length. The man seems to have a pretty permanent stubble, despite any efforts on his part to keep clean-shaven. His green eyes are set above a smile that’s irrevocably etched on his face, and the effect comes out not much shy of handsome, if you ask the man himself. There are a few fading scars across his torso, if you were to catch him with a shirt off, and the trip to Sol system left him a little paler than he used to be.

Charlie dresses pretty casually, now that he’s out of the military. Slacks and a black shirt, usually under his old flight jacket. Combat boots, too. May not be military anymore, but certain habits just don’t really go away. The same can be seen in his bearing if a situation turns serious, a certain steel in his gait where he’s usually pretty relaxed. He can dress up just fine, if the situation calls for it, but it ain’t really his preference.

History: Charlie was born in the Chi Herculis system, a hair over fifty lightyears from Sol. His home planet, Hercules after the system, usually just “Herc” by natives, is an Earth-like planet on the very edge of the Empire’s reach. Not a place that sees a lot of trade. The system is fairly insignificant, so settlers were mostly reliant on their ability to live off the land. Lots of agriculture, as you’d expect. The system is mostly self-reliant in terms of resources, and its economy largely sustains itself on exports like Herculean whisky and raw materials mined from the system. Extra crops help support neighboring systems, though not many get sent back towards the core of the Empire. Herc was one of the closest planets to the Earth that used to be, so its settlers thrived without too much difficulty after a few years to get used to it.

Charlie grew up the oldest of three children on a farm south of the capital city, and he was helping out as soon as he was old enough to use a tool. It was just the way life was. Pa Jackson made sure he knew how to do his share of the work, and Ma Jackson made sure he knew his manners. Life wasn’t easy, but it was idyllic enough that folks from further into the Empire were known to retire somewhere peaceful on the planet. Downtime was spent exploring the sort of wilderness that hadn’t been seen on Earth in hundreds of years. But, living on the frontiers had its dangers; pirates loved the edges of inhabited space. Too far out for the Royal Navy to care too much, and plenty of relatively undefended worlds to raid. Local branches of the Royal Navy sprang up quick, even before Charlie was born, to try and prevent such raids. As idyllic as Herc was, the truth was that not a whole lot happened. If you wanted to try and make something of yourself, beyond just continuing the family farm, the Navy was your best bet.

So Charlie, and a few of the guys from his town, enlisted as soon as he was old enough. With more than a little sweet-talking and some excellent sim scores he managed to land himself a seat behind the cockpit of an Imperial Saber, workhorse fighter of the Royal Navy. And he was good. Out on the edges of Imperial space he saw more action in his first year than most pilots back towards the core saw in three, and his superiors were duly impressed. He worked his way up the food chain, going from piloting fighters to piloting bigger and bigger craft. Always took a while to adjust, but no matter what set of controls they sat him behind he found a way to make ‘em dance. He was pretty content doing just that; pilot the ships, take any training opportunities that came his way, one day retire with a nice benefits package.

Until a better offer came in. Addison Corporation, one way or another, had laid hands on his service record and knew his current service period was coming to an end. One of their representatives made their way out to where he was stationed to offer a very, very generous employment opportunity if he put his skills to work for them when his service was up.

Charlie wasn’t raised to pass up an opportunity when he came along, so as soon as his service was up he was on the next ship bound for Mars.

Personality: Charming as hell. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone that especially disliked ol’ Charlie Jackson. The Herc native is all around a friendly guy, though not without his flaws. The man’s got a bit of a competitive streak to him, and his confidence can border on the cocky from time to time. One gets the feeling that he was never exactly dissuaded of the notion that he’s invulnerable. Stubborn like nothing else, too, when he sets his mind to something. But he’s got a good heart; no Jackson was ever raised without their manners, even if he’s not exactly the sophisticated sort. Charlie’s by no means dumb, quite the opposite; the ability to reason in three dimensions without regard for orientations like up or down takes a hell of a mind, let alone what it takes to excel at it. But for someone with Jackson’s dialect, upbringing, and relative lack of education it’s an easy assumption to come to. Not that it's an assumption he takes kindly to; Charlie is driven, in large part by a refusal to fail. He excels because he can't bear to fail, surpasses expectations because the idea of being a footnote is his idea of hell. No one remembers you after you're gone if you take second place. This makes it difficult for him to let go of control if he thinks he can do it better.

He’s a little out of his element in the central worlds; big cities are pretty alien to him, even if the people in ‘em aren’t. People are people, after all. And if there’s one thing Charlie knows for certain, it’s people.

Allegiance: Addison Corp

Occupation: Pilot, Addison Corp Payroll

Personal Effects:
-Isurugi Industries Lightweight Body Armor: Charlie’s under no delusions of the dangers his job might hold, even compared to his time in the military, so he tried to come prepared. Isurugi’s lightweight products are designed to provide survivability against most weapons up to a shot or two. Anything anti-armor is going to punch through it without much issue, but additional composite plating over vital organs provides decent survivability against pretty much anything anti-personnel.
-Herculean Arms Six-Shot Rail Revolver: Electromagnetically propelled slugs of the .45 variety. More than tough enough to punch through anything short of military-grade body armor, let alone soft targets. Holstered on his right.
-Lockheed Munitions 9mm Pistol: Something a little less conspicuous, when the situation calls for it. Also something that’s not about to punch holes in pressurized environments. Kept in a concealed holster near Charlie’s left ankle.
-Manticore Arsenal Home Defense Model Shotgun (Sawed Off): Lives near Charlie’s bunk on the job, and near his bed when he settles down long enough to rest his head somewhere that’s not a ship. Civilian model. Typically loaded with buckshot, though capable of loading explosive shells. Useful for defending whatever counts as home for the moment.
-Royal Navy Standard Issue Combat Knife
-EMP Grenades x3
-Military-Grade Earpiece Comm Unit: Resistant to interference, encryption-ready.
-Herculean Whisky: A couple bottles brought from home, carefully transported and cherished. Frequently used to fill a small flask.
Other: (Anything else you want to note.)