Hey! It was reliable while it lasted.
Also, I wouldn't mind using Discord. I used it in the last RP I was in.
Also, I wouldn't mind using Discord. I used it in the last RP I was in.
ShiningSector Member
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@ShiningSector My first thought when I read your post was '2008 isn't that old'...I guess that's what happens when you're driving somthing made in the '70s
Pretty much. Although I'd admit, the back of the car was, more or less caved in. The bumper was totaled; don't know how it remained attached to the vehicle. And there was internal frame damage in the rear hatch compartment. If you wanted to know, it was a PT Cruiser.
Sorry about the extended wait again. So, remember about what I said about getting my car repaired? Well, apparently a 2008 model doesn't hold much value in today's automotive market. As such, the repair costs outweighed the vehicle's worth and therefore considered a total loss. So the delay was due to me searching for a new car. That is still present but everything else is settling down now.
Pulov Gorcht liked it when a carefully laid out plan came together nicely. It was the essence of hard calculations and procedural steps, and working in conjunctions toward a desired outcome that thrilled him the most. It didn't matter to him what it was. It could be the combining of stimulants and propagating fumes into one of his addictive concoctions or even the organized distribution of his works, hitting each population center at just the right place and time for the fad to gain traction. Everything was a mere puzzle piece to be added to the grander scheme; with each new piece fitted in was an accomplishment and Pulov Gorcht loved it when the puzzle came together.
Pulov Gorcht however was now furious that his latest scheme, his puzzle, had fallen apart before him. His once cool, sly and assured demeanor had evaporated. Lost to confusion and rage. A problem he had never accounted for had befallen him, like a stain on a fine dress or an alien ingredient in his black market elixir, changing the dynamic of the grander picture. The change was unjust, heretical even. It needed to be purged.
Upon learning that his elaborate setup that powered Lasminee's slave control had be undone by human hands, he had gathered his entire crew from all the districts he ruled over and brought them along in his personal crusade to fix his latest dilemma. All he wanted was results and the amount of fodder needed to resolve the matter was beyond his care. However, he was now beginning to regret not calling Deval for back up.
He had brought a sizable force that could quell any resistance that stood before him. Sending an entire company size force to deal with supposedly five troublemakers would've been consider overkill in retrospect but those same five troublemakers however possessed a tank, specifically the tank that Deval had gifted him personally. Now, his hate and spite had been halted and his shouts and angry banter silenced. At the end of his previous disputes, typically a resolution was brought forth, forcefully in most case and he was usually happy then. He had no remedy for this problem however. Pulov Gorcht could only watch helplessly as his grunts and assets vanished before him.
---
Sven kept the Chimera on course the best he could. The mammoth tank wasn't meant to aggressively advanced with a shot lift engine. Those were usually grounds to pull back and limb home. Doctrine would even dictate the vehicle to hold position and fight off all enemy combatants until relieved or overrun. But given their circumstance, the only path for them was forward and utterly murdering anything that was on that path. With everyone attending to the flanks, he kept his focus to the cluster of confused and likely frightened and desperate hostiles before him. The Chimera's barriers handled the incoming fire with ease and only briefly flickered with the volume of impacts increased. Still, it was not enough. As the auto guns made short work of the lightly armored fodder in front, Sven brought he tank's main gun to the center row of APCs that had finally decided to fall back. They were too slow though. Within seconds, the Chimera's heavy plasma cannon had charged up and the moment it reached it's peak hold capacity, Sven pulled the trigger.
A red beam streaked out from the barrel and struck the lead vehicle he had targeted. The round punched through the APC's defenses and detonated. The vehicle was practically erased from reality and anything within the tremendous blast radius was violently torn to ribbons or incinerated. Five APCs and some gun trucks laid on the ground as burning husks while several bodies and scorch marks where a corpse would've been littered the burned earth. Others whom were, questionably fortunate, to have survived the blast writhed on the ground on fire or weakly moved around. With their number being reduced drastically, what remained of what was a company-sized force, having now lost all moral and willingly to fight began to retreat. Many of the still functioning APCs still slowly reversing were then abandoned, their crews genuinely believing they were operating a metal coffins opted out and made a run for it some of the more agile gun trucks had turned around and took off with many infantry piling in the back of them.
Despite an assured victory unfolding before him, Sven however was still engrossed with the deadly assets he had control over. One of the Chimera's other weapons that were not used against them was a set of missile launchers mounted to the turret. Given range at where they fought the tank, the missiles would've been somewhat impractical to use, especially against such small numbers. But in front of him was a target rich environment with enemies scattered at all ranges. Perfect target practice. He summoned up the control and targeting scheme for the launchers and began plugging in target markers. The tank's HUD illuminated and designated his targets on screen. All he simply had to do was choosing the firing pattern, the volley count, and the Chimera's OS would do the rest. All four launchers vomited plumes jettisoned smoke as rocketing projectiles screamed out from their firing tubed and shot up into the air. Sven watched, intrigued in the method of how the missiles would attack their targets. Instead of the expected horizontal approach, the missiles would instead go vertical and then slam down on their targets. And that's what they did. The missiles found their marks and crashed into masses of retreating infantry and gun trucks, generating towers of fire from the impacts.
All that was left now was the command jeep with its single occupant firing upon the Chimera. The effort was futile although as Sven drove the tank closer, the individual became familiar to him.
---
Silas, still atop the Chimera's turret watched the carnage unfold. Within a matter of a few minutes, the once sizable force was reduced to nothingness. At this point, they were in the clear. However, there was one matter they needed to attend to and it was a prime opportunity they couldn't let go. The Chimera finally halted in front of a jeep where it's stone-faced occupant, having emptied the magazine of their weapon, was now staring at the tank's cannon barrel that had leveled with his face.
Seeing this, Silas rose from his armed spot and climbed down from the tank, his Death's Grasp in hand. The figure turned to him, anger still radiating from their expression and remained undeterred when Silas pointed his signature large caliber handcannon at him, "Pulov Gorcht, I presume?"
"Whose asking?" Gorcht replied.
"No one that you would know," said Silas, "not that it would matter anyway. Let see those hands."
Gorcht defied the request and retained his glare.
"Hands."
Still nothing.
Silas groaned, "fine then. Cyne?"
In an instant, Gorcht felt a hot stinging sensation spread from the soft surface of the joint of his legs, opposite of his kneecaps. In that moment, he lost all stabilization and he crumpled to his knees. Stunned, he looked around, trying to deduce what had happened. He soon found his answer as an HF blade appeared to the left of his face, just as a humanoid figure materialized behind him.
"How about now?"
"Go to hell, you bastard."
While annoyed at Gorcht's defiance, it was inconsequential where he complied or not. Now that Gorcht was right where he wanted him, he pressed the barrel of his pistol to the Horseman's head. He then turned to Cyne, "remind me again, what's this guy's bounty again? Dead or alive?"
As if he knew where this was leading, Cyne replied with a sigh, "Alive. Authorities what him for information regarding the whereabouts of his drug caches that are being used to fuel his operation on other systems. Taking those out would dismantle his operations completely."
Understanding the meaning behind that statement, Gorcht growled and tried to get up in an instinctive and rage-induced attempt to wring the neck of his supposed assailant. Not that it would do him any good. He was however quickly reminded about his position as the flat side of the HF blade slapped him across his cheek. He clenched his teeth in spite and hate as he remained where he was.
Cyne eventually continued though the edged part of his HF blade turned toward Gorcht's face, "though in my humble opinion, I don't think anyone would miss him if something were to, happen, to him."
"I concur and I would be almost happy to make the arrangement, especially after all," Silas leaned in closer to Gorcht, "this prick put us through. But I want the big pay off. He lives."
Suddenly and in quick succession, Silas flipped his gun around to where he was now holding the barrel and frame work of the weapon, just before bringing the hard bottom of the handle down against Gorcht's head. With a crack resonating from the impact, Gorcht slumped over, unconscious.
Silas backed off and drew a breath of relief before holstering his weapon. He looked around his teammates whom had encircled the scene, "One down, three to go. Everyone gets an hour to chill. Sven, get MACK to send us a care package."
"On it!"
A few minutes later, an object no bigger than an averaged-sized car fell out of the sky and slammed into the road close by. Silas had planned several rocket pods to be requisitioned when needed. The pods themselves contained everyone's spare equipment, ammunition, and other supplies ranging from medical equipment to rations. He even managed to get an assortment of alcoholic beverages mixed in as well. After everyone has taken what was needed, the pod would then lockdown and could not be opened until recovered later. As everyone relaxed and resupplied, Silas reached for his communicator to contact the Resistance about their newly acquired bounty.
Pulov Gorcht however was now furious that his latest scheme, his puzzle, had fallen apart before him. His once cool, sly and assured demeanor had evaporated. Lost to confusion and rage. A problem he had never accounted for had befallen him, like a stain on a fine dress or an alien ingredient in his black market elixir, changing the dynamic of the grander picture. The change was unjust, heretical even. It needed to be purged.
Upon learning that his elaborate setup that powered Lasminee's slave control had be undone by human hands, he had gathered his entire crew from all the districts he ruled over and brought them along in his personal crusade to fix his latest dilemma. All he wanted was results and the amount of fodder needed to resolve the matter was beyond his care. However, he was now beginning to regret not calling Deval for back up.
He had brought a sizable force that could quell any resistance that stood before him. Sending an entire company size force to deal with supposedly five troublemakers would've been consider overkill in retrospect but those same five troublemakers however possessed a tank, specifically the tank that Deval had gifted him personally. Now, his hate and spite had been halted and his shouts and angry banter silenced. At the end of his previous disputes, typically a resolution was brought forth, forcefully in most case and he was usually happy then. He had no remedy for this problem however. Pulov Gorcht could only watch helplessly as his grunts and assets vanished before him.
---
Sven kept the Chimera on course the best he could. The mammoth tank wasn't meant to aggressively advanced with a shot lift engine. Those were usually grounds to pull back and limb home. Doctrine would even dictate the vehicle to hold position and fight off all enemy combatants until relieved or overrun. But given their circumstance, the only path for them was forward and utterly murdering anything that was on that path. With everyone attending to the flanks, he kept his focus to the cluster of confused and likely frightened and desperate hostiles before him. The Chimera's barriers handled the incoming fire with ease and only briefly flickered with the volume of impacts increased. Still, it was not enough. As the auto guns made short work of the lightly armored fodder in front, Sven brought he tank's main gun to the center row of APCs that had finally decided to fall back. They were too slow though. Within seconds, the Chimera's heavy plasma cannon had charged up and the moment it reached it's peak hold capacity, Sven pulled the trigger.
A red beam streaked out from the barrel and struck the lead vehicle he had targeted. The round punched through the APC's defenses and detonated. The vehicle was practically erased from reality and anything within the tremendous blast radius was violently torn to ribbons or incinerated. Five APCs and some gun trucks laid on the ground as burning husks while several bodies and scorch marks where a corpse would've been littered the burned earth. Others whom were, questionably fortunate, to have survived the blast writhed on the ground on fire or weakly moved around. With their number being reduced drastically, what remained of what was a company-sized force, having now lost all moral and willingly to fight began to retreat. Many of the still functioning APCs still slowly reversing were then abandoned, their crews genuinely believing they were operating a metal coffins opted out and made a run for it some of the more agile gun trucks had turned around and took off with many infantry piling in the back of them.
Despite an assured victory unfolding before him, Sven however was still engrossed with the deadly assets he had control over. One of the Chimera's other weapons that were not used against them was a set of missile launchers mounted to the turret. Given range at where they fought the tank, the missiles would've been somewhat impractical to use, especially against such small numbers. But in front of him was a target rich environment with enemies scattered at all ranges. Perfect target practice. He summoned up the control and targeting scheme for the launchers and began plugging in target markers. The tank's HUD illuminated and designated his targets on screen. All he simply had to do was choosing the firing pattern, the volley count, and the Chimera's OS would do the rest. All four launchers vomited plumes jettisoned smoke as rocketing projectiles screamed out from their firing tubed and shot up into the air. Sven watched, intrigued in the method of how the missiles would attack their targets. Instead of the expected horizontal approach, the missiles would instead go vertical and then slam down on their targets. And that's what they did. The missiles found their marks and crashed into masses of retreating infantry and gun trucks, generating towers of fire from the impacts.
All that was left now was the command jeep with its single occupant firing upon the Chimera. The effort was futile although as Sven drove the tank closer, the individual became familiar to him.
---
Silas, still atop the Chimera's turret watched the carnage unfold. Within a matter of a few minutes, the once sizable force was reduced to nothingness. At this point, they were in the clear. However, there was one matter they needed to attend to and it was a prime opportunity they couldn't let go. The Chimera finally halted in front of a jeep where it's stone-faced occupant, having emptied the magazine of their weapon, was now staring at the tank's cannon barrel that had leveled with his face.
Seeing this, Silas rose from his armed spot and climbed down from the tank, his Death's Grasp in hand. The figure turned to him, anger still radiating from their expression and remained undeterred when Silas pointed his signature large caliber handcannon at him, "Pulov Gorcht, I presume?"
"Whose asking?" Gorcht replied.
"No one that you would know," said Silas, "not that it would matter anyway. Let see those hands."
Gorcht defied the request and retained his glare.
"Hands."
Still nothing.
Silas groaned, "fine then. Cyne?"
In an instant, Gorcht felt a hot stinging sensation spread from the soft surface of the joint of his legs, opposite of his kneecaps. In that moment, he lost all stabilization and he crumpled to his knees. Stunned, he looked around, trying to deduce what had happened. He soon found his answer as an HF blade appeared to the left of his face, just as a humanoid figure materialized behind him.
"How about now?"
"Go to hell, you bastard."
While annoyed at Gorcht's defiance, it was inconsequential where he complied or not. Now that Gorcht was right where he wanted him, he pressed the barrel of his pistol to the Horseman's head. He then turned to Cyne, "remind me again, what's this guy's bounty again? Dead or alive?"
As if he knew where this was leading, Cyne replied with a sigh, "Alive. Authorities what him for information regarding the whereabouts of his drug caches that are being used to fuel his operation on other systems. Taking those out would dismantle his operations completely."
Understanding the meaning behind that statement, Gorcht growled and tried to get up in an instinctive and rage-induced attempt to wring the neck of his supposed assailant. Not that it would do him any good. He was however quickly reminded about his position as the flat side of the HF blade slapped him across his cheek. He clenched his teeth in spite and hate as he remained where he was.
Cyne eventually continued though the edged part of his HF blade turned toward Gorcht's face, "though in my humble opinion, I don't think anyone would miss him if something were to, happen, to him."
"I concur and I would be almost happy to make the arrangement, especially after all," Silas leaned in closer to Gorcht, "this prick put us through. But I want the big pay off. He lives."
Suddenly and in quick succession, Silas flipped his gun around to where he was now holding the barrel and frame work of the weapon, just before bringing the hard bottom of the handle down against Gorcht's head. With a crack resonating from the impact, Gorcht slumped over, unconscious.
Silas backed off and drew a breath of relief before holstering his weapon. He looked around his teammates whom had encircled the scene, "One down, three to go. Everyone gets an hour to chill. Sven, get MACK to send us a care package."
"On it!"
A few minutes later, an object no bigger than an averaged-sized car fell out of the sky and slammed into the road close by. Silas had planned several rocket pods to be requisitioned when needed. The pods themselves contained everyone's spare equipment, ammunition, and other supplies ranging from medical equipment to rations. He even managed to get an assortment of alcoholic beverages mixed in as well. After everyone has taken what was needed, the pod would then lockdown and could not be opened until recovered later. As everyone relaxed and resupplied, Silas reached for his communicator to contact the Resistance about their newly acquired bounty.
"The, shit?" Cyne blurted out when he finally noticed the Chimera's main gun turret coming to life and rotated on its own accord.
Having nestled himself just under the turret's armor and framework, Cyne forcibly rolled out from his firing position turned to the main gun, annoyance and anger painting his expression. He wasn't all that well receptive about being evicted from what essentially was his hiding spot. The same spot that no one had eyes on, and now he was exposed. Before he could protest, he heard charging coils built into the gun begin to purr and growl. He was staring up, right underneath the barrel of the plasma cannon.
"Sonuva-!"
Cyne scrambled off the roof of the tank and just in time as the cannon discharged a round, hellish fire vomiting from the muzzle break.
---
"The, shit?" Sven said aloud upon realizing that the main turret above him began to move.
The Vandrell quizzically looked at all the panels before him, the ones that weren't cooked, to try and find why the gun was moving. He didn't tell it to move. At least, he didn't think he didn't tell the gun to move. Resurrecting the vehicle was practically a rush job by now and he guessed he could have unintentionally ordered the turret into a rotation. But when his eyes caught one of the targeting screens that provided a live feed from the turret's visual sensors, he quickly came to the conclusion that this was no error. He watched the cross hairs line up at the entrance of the compound. Where fresh infantry and gun trucks were pouring in as reinforcements.
"Oh," he murmured, "you guys are fucked."
In an instant, he watched the round fly off and landed center into the formation and the screen went white, soon followed by a loud explosion from outside seconds later. The feed was still coming in but there was only smoke flames to look at. Eventually, Gerad's voice filled the comms. Apparently, he was the one that remotely took control of the turret just as he got it back up and working.
"Cheers, mate!" Sven replied as his grubby hands were then all over the control console, seemingly lost to the fact that the Chimera was alive again; and he was the beast's master.
---
"Well, shit," said Silas as he watched the whole scene unfold.
The second wave's reinforcements were, at this point, no longer existing in this reality. The Chimera's shot had practically vaporized anything that was caught at its epicenter. All that was left now was just a smoking crater. The surviving enemies looked on in horror as they quickly found themselves no longer fighting a squad of fice experienced and battle-hardened individuals; they were now sighting a functional tank. They didn't have anything in their arsenal to take anything like that on. One by one, the infantry of thugs, gun trucks, and whatever was left of the APC brigade were hightailing it.
It was then that the Chimera rose from the ground although slowly and rather unsteadily since one of the lift engines was still knocked out, forcing Sven, light the former crew before him, to compensate by applying additional thrust the remaining booster on the side of the tank. The Chimera rotated in place and pushed forward though only with its still armored and still shielded flank. It wasn't going anywhere fast and it certainly wasn't going to be agile about it either. But that was alright. As far as Silas was concerned, he simpy wanted to bust out of the encirclement and kill anyone and anything that stood in their way.
"Right. Everyone, we're busting out of here! Sven, take point. You'll be our battering ram. Everyone else, stick close to the Chimera and shoot anything that is in front of the tank," Silas ordered as he climbed up on the Chimer's main turret and commandeered one of the mounted machine guns, "we're jumping into a bee hive, in a suit of armor."
Once everyone had formed up once more, The Chimera lurched forward and arrived at the complex's leveled entrance. Down the hilled road, remnants of the second wave were held up by their confused comrades, whom were unintentionally blocking their escape. However, it seemed that the loud and bad-mouthing individual, still in their jeep all the way in the back of the amassed formation of infantry and armored vehicles, was ordering them all to press forward. Either they were oblivious to the approaching tank or didn't care.
Before Silas's crew and their tank was a wall of eight APCs, either in a defensive position or scattered about while the remaining forces of gun trucks and infantry were spread out. With nothing better to do with their predicament, every weapon that they could muster opened up at the Chimera. To their increasing dismay, the tank still had a functional defensive suite as several barriers materialized and absorbed the impacts that came in as rain. Sven, still happy about his position, activated the remaining auto guns and let loose his own lethal reply. Two thuggish squads, having been caught out in the open, crumpled to the ground in a mist of red.
"Sven," Silas called out, "focus your fire at the center of the formation. Ducaelia, Gerad, and Cyne, go to town on their flanks. Keep out of Sven's kill zone."
Having nestled himself just under the turret's armor and framework, Cyne forcibly rolled out from his firing position turned to the main gun, annoyance and anger painting his expression. He wasn't all that well receptive about being evicted from what essentially was his hiding spot. The same spot that no one had eyes on, and now he was exposed. Before he could protest, he heard charging coils built into the gun begin to purr and growl. He was staring up, right underneath the barrel of the plasma cannon.
"Sonuva-!"
Cyne scrambled off the roof of the tank and just in time as the cannon discharged a round, hellish fire vomiting from the muzzle break.
---
"The, shit?" Sven said aloud upon realizing that the main turret above him began to move.
The Vandrell quizzically looked at all the panels before him, the ones that weren't cooked, to try and find why the gun was moving. He didn't tell it to move. At least, he didn't think he didn't tell the gun to move. Resurrecting the vehicle was practically a rush job by now and he guessed he could have unintentionally ordered the turret into a rotation. But when his eyes caught one of the targeting screens that provided a live feed from the turret's visual sensors, he quickly came to the conclusion that this was no error. He watched the cross hairs line up at the entrance of the compound. Where fresh infantry and gun trucks were pouring in as reinforcements.
"Oh," he murmured, "you guys are fucked."
In an instant, he watched the round fly off and landed center into the formation and the screen went white, soon followed by a loud explosion from outside seconds later. The feed was still coming in but there was only smoke flames to look at. Eventually, Gerad's voice filled the comms. Apparently, he was the one that remotely took control of the turret just as he got it back up and working.
"Cheers, mate!" Sven replied as his grubby hands were then all over the control console, seemingly lost to the fact that the Chimera was alive again; and he was the beast's master.
---
"Well, shit," said Silas as he watched the whole scene unfold.
The second wave's reinforcements were, at this point, no longer existing in this reality. The Chimera's shot had practically vaporized anything that was caught at its epicenter. All that was left now was just a smoking crater. The surviving enemies looked on in horror as they quickly found themselves no longer fighting a squad of fice experienced and battle-hardened individuals; they were now sighting a functional tank. They didn't have anything in their arsenal to take anything like that on. One by one, the infantry of thugs, gun trucks, and whatever was left of the APC brigade were hightailing it.
It was then that the Chimera rose from the ground although slowly and rather unsteadily since one of the lift engines was still knocked out, forcing Sven, light the former crew before him, to compensate by applying additional thrust the remaining booster on the side of the tank. The Chimera rotated in place and pushed forward though only with its still armored and still shielded flank. It wasn't going anywhere fast and it certainly wasn't going to be agile about it either. But that was alright. As far as Silas was concerned, he simpy wanted to bust out of the encirclement and kill anyone and anything that stood in their way.
"Right. Everyone, we're busting out of here! Sven, take point. You'll be our battering ram. Everyone else, stick close to the Chimera and shoot anything that is in front of the tank," Silas ordered as he climbed up on the Chimer's main turret and commandeered one of the mounted machine guns, "we're jumping into a bee hive, in a suit of armor."
Once everyone had formed up once more, The Chimera lurched forward and arrived at the complex's leveled entrance. Down the hilled road, remnants of the second wave were held up by their confused comrades, whom were unintentionally blocking their escape. However, it seemed that the loud and bad-mouthing individual, still in their jeep all the way in the back of the amassed formation of infantry and armored vehicles, was ordering them all to press forward. Either they were oblivious to the approaching tank or didn't care.
Before Silas's crew and their tank was a wall of eight APCs, either in a defensive position or scattered about while the remaining forces of gun trucks and infantry were spread out. With nothing better to do with their predicament, every weapon that they could muster opened up at the Chimera. To their increasing dismay, the tank still had a functional defensive suite as several barriers materialized and absorbed the impacts that came in as rain. Sven, still happy about his position, activated the remaining auto guns and let loose his own lethal reply. Two thuggish squads, having been caught out in the open, crumpled to the ground in a mist of red.
"Sven," Silas called out, "focus your fire at the center of the formation. Ducaelia, Gerad, and Cyne, go to town on their flanks. Keep out of Sven's kill zone."
Sorry for the lack of activity guys. Last week became unexpectedly hectic when I got rear-ended while running some errands. Talking to insurance companies is time consuming. That and trying to wrap up a final, while all of that was going on was no fun. With that said, the semester is done and I have the repairs covered so all is well. I aim to get a post up (finally) later tonight.
Along with anyone else, Cyne had abandoned his spot as well and made his way to the downed Chimera. He knew that he had to hurry, lest he found himself open and exposed to many warranted guns put in his direction. Unlike some of his compatriots, he couldn't afford to take a hit. Thankfully, Silas' timing was properly judged and they were able to reach the Chimera unopposed. Per his orders two, everyone fortified themselves around the tank. The armor, while having been pummeled by Cyne's RPG attacks earlier and Gerad's heavy weapons, would still prove relatively efficient against the conventional gunfire that was sent at them thus far. Even the mortars wouldn't pose too much of a threat either.
Sven had hopped in through the Chimera's hatch and made his way inside. Cyne was rather surprised that the width of the opening would even accommodate the Ascended Vandrell's bulk. As Cyne set himself up underneath the tank's main turret, he couldn't help but hear what appeared to be struggling near the hatch. Cyne groaned in annoyance. Could the tank's crew actually survived? When he pulled himself out from under the turret and climbed aboard, a blackened and charred formed appeared, exiting the hatch. Understandably startled, Cyne instinctively reached for his sidearm but a second later, he sighed. The form was actually what remained of one of the former crew that Sven was pushing out of the tank. Made sense. Given the enclosed compartments, having, literal, dead weight would proved troublesome to maneuver around. As the corpse finally fell out and clanged against the hull before connecting to the ground, Sven looked up to an observant Cyne, innocently.
"What?" he asked.
"N-nothing," replied Cyne.
"Oh, okay then," Sven said before returning back inside the tank.
Soon enough, the second wave's forces had arrived and upon arriving at the now pulverized site, it had split into several groups. One of them heading toward the Chimera. It didn't take long for the action to kick back up as Ducaelia, apparently, remotely hijacked all of the APCs, forcing them into a topsy-turvy. Anyone too close to the chaos was either run over or tossed aside. Many of the gun trucks took their own evasive maneuvers, their drivers yelling at the APCs' own. While five of the armored vehicles being incapacitated or still preoccupied with the madness, the remaining three eventually regained control. Ducaelia skillfully took one of them out with a repurposed grenade down the vehicles hatch and made her way to another one.
However, the APC she now mounted was more tenacious, if not desperate to get her off. The vehicles gun turret swung around and took aim at the unwanted hitchhiker. That was however until something small and fast sheered through the armor plating of the turret. A moment later, a kind of slumping sound could be heard within the gun turret canopy. The turret didn't move at that point and the guns never fired either.
"Ducaelia, you're clear." Cyne voxed in as he scanned for his next target. It was then that the truck and infantry, having reorganized from the sudden confusion, were now vectoring on the Chimera, "I recommend you get out of there, you're drawing to much attention to yourself."
Indeed she was as the truck gunners spotted her and began making carful pot shots at her, trying to force Ducaelia off the APC. Although one by one, the gunners and nearby infantry were felled, followed by the echo if each discharge. Looking past her, Cyne could spot a few more APCs, having recovered from the confusion, were making their way here too, along with their infantry and truck support as well.
Sven had hopped in through the Chimera's hatch and made his way inside. Cyne was rather surprised that the width of the opening would even accommodate the Ascended Vandrell's bulk. As Cyne set himself up underneath the tank's main turret, he couldn't help but hear what appeared to be struggling near the hatch. Cyne groaned in annoyance. Could the tank's crew actually survived? When he pulled himself out from under the turret and climbed aboard, a blackened and charred formed appeared, exiting the hatch. Understandably startled, Cyne instinctively reached for his sidearm but a second later, he sighed. The form was actually what remained of one of the former crew that Sven was pushing out of the tank. Made sense. Given the enclosed compartments, having, literal, dead weight would proved troublesome to maneuver around. As the corpse finally fell out and clanged against the hull before connecting to the ground, Sven looked up to an observant Cyne, innocently.
"What?" he asked.
"N-nothing," replied Cyne.
"Oh, okay then," Sven said before returning back inside the tank.
Soon enough, the second wave's forces had arrived and upon arriving at the now pulverized site, it had split into several groups. One of them heading toward the Chimera. It didn't take long for the action to kick back up as Ducaelia, apparently, remotely hijacked all of the APCs, forcing them into a topsy-turvy. Anyone too close to the chaos was either run over or tossed aside. Many of the gun trucks took their own evasive maneuvers, their drivers yelling at the APCs' own. While five of the armored vehicles being incapacitated or still preoccupied with the madness, the remaining three eventually regained control. Ducaelia skillfully took one of them out with a repurposed grenade down the vehicles hatch and made her way to another one.
However, the APC she now mounted was more tenacious, if not desperate to get her off. The vehicles gun turret swung around and took aim at the unwanted hitchhiker. That was however until something small and fast sheered through the armor plating of the turret. A moment later, a kind of slumping sound could be heard within the gun turret canopy. The turret didn't move at that point and the guns never fired either.
"Ducaelia, you're clear." Cyne voxed in as he scanned for his next target. It was then that the truck and infantry, having reorganized from the sudden confusion, were now vectoring on the Chimera, "I recommend you get out of there, you're drawing to much attention to yourself."
Indeed she was as the truck gunners spotted her and began making carful pot shots at her, trying to force Ducaelia off the APC. Although one by one, the gunners and nearby infantry were felled, followed by the echo if each discharge. Looking past her, Cyne could spot a few more APCs, having recovered from the confusion, were making their way here too, along with their infantry and truck support as well.
@Athol I appreciate the feedback and I will certainly apply that later in.
I meant to ask this last night but I ran out of time. This is more of a performance review if anything. I've noticed that a large number of my posts thus far have thrown you guys into one fight right after the other with a large exposition post in between. I wanted to know if you guys want me to continue that trend or if I should slow down, maybe allow more interactions to take place. What do you go think?
Silas and Sven popped from their hidden positions and poured relentless fire into the grouped ranks of the enemy infantry before them. Many of them fell dead in the opening volleys and those weren't gunned down were instead chased down Ducaelia. The APCs immediately moved in but were then met by Gerad's anti-vehicular armaments. The first APC became practically disabled while the other two that attempted to reinforce the failing first wave of troops were obliterated. The initial APC to have been hit eventually shared their fates. That only left many of the other troops in an awkward spot, unsure if they should advance or fall back.
Whether it was out of desperation or annoyance of the startled thugs that began exhibiting doubts about committing to another charge, the gunners of the rigged trucks, armed with heavy machine guns and even gatling guns, peppered the defensive positioned Silas' crew assumed. Concreate fragments and sparks flew in all directions as their cover began to literally disintegrate. Silas and then followed by Sven were forced to withdraw which then only left Ducaelia exposed as she tore into some of the surviving thugs on the field. Figuring that they were as good as dead anyway as a metallic predator had befallen them, the gunners shifted their aim toward the Vandrell and opened up. Two of her would-be victims were quickly chewed to pieces. Ironically, their fortunate, or unfortunate - depending on whom you asked - positioning, had took the brunt of the machine gun attacks aimed for her. But like the cover, they two fell apart into meaty junks.
And then one of the gunner's heads exploded.
The headless form lurched forward and pressed against gun it still gripped, causing the barrel to drop to the roof of the truck. It was still firing. The occupants were riddled with heavy caliber rounds, ripping them apart and painting the windows and windshield with red. Soon, the truck's engine became compromised with the continuous fire and promptly erupted into a fireball that consumed the vehicle. Alerted to the new threat the other machine gunners scrambled to find their attacker, one of them even firing wildly in the direction they believed the shot to have originated from.
Another gunner fell with a chuck of their skull having been carved off, turning their head into a grotesque fountain of blood and ichor. The body collapsed and prompted the driver to take evasive action by maneuvering the truck behind one of the APC wrecks. But like their former gunner, another shot found him too. The truck continued to roll off, staying its original course before running into a destroyed APC.
After another was shot, the remaining trucks began pulling out, their drivers not wanting to stand up to a threat they couldn't see. Along with them, the remaining thugs booked out of the fight. Silas rose from his spot and observed the remnants of the first wave of thugs retreating. While he would normally celebrate the victory, he knew better that this was simply a tactical retreat. Whomever brought this entire force has kept plenty of troops and armor in reserve. If anything, this was more of a probing assault if anything. Now that the commander of this unit knew what they were dealing with, Silas could count on them changing their strategy. He mentally pretended to be the same person, mentally speaking, and thought how the new approach would go. They were clearly entrenched and possessed anti-armor means. Attempting another assault like last time would be foolish unless Gerad was taken out of the equation. Mortar fire would certainly help with that. If that could be achieved, the APCs, their best assets available, would be able to roll in unopposed. Along with the trucks providing support fire, Ducaelia would be rendered a non-issue. By then, Cyne would be forced back off as continuous fire would undoubtedly give his position away, risking coordinated return fire. After that Silas and Sven would be over run at that point.
Silas frowned, they were no longer in suitable position and he could hear shouting and the rumbling of vehicles, heralding the arrival of a better prepared second wave. But retreat was not really much of an option; they were surrounded. They could feasibly retreat back into the complex and fortify there, but with what? The place was pretty much robbed of anything that could be repurposed into barricade. And then, who what to say if the attack wouldn't just level part of the building? And going deeper back to the control room would present an unproductive stalemate. There only option was to break the assault without being overrun. Silas pondered this dreadful thought as his tactical eyes danced around the battlefield for any exploitable advantages.
For a moment he found nothing.
But then he spied the Chimera from before.
In all honesty, despite overcoming the monstrosity, they genuinely didn't actually destroy it. Not enough of it anyway to prevent it from functioning anyway. If anything, it was crewless. He then turned to Sven, "I want you to do something stupid and yet possibly thrilling."
Sven stared at Silas, honestly stumped upon what he had mind, "I'm...listening?"
Silas continued, "You think you can take over that Chimera?"
"The one we downed?"
"Yes."
"The same tank that we knocked one of the lift boosters out on, including a sophisticated defense suite?"
"Err...yeah."
"The same tank that you practically fire-bombed, internally I may add, which likely cause fire damaged to quite a few of its systems."
He didn't want to answer that last one.
"Sure."
Silas blinked, "really?"
"Shouldn't be too hard to repurpose. Think I should get it up and running within about, say, ten minutes?"
It was then that the first mortar strike Silas predicted came crashing down on the open field. A tower of dirt and debris erupted from the impact before raining back down upon the terrain.
"You have two minutes."
"Fine," Sven replied, "only if Cyne helps push."
Evidently, Cyne was apparently listening, "I'm doing what, now?"
Silas got a chuckle out of that one, "Fair. Listen up folks, we're getting our asses out of here and we're using the tank that nearly kicked our asses to do it. We just need to hold out until Sven can get it up and running. Rally at the Chimera, double time, unless you want to get acquainted with the artillery."
---
Once everyone has moved from their former positions, the mortar strikes zeroed in and pummeled the area where the first wave had marked. Silas watched as one such strike flatten where he just was seconds ago. Just as before, he ordered everyone to maintain their assigned roles. Having relocated to the tank, their attackers would not consider their position until they came under fire.
This time, seven APCs slowly crawled through the gate, infantry and armed trucks coming from behind. Clearly, they approached the original site the first wave failed against. A half a minute later and they found nothing. More loud and angry yelling could be heard behind them, ordering second wave's assault units to spread out. Two APCs and three trucks supported by infantry made their way towards the downed Chimera though albeit to pass by. Once the distance was acceptable, Cyne opened fire, killing one of the truck gunners and took aim upon the others. Silas then ordered Gerad and Ducaelia to engage as well.
Whether it was out of desperation or annoyance of the startled thugs that began exhibiting doubts about committing to another charge, the gunners of the rigged trucks, armed with heavy machine guns and even gatling guns, peppered the defensive positioned Silas' crew assumed. Concreate fragments and sparks flew in all directions as their cover began to literally disintegrate. Silas and then followed by Sven were forced to withdraw which then only left Ducaelia exposed as she tore into some of the surviving thugs on the field. Figuring that they were as good as dead anyway as a metallic predator had befallen them, the gunners shifted their aim toward the Vandrell and opened up. Two of her would-be victims were quickly chewed to pieces. Ironically, their fortunate, or unfortunate - depending on whom you asked - positioning, had took the brunt of the machine gun attacks aimed for her. But like the cover, they two fell apart into meaty junks.
And then one of the gunner's heads exploded.
The headless form lurched forward and pressed against gun it still gripped, causing the barrel to drop to the roof of the truck. It was still firing. The occupants were riddled with heavy caliber rounds, ripping them apart and painting the windows and windshield with red. Soon, the truck's engine became compromised with the continuous fire and promptly erupted into a fireball that consumed the vehicle. Alerted to the new threat the other machine gunners scrambled to find their attacker, one of them even firing wildly in the direction they believed the shot to have originated from.
Another gunner fell with a chuck of their skull having been carved off, turning their head into a grotesque fountain of blood and ichor. The body collapsed and prompted the driver to take evasive action by maneuvering the truck behind one of the APC wrecks. But like their former gunner, another shot found him too. The truck continued to roll off, staying its original course before running into a destroyed APC.
After another was shot, the remaining trucks began pulling out, their drivers not wanting to stand up to a threat they couldn't see. Along with them, the remaining thugs booked out of the fight. Silas rose from his spot and observed the remnants of the first wave of thugs retreating. While he would normally celebrate the victory, he knew better that this was simply a tactical retreat. Whomever brought this entire force has kept plenty of troops and armor in reserve. If anything, this was more of a probing assault if anything. Now that the commander of this unit knew what they were dealing with, Silas could count on them changing their strategy. He mentally pretended to be the same person, mentally speaking, and thought how the new approach would go. They were clearly entrenched and possessed anti-armor means. Attempting another assault like last time would be foolish unless Gerad was taken out of the equation. Mortar fire would certainly help with that. If that could be achieved, the APCs, their best assets available, would be able to roll in unopposed. Along with the trucks providing support fire, Ducaelia would be rendered a non-issue. By then, Cyne would be forced back off as continuous fire would undoubtedly give his position away, risking coordinated return fire. After that Silas and Sven would be over run at that point.
Silas frowned, they were no longer in suitable position and he could hear shouting and the rumbling of vehicles, heralding the arrival of a better prepared second wave. But retreat was not really much of an option; they were surrounded. They could feasibly retreat back into the complex and fortify there, but with what? The place was pretty much robbed of anything that could be repurposed into barricade. And then, who what to say if the attack wouldn't just level part of the building? And going deeper back to the control room would present an unproductive stalemate. There only option was to break the assault without being overrun. Silas pondered this dreadful thought as his tactical eyes danced around the battlefield for any exploitable advantages.
For a moment he found nothing.
But then he spied the Chimera from before.
In all honesty, despite overcoming the monstrosity, they genuinely didn't actually destroy it. Not enough of it anyway to prevent it from functioning anyway. If anything, it was crewless. He then turned to Sven, "I want you to do something stupid and yet possibly thrilling."
Sven stared at Silas, honestly stumped upon what he had mind, "I'm...listening?"
Silas continued, "You think you can take over that Chimera?"
"The one we downed?"
"Yes."
"The same tank that we knocked one of the lift boosters out on, including a sophisticated defense suite?"
"Err...yeah."
"The same tank that you practically fire-bombed, internally I may add, which likely cause fire damaged to quite a few of its systems."
He didn't want to answer that last one.
"Sure."
Silas blinked, "really?"
"Shouldn't be too hard to repurpose. Think I should get it up and running within about, say, ten minutes?"
It was then that the first mortar strike Silas predicted came crashing down on the open field. A tower of dirt and debris erupted from the impact before raining back down upon the terrain.
"You have two minutes."
"Fine," Sven replied, "only if Cyne helps push."
Evidently, Cyne was apparently listening, "I'm doing what, now?"
Silas got a chuckle out of that one, "Fair. Listen up folks, we're getting our asses out of here and we're using the tank that nearly kicked our asses to do it. We just need to hold out until Sven can get it up and running. Rally at the Chimera, double time, unless you want to get acquainted with the artillery."
---
Once everyone has moved from their former positions, the mortar strikes zeroed in and pummeled the area where the first wave had marked. Silas watched as one such strike flatten where he just was seconds ago. Just as before, he ordered everyone to maintain their assigned roles. Having relocated to the tank, their attackers would not consider their position until they came under fire.
This time, seven APCs slowly crawled through the gate, infantry and armed trucks coming from behind. Clearly, they approached the original site the first wave failed against. A half a minute later and they found nothing. More loud and angry yelling could be heard behind them, ordering second wave's assault units to spread out. Two APCs and three trucks supported by infantry made their way towards the downed Chimera though albeit to pass by. Once the distance was acceptable, Cyne opened fire, killing one of the truck gunners and took aim upon the others. Silas then ordered Gerad and Ducaelia to engage as well.
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