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9 yrs ago
Current Really busy right now. Will probably not be able to post till next week.

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@Aerandir

Personally, I am not so particular about the writer's terminology with respect to his setting. I think that, since we are writing in modern English, we should be able to use terminologies that are familiar to us - to a point, as of course, the word "internet" would be incredibly out of place anywhere in this RP.
I'll post later today, perhaps in the night, which is about 8 hours from now. Entertaining relatives who have come over so writing for something as involved as this RP is kinda difficult at the moment.
And so it begins. I have posted, too.

The most girly thing she had ever done was to sit while going to the bathroom to urinate.


Why do I find this particularly cute?
This was a live-action exercise. Normally, it would not have given Harold cause for concern, but the difference between this and training was that here, he was being asked to kill fellow cadets. The angry shouting coming from what he presumed to be the leader of the opposing team only exacerbated his worries.

"But hell," he muttered to himself, as the Rostosov cleared the dim confines of the hangar and came upon the surface. "Didn't I ask for this?"

Naked sunlight now bathed the entirety of the mech's form. Its rotary cannons the size of small buildings gleamed particularly bright as they were unpainted. Engineers who had worked on the Frame realized early on that doing so was pointless, as the extreme heat generated while firing would simply melt the paint away. The ground mulched and crumbled under the massive weight of the Rostosov as Harold sent haptic inputs to make the thing walk forwards. He discovered that he still had to send almost as many counter-inputs as regular ones. Sighing mildly, he realized he'd still have to learn how to properly pilot the damn thing.

Logic Gate suddenly shooting up the atmosphere took Harold by surprise. Elora, up until now, seemed like a crybaby who did not possess the guts for taking the initiative. Turns out, he was wrong. He was beginning to comprehend three things very well:

1.) He probably wasn't the only bastard who knew how to fight around here.
2.) These kids were here testing experimental weapons with him for a reason.
3.) He signed up for this, so he had no right to complain.

"Shit, I think I might've been a jerk," he muttered again. He was shook from this line of thinking when a crude battle map was uploaded to his display, tracing from Logic Gate. He nodded vigorously in approval.

"We've got a map already?" he transmitted at the command channel, and his elation was palpable in his voice. "Hell, that's fantastic work, Elora! One down, only one other issue left," and he stopped, turning the Rostosov around to face the others behind him. "And that is - what is going to be our plan? I know we've discussed lots of tactics down there, but it's time to decide which one to actually practice."

"At this point, I am against the notion of splitting ourselves into smaller groups," he opined. "The good lieutenant said that we're fighting against superior numbers, so I'd rather we all stick together - but not too much, of course - to prevent getting destroyed piecemeal. Let us also assume that our enemies are just as combat effective as we are on an individual basis. So they have fire superiority."

"I suggest then," he said, brows furrowed on Elora's map. "That we make an ambush in difficult terrain. Let us deny the enemy their advantage in numbers. I think that most of our mechs should not have too much trouble traversing such an area."

"Do you guys see that bunch of massive pillars to our left? We can use that place to hide. What I'm thinking is that we can engage the enemy until the weight of their numbers catches up with us, at which point we can retreat deeper into the pillars and do it all again. We will conduct a defense in depth. Does this make sense to you guys?"

"So, opinions? Thoughts?"
Really itching to get Vespa back to the castle so she can interact with other characters. I'll do that in the morning. Goodnight, all~!
Finally posted; was too lazy to color the conversation, however. Time to read the other posts as well!
Elina and Vespa Ruvina



The Crystal Forest was a place of such great beauty that the sisters, Elina and Vespa Ruvina, at first had trouble comprehending that it was not man-made, but of natural origins. The dark, blue canopy overhead was thick to the point where sunlight hadn't touched the ground there for years, but the bioluminescent plant life, from the underbrush to the venerable trees, illuminated more than enough for the two to navigate without any trouble. Even the mushrooms glowed, and the atmosphere was straight out of a fantasy book. Everything was more or less suffused with beautiful cerulean hues.

Elina loved walks like this one. Vespa did too, sometimes, when she needed to cool off and relax. Often, they weren't together when they indulged in this small hobby due to conflicting schedules, but today it seemed that their free times coincided. So the sisters walked, side by side, silently to an unheard rhythm that only twins could experience. Nothing needed to be said, as they went with a serene grace and elegance befitting witches raised under high aristocratic standards. Both wore long, black gowns with frilled white cuffs that were comfortable and allowed the skin to breathe. Between their long skirts trailed Luna, Elina's feline familiar, who looked at their mystical surroundings with wonder.

While Elina was perfectly content to let the electric, buzzing hum of the Forest continue to soothe her ears, Vespa wanted to talk. Her bright irises like sapphires rolled slowly to the left to examine the figure of her wraith-like sister. Elina's gait was slow and carefree, and her eyes were closed. Her silver hair looked like tresses of mithril under the unique lighting conditions.

"Elina," she began softly. "How are your studies?"

The witch opened her eyes to reveal her crimson irises. Her expression was impassive, but there was a telltale crook to her lips.

"They're going fine."

Vespa sighed. "I know that look. That isn't good. What would Madame Bloodrose think?"

The stare between them lasted for a conspicuous moment, before Elina turned her cheek the other way. Her voice carried sorrow: "I'm not... the kind of person who can kill so easily."

Vespa shook her head. "Sister..."

They both stopped at the foot of a massive tree at the very heart of the Crystal Forest. Truly ancient, perhaps even dating back to that long-forgotten era before man even stepped upon the soil of this world, it radiated an aura titanic power and authority for something incapable of moving. Its bark was gnarled, ugly and thick. This tree had seen the fall of entire races and empires. In respect, the two sisters bowed. Then there was a content silence, as they admired its form.

"Hey Vespa," Elina said, while staring at the massive branches that twisted so high up.

"Yes, Elina?"

"Why were we born witches?"

Ah, that aggravating question. Elina had asked that many times recently, so much so that it was beginning to worry Vespa, but she could never offer an answer that would satisfy her sister.

"I don't know. But I do know that you should continue to hone our art of Blood Magic. I've offered to train with you before, but you've always refused."

There was a lump in Elina's throat, as she turned to meet her sister's gaze. "That's because... you kill the deer. And the rats, and the crows."

"Because death is the very basis of our powers," Vespa said patiently. "You know this."

Elina looked to the canopy again. "I don't like it."

"It's what we were born with."

"Which is why I am asking, why were we born as witches?"

Another sigh from Vespa. "You know I don't have an answer to that question. But we should make do with what we have. Do you know the saying, 'When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade?'"

"Yes?"

"It's what we should be doing."

"... I suppose."

Another silence, before it was Elina's turn to break it.

"Do you think the Hunters will find us?"

"They're not fools. They will find the Coven eventually. Madame Bloodrose is a notorious woman."

Elina's delicate eyelashes fluttered. "Why, then, did we come here, as opposed to returning to our castle, and back to Mother?"

"Because she threatened to kill us," Vespa said, far more brusquely and loudly than she intended.

Silver hair flashed through the air as Elina as she whipped her head towards her sister. "She was just angry because we had let her down. A mother wouldn't kill her children!"

"That-" Vespa hesitated, settling down. "That, I am not so sure."

Elina was about to retort, but restrained herself. Looking down to the ground, she saw a worried Luna. The cat's inquisitive meow made her smile, and she crouched down to scratch her reassuringly. It wasn't long before her familiar was purring.

"So this is what Fate has decided for us, huh?"

"Mhm. I guess so," Vespa nodded. "Kings and queens do what they will, while the rest of us-"

"-do what they must," Elina finished the quote. Luna began to circle her feet, delighting the way the witch's fingers ran across her belly.

"Say, Ellie," her tone was rather hurried. "I plan to begin reading Chapter VII of Alice's 'Further Explorations in the Bloody Arts' later. Maybe, you'd like to join me?"

She blinked and frowned a bit. "Maybe. I'll think about it."

"Alright," Vespa let the matter drop. This was going to be furthest extent at which she'd be able to push her sister. Walking away from the tree, she said, "I'm going back to the Castle. You can find me in my room. Will you be staying here?"

"Mhm. I'll see you later, Vespa."

Eventually, the sounds of Vespa's footsteps faded away, and Elina was left starkly alone, with only a white-furred cat to keep her company.
Clarification: is the comm link between Elona and Ariin only, or to all Frames? There is usage of 'their' and the plural 'Framewerks' but it's also implied to be the former.
So the time had come, and Harold immediately sprang to the orders as they blared from the speakers. Pulling out a dataslate and tapping on the interior map to help him navigate in the unfamiliar surroundings, finding the showers and the changing room was quick. Harold was no stranger to bodysuits, but this Framework gear appeared to cling more to his body than his old starfighter suit. He bent his legs and twisted his arms to test his limberness, and found that moving around was easier in them as well.

"Alright. Let's get this show on the road."

Rostosov was a massive machine full of arrogance and the hatred of mankind. The shadow that the thing cast was enormous, and sparks flew from the scaffolded areas of the mech as engineers put on finishing touches and last-minute changes. The size of the hangar, the space dedicated to housing this one war machine, boggled his mind. He was quickly put out of his thoughts by an orderly who droned on about numbers and statistics that still felt alien to him and who escorted him to the lift, which offered but a short ride.

He entered at the rear of the Frame, and squeezed through a small opening lined with wires and myriad tubes that ran parallel along the slate-black walls. Eventually, he came upon a large, domed space with a control seat in the middle that appeared lit only red emergency bulbs. Duly strapping himself in, he grabbed the two yokes to which the armrests of the chair terminated to - and though it took a second, haptic control booted up and began to register his profile.

"Woah! Hell, I'll never get used to that."

The dome around Harold suddenly lit up to reveal the area directly in front of the heavy mech. There was no transition from dark to light, and it took the pilot by surprise. Letters, numbers and phrases ran in constantly moving streamers across this new visual display, detailing his synchronization rate - in constant flux between 52 and 56 percent - and the readiness of his Frame's systems. Audio feedback booted up a moment later, and soon he heard the din of the Rostosov's powerplant starting up in a magnificent roar just as the engineers down below heard it. From his new vantage point, they all looked like ants to Harold, and in a much different way than when looking down from a flying starfighter.

He set his dataslate on his lap and opened up the Rostosov's manual. Since this was going to be his third time piloting the mech, and for more or less real this time, he thought that he ought to do it by the book. And so he ran down the startup checklist:


REACTOR ONLINE
SENSORS ONLINE

ARMAMENT:
TYPE 2500 MODEL 3 41CM GATLING - LEFT, READY; RIGHT, READY - ONLINE
AMMUNITION 100%
MK. I CRUISE MISSILE - DISABLING SAFETIES - ONLINE
AMMUNITION 100%

COMMUNICATIONS ONLINE

INITIATING INTEGRITY DIAGNOSTIC:
STANDBY,
STANDBY,
STANDBY,
ALL SYSTEMS GREEN


ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE


Harold smiled approvingly. It'd clearly been too long since he last tapped into the power that was the modern war machine. Easily hopping into the same band at which Elora was transmitting, he cast out an acknowledgement:

"Rostosov here. Reading you loud and clear, Logic Gate," then he switched to the command channel: "Rostosov is ready and awaiting orders."
I'm a bit too tired to post at the moment. I'll be back in 12 or so hours, though.
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