Sniblet

The Maids Guide to Demon Hunting

First kill! Astreya hurries back for her gun-
wait, so demons can be killed?-
Anyway, she goes back for her gun and reassesses her list of problems. There's the dead demon, the other dead demons, and this demon that's not dead. Right! Point the gun at it! Aaaand- a tank falls on it.
Well. Hey, that'll keep it still. She points and holds the trigger.

She can't hear Leoniya over the sound of her gun, but her disappointed searching speaks clearly enough. She kind of tries to gesture at it with her eyes. She mouths, "Это под тобой."

The Maids Guide to Demon Hunting

Astreya drops her gun as she falls over. It goes off with a wild shot blasted in some direction she doesn't bother to check up on, preferring to quickly crawl out of the Greater Beast's vicinity. If it's a pain even to touch, who would want to be anywhere close to-
As she gets up, Astreya reaches for her war-slash-smithing-hammer.
The hair on one side of her face is visibly smoldering, but she doesn't seem to notice. Even the smell is pretty well covered up by everything else.

Combat Observations Log #002 - its leg fell off I think

It bleeds! Wow, it bleeds a lot! And is it slowing down? Does it suffer from exsanguination? Or is that hypothermia?
Okay, reassessment:

• The arms are tough.
• The legs are not as tough.
• Tearing pieces off of it does it some sort of significant harm.
• Touching it really hurts. Its blood probably isn't much better.
• I want to whack it.

Conclusion: I should whack it.

She rotates the hammer in her grip, figuring the flat end isn't going to do much good to bleed the monster, and instead presenting the wedge on the opposite side of its head for imminent use. With its back gushing lava and her uniform featuring fire-resistant shoes rather than fire-resistant boots, she decides to go for its flank. She doesn't really want to get close to its arms.
She swings hard overhead, hoping to embed the spike and tear open a new wound.

Noble Arms - The ASEAN War [Moved to New Thread]

@The Man Emperor
I mean like this

Noble Arm Rank:

C

Power: B
Speed: E
Range: C-B
Persistence: C
Precision: B
Potential: E

Provided you do that,
Approval 2/4

Noble Arms - The ASEAN War [Moved to New Thread]

@The Man Emperor
Approval 0/4

Firstly I'm gonna draw a line at three whole un-hider-ed sheets, please stop making me scrollllll
Doesn't matter what you call it, as long as it's easy for me to guess who the hider's for.

Carroman Fisch Montenegro/CFM/The Chaplain/Support Main

[sheet go here]

Second:

Power: C (3)
+Speed: E (1)
+Range: C-B (3-4)
+Persistence: C (3)
+Precision: B (4)
+Potential: C (3)
= 16-17
/6
= 2.66-2.833
Overall rank = D

Where the hider says "insert NA rank here," you put your overall rank decided by this calculation. If you feel like he warrants a higher or lower rank than the math says, you can make him a C or an E accordingly.

With that said, third:

Are these grades reflective of what you're trying to do?
Power C is iffy for easily piercing tank armor. That might be a B. Given that, a divine shield that's stronger than tank armor is definitely a B.

Speed doesn't reflect the Master's movement speed, it reflects the responsiveness of the NA.

E-Rank: Comparative to walking underwater. Notable ramp-up/charge time. Abilities take a disadvantageously long time to fully "stick". Recommended against using them in the open or in sight of any hostile, at least initially.

#Power Classification System

I don't see any notes about charge-up or ramp-up in any of Carroman's abilities. If you are using Speed in the sense dictated above, specify the charge-up times/mechanisms/etc. If you misunderstood what Speed meant, reassess.

Noble Arms - The ASEAN War [Moved to New Thread]

Having reviewed Samuel Aggregate in advance up to his posting, I've already approved his current version
Approval 1/3 @SirStriker

(he's not in the game yet, just posted in the wrong tab by mistake)

Noble Arms - The ASEAN War [Moved to New Thread]

This has probably...
No, it's certainly been the worst day of her life.

It's not that Private Brave couldn't have seen it coming. Every army instructor she's ever had to listen to had at least one message to share in common: when the day came that she had to face down a real Arms Master, she was going to learn a lot about her place in the world very fast.
Well. "Face down" is a funny turn of phrase. For... a few reasons, at the moment, but for a start she didn't see any faces. She didn't see anybody. One moment the sky was clear; then it was on fire. One moment the ground was one of the few stable things left in the world; the next, she was... in it.
Private Brave has never really been claustrophobic, but there's nothing irrational about this fear. She can't move anything. She's pretty sure she's on her stomach, but there's no way to know that. She's breathing somehow, but for all she knows she's just in denial and suffocating even at this moment.

There's time, now, down here, for regrets, if she has the patience and presence of mind to think about her past. She doesn't, now. Not yet. But given another minute or two, she might come up with a lot of regrets going back years.
What she has the patience and presence of mind to think about is OUT OUT GET OUT, but there remains the issue that she can't move. She can't hear her radio, can't reach her radio to try and transmit, and if it's not receiving anything it probably isn't going to get anything out anyway. This is the calm and rational recital of her thoughts that she might have if she ever lives to look at this moment with hindsight - in this moment, these thoughts read as NO ONE CAN HEAR ME FUCK I DON'T WANT TO DIE PLEASE.

Well.
What does it matter what she wants or doesn't? She knows, or she should know, because every instructor said it: she's as good as nothing down here, right now.
When the dirt begins to shift around her, she doesn't feel like nothing. She feels like the whole world is coming to a screeching end.
NO - NO - NOT ME - WHO ARE YOU? - PLEASE!
It only takes a few clumps to seal off her breathing hole. She's not an Arms Master. She's nothing. She does need to breathe, or she will die, very fast, unlike them.
WHAT WAS THAT?
This force, this being that she never got to see, must be feeling more merciful than usual. But that doesn't mean that it's nice. It doesn't wait for her to suffocate, but neither does it do her the kindness of spearing through her skull first.

Her thoughts are no longer possible to transcribe. We use letters to encapsulate words, and there are no words in her mind when the enemy's Noble Arm sets to leisurely work at grinding her into viscera. The eloquent part of her brain, the one that lead her through her education up to high school, the one that impressed her parents more than she felt she deserved and the one that enables her to think in words, isn't destroyed just yet. It's just been roughly shoved aside by the animal consciousness taking full control to madly and fruitlessly throw its strength this and that way in its last ditch to save the body, which never moves. Not now. And never again.
One body of fourty.
Another soldier presumed KIA.
Thank you for your service, Private Brave.

The Maids Guide to Demon Hunting

Alright, but sometimes target assessment is necessary.
Many people that Astreya's known have had a hard time remembering the simple fact that she isn't stupid...
...sometimes...
...and that, when something actually has her attention, it damn well has it. Her laughter dies down, that mad stupor of violence fading as she takes in the last few seconds in which she doesn't seem to have, actually, killed the big demon. Her eyes dart all across its mass, scanning for everything worth noting. Cogent thoughts form a group and set to a race through that handful of well-developed pathways in her brain.

Combat Observations Log #001 - big lava decapitated buffalo+hands looking thing

• This guy's tough! It bleeds, but not very much at all. It's like its skin is armor. Buckshot's not going to penetrate far. Doesn't seem to feel pain, either.
• This guy's hot! Anything that embeds in it seems like it's going to melt pretty fast, except for those knives for... some reason. Maybe look into tungsten rounds for next time?
• This guy's strong and heavy! All this combined caliber isn't even staggering it. Definitely don't get hit, if it's got the strength to hold itself up, it's got the strength to pulp you. And absolutely don't get grabbed.
• This guy's big! I mean, yeah, good catch there, but it means it's got a long stride. That together with nothing seeming to slow it down, means we're never going to have any luck outrunning it. Maybe try sidestrafing its charges?
• This guy's NOT DEAD! How do we kill demons again? Do they even have vital organs? No, hold on... we're supposed to just bind them, right?

Conclusion: Burrowing through this entity's center mass with sustained fire is not going to work fast enough, so focus on disabling it. It's a quadruped; it will need at least two of those to keep standing, and if it can't move, it doesn't seem like it'll be able to pose a threat. Its rear limbs are smaller, but less threatening, and it'll still crawl without them. Even if it tries to guard it body with its forelimbs, that must be a mistake on its part; shred those arms and it's as good as furniture.

Her laughter picks up again, this time starting as a low, devious giggle - she's got it figured out now, she holds all the cards! She shifts her aim to the greater beast's arms, looking for joints to lock in on.
Her laughter isn't alone anymore. She sort of notices the newcomer, peripherally, but it doesn't have her attention. It's another demon, probably. Deal with it later.

The Maids Guide to Demon Hunting

Target assessment isn't the fun part. Astreya takes a quick scan around at the creatures surrounding them, and doesn't exactly decide to delegate, but quickly picks where she wants to shoot and where she'd rather have someone else take care of it.
Somebody else can figure out the tactics. She points her big gun center mass at the big thing.

One spray of buckshot lets off, accompanied by a puff of steam from one of the more wildly angled pipes on her weapon, and it visibly staggers her. Keeping an eye on the beast's reaction, she adjusts her posture and fires another, then another, then another, getting faster, steam bursts chugging along at smaller and smaller intervals, empty belt feeding out the side. The sound is... louder than gunshots, for sure, but she doesn't seem to mind at all.
Of course she doesn't. She's laughing now. Cackling, actually, her tail swishing with wild energy. In a fairer contest, against any other opponents, she could possibly be the most disturbing thing on the block right now.

The Maids Guide to Demon Hunting

Seemingly unhurried but without hesitation, Astreya skips over to the railing to peer over while Myrilla is still talking. They’re allowed to murder here? Or is that just a command privilege?
Whatever becomes of the Kat, she’s still watching over the railing when Leoniya has to tap her for attention to hand off the supplies. Ammo, in Astreya’s case, is a belt of 12-gauge shells. Not a bandolier, a belt, in the sense of something belt-fed. She grins as she takes it.
“I’m gonna make a biiig mess,” she whispers, in Krysa.

After a short diversion to actually get her gun - she hadn’t really thought it was droptime when she was called up - Astreya runs up to the deck again and leaps overboard without pause, something very large and tubey and brassy cradled in her arms. Pulling her cord without dropping the thing is a bit of a messy affair, but those quick panicky moments of turning a corner and almost bumping into death aren’t out of place for her brand.

Astreya lands lightly, and settles heavily. She looks around, the grin still on her face - indeed, healthier than before - and something questionable in her eyes as she goes about slotting belt into feed by muscle memory. Her ears lightly swivel to track the various catastrophic noises abound.
“North to be too late to save people, east to meet a problem…”
Her attention lingering to the east, she hefts the weapon. It clinks and hisses, pressure shifting in unseen chambers as the first round is pulled into firing position. In her application, Astreya used the word “shotgun,” but apart from the ammunition it’s really a tough thing to stick that word to - asymmetrical and apparently so far from ergonomic one must think the designer was avoiding it, with all visible signs pointing to it using a bizarre and surely unnecessary synthesis - or at least amalgamation - of steam and gunpowder propulsion together. Supposing this doesn’t just explode on firing, one must dread to imagine the kick…

Astreya’s shoulders are shaking, not with strain from the weight, but with laughter. She is imagining the kick.

Noble Arms - The ASEAN War [Moved to New Thread]

Hannie is dreaming...

and her darling child.

Lumimyrsky. Whiteout. This is what the world looked like when I was born.
Look around you. All the world is decorated in flecks and coats of white. The trees have such small leaves. The animals are all hidden away.
Do you remember these dreams? They brought us close. Very close. And then you strayed away. We have not been back in a very long time.
I wonder what brought you back, child?
...
Do you hear me?

I do.

Ah, there you are. Always so quiet. Do not let the wind drown you.
Do you remember? This snow, these trees - me?

I do.

You are... afraid?

I didn't want to dream of you.

Oh, child.

Her doppelganger stands beside her, looking pensively ahead. Its body is colored and textured like hers, but it is transparent and reflective like ice.

How distant we have grown. I wonder how it is that I ever came to you. You have always been soft, but now you are afraid as well.
Afraid of what? Death, bloodshed, pain? And why? Are they not natural as well as necessary?

You never spoke to me before today.

You have only forgotten.

Your first words were telling me to die.

It is not the same when we die as when any other does.

You made me kill.
Her voice is quiet and dry.
Seconds pass. A minute. Two. Both of them look outward to the blank horizon.
Eventually, she puts her face in her hands. If she makes any sound, the wind takes it from between them.

Someday, we must come to understand each other.

She shakes her head. It will be better if she never understands.