Mythril Aces (Re)Union: Real Robot RP - Centauri Roleplay Thread

"'Chill pills'? Is that code for something?" Mira asked, suddenly cautious. Giving a girl a pill that made her loopy and out of touch with reality had some seriously bad implications.

"Well, uh," she said, not really knowing what to say. "Please... never give me those again. They're scary."

"I agree with Malware," Valentine declared, although he sounded less than annoyed at the whole exchange, "Time is of the essence! Sally forth, Guns n' Roses! ...Oh right, we need an actual plan." The sounds across the comm suggested he was loosening his shoulders. "Very well, then! Vanguard and Orchid, the pair of you advance normally across these catwalks and act as our front line. Malware, you trail close behind them and do your thing. Gunshow will take up the rear and provide supporting fire, and I'll circle around the side to distract and flank, which leaves Rose to snipe from behind the cover of those pipes over there. Let's move!"

Having said that, the last Goldschmidt engaged his Stalker's stealth and began to head for the nearby rooftop.

Reid almost didn't know what to say. "Do your thing"? He got the impression Valentine didn't appreciate his contribution to the team, maybe didn't even understand it. He let out a sigh of frustration before responding.

"Will do, Sir. I'll... 'do my thing'."

With that, he deftly formed up behind the 'front line'

Two days post mission.

Fergus sat at his spot at the head of the briefing room table beside Riley. He looked up from his wheelchair as the Knights, or at least what was left of them, came in and grasped his leg. Thankfully, it hurt like the Devil the first morning that he woke in hell. He was not as confident as the doctors that they had managed to get all the shrapnel out. Doctors were notoriously confident, in his opinion, and no one that sober should be half as certain of themselves when a human life was on the line. Though he had to admit, were he to find a doctor either drunk or nervous enough to defeat their stereotype, he'd hardly trust them either.

So, he safely concluded that Doctors as a whole were not to be trusted. It was inherent in their profession.

As he ended his meditation on that, he realized the last of the survivors had just sat down.

"Mikhailova, Cascade, Gottwald, Coltello, Goldschmit, Heddad and of course, my esteemed compatriot, Dame Lee."

"It seems our intelligence was mistaken. Seriously so."

He had a bottle fine 36 year aged single malt scotch whiskey, one of his personal reserve, taken in to the room in a basket, with a few glasses, it was now that he reached for it and poured as he spoke.

"We were fortunate to make it out alive. Many did not. Regardless of your personal creed, I believe it would be appropriate now to have a moment of silence and take a last drink in their honour as we are gathered here."

He passed these glasses out slowly, one by one.

As the last reached it's destination, he raised his glass;

"To the honour of Carlisle, Gundersen, Mackenzie and Blackfield."

Quietly he sat and thought on what had occured. Gundersen was in the medical centre, condition critical. His pod dragged back by one of his flightmates. Mackenzie and Blackfield, ejected but unretrieved. Lee's flight had taken quite the beating.

His flight had been fortunate in some regards; Only Carlisle was listed MIA. He had predicted that she'd be marked down like that, yet he had hoped for better. It did not help that her actions, though reckless, bought them much needed time and his own actions had not be much wiser.

He owed his life to Mikhailova, though both their frames had been irrevocably damaged in the fight.

He hadn't seen either the actions that Dame Cascade took after he ordered her to lead the rest to retreat nor did he know the specifics of how Lee's company had been ambused on their way way to escape.

Several elements unsettled him, the Frames for instance, seemed better than what the Federation, let alone the Samsarans, should have had available to them. Some appeared to be of Centauri make. It was possible that Dame Ignis' rivalry with the other noble houses was now coming to haunt them... Still, now was not the time to dwell on that. No, matters still needed to be attended to.

Still, it is possible that the others survived, as Prisonners or fugitives. It was a distant hope though and not one which Fergus could entertain for long.

Rather, he brought the silence to a close.

"I am no longer in a position to lead An Cúnna Fearguis, and I believe it would be wisest if I were to resign from active combat for the foreseeable future. In my place, I recommend Dame Lee to take the position of leader of a merged Company, under a new name. My condition on this, is the recognition of Cascade as a representative of the interests of the former members of the hounds and my own within the group, to serve as a second in command."

"I will continue to serve as a leader and advisor for Flights on this ship, reporting directly to Gemma. You may consider me her ambassador to the Knights."

"Questions?"

edited 20th Nov '14 9:46:47 AM by Fauxlosophe

"None relating to the command structure, Sir," Coltello replied, not bothering to hide the bitter anger in her voice. Mira Coltello did not mourn. She avenged.

The face of her brother was joined by those of Maria and Rick, burned into her memory as others the enemy had taken from her. Pure Centauri blood had been shed. The blood of the guilty had to be spilled in answer. Even now, she could feel her own boiling. The Federation, the Samsarans, and anyone who assisted them would pay dearly for this.

"La spada della giustizia per tutti i mali," she swore quietly.

edited 14th Nov '14 6:49:37 PM by Dragon573

Victoria took a long draught from her glass at Fergus' prompting. In fact, she nearly drained it; the numbness from the mission's tragic events keeping her from wincing. It all felt too familiar. A lost comrade. A commander with a debilitating injury. And herself thrust into a command position during a desperate struggle. Except this time there was no victory to show for their loss, all she'd done was supervise a retreat.

The questions she had couldn't be answered by Fergus, she'd have to find her own answers and hope they were good enough. She remained silent and stared down into the nearly empty glass, swishing around the last remnants of her whiskey.

Sitting directly opposite Riley, Valentine lifted his glass silently to Mac Morna's toast and then proceeded to quite unceremoniously empty it. That done, he set the glass down - smoothly, of course, since just slamming it to the table would probably ruin the atmosphere - and slouched thoughtfully and stone-faced in his chair, directing his gaze down the length of the table at the other survivors. He particularly peered at Victoria, who appeared to his perspective to be searching her own glass for the last shreds of her confidence in the military enterprise.

A person unfamiliar with Valentine Goldschmidt, yet familiar with the habits of typical Centauri nobility, might assume he would take umbrage at the prospect of someone with less combat experience, a lower rank, and from a completely different company taking up what was effectively his sole military domain. Naturally, such a person would be wrong. Not only would agreeing to said proposal allow him to continue exercising only as much responsibility as he felt like, but Fergus had - probably unwittingly, addled by either painkillers, hard spirits, or the ghostly kind - left a loophole in his condition that was wide enough to slip the entire Rado de Fortuno through.

"I concur with Lord Mac Morna, and agree to his condition," he declared flatly, "Unless I'm wrong, nobody here is going to object unless the Emperor himself suddenly issues a fiat to the contrary. Under the present circumstances, there's simply no point in our companies remaining separate. That being the case, we can hardly continue with our old name. What are we now, then? The Scrap Roses? The Rose Aegis?"

Fergus nodded at Valentine, it was a stern and serious nod, though ambiguous. It was difficult to read whether Fergus had suspicions or was aware of the field he gave Valentine, or if he was simply resigned. His rather distant look implied the latter, though it was hard to be certain.

He passed his glance over Cascade, frowning slightly with the same distant look, and then to Dame Lee, with the same expression.

Surely, she would be expected to make some sort of speech or acknowledgement.

Reid wasn't acting like himself, and the others were beginning to notice. A far cry from his usual demeanor, he sat rigid, arms crossed, with a sour look on his face. He was more upset than he'd been in a very long time.

He was struggling to care about the discussion around him. He's used to taking orders from Dame Lee and while he knows little of Dame Cascade she seems capable enough. His mind was elsewhere, and for once he decided to talk about himself.

"I haven't been sleeping much", he offered utterly unprompted, eyes fixed on a wall opposite him. He spoke louder than he usually would and in a harsh tone. "I can't stop thinking about the mission. I've played it back in my head over and over again and..."

Reid sighed. He was feeling a lot worse now than he was yesterday, possibly because he'd had more time to think. Well, that and the 'not sleeping' thing.

"I survived but I feel like I shouldn't have, like I wish I hadn't. Like I don't deserve to be at this table. I was acting as support for Vanguard and Orchid and now they're gone."

edited 15th Nov '14 12:56:48 PM by EponymousKid

For once, Elaine's heart wasn't filled with burning desires for genocide. There was no thirst for glory, or mad devotion to the Emperor, or... anything. She was quiet, having hardly spoken to anyone since their return.

She didn't know any of her comrades particularly well, and for some of them, she never would. They had left suddenly and unexpectedly, and now they were gone. She felt like she should be crying, or mourning. Instead, she sat in her chair, staring at the wall, doing as little as possible.

After taking a few moments to process Fergus^' Originally said Ferfus, leading to the joke that Fergus is a furry words, she drained her glass, and looked around. These people around her were fragile, and there was no guarantee they would be here tomorrow. She needed to get to know them quickly, before it was too late.

She no longer had a burning, patriotic hatred for the Federation. She simply wanted to make them pay dearly for taking Centauri lives.

edited 30th Nov '14 7:35:06 PM by RenaTheArchmage

Wordlessly, Mira held her drink out to Reid. She hadn't touched it yet, beyond miming taking a drink for ceremony's sake— she couldn't drink alcohol at a time like this. Not while her blood was howling for payback.

Especially not this swill.

edited 15th Nov '14 1:38:51 PM by Dragon573

Riley acknowledges and approved of Fergus' proposals for the new team with a simple nod of her head. The glass of whiskey poured for her remained unconsumed at hand.

Pilots had been lost. That had happened before, Riley was no stranger to death on her own side. Only a recent graduate, just out of Knight training the first time one of her comrades died, Riley had watched a sniper attack he never saw coming destroy his frame. Riley's stomach churned that whole day. That he would never be there again, no longer arriving at the ship together, no taking off together, no talking and hanging around, those thoughts had frozen her to the very core. The rest of the flight however, accepted the loss more stoically. Over time, she learned how pilots dealt with death. Solemnly honoring the dead in their own way while quietly packing their personal items to be sent home and waiting for the next pilot to come in. It had not even occurred to her until way later that the only reason she had gotten a spot on that team was that another pilot had died before her.

Enough. The rational part of her brain pushed. You have a job to do, now stop dallying and do it.

"These past few days have bee hard." Riley said to everyone present. Her words were slower and deliberate. "And if what we just experienced is any indication, it is going to get harder. Much harder than what the people back home had anticipated. Until they muster up reinforcements, we and the rest of the Centauri forces here are on our own. Honor our friends by making the most of our lives and not letting them go to waste, because right now they mean more than you know."

Riley proceeded to down the contents of her whiskey glass. With a touch more refinement that Valentine, she was still a lady after all, she gulped the wine and set the glass back on the table.

"The Scrap Roses." Riley sounded out the name. "It does sound poetic. Anyone else have a suggestion?"

edited 1st Dec '14 9:03:59 PM by Parable

Fergus raised an eyebrow at Mira's gesture only to turn away at the suggestion of names.

He considered contributing for a moment, only to sit back and look over the group again. It was their time. He would remain if anyone had words for him, but otherwise, he would be happy to leave the younger pilots to their own devices.

"He needs it more than I do, Sir," she replied to the look quietly, talking more to herself than the Trio, but pulling her arm back and taking a drink nonetheless.

Years of training in proper etiquette enabled her to avoid grimacing.

edited 15th Nov '14 5:28:12 PM by Dragon573

Reid eyed the glass that Mira was offering him, glaring at it as if he'd never seen anything like it. He didn't drink, generally speaking, and the idea that it could help him relax barely registered with him.

Calmly and sincerely, he turned down the offer.

"...I really don't think that's advisable in my emotional state, ma'am. I've been having enough outbursts lately as it is."

"You'll have plenty more by the time we're out of this sector," she told him honestly. "Survivor's guilt is an angry bitch, and she doesn't let go of her ex's."

edited 17th Nov '14 12:40:55 PM by Dragon573

"Looks like that is all for now," Fergus said, looking with distaste as his expensive whiskey was passed over, "I wish the Scrap Roses fortune in all their future endevours. Dame Mikhailova, when you are available, I would like to discuss a few things. Until then, my office door remains open for anyone with questions."

edited 17th Nov '14 7:55:23 PM by Fauxlosophe

With that Fergus set his arms to his wheels and with some effort, departed the room.

Mikhailova would see him in due time. Until then however, his office would seem entirely too solitary. He headed to the Knight's dining hall. He ordered a Welsh tea with a wedge of lemon and sugar. He added a spot of cheap whiskey himself, from a small flask.

He looked over the fairly vacant hall. It'd be strange to watch his own troop from afar. He hoped Dame Lee was up for the position; it was difficult to sit on a high seat in mixed companies, and Lee was young.

He'd thought the army would have gotten older after a decade of cease fire, but it seems he was the only fool who held to it. Perhaps now, even he would see reason and go home.

edited 20th Nov '14 1:41:51 PM by Fauxlosophe

Victoria finished off her drink and leaned back in her seat. She looked to the remaining pilots when Fergus took his leave. As unnerving as the similarities were between her current situation and the one which had seen her promoted to Knight, she expected it was much tougher on some of the others. The Roses had been a tightly knit group from what she'd seen and they'd suffered the worst.

"Dame Lee, if there's anything I can do you have but to ask," she spoke carefully, wanting to be supportive to her new commander without putting any extra pressure on the relatively young Fourth Knight.

"I extend the same offer to you, Cascade," Mira added, having downed the rest of her drink quickly to get it over with. "As MacMorna's representative, you'll likely have responsibilities of your own."

"I doubt it, Cortello," Valentine rebutted, rolling his empty cup idly between his hands, "If Lord mac Morna is stepping back into an advisory role and moving his entire Company into another, I'm pretty sure he hasn't any right to official indirect representation. I gathered that clause was to ensure we don't treat you all any worse for being a new part of the team. Not that there was any danger of that in the first place, but you know..."

He shrugged halfheartedly, then cracked a slight smile. "I'm actually jealous, and a little shocked that I've been passed over so blatantly. Not one beautiful lady has offered this poor, downtrodden soul the comfort and support he so desperately needs."

Mira glanced over, suppressing her instinct to follow her father's example.

"Trio Knight MacMorna may be out of active combat duty, but he retains his position as a leader and an advisor, and is acting as a go-between for us and Lady Gemma. If he wants a representative to ensure he can fulfill his duties as our ambassador, you'd be hard pressed to dispute his right."

Mira frowned.

"'Valentine,' if I recall. Where do I know your name from?" she asked, her brow furrowing. It seemed unaccountably familiar.

edited 20th Nov '14 10:19:22 PM by Dragon573

If there was ever a time to get in good with the brass, it was now. She had meant to sort out her issues with the others later, but it would be most effective if done here.

Elaine stood slowly, and turned towards Cascade, her new semi-boss. She stood sharply at attention, and snapped a salute.

"Dame Cascade, I would like to apologize for some of my earlier statements," though she wouldn't, but she would like to, "I had gotten carried away, and I would not want you to think less of me due to some poorly-chosen (though no less true) words. I sincerely hope that, as two loyal Knights in the Emperor's service, we can put this behind us and work together for the glory of the Centauri."

"Valentine Goldschmidt, Duke of Östererzogtum," the redhead replied quietly, discreetly moving to a slightly closer chair to avoid interrupting Gottwald's ongoing effort to win their new superior over, "Pleased to meet you at last, Cortello." Nodding subtly at the ice queen, he then turned his full attention back toward Victoria and Elaine. It wouldn't do to have a moving reconciliation between subordinate and commanding officer without a stirring melody befitting the event, however, so the Trio Knight began to fill the void by loudly humming the national anthem.