Vampire Hunter
Sypha, Folkstone Air Base
"The advanced technology the Strike Witches use to fly would be hampered by pants or dresses from what I had seen here." Sypha explained to the others, having been around long enough to see them in battle. "It pretty much covers the legs completely."
"It is good to see you again, Lady!" Sypha walked over to Lady, happy to see her friend again.
edited 24th Nov '16 5:30:03 PM by GameGuruGG
Wizard Needs Food Badly
someone
Piper, Common Room
"Not...exactly. The only one of us who is really a pilot is Stork, who pilots the Condor, our home base."
She was rather glad that the Condor had been brought with them. Especially since that meant she had her crystal lab.
"Most of us ride skimmers, which are like flying motorcycles. I ride a heli-scooter, which is similar, but a different design."
She decided she wouldn't go into the specifics of the designs (and their differences), since it wasn't really her area of expertise. If they wanted to know about that, they could ask Junko or Stork.
Then Yang piped up. So Huntresses were kinda similar to Sky Knights then? Interesting.
"Neither do we. Wear costumes, I mean. We occasionally get paid, depending on whether or not the people we help can afford it. And there is a bunch of stuff we have to do in order to officially recognised as a squadron. And Aerrow is the only Sky Knight, since it's usually one knight to a squadron."
That was probably more information than they needed, but nevermind.
[TOP SECRET]
The Institute, Exterior: And Then Sue Me For THIS--Smoke Bomb!
With so many Imperials making a break for it, "Jedi" Luca had plenty of barreled fish to shoot. For all the fleeing pilots the sharpshooting Contractor couldn't hit, she let out a slew of...imaginative obscenities, forming mental pictures nobody would ever ask for.
Before the fastest pilot could reach the building's corner and make a straight line for the shuttle, an odd orange sports ball bounced his way before exploding into a cloud of thick smoke. Without the thermal settings in storm trooper helmets, the dwindling Imperials would have an easier job navigating through Bespin.
That being said, they might be able to hear the speedy approach of two attackers, coming from the same set of nearby columns now out of sight. They carried knives to cut their enemies throats, waiting at the edge of the cloud to kill the frantic pilots who'd run blindly towards them.
Meanwhile, the Femme Fatale whistled to the last AT-ST for what seemed like the hundredth time. As fun as this deadly game of dodge ball had been, it had lost most of its appeal.
"Seems you're all alone, darling!" she pouted playfully. "Do us all a favor and surrender, will you?"
Death Star: Pew! Pew!
Havoc swallowed her disappointment and turned to the firing range. Her first instinct was to set the target as far as possible and try to no-scope the bullseye from there, but she knew next to nothing about what this sci-fi weapon fired like, so she went with 200 feet instead. Better to gradually build up Mott's expectations; not that she cared much about them, of course.
The kickback was almost nonexistent, and thanks to her long abuse of rapid fire weaponry, she couldn't feel the tingling nerves in her hands. She started with a sparse, controlled pace of full auto, then turned to three shot when she felt more comfortable. With each change in her firing, the Contractor sped through her adjustments with military diligence: reloading her weapon, extending the stock, moving the target to 500 feet, peering through the scope, and continuing to fire, all in a quick yet fluid movement that suggested she'd practiced like this somewhere before—albeit not in a giant space station.
By the time Havoc paused to admire her work, the target's middle was scorched beyond recognition. Still, she cursed and frowned as the approaching mess revealed a few blaster marks outside the two smallest circles. So much for a perfect score.
"What else you got, sir?" Havoc asked over her shoulder.
Genosha Streets: So Much for A Perfect Entry...
During her fall, Nora would probably notice a strange man
◊ dive above her, just out of arm's reach. The goggled man cursed at his slim error, though Nora's impact with the road would probably drown out his apology.
Nora's tug would pull her assailant off her position on top of a streetlight. Thankfully, the woman's bug-like agility let her flip forward onto her feet and stumble to a stop. The stranger_Head.jpg){kind=small}
◊ stared at Nora with an equal mix of shock and irritation, but she turned that frustration to the man in the goggles.
"Toad! What happened?!"
"I'm sorry, she fell too fast! Guess I didn't counter the hammer's weight."
While the two Mutants bickered over something that hardly harmed Nora (a fact they'd no doubt be shocked by later) the duo split their attention to defend the downed Hunter against whatever assaults the jet troopers had in plan. Thankfully, they left plenty of room for Nora to do what she pleased.
At the damaged tank, the pilot would find that one of his blaster bolts (by some miracle!) landed on the attacker's shoulder, which forced the burrowing to a halt. The pilot might notice that his opponent was rather short, which let it hug the tank's rear and remain out of firing range. After a brief pause, the pilot would hear a few quiet scratches as a chunk of hull was etched out and thrown at the pilot like a shuriken.
Even if the shrapnel missed its target, it would serve as a distraction to let the Leader of the Red Guard
◊ hoist himself onto the tank and dive at the pilot, claws extended.
High above the AT-AT, a large window pane shattered in the Wynegarde building. A few moments later, several pieces of light office furniture began hailing down on the massive vehicle: lamps, desk chairs, even a coffee table plummeted to the streets, bursting like makeshift bombs before they reached the ground. The bomber knew nothing about the AT-AT's strengthened hull, but maybe a few lucky throws would harm another Imperial...or just get unwanted attention.
The Underground, Final Corridor: Care to Comment, Han?
Mao's hands paws were tied here. As much as he mistrusted the Clone, Asriel wasn't wrong. Bickering wouldn't catch this officer any quicker, so the cat galloped after the Monster Prince, struggling as best he could to stay in between Sev and the boy.
edited 15th Nov '16 5:14:22 PM by TheodoreHastings
Anglerfish Team - Common Room
"S-Sorry, just browsing," Miho said nervously to the girl at the Santa Destroy booth. The content of the brochure was, uhm, not very nice-sounding, but she held on to it all the same. What they were saying about fighting back an invasion did sound very impressive though.
In any case, Miho felt she had enough information by now. Scouting across the room, she tried to get the attention of her teammembers while picking confetti out of her hair.
Yukari seemed quite surprised to hear that Mahora Gakuen was not in fact situated on a big aircraft carrier, but Mako just nodded pensively. Then Yukari spotted their commander standing around expectantly, so she excused herself to Haruna.
"Sorry, but we've gotta go now," she explained. "Thank you very much for your help, and we'll remember to visit Mahora later!"
On the other side of the projected map, Saori was furiously taking notes as Junpei explained about the other Chunks, taking in the gossip as well the hard facts. Once he was done, she did indeed look like she had some questions, but Hana put a hand on her shoulder and made her aware that Miho was waiting for them.
"Aww, seems like Commander Miho is waiting for us," Saori explained. "I had so many things more I wanted to ask you, Iori-san! But thank you so so much for the help!"
"Indeed, you have been very helpful, Iori-san," Hana said with a polite bow. "Thank you very much."
"I'll make it up to you later, okay senpai?" Saori said, winking and giving another of her beaming smiles. "See you!"
Then the two girls were off to rejoin the rest of their team.
Anglerfish Team - Sensha-dou club quarters
After sharing all the knowledge they had gathered over tea and senbei, the girls of Ooarai Girls High School Sensha-dou club's Anglerfish Team fell into a pensive silence.
"Okay, so, uhm, let's summarize the main points," Miho said.
"One: We have been taken here by this Cure, uhm, person. He has equipped our tank so that it's battle-ready and he fully expects us to fight. If we don't, err, we might disappear. No one knows what happens to those who disappear."
"Two: Outside of this place known as the Common Room there's a big continent known as the Battleworld, where a lot of territories from different places have been joined together to fight. Some of these are close to familiar to us, but others are, uh, less so."
"Three: As a "Chunkless" group, we can act more independently and freely, but we have nowhere near the resources that the, uhm, "Chunks" have."
"And lastly, while a lot of the Chunks are friendly to strangers, there are some who are, hmm, not so nice."
"Oh, also, there's currently an invasion, err, event going on, but it's almost finished."
They all nodded.
"So, uh, to go from that, we need to fight or at least make the impression that we are joining the fight or else we'll disappear. But we are just one tank, and there are a lot of Chunks with both more forces and more advanced technology than us. So, there's really just one possibility left to us!"
The other girls looked up, expectantly.
"We need to look into allying ourselves with a friendly Chunk. Somewhere nice and trustworthy, and preferably somewhere where we can contribute without having to kill anyone. Failing that, we should try to ally ourselves with a likeminded Chunkless group."
"Oh ho! As expected of Nishizumi-senpai!" Yukari said excitedly.
"So, we'll be acting as mercenaries..." Mako mused. "...interesting."
"The most peaceful mercenaries Battleworld ever knew," Saori commented with a grin.
"We can make an educated guess who would be likely allies from what Iori-san told us," Hana said. "But we will have to actually meet with them to make sure of their true intentions."
"Ah, but everyone's kinda busy with this invasion," Yukari commented. "We don't wanna go visiting and end up in the firing line..."
Miho nodded.
"Ah, I have an idea!" Saori said. "Instead of going to them, let's make them come to us!"
"...how?"
"Hehe, I have a master plan! Let me explain..."
The reactions from the other girls ranged from excitement from Yukari to mild shock from Hana to the usual apathy from Mako.
"...we'll do it," Miho said finally. "Okay, let's get working, girls!"
"Alright!"
Join us in our quest to play all RPG video games! Moving on to disc 2 of Grandia!
Folkestone Air Base - Air Strip/Hangar
"Welcome, Mr. Bond," Sanya said and shook his hand. "I am Flying Officer Aleksandra Vladimirovna Litvyak. My wingman Eila, whom you met in the Common Room, has spoken of you."
She escorted Lady and Bond to inside the hangar where the others were waiting.
"Would you like some tea, Mr. Bond, Miss Lady?"
Meanwhile, Shirley overheard Harry's comment to Lady, but only laughed and shook her head.
Folkestone - Portal Beach - A spot of tea
"Of course we have a Manchester, man. Wouldn't be much of a universe without it, if you ask me! I'm getting relieved right about now, so come in and let's have a proper chat. Corporal, you take care of things here until then!"
"Yes, sir!"
The commander, an RAF sergeant by the look of his rank, waved the intern through to a small tent some distance away. He indicated for the younger man to take a seat, and poured two cups of lukewarm tea from a canteen.
Join us in our quest to play all RPG video games! Moving on to disc 2 of Grandia!
Did you know this section has a character limit?
Bumblebee - Flying Apparatus On Motorcycles, Common Room
Flying motorcycles?"
"Hey, maybe you can upgrade my bike later? It'd be cool if the Bumblebee could actually fly, huh?"
Oh, that was a bad idea. Yang was irresponsible enough on that thing without giving it unrestricted access to a third dimension of movement. Blake had to get her away, now.
"Uh, Yang? We should really drop this stuff off in our room and see if any of the other chunks need our help."
"Oh? Yeah, you're right. Guess we'll have to talk another time, Piper. Seeya."
The two girls then left for the common hallway, and as a result, their room.
Team JNR - Still Not A Colour, Genosha Streets
Nora wasn't dumb. Maybe a little distracted, but never dumb. The words and actions of the two uniformed people immediately made it clear to her that they were trying to help her, and not the enemy.
She was still going to tell them off for ruining her plan, but that was brought to a halt by a shout from a nearby alleyway.
"Nora!"
"Ren! Jaune!" she beamed as her two friends ran up to her, Jaune keeping his shield between the pair of them and the Jet Troopers.
"Ren! Distract the flyers!"
"Got it!"
Ren ran past his best friend and towards the sheer metal cliff that was the AT-AT's front left leg. He hopped up onto the mech's foot, before using his momentum to run two or three meters up the leg. Just before gravity decided that the boy's shoes' grip and momentum was decidedly not enough to defy it, he kicked off the leg, launching himself upwards and towards the opposite front leg.
As he flew a flight path seemingly designed to incorporate a wicked somersault, he opened up with his machine pistols, spraying dust-launched lead at the Jet Troopers. If he wasn't intercepted, he'd hit the other leg of the AT-AT and hook his left arm around it, before continuing to fire with his right-hand weapon.
Meanwhile, back on the ground, Jaune was about to continue his orders, until he spotted a white coil hanging from his friend's back.
"Nora, what's that?"
The redhead looked over her shoulder, and grabbed the webbing, ripping it off her back with a velcro-like sound.
"Oh, this? She made it." Nora nodded at Jessica.
Jaune looked between the webbing, the woman, and the legs of the AT-AT, an idea from a few scant hours earlier reforming in his head.
"Hey, uh, military lady! How much of this rope can you make? And how strong is it?"
Bond - Dawn of the Grand Council of Good Guys, Folkestone Hangar
Bond smiled at the little Russian (or Orussian, in this case) girl's mention of Eila, and followed her into the hangar, where Dresden and Sypha were waiting.
"I'll take coffee, if you have it." Bond replied. His aunt had despised tea, and extolled coffee's virtues over it. He had picked up the habit from her.
"They could always wear pants when not using their equipment." Bond commented on Sypha's explanation. "But, given some of the more familiar elements of this operation, I expect sortie times have to be five minutes or less. You don't want to waste any of that on removing pants." They do have medals for almost, and they're called silver!
I have a plan.
Institute Interior
The first Institute gorilla was about to take a swing at the damaged Dark Trooper, only to be met with a lethal dose of electricity. The gorilla screamed in agony as it lost control of its body, and died as it fell to the ground.
The other gorilla literally rushed headfirst into a missile—There wasn't much left of him that was worth describing in detail.
Out of all of the remaining synths, the trio in black armor seemed to be putting up the best fight. While most of the synths were almost equal to the Stormtroopers in terms of armor, the three wearing black didn't even flinch at direct blaster shots. Of course, they too lacked the training and intelligence of the 501st Legion.
More of the Institute's forces came into the BioScience division from the concourse. A man wearing a white and orange jumpsuit stepped in, flanked by the same four Coursers who had forced the Imperials to retreat earlier.
"Dr. Ayo's instructions are to bring the enemy commander in alive. Don't let him get away or we're all getting reassigned!"
The Coursers backed up the dwindling synth patrollers, taking cover behind the towering computers that monitored the plantlife growing in the main BioScience laboratory, while their supposed leader hid away from the fight entirely. It didn't take long for the Coursers to begin firing accurate shots towards the last remaining Imperials, but they took specific care to avoid attacking anywhere close to Holst.
"@[=g3,8d]&fbb=-q]/hk%fg"
Eternal Princess
The van wasn't sound proof. The screams of pain escaping the thin walls of the vehicle for the others to hear. After all why torture in such dreary places as a dungeon, if not to provide such excellent acoustics for all the other prisoners.
The troopers disarmed and face first on the ground, their was little chance of escape. Still, the LB militia guarding them was sure to pin them for those whose fears got the better of them and tried to escape. They waited, seeing who would crack first and sell out their comrades to save their own skin, literally so in this case. By the end of the day, these men will confess everything. The fact that they had nothing else of value to give was...unfortunate.
The back doors of the van popped open and the body of Cloe's first victim fell to the pavement. A bloody mess, unrecognizable. His face seemed to have been melted off, his features all removed. Worst yet, judging from the way his throat twitched as he chocked on his own blood and scraps of meat, for a few hellish seconds longer the man was still alive.
The woman smiled down at the dying man from her position in the back, looking all too pleased with her self. She savored the every moment of the look of pure agony from what was left of the man's face, all the way until twitching stopped. She basked the afterglow for a moment before casting her eyes upward.
"Next, please."
The LB militia lifted the next man, throwing him into the arms of the woman before the doors shut closed again. But while the Cloe had her fun, others were busy at work. There was a war going on.
Down the road a large black pickup truck came speeding up. The driver had the info pamphlet on the Imperial folded out before her on the wheel as she shouldered a cell phone to talk and drive. A model for motor safety. For a woman who spends her time making giant robots and rocket powered armored motorcycles, it was a pretty simple ride. What could Naomi say, suited her purposes. You don't need a sonic screw driver when a regular one was up to task.
She had been busy collecting data and making arrangements. She kept a close eye on the mechs in the desert, especially that Anri girl. She was a random variable, something that could make or break their efforts against the empire. She was going to save them, she said. Naomi kept her mouth shut. She didn't want to contaminate the experiment by putting constant input. Let her try and have her results speak for them selves. She let her act and bit her tongue.
Even when the girl wasted an entire salvo of missle for a smoke screen effect. She wondered if she would have done that if she knew that the cost of that little stunt was enough to pay for a free ride through college with enough left over to sit on her ass for next several years. Oh well, Naomi already received payment for them, no skin off her back.
The girl was a natural. She took to it like a pro, you would never have guessed it was her first time piloting. Hell, judging from her age, it was probably her first time driving anything ever. But when all was said and done, she was under performing projected estimates. Initial results looked promising, but confidence dropped severely with the ongoing conflict with All Terrain Armored Transport.
She looked over the thing's schematics. It was crudely designed, but served its purpose. With its elevated firing position it was able to provide some long range fire support while providing armored transport. It was a siege machine combined with a personnel carrier. There were a number of flaws with the design, most primarily with its lack of mobility and large blind spots. Something like that was a death sentence out in the field. But then, it probably was designed with the understanding that it would have an escort to protect it, never actually intended to be in the middle of combat itself. If it was, it wouldn't make sense for them to leave the undercarriage unarmored for every asshole with a rocket to fuck them up. Especially considering that the way its built, up from underneath is right where most the attacks directed at from ground forces was going. Armor was situated to protect against air support, artillery; a long range weapon with armor to protect against return fire from other long range weaponry. In other words, it was a highly specialist unit. In other words, there was no fucking reason why two of her mechs hadn't already tore that piece of shit apart and moved on!
It was frustrating to say the least. Like watching fighter jets struggle to take out a bomber or a 14 wheeler take the lead in a drag race against high performance sports cars. From a technical standpoint, there was no reason for it. She should know, she built the damn things. The mechs had more then enough mobility to outclass the ATAT. For fucks sake, they could just cow tip the things, the ATAT was built with out self correcting balance programming. If something prevented it from completing a step, rather then relay an error and cease activity that would cause it to become dangerously imbalanced, it would fall on its fucking face! Way to go R&D. But here they were, both mechs heavily damaged from one of these primitive fucking walkers. That meant, it was human error.
It should have ended with that missile strike. It was more then enough to take out the escorts and claim the ATAT's head. But all missiles missed, and she knew why. Save them all. She was naive. And Charlie, he was fucking idiot. A child and a meat head, not exactly the ideal pilots. Charlie owned his mech, so there was not much she could do about that, not there was anyone who could pilot it besides him thanks to the unique way it generated power. Anri was all her though.
A part of her hoped that the girl would be something of a...hero. While incredibly improbable, it was not impossible for the girl armed with Glastonbury to single handedly end the entire war. Shit, it does in the Jap cartoon its based off of, and she has enough pride in her work to claim that her version carried the same capabilities. The Death Star had a crippling weakness. An over sight. A single exhaust port lead an unhindered path way straight to the core. A straight shot from Glastonbury Buster Cannon, no more Death Star. The war ended in a single straight blow. That wasn't going to happen. Even if she did have the abilities, there was no way she was capable of killing the million people or so stationed on the thing. You'd have to be a cold mother fucker, and even then it would probably haunt your dreams for the rest of your life, like the guys who dropped the bomb on Hiroshima.
But you never place all your hope on a single ticket. Which meant they had to go with plan B. A suicide mission to get to the Death Star followed by a suicide mission to destroy it. Everything rode on this next offensive. They were lucky this time, mostly infantry, very little armored support, with most its air support tied up by that old Russian satellite, Volk. But they had hundreds of thousands more where those troopers came from, that pathetic three piece armored division fucked Santa Destroy's while having many more in reserves, and Volks gone. They wouldn't survive another invasion, and that's assuming they don't kill everyone by blowing up the planet.
"So, uh, we separated the aluminum and started compacting the rest of the trash. How big you need the cubes?"
Naomi lowered music blaring in her truck to hear the man on the other end better before answering.
"Make them at least a meter. We want them in clusters, but we can't have them too small either. I still got to research which would be the more effective counter measure. Don't load anything yet, but besides that, your people need to be ready to take off in those shuttles in a moments notice got that."
"Roger."
Santa Destroy's garbage men. Luckily, that made them trained astronauts after some dumb ass got the bright idea of sending trash into space. The shuttles stood no chance against the Death Star, they are the same crap they have using back in the 70's. Still if your clever and determined, anything was a weapon. The fact that they were gloried garbage trucks gave them some options to work with. The collected trash had more then enough aluminum to cut into a nice collection of zero g chaff to fuck with their sensors. That's assuming their radars work on similar principle, she was still studying on how they worked. As a back up she had them create one meter compacted trash cubes, so if nothing else she can get them distracted by a swarm of high speed unidentified objects. She even considered placing some cheap blinking red lights on them just to really fuck with their heads.
The nice thing with space was that there wasn't much to stop an object once it was in motion. As long as they got their calculations right, they had relative infinite range. That meant the shuttles could release their pay loads in advance before entering the turrets effective range and being shot down. She half considered using it as an infiltration method, hiding a few bodies among the debris to land on the hull and sneak their way. But sending a guy hurling several thousand miles per hour straight into the metallic hull was suicide. Still, their may be idiots who would take her up on the offer, and even a few who may actually survive the trip, with a little help from her of course.
She almost wondered why they used lasers since the heat would eventually dissipate giving them a limited range. She half considered that it may be to limit collateral damage of firing blindly into space, but considering what they were riding on...It was also possible that the laser defense system didn't use radar's, instead using manual aim. Are they crazy? Trying to shoot specks in the darkness of space traveling at several thousand miles per hour using line of sight? Guess that would explain the number of turrets they had on the thing, they need that many if they hope to hit anything.
Then there was her ICB Ms. They were inoperable the previous day. She checked, drunkenly putting in the activation codes to launch at whoever was on the other side of the continent. Just wanted to confirm her theory, and...she was kinda drunk and pissed. But this Death Star broke the mold of her developing formula on how what the Cure considered fair play. It may be worth revisiting. If it worked...
But before she could even consider on how to provide support, she first had to set up the main ships. She got messaged that the assassin were successful in acquiring two of their ships. The problem was, none of them knew how to pilot one of these fucking things. God damn useless morons, where would they be without her. She had a look at schematics, hard ware worked more or less like modern tech, power source, wires, buttons and knobs to turn on wind shield wipers. It used a certain anti grav tech that was not too dissimilar to the one installed on Glastonbury, though with with greater focus on forward velocity then omnidirectional movement.
Knowing how it worked meant knowing how to drive it. But fuck her, she wasn't going on their suicide mission. Pain in her ass. What she was going to do is make it all manageable for these lunatics to throw their own lives away. She rigged a system to take care of all the complex systems, leaving them only to worry about directing the things movement. Like rigging a classic to be automatic because no one drives stick anymore.
The truck came to a screeching halt, and the woman
◊ stepped out. Her lab coat was thrown over the passenger's seat. Still on the phone and looking over the plans, she took a moment to address the others.
"Are one of you assholes going to unload this crap in the back or not!?"
Million just smoked, completely ignoring the request. She couldn't possibly be asking him to due peasant work. The ninja girl showed off her manicured nails, not bothering to look up from her phone. She just had them done. Besides, she was ninja. Speed, skill, that sort of thing, not heavy lifting heavy machinery. Naomi came out of the trunk looking annoyed, now she looked outright pissed. She should just let these assholes all die.
Two of LB militia men not holding down the troopers finally answered the call. For good measure, the millionaire snapped his fingers and whistled like calling a dog.
"Miguel!"
Should the ghoul go to the back to help unload the device, he would find what needed unloading was a large box with a screen and some buttons and a joystick. An arcade cabinet with a picture
of some funny looking robot on the side.
As Lady stepped out, she paused a moment as she stared at the girl in surprise. She sure was not expecting to be greeted by a child. Of course, the dresss code, while a tad odd looking given the offical looking shirt, got little reaction from Lady, who was in no position to complain about exposed legs.
"Er, yes, I'm Lady." She said, too thrown off to question her. Then she was quickly led to the hanger. Naturally, Dresden was the first to comment, and reflexively, Lady snarked back.
"Well maybel I wanted it to be a surprise, Harry. Besides, you don't get to complain about not being told things when you're being all cagey and vague about how you knew so much about these Imperials."
She then turned and smiled at Sypha. "Good to see you again too." She shook her head at the offer of tea. "Sorry, not much of a tea person, and as much as I'd love to sit and catch up, we're on a timetable, so we'll have to do it on the shuttle. Come on guys, let's get moving."
As they started moving, Lady addressed a question to Sypha. "Ok level with me. Is this airfield really run by a bunch of kids? How the hell does that even work?"
The pilots had no ready response to the smokescreen, and most of them would like be cut down after being slowed and disoriented. Perhaps 1 would get out, but he would no doubt be easy pickings for the contractor.
Meanwhile, the AT-ST did not so much as turn toward the yelling woman, as the pilot could not hear her inside the mech. However, perhaps sensing the tide turning, it turned and attempted to flee in whatever direction hostiles were not at top speed, which....was not very high. It too would be easy pickings if they could time the destabilizing puddle right.
The amount of casualties were beginning to mount, as no less then 60% of the Imperial force had been killed or critically wounded. Holst snorted at hearing the enemy yell about capturing him, and reached for his ear.
"All remaining forces, rally on my position! Engineers, get those damned droids in there already! Move it!"
At this, what was left of the Imperial force rallied near the door they had used to enter the complex, Holst leading at the head as they returned fire at the enemy's elite forces, not without taking a couple more casualties. Meanwhile, one of the Dark Troopers took too much fire. A lucky blast managed to disable the already damaged dark trooper via a headshot, and it went down. The second, not bothering to take cover, would no doubt take a large amount of fire. As the power core was damaged, it determined self destruct to be the best option, and thus it would begin charging the enemy reinforcements, the cold blue armor starting to heat up and turn red as it prepared for a very violent explosion.
Mott nodded in approval as the recruit managed a fine showing, considering this was her first time holding a blaster. He ignored her question for a moment as he asked one of his own.
"BK-201, I am impressed. Many of our first time recruits struggle to consistently hit the target at 100 meters. Tell me, BK, you served in the military before? What sort of combat experience do you have?"
As Nora was yanked off of the jet trooper, he had no chance to slow himself, and slammed directly into the walker, jetpack exploding as he did so.
The tank driver ducked out of the way as the shrapnel was thrown at him. However, he did not even have time to scream as he was slashed by the claws, and unless he was specifically trying not to kill his target, the tank driver would likely be dead.
The office furniture, on the other hand, did absolutely nothing, and between everything else going on, no one seemed to notice it, and with all the action happening under the walker, no one was in range to be hit by it.
As the number of men dwindled to one, the bottom of the walker once again opened up, and no less then 8 ropes dropped, followed not a second later by 8 stormtroopers fast roping out of the walker. Of course, this action took both hands, and so for a second or two they would be open to attack.
Meanwhile, once Ren got about halfway up the walker doing his rebounding maneuver, he would suddenly be met with blaster fire coming from the still open bottom of the walker. It seemed a considerable number of Stormtroopers were sitting just inside of the walker, waiting in case someone tried to board them while it was open. While against a moving target, they would have their usual accuracy, the amount of fire was considerable, and something was bound to hit unless he took action.
Vampire Hunter
Sypha, Folkstone Hanger
"Yes... Apparently, witches are the only ones in the world this place comes from who can fight the Neuroi, which seeks to destroy humanity in that world," Sypha explained, not only to Lady, but to the others around her. "As such, there is no hatred between witches and humanity in that world or here... Magical power is shown respect and admiration."
"I did ask why there were not any older witches, but they consider that information confidential," Sypha continued. "I suspect that they follow a different set of rules given their reaction to Mr. Dresden."
Sypha let the implications of those two statements hang over the group.
Wizard Needs Food Badly
[Accidental double post]
edited 19th Nov '16 11:40:29 PM by Madrugada
[Accidental double post]
edited 19th Nov '16 11:40:29 PM by Madrugada
[Accidental double post]
edited 19th Nov '16 11:40:29 PM by Madrugada
Zzzzzzzzzz
Whoa. That's weird. Something is glitching. I only deleted the second one, but they're all three showing as the same post number, so they all deleted. Let me pass this to the tech guys. Holler again, please if it happens a gain. And I'm sorry about wiping all three.
...if you don’t love you’re dead, and if you do, they’ll kill you for it.
![[up]](https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/smiles/arrow_up.png "[up]"){kind=icon}
No worries.
"Hm, it's somewhere around an even one million dollars or so." The Dean said succinctly, waving his hand to melt the edges of the pieces of the coin cut in half just enough to restructure it into its previous design via rapidly cooling it down once more after the clean cut halves met each other. "There, good as new. Wouldn't want your reward to have a faulty piece, hm?~" Asking playfully, the old man with the gourd shaped head then gently pushed the lid of the chest back down to let common sense retake the two white-haired men before him. "The terms are that you get roughly five thousand dollars a day for simple guard duty and bonuses out of the hoard for repelling supernatural threats depending on their danger level, hm?"
The pigeon atop the ninja's finger let out a couple of long coos as if to affirm that yes, it was indeed real and that yes, this wasn't a trick. Ruffling of the wings and tilting of the head soon followed, beady little pigeon eyes staring at the human before it. "Ah, yes. Cellphones would work for our communications, de gozaru." Looking almost disappointed that the guest didn't choose the pigeon, Kaede simply gave a small shrug afterwards before taking out a small notepad and jotted down a few lines of numbers.
"Well, if you want someone that can get to you fast, then Negi Springfield is your go to person since his magic is based on wind and lightning, two of the faster elements out there. If you have enough money and want a problem taken care of discreetly, then call my rival, Mana Tatsumiya. If you want stealthy shenanigans then me and if you want to broker an alliance or ask for personnel transfer, the headmaster should suffice, de gozaru." Next to the names were a few doodles done in a cute chibi like manner, showing simplified versions of their faces.
Keeping silently as she gauged the man's reaction to his recollections and finding it agreeable, the girl gave a slight nod while staring out the windows with blank eyes. "...Sorry for your loss." The words were succinct but heartfelt, any loss of life being a rather sore thing for the martial artist who was used to being used to not having anyone actually die in the various destructive battles back home.
"If you want, I can try to beat up the guy into a pile of meat pulp and broken bones if I ever meet him for you." Youthful brashness reared its head, backed by supernatural ability honed through a decade of dangerous training and battles. Before long though, Kono had taken the initiatuve to point out. Peering towards the straightened finger, the girl's eyebrow rose up quite high at the sight of the behemoth structure in the distance. "Is that the Hell's Gate that's tacked onto your chunk's name? Gotta say, thing gives me a stupidly bad feeling..." Indeed, her instincts and ki sense was yelling out to her that whatever was nearby was a BAD THING.
Folkestone Air Base - Airstrip
"Well summed up, miss Belnades."
There was some commotion as Wing Commander Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke
entered the room, prompting soldiers and mechanics alike to stand at attention and salute.
"Welcome to Folkestone Air Base, ladies and gentlemen. I am Wing Commander Wilcke, commanding officer of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing and Folkestone. Please accept my apologies for not meeting you straight away, I was overseeing an engagement on the continent. I am pleased to report that the battle against the Galactic Empire in Mitakihara is proceeding well."
With a gesture of her hand, the mechanics and soldiers resumed their work and the Witches started picking up their Peace River weaponry and getting into Striker Units through the use of special platforms.
"I see you are already getting ready to depart, so I will not detain you for long. However, I would like to express my admiration for your courage and will to build an alliance against the Empire, to reach out hands towards friends and unknown parties alike to bring down this threat to us all. The Britannian poet William Butler Yeats wrote that a stranger is a friend you have yet to meet, and I am glad that this holds true even in these troubled times."
"First miss Belnades came here, volunteering to fight by our side through the invasion attempt, and for that she has our deepest gratitude and respect. Now she has been instrumental in creating this meeting. The resourceful and mysterious Lady, Sergeant First Class Delta Three-Eight of Delta Squad, Harry Dresden and the Fellowship of Magic and James Bond of Universal Exports, all gathered here on Folkestone."
It might have been just a trick of the light, but a small smile seemed to play on Minna's lips on the last name. Immediately aftewards, a soldier appeared by Bond's side with his suitcase of weaponry and a cup of coffee.
"There is little time, so I'll be short. This invasion has brought us together under duress, and we all fight for our own survival and for the safety of those we wish to protect. But in the prospect of victory, when this battle has been won, I would like to invite you all back here to consider a more permanent alliance. With your actions and dedication, you have shown great strength of character and ideals, and I would be honoured to work with you all in the future."
Shirley appeared at Minna's right shoulder with a Deployable Pack Gun in her arms and a pair of Striker Units on her back in a backpack configuration.
"But the time for that is not now. We will strike at the enemy's hive and bring it down from within. Flight Lieutenant Yeager will be boarding the shuttle with you, and an escort of Witches will be following you with the objective to help with the illusion of being a fleeing shuttle being chased back. That is all the help Folkestone can contribute at this time, but our thoughts will travel with you."
Join us in our quest to play all RPG video games! Moving on to disc 2 of Grandia!
Sev marched along with Asriel and Mao, trying to hurry along so that he wouldn't be catched by the Royal Guards and Undyne, as they would catch him and impede him from performing his mission. As they moved from the king's gardens and to the exit of the Underground, he could make out the imperial shuttle. He couldn't escape with these two, he had to make a plan. He closed his fist and went to a halt, saying to both of them to stop.
"Hold on. There might be hostiles and you're both unarmed. I shall check it out. You two stay near the cave unt-"
"Sev, listen to me soldier!"
Boss's voice rang out of his helmet radio communicator. Boss, fully making sure he would listen to him, amplified it so that others near Sev listen...and thus, Asriel and Mao could listen to Boss. "The Imperials are mind controlling you, but I know you, blast it all! You are better than this, I know you can resist their control chip! What would Walon Vau say to you if he saw you like this?! You are our brother, you are the fiercest hunter out of all of us! Fight it, da-"
Boss's voice was cut off by Sev ending the radio call with the interface of his helmet, before he immediately turned around to give Mao a swift and strong kick, punting him to the walls of the cave if not fast enough to dodge it. Not even bothering about Asriel, he immediately made a run for the shuttle, as he entered it and saw Vida, he spoke to her, his blaster rifle still trained on the entrance of the shuttle as to stop anybody attempting to board it.
"I'm the only one. We must leave now!"
"Blast...."
Sev cut him off from speaking to him, and not only that, but attempts to retry communication with him were a complete failure. Hopefully Asgore and his guards will be able to restrain him. Unmuffling his helmet, he, along with Scorch and Fixer listened to the Commander's speech, giving a small nod to the commander as she mentioned that she will send her flight lieutenant to aid them.
"We thank you for your aid and backup, Commander Wilcke. You can be sure that we'll end this threat swiftly."
"I'm starting to notice a weeirrddd pattern of the ladie's uniforms." Scorch quietly snarked in the background.
edited 20th Nov '16 5:14:50 PM by Darkomega245
Lucha Libre goddess
Teen titans—Common Room—Fashion statement.
"Nah" Beast boy replied at Aigis with his hands behind his back. We're the only weirdos that dress as superheroes."
The whole team looked at the green superhero as if he had transformed into a cockroach.
"Starfire is an alien princess," he cleaned his ear sheepishly with one finger. That's why she dresses so naked and weird,".
"What is this "weird" you speak of with they way I dress?" Starfire opened her eyes wide open.
"Hum... nothing!" Beast boy said while shaking her hands all around.
"Raven is a half demon, That's why she dresses so dark and creepy."
" What's that supposed to mean?" Raven frowned at Beast Boy. Visibly frowning at him.
" Cyborg is half robot. That's why he has a scary red eye."
"Bro what's wrong with you?" Cyborg complained with his arms closed.
"Oh and Robin and I were superheroes before forming this team. "
It was at this point that his friends were getting closer while frowning at him...
"Uhm... so what about you?" Beast boy scratched his head. "How is your world like?" He asked to Aigis while giving a nervous laugh.
Robin—Common Room—A hero no matter the name
"Paid?" Robin raised an eyebrow. He didn't have a good opinion about mercenaries like this hunters seemed to be.
"Heroes in my word usually do things for free." He stopped himself from being rude at the last second. After all not everyone has someone like Batman paying for them. " But it doesn't matter if you're called hunters or Stormhawks. As long as you fight evil you're superheroes in my book." He smiled to them.
He then addressed the present members of RWBY and the Stormhawks.
"My team is greeting our new robotic friend, Aigis. She seems nice." He pointed at the remaining Teen Titans ." Would you like to come and meet the rest of the team?" Robin gave them a confident smile, after inviting them.
"...or maybe later." He said as Yang and Blake left.
edited 20th Nov '16 7:23:12 PM by FallenLegend
Make your hearth shine through the darkest night; let it transform hate into kindness, evil into justice, and loneliness into love.
As the three drew closer to the exit, Asriel started to feel the cool breeze wafting in from outside. His worried state made room for a different kind of excitement; he was actually getting to go outside, and see the surface for the second time in his life. The first time had been marred by his best friend's disastrous plan, and this mad chase seemed like it would do the same. But if they caught Vida, and saved the Underground, maybe they could make something positive of it.
This thought was squashed, however, by the loud announcement from Boss. The desperate plea made mention of brainwashing, and Asriel's mind went into high alert. Then, as his feline friend got kicked into the wall, Asriel's mind itself was replaced with blind panic. Sev made for the shuttle- or rather, attempted to make for the shuttle -when Asriel threw up his hands and cried out "HOLD IT!"
All of a sudden, in rapid succession, little balls of flame burst to life in the air. The first appeared in front of Sev, while the rest materialised clockwise from there, surrounding Sev in a literal ring of fire. Asriel looked as surprised as anyone by this, but kept his stance firm and his expression stern. "Not another step!" he said, "Y-You try and get on that ship, and I'll set you alight! I mean it!" As he spoke, Asriel was finally joined by 03 and 04, who clattered to a halt on either side, gasped for breath, and assumed battle stances.
The Institute: Special Delivery!
The Femme Fatale, more than a little cross that someone was ignoring her, decided to turn her frustration on the panicking pilot who managed to break through the smokescreen trap. In the time it took the poor man to sprint a dozen steps, the speedster zoomed just to his left and tried to trip him. Assuming the Imperial fell, she would leap on his vulnerability and reach for his head with both hands, eager to snap his neck. If (by some miracle) the pilot escaped her trap, she'd have the opportunity to really have some fun with him. The Imperial would find himself bombarded by punches, slaps, kicks, and trips with only a sudden blur to warn him of where the blows would come from next.
The purple-eyed boy didn't look back to see if he could stop the last walker; he'd done his part, and returned to the relative safety of the portal. While Nishijima and the PANDORA militia weren't delighted by the boy's retreat, they hardly cared enough to act on it. This fight was as good as over.
Meanwhile, the wounded cloaking Contractor had an idea: because her original plan failed, she still had the pinned frag grenade at her disposal. From her cover, she has a flanking view of the little girl in a track suit—the force field-projecting Contractor who saved her life a minute ago.
"Hanna!" She calls to the girl, "trip it!"
The girl nods and activates her ability, creating a small dome about three feet high straight in the walker's path. If the pilots didn't change course, one of their legs would collide with a seemingly solid object that didn't exist a few moments ago; an object that wouldn't yield to the machine's force. With all its forward momentum leaning of one flimsy leg, the walker would have an uphill battle trying to stay upright.
If the machine fell, the cloaking Contractor would use her ability to limp, then hop over to the downed vehicle relatively unseen. The other Contractors would pool around the last walker as well, preparing to ambush the pilots if they tried to escape the cockpit. Only Luca "the Jedi" would stay where she was, keeping a rubber band to her Imperial prisoner while her comrades finished the job.
The cloaked Contractor would speak from beside the walker's "eyes," which were locked shut by a thin sheet of metal.
"Jai," the shimmery silhouette said to the telekinetic man, "rip off this flap."
With a small smile, the narrow-eyed man glowed blue to pull the viewpoint shield off its hinges. Then in quick succession, a pin was pulled, an pinecone-shaped object was tossed in the cockpit, and every Contractor surrounding the walker dashed or dove to a safe distance.
The Underground: From One Football Reference to Another...
Mao stopped when Asriel did, though he still kept himself in between the Prince and the clone. Before he could object, Sev's radio confirmed Mao's fears.
The cat looked behind him with a jolt. "Asriel, get out of here before—!"
Sev's heavy boot sent Mao flying through the air and into the corridor's wall. The Contractor fell to the ground with a thud, paralyzed by pain and struggling to remain conscious; a battle he would ultimately lose.
Death Star: Uhhh, Yeah. No Shit.
Havoc let her request slide for now, and reluctantly answered Mott's obvious and boring question. As she did so, Havoc kept herself busy by disassembling the stock and reloading the blaster rifle.
"Short answer's yes, sir. I was hired as a mercenary for a syndicate back on my home planet. Did mostly sabotage and assassination jobs—lots of black ops "lone wolf" shit—but I'd be lumped into a team from time to time. Wouldn't say I'm used to rank and file yet, but war's nothing new to me."
With her new weapon carefully managed and stowed away, Havoc turned her full attention to Mott.
"I've been told to fall in line, and since I'm not interested in making enemies here, that's what I'm going to do."
Genosha Streets: Guess We Missed the Meet and Greet?
The "military lady" stared at Jaune with a confused look on her face. "Uhhh, plenty and...strong enough to hold down a Sentinel."
Toad looked quizzically at his partner. "Really?"
"Theoretically!" she said with her hands up, "Never tried it before, and I don't plan on doing it now. And it wouldn't work if I couldn't bond all the webs anyway!"
She turned back to Jaune. "So short answer: depends on how much time I can play with. What do you need?"
The tank pilot would die in a few moments, but perhaps he'd live just long enough to see something peculiar about his killer's shoulder: the scorched flesh that was his by the blaster was beginning to heal itself.
The pilot's dying body was thrown to the ground as the hairy man turned his attention to the tank's insides, making sure there weren't more Imperials hiding inside, and brutally pummeling any if there were.
Ren would find that he had an ally to count on. After his brief reprise, the Mutant called Toad would be latching onto one descending stormtrooper's legs with an incredibly long tongue, and then either trying to tear the Imperial from the rope so he'd fall to his death, or otherwise reel himself into the air to strike the trooper on his ride down. Either way, Toad was trying to take full advantage of this vulnerability.
The rain of office furniture came to a halt, as the little Contractor above the battle realized his efforts were in vain. If there was anything big enough to damage the AT-AT, he certainly couldn't budge it on his own. Even if he could, that last assault coupled with his earlier traps had totaled to a remarkably high price; the boy grimaced as he pictured himself drinking steamed milk for the rest of the damn day.
So, completely out of energy and options, Maki plopped down on the floor to catch his breath.
edited 23rd Nov '16 11:39:08 AM by TheodoreHastings
Bridge Alpha
Mercifully, the arriving soldiers took quick control of the situation - the Strike Witches in the air might just be able to make out repeated firm calls of "Hands in the air!", "On your knees!", and other orders as the arriving soldiers started the task of securing the area, the occasional clicking of their own less-advanced ballistic rifles to drive home the point on who was in charge here. The few remaining able-bodied Stormtroopers would be corralled into small groups for crowd control and separation from the blasters that were thrown down; the locals would then proceed to remove helmets for identification and to check for any hidden weapons. Presumably, the aerial overwatch of those girls of mass destruction would suppress any chance of an escape attempt before their allies on the ground secured them all.
It would take a few minutes before one small group of soldiers, after seemingly surveying the situation, would spot Mio and the lead invite her squad to come down. Assuming at least one of them did, this one would greet them as proper (saluting first if it was Mio or another of superior rank): "Second Lieutenant Hideki Toshima, Japan Ground Self-Defense Forces. We moved in when we got word from Nishimi that you were stopping the advance and that their base in the industrial zone was neutralized. I’ve requested transports to get all of this back to base - POWs, equipment." He would stops for a moment to look at the destructive aftermath around them - damaged buildings, destroyed vehicles, even more rubble strewn everywhere than two days ago. "You girls did all this by yourself?" His words carried with them a hint of disbelief, though it was less of skepticism and more of "Jeez, this kind of power…"
Meanwhile, the last mysterious magic signature named Homura Akemi would move west to slip away from the scene altogether.
Small Park
For all the energy spent helping to stop the Imperial advance until the Americans arrived, Mami only seemed to take her rest once she had led the others to the playground, instantly unsummoning her Magical Girl outfit to return back to the casual clothes she had put on that morning. "Akemi-san and Sakura-san should be here soon. Are you all alright?" she asked, trying to both make sure none of her guests had gotten left behind (again) as well as strike up small talk to gauge how well they took going into an unexpected battle like this.
Folkstone Air Base - Imperial Shuttle
Not all of the shuttle’s passengers got off to greet the Folkestone personnel hosts. Especially not the white alien space ferret who hadn’t been invited in the first place. With Han and Chewbacca remaining at the controls, it was too risky for Kyubey to venture out of his hiding spot to try to get closer to the other passengers’ conversations - he’d have to make do with whatever parts of Minna’s speech that could echo inside and any other words that might get through.
Sev was stopped right in his tracks by Asriel, the magic fire surrounded him, he slowly turned around to face the trio stopping him from boarding the ship. While Sev would find shooting a child completely dishonorable and something he would never do, the control chip doesn't exactly give him much of a choice about it.
He immediately pulled his blaster rifle and started firing at the trio, trying to use this to attempt to break Asriel's concentration and free himself from the fire prison.
Did you know this section has a character limit?
Bond - Folkestone
A smile.
There were only two reasons for a beautiful woman to smile at you. Either they were interested in you... or you were in the deepest of shit.
Although the first was entirely possible, as Bond was... well, Bond, the second was seeming the most likely. She was looking to ally anyway, so that was covered.
There was the matter of Yeats' nationality, but that could wait until later. He didn't have time to explain the clusterfuck that was Northern Ireland.
Bond took the suitcase and the coffee, sipping it as he walked with the group towards the shuttle.
"In my experience, information like that is classified because it's a liability. Either something happens to adult witches that would turn their civilians or any allies against them, or something happens that would give their enemies an advantage."
As soon as he reached the shuttle, Bond placed the suitcase on one of the seats, and opened it to find a sticky-note on the inside of the flap, and an array more besides.
You may be out of range by the time you open the case, and I'd rather not take a trip to an orbital battlestation. In lieu of my usual briefing, I've attached notes to each item.
- Q
Bond chuckled, and took another sip of his coffee. They do have medals for almost, and they're called silver!
Lady shook her head as Sypha explained that apparently these witches that seemed to come from the 1920s fought aliens.
"You've got to be kidding me? They fight aliens?"
Then she went silent as the wing commander made her speech, which, she had to admit, was a good one. Nice and inspiring and uplifting. A bit of a frown reached her face as she said one of their own was going with them. Not because the wing commander said this without asking first, it'd be silly to assume they would not want to join the fight. But the girl was....a bit younger then she would have liked for this. Once done, she stepped forward, pulling out a business card.
"Well, I for one would be willing to discuss an alliance, sure. But like told the last guy I spoke to, I'm going to be very busy for a while, so don't know if I have the time to sit in on a conference. But you can feel free to call me if you need to get in touch with me."
Lady had to mentally check herself to prevent herself from mentioning a fee. Even she was not cold enough to charge teenagers.
"Anyway, time for us to go. Thanks for letting us use the airstrip, I appreciate it."
Lady would wait a moment to give the wing commander a chance to reply, then leave for the shuttle.
The attitude of the demonic duo slackened considerably as they were informed they were to be glorified guards.
"Look, no offence man, but that's not really a good gig for us." Dante said.
"We've got more then a few people we're in the middle of working with on some jobs, jobs that we can't do if we're stuck playing security here."
"Like-oh, we should mention that demon. Just to give you a heads up, buddy, there's a shapeshifting demon running around, absurdly powerful and an asshole. We're not sure what his motives are yet, but he can impersonate people perfectly, can shrug off multiple powerful attacks at the same time, and he somehow knows....things about people. Secrets and whatnot. You're gonna wanna keep an eye out.
The remaining attacks did their job, as the last walker exploded and the last non-captured pilot died.
Mott nodded, apparently satisfied with that. "Good. Now that you have your weapon, it's time for some armor. However...." He gave her a meaningful look as he mentally judged her height. "You're a bit....shorter then the usual recruit. I don't think we have a set of stormtrooper armor ready for your size. Thus, until we return and get you fitted for one, you'll have to make due with a cadet uniform." He said as he passed her a bundle of clothing
and pointed at a changing room. "Go get changed, then report back here."
The voice of the Cure would ring out in the heads of every chunk representative, save Negi.
"Attention Battleworld. Today has proven to be just as amusing as promised. Many of you have done well in repelling the Empire. But not all, and I am not without some small mercy. In but a few moments, I will be removing several lands that have taken severe enough damage that recovery will prove impossible, or who have lost their main leadership to the empire. However, all of this will prove meaningless if the Empire fires the main weapon of that station."
"I estimate you have about 2 hours left before it fires. And as I have said before, I believe in fair play. An alliance of several lands and landlesss groups is preparing to launch a raid on the station, and in a few moments, once they depart, I will allow each land and landless group not already a part of it to nominate a single representative to join them. Should you wish to take more, I recommend you seek alternate methods of travel."
"With that said, I am also bringing in a new land. Please welcome the people of Former Hell to the Battleworld"
With that said, the map altered, undergoing significant changes.
Those who find their land brought to the Battleworld will find that, in the course of their normal (or not so normal) day, they and everyone in their land had suddenly fell asleep. They would wake up to find themselves on the Battleworld, where anyone near a chunk border would note the clear changes to their surroundings. Whoever had been chosen as the chunk representative (this being the main character) would find a note in their hand.
Greetings. Right now, I am sure you have questions. What happened? Who is responsible for this? If you are outside or near a window, you may have already noticed the changes outside. Suffice it to say, you are no longer on your world. Now, you are in MY world. You are far from the only ones I have brought here, however. Should you wish answers, then you should enter the blue portal that now stands before you. All questions you have shall be addressed there.
As they finished the note, they would indeed find a blue portal had appeared in front of them, waiting to take them inside. Blank white walls stood on all sides of them, with only a giant round table in the center stopping it from looking like a white void. In the center of said table stood a rotating globe, with the map of the new world on it, each land clearly marked with the name of the land and the name of their chosen representative (That is, the one who received the note) under it. Above it, in gigantic letters, was the name of the world, Battleworld.
Around the table were chairs, some of which had names on the back. The leader would find a chair with their name on it, and other chairs would have names that matched the names on the globe. One chair, The Cure's giant black throne, stood away from the rest. In it sat a giant of a man, standing at about 20 feet tall, with blood red skin covering his body apart from bits that were covered in leather bindings. He turned to the newcomers with his pure black eyes, and smiled, revealing his rotting teeth. He raised his hand as the newcomer entered, and waved them over to them
edited 27th Nov '16 1:05:44 PM by Meanken
Molly, Folkestone, to boss
It was nice, feeling his determination. I smiled softly; this Boss man was reserved and quiet, but underneath I guess his team must have meant the world to him.
Especially here, where everyone and everything was so foreign. There was no more family to be found besides the people who stood by your side. It's all any of us had left anymore.
I swallowed. No Molly, don't go down that way. Not now, especially.
"Yeah", I shook my head and stood straighter. "We'll make it happen."
Boss moved off the side, and I let him go. I looked again at our destination, and it hit me all over again. The death star, destructor of civilizations, the hardest symbol of absolute, chilling apathy for life the star wars universe had ever thrown up. Within the hour, we were going to be on board that thing. How many people would I have to feel die before the mission over? I'd already felt enough for one day, but it was really just getting started.
A shiver of cold dread went down my spine, but I knew how to deal with that by now. I clenched my fists, breathed through my nose, and blocked out everything but my will.
I could die a few more times, what the hell. Maybe we'd even kill them all.
...Assuming we didn't all just die in transit, of course. That was always possible.
I changed my walking course back over to harry and the others. "Shuttle's inbound, right?"
Harry, to Lady, Folkestone
And I thought waiting for the tv store to show the star wars dvd collection was a bad wait. Let me tell you, standing there waiting for the shuttle that would take me to the death star itself brought a WHOLE new definition to the word. By the time the shuttle actually did touch down, my neck was practically on fire from all the rubbernecking.
I rubbed my hands as it slowly came to the ground. I had to remind myself that no, professional wizards don't squeal like little girls in public.
The ramp descended, and Lady was the first one out. She looked a little disheveled, but none the worse for wear. I guess she didn't carry around that rocket launcher for party games.
She looked in my direction, and I waved her over. When she got closer, I opened with what I'm pretty sure we were all thinking. "You know, you could have mentioned the pantless teenage girls."
"Your Sig is now charmingly out of date" — Vox, 7/6/2016