[[Sorry my bad, forgot to put them there give me one sec.]]
4
Clan (Jade Falcon) Occupation, (Role Playing Story) (Reboot)
Started by guardian wolf, Apr 02 2012 11:39 AM
229 replies to this topic
#121
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- The Merciless
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Posted 09 August 2012 - 06:19 AM
#122
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- Bridesmaid
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- LocationAdelaide, Australia
Posted 10 August 2012 - 11:58 PM
Little Morena Ranges, Barcelona
T, early afternoon sometime
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
Heather didn’t want to get up. She’d obviously drunk too much again last night; everything hurt. She wasn’t very comfortable, though. The harness was cutting into her shoulders, and the blanket seemed to have fallen off. She reached out to turn off the alarm, and was rewarded with a stab of pain through the tortured muscles.
Wait, harness?
She opened one eye a crack, the other stuck closed somehow, and struggled to focus. Light. Blue. Sky. Was that...the console of her ‘Mech? Memories surged back; she hadn’t been drinking, she’d been in a fight. Against a bandit. And she was still in her cockpit. The sound that she’d mistaken for an alarm clock was an actual warning alarm.
Heather looked around in panic, trying to see if her opponent was still there. The burnt skin on her neck stung as she craned to see. Not that there was much to see: the Enforcer had fallen on its left side behind a ridge, so the front window was mostly looking straight into dirt. The right side of the cockpit was open, a mess of steel, titanium and plastic that had melted, warped and solidified, leaving a gaping hole open to the Barcelona sky. She took a deep breath in, which immediately set her coughing and retching as burnt plastic fumes hit her lungs. Weakly, she waved an arm, trying to disperse the fumes.
“Command?” she coughed again, “This is Blacksmith, do you copy?” She glanced her eyes over the instruments as she tried again. “Command, do you read me? Anyone?”
The reactor console reported a disconnection error, though the fact that it could still report that suggested the ‘Mech still had some power. The gyro, some how, had survived without a scratch, which she was thankful for; getting the Furnace on its feet without the weight or leverage of its right arm would have been difficult. Structurally, most of the damage seemed to be confined to the head and the right arm. Her foe had certainly been a good shot. Though...it looked like the left arm had buckled slightly when the ‘Mech fell on it; the sensor for the large laser keep flickering between “online” and “destroyed”.
“Can anyone hear me? This is Blacksmith, I need evac and a support crew at Nav Pheta. Mantis and Fire Lady are down, my own ‘Mech is heavily damaged.”
As she awkwardly brought the Enforcer to its feet, she scanned over the secondary systems. The IR and light amp sensors were both destroyed, along with the mag anomaly sensor. The radar reported it was online and fully functional, but also seemed to think she was surrounded by targets. The battle computer was going nuts trying to identify them all, so she switched it off. If she had to engage, she’d have to target her sole small laser manually. The comms system...
Aw, h***. That was why Command wasn’t answering. The long-range transmitter, mounted on the left side of the head, must have been knocked out when she fell. The narrow-beam short range system was still operational, but she was on her own out here. Heather turned the ‘Mech in a gentle circle, checking by eye that the area was clear, then set off on a course back to Dosasa as fast as her wounded body could tolerate.
T, early afternoon sometime
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
Heather didn’t want to get up. She’d obviously drunk too much again last night; everything hurt. She wasn’t very comfortable, though. The harness was cutting into her shoulders, and the blanket seemed to have fallen off. She reached out to turn off the alarm, and was rewarded with a stab of pain through the tortured muscles.
Wait, harness?
She opened one eye a crack, the other stuck closed somehow, and struggled to focus. Light. Blue. Sky. Was that...the console of her ‘Mech? Memories surged back; she hadn’t been drinking, she’d been in a fight. Against a bandit. And she was still in her cockpit. The sound that she’d mistaken for an alarm clock was an actual warning alarm.
Heather looked around in panic, trying to see if her opponent was still there. The burnt skin on her neck stung as she craned to see. Not that there was much to see: the Enforcer had fallen on its left side behind a ridge, so the front window was mostly looking straight into dirt. The right side of the cockpit was open, a mess of steel, titanium and plastic that had melted, warped and solidified, leaving a gaping hole open to the Barcelona sky. She took a deep breath in, which immediately set her coughing and retching as burnt plastic fumes hit her lungs. Weakly, she waved an arm, trying to disperse the fumes.
“Command?” she coughed again, “This is Blacksmith, do you copy?” She glanced her eyes over the instruments as she tried again. “Command, do you read me? Anyone?”
The reactor console reported a disconnection error, though the fact that it could still report that suggested the ‘Mech still had some power. The gyro, some how, had survived without a scratch, which she was thankful for; getting the Furnace on its feet without the weight or leverage of its right arm would have been difficult. Structurally, most of the damage seemed to be confined to the head and the right arm. Her foe had certainly been a good shot. Though...it looked like the left arm had buckled slightly when the ‘Mech fell on it; the sensor for the large laser keep flickering between “online” and “destroyed”.
“Can anyone hear me? This is Blacksmith, I need evac and a support crew at Nav Pheta. Mantis and Fire Lady are down, my own ‘Mech is heavily damaged.”
As she awkwardly brought the Enforcer to its feet, she scanned over the secondary systems. The IR and light amp sensors were both destroyed, along with the mag anomaly sensor. The radar reported it was online and fully functional, but also seemed to think she was surrounded by targets. The battle computer was going nuts trying to identify them all, so she switched it off. If she had to engage, she’d have to target her sole small laser manually. The comms system...
Aw, h***. That was why Command wasn’t answering. The long-range transmitter, mounted on the left side of the head, must have been knocked out when she fell. The narrow-beam short range system was still operational, but she was on her own out here. Heather turned the ‘Mech in a gentle circle, checking by eye that the area was clear, then set off on a course back to Dosasa as fast as her wounded body could tolerate.
#123
Posted 11 August 2012 - 01:22 PM
The Castle
Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1255
"Look A-hole's, I'msa telling ya, Draco knows me's! I was der with hims on Verfaren, kicking da Dalian Guards a$$es all over da place!! Call it in, he'lls vouch for me!!" Thom stood wet and miserable before the raised drawbridge of the castle shouting up at a kevlar/ceramic composite body armored sentry.
Thom was by no means a mental giant, but even as dimwitted as he was he'd noticed the changes of the Castle. Whereas before there were only two light mechs on patrol on the fortress' ramparts there were now several, with more infantry standing posts and with a combat air patrol flying in lazy circles in the storm filled sky above them all. Something big was happening, he wasn't sure what, but something had stirred up the Dragoon's hornet nest. Thom looked nervously over his shoulder to make sure there was no army behind him, he was releived when he didn't see one.
"Yo, S**thead! Hey I's a don't knows what's going on, but I'ms a thinking yous could use some helps. I's got my mech back at da dropship," Thom pointed at the 30 story Union Class out on the tarmac in the distance then went back to standing whit his hands on his hips. "You's gonnas call it in?"
Thom smiled as the figure up on the wall began speaking into his throat mounted mic.
Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1255
"Look A-hole's, I'msa telling ya, Draco knows me's! I was der with hims on Verfaren, kicking da Dalian Guards a$$es all over da place!! Call it in, he'lls vouch for me!!" Thom stood wet and miserable before the raised drawbridge of the castle shouting up at a kevlar/ceramic composite body armored sentry.
Thom was by no means a mental giant, but even as dimwitted as he was he'd noticed the changes of the Castle. Whereas before there were only two light mechs on patrol on the fortress' ramparts there were now several, with more infantry standing posts and with a combat air patrol flying in lazy circles in the storm filled sky above them all. Something big was happening, he wasn't sure what, but something had stirred up the Dragoon's hornet nest. Thom looked nervously over his shoulder to make sure there was no army behind him, he was releived when he didn't see one.
"Yo, S**thead! Hey I's a don't knows what's going on, but I'ms a thinking yous could use some helps. I's got my mech back at da dropship," Thom pointed at the 30 story Union Class out on the tarmac in the distance then went back to standing whit his hands on his hips. "You's gonnas call it in?"
Thom smiled as the figure up on the wall began speaking into his throat mounted mic.
Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 25 August 2012 - 10:40 PM.
#124
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- The Merciless
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Posted 11 August 2012 - 03:05 PM
(Thom I am going to let you pick if your mech is on site, or you get to choose one from my armory, but let me tell you, it is quite light.)
Barcelona
En route to Lyran Command Post at main gate, Dosasa
T 12:55
Draco heard his communicator ring, and he answered, hearing Johnson's voice.
"Sir, we have one Thom Frankfurt at the gate demanding us to let him in, he says he knows you from the Dalian engaement,"
Chris anserwed immediately and forcefully, he was on edge.
"Get him inside and battle ready now! If he does not have his mech with him, or on site, get him into one of the others as a temporary replacement,"
"Sir, I-"
"Just do it Johnson, we need to be ready at a moment's notice,"
"Yes sir,"
Draco sighed, as they were stopped at the checkpoint. The Lyrans checked their credentials,and called it in to their senior officers.
"What is your business here sir?"
"I need to speak with the commanding officer in charge of your operations now, I have valuable intel on our new enemies, and we need to plan for our defense,"
"Right this way sir,"
Draco got out of the Humvee, and followed the MP into the building. Connors stayed with the Humvee, manning the mounted machine gunners position outside of the building. Both were expecting trouble, and the MPs at the gate were happy to have the extra firepower.
Barcelona
En route to Lyran Command Post at main gate, Dosasa
T 12:55
Draco heard his communicator ring, and he answered, hearing Johnson's voice.
"Sir, we have one Thom Frankfurt at the gate demanding us to let him in, he says he knows you from the Dalian engaement,"
Chris anserwed immediately and forcefully, he was on edge.
"Get him inside and battle ready now! If he does not have his mech with him, or on site, get him into one of the others as a temporary replacement,"
"Sir, I-"
"Just do it Johnson, we need to be ready at a moment's notice,"
"Yes sir,"
Draco sighed, as they were stopped at the checkpoint. The Lyrans checked their credentials,and called it in to their senior officers.
"What is your business here sir?"
"I need to speak with the commanding officer in charge of your operations now, I have valuable intel on our new enemies, and we need to plan for our defense,"
"Right this way sir,"
Draco got out of the Humvee, and followed the MP into the building. Connors stayed with the Humvee, manning the mounted machine gunners position outside of the building. Both were expecting trouble, and the MPs at the gate were happy to have the extra firepower.
Edited by guardian wolf, 11 August 2012 - 03:06 PM.
#125
Posted 11 August 2012 - 03:27 PM
[Swampthing is back aboard the dropship. Thom was gonna bug ya to see if he could stow his stuff at the Castle, but everythings gone down. He'll most likely bug for a ride/auto to get back to the ship and get mounted up in his own mech. Waiting for your call on if they'd let him/give him a ride to go pick the BJ-3 up.]
The Castle
Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1256
The drawbridge slowly began to decend, revealing a courtyard lined with filed and ranked infantrymen and techs scrambling about. From the mass of men, one ran out to stand before the young Warlockian mechwarrior.
"We got word from the Commander, he says he needs you combat ready, we have a lightmech ready for you if-" Thom cut him off there. "Whoa! what?" his mind raced at the implications of needing to be combat ready right then. "I's got my mech back at da dropship," he stuck his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the spaceport. "anyways I's can get a ride?"
The Castle
Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1256
The drawbridge slowly began to decend, revealing a courtyard lined with filed and ranked infantrymen and techs scrambling about. From the mass of men, one ran out to stand before the young Warlockian mechwarrior.
"We got word from the Commander, he says he needs you combat ready, we have a lightmech ready for you if-" Thom cut him off there. "Whoa! what?" his mind raced at the implications of needing to be combat ready right then. "I's got my mech back at da dropship," he stuck his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the spaceport. "anyways I's can get a ride?"
#126
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- The Merciless
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Posted 11 August 2012 - 03:39 PM
[[I'll let the dice decide, and.... well I got got seven, so, Johnson will have you hitch a ride in another Humvee and escort you to the dropship. Feel free to RP this from your point of view as Draco has no verdict over it.]]
#127
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- Knight Errant
- 346 posts
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- LocationYour Left Flank
Posted 11 August 2012 - 07:36 PM
Barcelona, 17th Skye Ranger Base
T, 1310 hours
“Alright, Sword Lance. Time to get serious.”
The voice of Brennan’s lance leader rumbled over the comms.
“Command is sending us out to reinforce Hammer Lance, who is already moving to position. Our job will be to intercept any enemy that touches down.”
And pound 'im to rubble.
Brennan adjusted his helmet and looked to his dashboard. A leprechaun bobble head grinned menacingly back at him—one of the many gifts Clare had sent to him.
“Sword Lance, give a Ready Report!”
Brennan spoke first. “Estoc reports ready op.” His Atlas AS7-D stood in front, primed and ready.
“Flamberge. Ready op.”
Stuart Taranian, callsign Flamberge, stood behind Brennan in a Banshee BNC-3S.
“Claymore is ready op!”
Bjarte MacCambridge, callsign Claymore, brought up the rear in a Zeus ZEU-6S.
After a brief pause to confer with his superiors, their lance leader returned.
“Gentlemen,”
Jerry Hanif, callsign Rapier, led from his Stalker STK-3F at the center of the formation.
"...it’s time to go hunting."
Brennan took a final look at the bobble head, mumbled to himself, and throttled up.
T, 1310 hours
“Alright, Sword Lance. Time to get serious.”
The voice of Brennan’s lance leader rumbled over the comms.
“Command is sending us out to reinforce Hammer Lance, who is already moving to position. Our job will be to intercept any enemy that touches down.”
And pound 'im to rubble.
Brennan adjusted his helmet and looked to his dashboard. A leprechaun bobble head grinned menacingly back at him—one of the many gifts Clare had sent to him.
“Sword Lance, give a Ready Report!”
Brennan spoke first. “Estoc reports ready op.” His Atlas AS7-D stood in front, primed and ready.
“Flamberge. Ready op.”
Stuart Taranian, callsign Flamberge, stood behind Brennan in a Banshee BNC-3S.
“Claymore is ready op!”
Bjarte MacCambridge, callsign Claymore, brought up the rear in a Zeus ZEU-6S.
After a brief pause to confer with his superiors, their lance leader returned.
“Gentlemen,”
Jerry Hanif, callsign Rapier, led from his Stalker STK-3F at the center of the formation.
"...it’s time to go hunting."
Brennan took a final look at the bobble head, mumbled to himself, and throttled up.
#128
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- Legendary Founder
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- LocationOn the dim edges of the map labelled only: Here be Urbanmechs.
Posted 11 August 2012 - 07:44 PM
[[Not to give out, but what just happened o.O]]
#129
Posted 11 August 2012 - 07:50 PM
The Castle
Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1258
The infantrymen; a Sargent, by the name of Johnson, talked into his throat mounted mic. After a few seconds the man nodded and said 'Yes sir!' Johnson then looked Thom in the eye, "Alright buddy, I will escort you to your mech. Follow me." With that the man led Frankfurt into the Castle. Looking about, Thom took in the sight of the armed camp. The mechs walking about the ramparts were all long ranged designs, Riflemen, Jagermechs, Archers and Crusaders, two apiece, with a Catapult added into the mix. A buttload of infantry stood ready to mount up in a lance of APCs while nearby another lance of armor, various designs idled ready for the order to charge out of the fortress. Following the man through the vehicles, towards the motorpool, Thom was aware of the curious looks he was getting from the infantrymen as well as the vehicle crews. He paid them no mind, he was wondering what it was that got the Dragoon's riled up like this.
"Here we are." The trooper said as he came to a stop by a hover jeep idiling nearby. He then mounted up and Thom followed suit, thankful that the hover vehicle had a roof, even if it was canvas. Thom barely took his seat when the Dragoon gunned it and the jeep shot off on a cushion of air. Through the streets that Thom had just traversed the jeeps zoomed, past shops, curious civilians, and slower traffic.
"WHAT HAPPENED?" Thom turned to look at the reckless driver and began to shout at him to be heard over the roar of the hover engines.
"DRACO WILL INFORM YOU WHEN YOUR MOUNTED UP!!"
The mechwarrior then sat back in the seat as his mind raced over the possible scenarios that came to mind.
5th Successon War? Terrorist attack, Planetary raid...
Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1258
The infantrymen; a Sargent, by the name of Johnson, talked into his throat mounted mic. After a few seconds the man nodded and said 'Yes sir!' Johnson then looked Thom in the eye, "Alright buddy, I will escort you to your mech. Follow me." With that the man led Frankfurt into the Castle. Looking about, Thom took in the sight of the armed camp. The mechs walking about the ramparts were all long ranged designs, Riflemen, Jagermechs, Archers and Crusaders, two apiece, with a Catapult added into the mix. A buttload of infantry stood ready to mount up in a lance of APCs while nearby another lance of armor, various designs idled ready for the order to charge out of the fortress. Following the man through the vehicles, towards the motorpool, Thom was aware of the curious looks he was getting from the infantrymen as well as the vehicle crews. He paid them no mind, he was wondering what it was that got the Dragoon's riled up like this.
"Here we are." The trooper said as he came to a stop by a hover jeep idiling nearby. He then mounted up and Thom followed suit, thankful that the hover vehicle had a roof, even if it was canvas. Thom barely took his seat when the Dragoon gunned it and the jeep shot off on a cushion of air. Through the streets that Thom had just traversed the jeeps zoomed, past shops, curious civilians, and slower traffic.
"WHAT HAPPENED?" Thom turned to look at the reckless driver and began to shout at him to be heard over the roar of the hover engines.
"DRACO WILL INFORM YOU WHEN YOUR MOUNTED UP!!"
The mechwarrior then sat back in the seat as his mind raced over the possible scenarios that came to mind.
5th Successon War? Terrorist attack, Planetary raid...
#130
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- The Merciless
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Posted 14 August 2012 - 07:21 PM
[[Sorry about long wait guys, have a major post coming up.]]
#131
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- Legendary Founder
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- LocationOn the dim edges of the map labelled only: Here be Urbanmechs.
Posted 14 August 2012 - 07:55 PM
[[Please run it by us in the GM chat first - your major posts tend to throw in a dozen or so monkey wrenches I hadn't even begun to factor in 
]]
]]
#132
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- The Merciless
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- LocationOn Barcelona where the crap is about to hit the fan.
Posted 15 August 2012 - 02:15 PM
[[Will do, I think you will like it.]]
#133
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- Knight Errant
- 346 posts
Member
- LocationYour Left Flank
Posted 15 August 2012 - 07:21 PM
[[GM chat?]]
#134
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- The Merciless
- 1,965 posts
Member
- LocationOn Barcelona where the crap is about to hit the fan.
Posted 16 August 2012 - 06:37 AM
[[It is where Rogue, Sloth and I, all plan out plot, and different things.]]
#135
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- Knight Errant
- 346 posts
Member
- LocationYour Left Flank
Posted 16 August 2012 - 05:48 PM
[[But of course.]]
#136
Posted 18 August 2012 - 10:21 PM
[[you guys have been quiet for quite some time now... Should I be worried? Oh yeah and once again apologies for horrible spelling and grammar. Oh and if possible could I request that the OpFor have a Dasher?]]
De'larouse Spaceport
Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1315
Crash.
With a protest of metal the hover jeep rammed through the simple hurricane fence's gate marking the boundaries of the spaceport and sped off towards the thirty story golfball shaped dropship, Achilles' Pride. Trailing a good length of fence along with a speeding spaceport security patrol car, the black and red hover vehicle raced across the spaceport's tarmac. Thom looked through the plexiglass rear window at the blue and white security car chuckling. Things must definetely be f**ked if the Dragoon's were this desperate to get Thom mounted up in Swampthing, despite that, illegally breaking onto a spaceport was now something the thuggish young Warlockian mechwarrior could now scratch off his bucketlist.
[had fun typing that.]
Two more of the partol cars joined the first to chase after the Dragoon jeep as it screeched to a halt before the Unionclass dropship. Thom threw the door open and dismounted. Turning back he grabbed his pack and looked at the infantryman at the wheel.
"TANKS BUDDY!" Thom shouted over the schreek of the jeep's hover drives and with that he turned to run up the metalic ramp towards the dropship's massive mechbays as Johnson sped off with the cars chasing after him. Thom bumped into several of the Pride's workers along with his cousin Markus who stopped him.
"Cuz what's going on?! We heard the 'port police on the radio... something about a Dragoon breaking onto the port." The broadshouldered tech crossed his arms over his barrel chest in a 'I want an answer now.' pose. Thom then looked down the ramp as another car skidded to a halt at the base of the dropships ramp.
"Looks' I's a don't know. But da Dragoon's need help. They need's me in da 'thing." He stampered out a hastely answer as two fat security guards rolled out of the patrol car and began huffing and puffing up the ramp.
"Oh s**t. Get mounted up, we'll stall these piggies..." Markus added matter of factly to all present.
------------------------------------------------------
Moments later Thom was suited up in the 45 ton BJ-3 Blackjack known as Swampthing, looking out the ferroglass canopy as Markus' click of techs gave the two fat securty guards a hard time. Things looked to be getting serious though, for his cousin wandered over to his work station and came back with an ancient looking combat shotgun. The tech then racked it ending the argument.
Voice pattern match initiated. Swampthing demanded.
"My's love ran down her's leg, and den she wasa gone."
Voice pattern match complete. Welcome back Thom.
Reactor online, life support online, sensors online, weapons online, all systems nominal.
Smiling Thom flipped the switch triggering his extermal speakers.
"Yo. I's a don't know's whats goning on, but da Dragoon's are's freaking out. Der on full alert, like der's about to be an attack. So getcha rent-a-cop a$$es out of here's and let da pros do der job."
With that Swampthing then began lumbering it's way out of the bay, mindfull of not stepping on any of the squishy humans, but not having and qualms about stomping down upon the security car.
"Oopsies, my bad." The funky accent spoke again over the external speakers.
One more thing to cross of the bucketlist....
De'larouse Spaceport
Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1315
Crash.
With a protest of metal the hover jeep rammed through the simple hurricane fence's gate marking the boundaries of the spaceport and sped off towards the thirty story golfball shaped dropship, Achilles' Pride. Trailing a good length of fence along with a speeding spaceport security patrol car, the black and red hover vehicle raced across the spaceport's tarmac. Thom looked through the plexiglass rear window at the blue and white security car chuckling. Things must definetely be f**ked if the Dragoon's were this desperate to get Thom mounted up in Swampthing, despite that, illegally breaking onto a spaceport was now something the thuggish young Warlockian mechwarrior could now scratch off his bucketlist.
[had fun typing that.]
Two more of the partol cars joined the first to chase after the Dragoon jeep as it screeched to a halt before the Unionclass dropship. Thom threw the door open and dismounted. Turning back he grabbed his pack and looked at the infantryman at the wheel.
"TANKS BUDDY!" Thom shouted over the schreek of the jeep's hover drives and with that he turned to run up the metalic ramp towards the dropship's massive mechbays as Johnson sped off with the cars chasing after him. Thom bumped into several of the Pride's workers along with his cousin Markus who stopped him.
"Cuz what's going on?! We heard the 'port police on the radio... something about a Dragoon breaking onto the port." The broadshouldered tech crossed his arms over his barrel chest in a 'I want an answer now.' pose. Thom then looked down the ramp as another car skidded to a halt at the base of the dropships ramp.
"Looks' I's a don't know. But da Dragoon's need help. They need's me in da 'thing." He stampered out a hastely answer as two fat security guards rolled out of the patrol car and began huffing and puffing up the ramp.
"Oh s**t. Get mounted up, we'll stall these piggies..." Markus added matter of factly to all present.
------------------------------------------------------
Moments later Thom was suited up in the 45 ton BJ-3 Blackjack known as Swampthing, looking out the ferroglass canopy as Markus' click of techs gave the two fat securty guards a hard time. Things looked to be getting serious though, for his cousin wandered over to his work station and came back with an ancient looking combat shotgun. The tech then racked it ending the argument.
Voice pattern match initiated. Swampthing demanded.
"My's love ran down her's leg, and den she wasa gone."
Voice pattern match complete. Welcome back Thom.
Reactor online, life support online, sensors online, weapons online, all systems nominal.
Smiling Thom flipped the switch triggering his extermal speakers.
"Yo. I's a don't know's whats goning on, but da Dragoon's are's freaking out. Der on full alert, like der's about to be an attack. So getcha rent-a-cop a$$es out of here's and let da pros do der job."
With that Swampthing then began lumbering it's way out of the bay, mindfull of not stepping on any of the squishy humans, but not having and qualms about stomping down upon the security car.
"Oopsies, my bad." The funky accent spoke again over the external speakers.
One more thing to cross of the bucketlist....
Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 20 August 2012 - 04:28 AM.
#137
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- The Merciless
- 1,965 posts
Member
- LocationOn Barcelona where the crap is about to hit the fan.
Posted 19 August 2012 - 11:03 AM
[[We are discussing key plot elements, that is why we have been quiet, had to redo my post several times now, and still just not quite right.]]
#138
Posted 20 August 2012 - 05:00 PM
De'larouse Spaceport
Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1325
"Yo Draco. Do you's acopy..." Thom thought hard what was that channel that Draco used back on Verfaren? 7? 17?
Funk it.
Thom disengaged his encryption filter on his communication system then began talking to anyone monitoring any of the communication frequencies.
"Yo. Dis here is a 'Bad Luck' Thom Frankfurt, coming to you's from da Swampthing. Der any Dragoon's or firendlies out der? Is dis thing even on?" he tapped his mic impatiently while waiting for a response.
Thom brought Swampthing to a stop by the hole that the Dragoon drove through the fence and waited, for what he had no idea.
Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1325
"Yo Draco. Do you's acopy..." Thom thought hard what was that channel that Draco used back on Verfaren? 7? 17?
Funk it.
Thom disengaged his encryption filter on his communication system then began talking to anyone monitoring any of the communication frequencies.
"Yo. Dis here is a 'Bad Luck' Thom Frankfurt, coming to you's from da Swampthing. Der any Dragoon's or firendlies out der? Is dis thing even on?" he tapped his mic impatiently while waiting for a response.
Thom brought Swampthing to a stop by the hole that the Dragoon drove through the fence and waited, for what he had no idea.
Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 21 August 2012 - 06:48 PM.
#139
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- Bridesmaid
- 2,953 posts
Member
- LocationAdelaide, Australia
Posted 21 August 2012 - 12:36 AM
East of Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1325
Heather couldn’t stop shivering. A block of cold seemed to have taken rest right in the middle of her. She was seriously thinking about just lying back and waiting for the arena’s medical team to pull her out. The open hole in the side of the cockpit wasn’t helping, though at least it looked nice and sunny out there. Nice day for a match. She considered firing her main weapons into the ground, just to bring a bit more heat back to the cockpit.
She blinked her eyes a few times, trying to focus. The weapons were gone, shot off by that scout ‘Mech from h*ll. The one she needed to warn people about. The cold was probably just shock. She could get past it. She just had to reach Dosasa.
“Yo. Dis he****pft****pop****Frankfurt, coming to you's ****pssf****popst****ing. Der any Drag****fshsp****endlies out der? Is ****shshsh****”
Heather stared in surprise at the radio. DeMarkus? What on earth was he doing out here? How did he know where she was so he could come to her? She forced herself to calm down. It was probably just the shock, and she’d imagined it, or misheard, or something.
Still...
She pounded the transmit button, clutching the comms console like it was only thing keeping her afloat. “DeMarkus? It’s Heather. I’m about an hour east of Dosasa. I’ve been shot up pretty bad - some kind of lostech scout. I need help, and probably a medevac.”
T-1325
Heather couldn’t stop shivering. A block of cold seemed to have taken rest right in the middle of her. She was seriously thinking about just lying back and waiting for the arena’s medical team to pull her out. The open hole in the side of the cockpit wasn’t helping, though at least it looked nice and sunny out there. Nice day for a match. She considered firing her main weapons into the ground, just to bring a bit more heat back to the cockpit.
She blinked her eyes a few times, trying to focus. The weapons were gone, shot off by that scout ‘Mech from h*ll. The one she needed to warn people about. The cold was probably just shock. She could get past it. She just had to reach Dosasa.
“Yo. Dis he****pft****pop****Frankfurt, coming to you's ****pssf****popst****ing. Der any Drag****fshsp****endlies out der? Is ****shshsh****”
Heather stared in surprise at the radio. DeMarkus? What on earth was he doing out here? How did he know where she was so he could come to her? She forced herself to calm down. It was probably just the shock, and she’d imagined it, or misheard, or something.
Still...
She pounded the transmit button, clutching the comms console like it was only thing keeping her afloat. “DeMarkus? It’s Heather. I’m about an hour east of Dosasa. I’ve been shot up pretty bad - some kind of lostech scout. I need help, and probably a medevac.”
Edited by Sparks Murphey, 21 August 2012 - 12:40 AM.
#140
Posted 22 August 2012 - 06:10 PM
De'larouse Spaceport
Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1326
The voice was tiny and weak. A meek whisper that Thom had to adjust the grain on his com system to hear, even then he had to strain his ears. But the message was clear.
“DeMarkus? It’s Heather. I’m about an hour east of Dosasa. I’ve been shot up pretty bad - some kind of lostech scout. I need help, and probably a medevac.”
Heather? Just who in the Blue Blazes is Heather?.... Did I really just think Blue Blazes? Whoever she is, she knows Dad. This could win me some points with the Old-Timer....
"On my's way, Heather. I'lls tries to hail some medevac. Sit tights, an don't die." Thom grumbled into his mic while trying to remember his two week stay at the old man's place on Solaris. But all his memories about his time on the GameWorld was obscured by a thick drunken drugged induced fog. Shrugging away his regrets, Thom switched his communication system over to all the frequencies usually monitored by police, military, and other emergency response organizations.
"Hey yo! Dis here is Thom Frankfurt. Der is a's wounded pilot about an hours to da East outside ofs Dosasa, requesting assistance."
With that he throttled Swampthing up to maximum speed and begain thundering off towards the East.
Dosasa, Barcelona
T-1326
The voice was tiny and weak. A meek whisper that Thom had to adjust the grain on his com system to hear, even then he had to strain his ears. But the message was clear.
“DeMarkus? It’s Heather. I’m about an hour east of Dosasa. I’ve been shot up pretty bad - some kind of lostech scout. I need help, and probably a medevac.”
Heather? Just who in the Blue Blazes is Heather?.... Did I really just think Blue Blazes? Whoever she is, she knows Dad. This could win me some points with the Old-Timer....
"On my's way, Heather. I'lls tries to hail some medevac. Sit tights, an don't die." Thom grumbled into his mic while trying to remember his two week stay at the old man's place on Solaris. But all his memories about his time on the GameWorld was obscured by a thick drunken drugged induced fog. Shrugging away his regrets, Thom switched his communication system over to all the frequencies usually monitored by police, military, and other emergency response organizations.
"Hey yo! Dis here is Thom Frankfurt. Der is a's wounded pilot about an hours to da East outside ofs Dosasa, requesting assistance."
With that he throttled Swampthing up to maximum speed and begain thundering off towards the East.
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