Alright. *Cracks Knuckles* Lets get this started then. *Starts timer*
Alchemist:
Name: Deegan Emric
Appearance: If he has hair it is impossible to see, has partially grafted a gas mask to his face after some of his own poisons almost killed him in an early experiment. Consumes only liquid food, lower body covered in self inflicted surgery scars.
History: Deegan is a foreign (he won't say from where) alchemist who spent a great deal of time experimenting on life. In the process, he developed a great affinity for toxins and acids. Due to the nature of his work, he found that he quickly lost test subjects and as such learned how to keep his subjects on the brink of death instead of killing them. Whenever he ran out of subjects, he would experiment on his own body, and in one of his more desperate moments after an experiment gone wrong, had someone reconstruct his entire digestive system to remove his need for solid food.
Inventory: Ruger Caster Revolver and Alchemist Robes.
General Skills:
Guns: 10
Melee: 5
Dodge: 40
Strength: 15
Agility: 30
Alchemical Skills:
Alchemical Reserves: 50
Alchemical Duration: 40
Alchemical Weapon Poisons: 30
Alchemical Weapon Acids: 30
Alchemical Armor: 10
Alchemical Transmutation: 10
Alchemical Medical: 30
You arrive just outside a giant white dome in the middle of a desert, a constant sand storm blocking your view of much else. Gun ports and observation posts poke out at random intervals, from huge cannons to small machine guns, outing this building as a military fort. You are quickly ushered in by the car's driver, who looks glad to be away from you.
The steel door quickly opens as you approach, the alchemical ruins carved into it glowing blue as it rises itself into the dome. You enter, immediately feeling a wave of cold go over you, a completely different from the harsh heat in the car and just one step outside the building. You find yourself in a guard post, with armed soldiers guarding a secondary door. In front of that door was a man dressed in an officers uniform, a slim and dark haired man who saluted politely as you entered. Next to him was a girl, a head shorter than the man with her similarly dark hair braided into a pony tail behind her. On both their sides was an M1911 pistol, cleaned to a shine.
"Hello. I am Officer Sung, commander of this outpost. This is my Alreona Henrietta. We have heard a lot about you and look forward to working with you in the future."
What do you do?
------------------
Name: Jack Cornelius
Backstory: Born in the cool fog-choked streets of South Hermeia, Jack spent the first twelve years of his life in the Fire District, apprenticed to the flamespinners who worked the nation's metal. Slight and dark-haired, he wasn't fit for the life of an alchemist, but was enthralled by the workings of their strange metallic vessels. Jack often roamed the streets, as was the custom of the city's youth, and it was her that, at ten, he first got his hands on a breaker. Breakers are a more-or-less common sight among the empire, resembling slabs of wood so much as anything. Hedge alchemists infuse them with a short-lived momentum-bestowing reagent, allowing a daring enough soul to take a short, speedy, and often bodily-harmful ride, the name coming from the device's origins in an attempt to break the sound barrier but coming to refer to the tendency for a collision to fracture the pilot's limbs. It was here that Jack gained his love and talent for speed and, later, his aim, with a suitable modification common around the area for more violent forms of amusement. At sixteen, frustrated by the confines of his job as a spinner's assistant, Jack resolved to join the Hermeian Defense Corps and eventually pilot one of the nation's war machines. After ten years of training and several favors, he finally sits behind the cockpit of the Magus Interceptor.
Inventory: Pilot Armor, Folding-stock Mauser
Pilot Stats:
Alchemechal Aiming: 35
Alchemechal Maneuvering: 35
Alchemechal Synchronization: 15
Alchemechal Mechanics: 10
Combat Skill: 5
Alchemech Skills: The skills of the machine you will pilot for the rest of your career. Factory manufacturing is impossible, each Alchemech is hand built by skilled alchemists, making each completely unique. As such, all of their statistics very from machine to machine. You get 200 points to spend between skills, and it is expected you have at least one point in all that are obviously vital.
Size: 15
Armor: 20
Weaponry (Quad Anti-Armor Fusion Cutters, Claw-Mounted): 35
Homunculus: 25
Maneuvering: 85
Special (Scrambler System): 20
Description: The Magus is small for an Alchemech, standing only ten to twelve feet in height when upright, with a light insectoid carapace of armor plating designed as more of an ablative than a true defensive measure and six appendages, each ending in a sharp four-pronged claw designed to scale sheer surfaces and pierce armor. The first two pairs of claws are somewhat lighter and feature an integrated fusion cutter system, the central pad of each housing a short-ranged half-flamethrower half-cutting beam which can cut lighter plating and soften heavier armor, designed specifically for dismantling other combat suits, while the lower limbs waive the tool in favor of additional hydraulics, allowing the mech to execute powerful leaps and maintain its bounding gait. The limbs are extremely flexible, able to turn without regard to orientation, reflecting the cockpit inset within the chest area, which is outfitted with a variety of stabilizers and gravitic dampeners allowing it a full range of motion with which to change facing and dampening the pilot from the effects of extreme maneuvers. The true strength of the Magus, however, is its mobility. The suit is outfitted with a set of afterburners, custom designed in contrast to the traditional focus on terrestrial movement, which allow for short aerial flights; the Magus can take a running leap, blast its way through the air at high speed, and impact a nearby piece of cover, then rapidly swing out and launch itself towards its target. Complementing this, the mech is fitted with an array of inertial dampeners, gyroscopes, and even a few enchantments to help it retain its maneuverability and avoid damaging itself during these flights. Not to be dismissed, however, is the inner alchemical workings of the Magus. As it skitters rapidly up the side of an Ostani Falcon, its custom-painted black plating edged with pink gleaming dully, its systems are in high gear. Shoulder-mounted on the right is an array of four counter-missiles, used to disrupt warhead tracking, and the Magus' interior is packed with reactive magics and electronic suites which serve to disrupt enemy systems, making the already-difficult task of tracking and firing on the craft even harder. Inside the cockpit, Jack sits, a glass of Trismegistan Fireswhiskey at his side, with the ship's Homunculus, nicknamed Merlin or, more informally, "Mister Wizard".
((Albertus Magnus? No. Magus not Magnus. Not the alchemist, the wizard title. ))
The Magnus comes to a dime stop as you carefully manipulate the many controls, allowing the massive steel drawbridge in front of you to slowly fall with the light of its own alchemecanics comparable to the sunrise behind it. It finally falls into place, a green light replacing the former colors, causing your mech to rush down across it at the speed of a horse, ignoring the massive pools of green acid below.
You arrived to the fortress in great time -even for your mech. There wasn't a path, but the fields you traversed to get here where simple to cross and you had clear weather the entire way. They probably where not expecting a new mech so soon, which would explain why all the massive hangers around the busy town seemed to be full with alchemists and other workers running around the cobblestone ground like ants on an anthill.
From the distance, a large mech of twice the normal size cautiously walks toward you, avoiding the people and vehicals of the street below. It was in the shape of a man wearing a suit of armor, with sharp and smooth corners forming at random intervals. It waved for you to stop with a smooth motion, before coming closer itself.
It stopped a good distance away, getting on its knees and bending down to the point the helmeted face was on the same level as your own mech. With a burst of light just as silver as the mech itself, the helmet opens like a plastic Easter egg, revealing the driver. She is a young woman in Alchemech armor with the standard Mauser PDW on her side, with straight blond hair falling just to her chin.
"So your the new guy? Hey, my name is Byssu, they asked me to show you around. Your early."
What do you do now?
------------------
Alchemist:
Name: Gilbert Greyheart
History: Gilbert had always been told stories of the great alchemist of yore and wanted to be a hero himself, however he was far less direct in his action than his words and choose to barely study the more direct forms of alchemical combat and instead focus on indirectly hindering the enemy. After graduating he immediately enlisted in the army and found that things weren't quite what he imagined.
General Skills: The generic human skills that everyone but Pilots have access to. You get 100 points to spend between them, for now at least.
Guns: 30
Melee: 0
Doge: 20
Strength: 10
Agility: 40
Alchemical Skills:
Alchemical Reserves: 40
Alchemical Duration: 20
Alchemical Weapon Lightning: 15
Alchemical Armor: 15
Alchemical Transmutation: 60
Alchemical Medical: 50
The car slides to a stop, hitting ice for the hundredth and last time for the trip. The ride up the mountain wasn't too bad, the alchemical tires kept you from flying off the edge of the high mountain from the massive amount of snow and ice, but it couldn't stop all of the cold and slipping. At least it kept you awake on the long drive up, the forest surrounding you might be scenic if they weren't buried under the snow. Everything looks the same under it, a blanket of white.
The tall castle walls next to you almost radiated heat, with no snow landing on the stone wall. It was a simple castle, with every brick marked with the proto-alchemy symbol for stone on the front. You noticed some having more complex symbols under them, no doubt reflecting their true alchemical makeup. Powerful alchemy is obviously going on here.
You look around for the door, and seeing none, you prepare to ask the driver what to do. Suddenly, a figure materializes from the wall like a ghost, standing just in front of you.
"Hey, new meat. Warm enough for you? Come on, lets go inside. We prepared lemonade and ice tea just for this occasion."
The man was tall, with lean muscles like an athlete's that could be seen even through his long overcoat. On his back was a massive shotgun, almost the size of the man holding it, hinting his status as a Purified. His face was covered by a long red scarf.
What do you do now?
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TIME! 52:20, including breaks and such. Not too bad. Not too bad. I can definitely handle a few more!
Author
Topic: Alchamech-AlchemyPunk RPG (Read 6853 times)