Slip the Chestplate on, it's better then nothing and shouldn't be too hard to move in.
"Now we're talking."
22 d0, COMP 6.
f1, COMP 2
Armor equipped.
[COMP: 9/3] You summon another silvery sabre with a surface of shifting metal that looks like liquid.
[COMP: 1] Welp, first crit-fail since their update. Congratulations, I guess. You feel like something terrible just happened. You don't know what though.
James was silent for a moment, as he processed what he just saw.
"AHA! They regenerate from their heads!"
James pulls forth his bound fire axe and uses it to smash one of the wolves' heads in.
In future, please also specify a defensive action, because there are cases where trying to dodge is far worse than trying to block, and vice versa. Plus we have no idea which direction you'd dodge in.
[MDEF vs. LTAR: 4 vs. 1, 3] You juke and sidestep towards the entrance, the lunging wolves sailing to your side.
[LTAR vs. SDEF: 3 vs. 0] You swing, your axe manifesting in your hand, the head catching the nearest wolf right in the jaw. There's a hard impact, your wrist jostled by the collision, but far less than you'd expect. Instead, with a horrible grinding screech, it cleaves straight through the wolf, its bisected body fracturing from the blow, and shattering as it crashes to the ground.
Two down. Two left.
Your back is now against the door. One wolf to your left, the other just entering the room from the right. That, and whatever awaits you deeper in the facility, there's still much work left to be done.
"Looks like I'm the Ladlemonger for good. It's quite amazing what a simple joke can turn into, right? Not that I'm complaining. Well then, I guess I should start getting into character."
The Ladlemonger takes a quick look at the brochures, before coming to a decision.
"We shall help the NEE and System League soldiers on the 4th floor, Jus. If we get lucky, we might end up coming in contact with that AI you mentioned a while ago too."
"Actually, no. Nevermind that. I have a weird feeling that something or someone is calling me. If I were to explain this feeling, I'd say it's grossly incandescent."
+5 to COMP, +3 to UTAR, +2 to MDEF.
Psychiatrist's Psychoses Broken Heaven it is. Will myself there. Before that though - try "12 84". If it's armor and doesn't look like it might kill me, try putting it on. If it's not armor and is interesting in some other way, take it.
[COMP: 6/6] You conjure a black chest plate formed of bleached bones covered in a cohesive mass of what appears to be crude oil, burning green runes rippling across its surface. Well, no discharge is emerging from your chest, so it's probably safe. Possibly flammable, but safe.
You focus on the Broken Heaven brochure and it flies out of your hands, falling onto the floor. A droplet of water falls down, setting ripples against it, and the floor around it were but a reflection. You look up and see that it is indeed a reflection, an image in a puddle. You're back, back on Floor 3. A storm rages in the distance, its edge mere meters away. Four soldiers, clad in rain-slicked exoskeletons march over to an armored truck awaiting them. One of them notices you, quickly spinning around, assault rifle trained on you.
"Who the hell are you?""Jus, you know any shortcuts? Or a quick escape route? You know, just in case."
Cut through the office building and continue advancing further in, cutting through buildings if it will cut down on resistance from the storm. Reload the ALCYONE on the way, and put a round into those hooded raindrop guys if I see any. Fucking hate spotters. How much further?
None. I'm afraid that is the specialty of another handler, not me.
[MDEF vs. NOPE: 4 vs. NOPE] You sprint frantically, the dense raindrops slamming down upon you with enough force to fracture your armor. You discard your spent magazine as you run, your plating already beginning to buckle from the onslaught. You crash straight through the glass doors, slamming in another magazine as you do so.
"Picking up massive power fluctuations near you, O'Greenahan. Something's messing with the grid, or maybe the sensors got fucked up."The lifts quietly crackle with spark and arcs of discharge. Probably inoperable. But there's a set of fire stairs well within reach, and plenty of building remaining to run through. Several of those figures have followed you, and a few more are in sight. Well, might as well do something about that.
You spin around, instinctively piecing the room's layout together in your mind as you retreat backwards without even looking, discharging eight ALYCONE rounds ((these figures have no defensive stats, for each point in UTAR, you can distribute it to one such target and autohit it)), quiet coughs drowned by the raging tempest. Each one finds its mark, piercing halfway into the trailing spotters and blowing them apart into sprays of water as they detonate within.
An explosion. The street outside blasted apart, twin craters where the talons, the sickle-like talons, touched the ground. An enormous bird of ice, like the ones you fought earlier, only far larger, the size of LUPUS, has descended. Lightning crackles along its blade-like claws, shining a bright octarine, the occasional stray arc blasting another crater into the ground with force comparable to a hand grenade. Powerful wings flap, bringing forth great gusts as it hovers in place, its grasping tentacles flexing as its eyeless head turns to face you, unfazed by the crushing downpour. It has no mouth, its beak just a cruel wedge of sharpened ice. It has no veins, the cyclonic wind it has for blood rushing inside and outside its body, accumulated dust and rain racing along the icy armor coating its sturdy bones.
Three blocks remaining.
"Whoah! Cool trick! Will I discover any other equally cool tricks later on?"
Right, I'm on familiar ground and I'm here on purpose. So let's go looking where my LATRANS is. Two possibilities: 1) They got it back to the assembly. 2) They left it where I died. Let's explore the options in presented order. Actually, go to my lockers first and get proper uniform. Borrowed clothes aren't best clothes.
Be relaxed and act cooperatively if soldiers want something from me.
"Seriously? you think THAT is amazing?"Red looks piteously at you.
"I mean I am a series of layered hallucinations projected straight into your brain, but 'going somewhere quick-like' is more interesting? More wonderful?"Red continues in mock horror one hand on her head like she was about to faint.
"Fine, yes you will, once I deem it appropriate."She finishes with a devilish grin.
You quickly make your way through the periphery of the building toward the lockers you feel that being seen by a large number of people might be bad considering you died relatively publicly. You manage to slip into the locker room with few people noticing you. You access your locker, noting that your code works and the locker is untouched, normally that happens pretty fast, although considering the attempted assault several hours ago someone probably just forgot or put it off.
You quickly put on your uniform to help you blend in in case you encounter anyone, which while rather unlikely at 17:30, it is possible. The walk through the tunnels to your hanger is short though you have to dodge a few engineers you knew? Know? Dying and coming back makes choosing tenses a bit difficult.
Regardless of literary quandary you continue on to the hangar. The LATRANS sits there inactive and motionless. Weapons glinting in the light of the fluorescent lamps and the newly installed thrusters are untarnished by exhaust, fully installed armor. Those weren't on there before and they look to have been installed fully, not just slotted into the mounts. You get the distinct feeling that someone is watching you.
Your reflex-vision flares unconsciously as you hear a footstep behind you. A man appears, shrouded by a black trenchcoat their face is that of someone in their late 30's or so they have short straight black hair. They could probably pass off reasonably well as a wrestling heel, were it not for the fact that half their face has been replaced with liquid silver, his eye is a large glowing aquamarine orb. His hands have also been similarly changed, with metallic chitin on top of a layer of more liquid silver.
Their drawl is fast, fast enough to be entirely gibberish to anyone lacking the benefit of your powers, but coming out crystal clear to you with your distorted perception of time.
"Like what you see?"He gestures to the frame, as if to ensure that his stoic drawl hasn't been mistaken for a horribly awkward pickup line.
"My name is Andrukas, Steel Inquisitor. Consider yourself drafted.""10" COMP:7
"17" COMP:7
[COMP: 8/3] Another shimmering outline of a manticore, this one more normal at least.
[COMP: 3/1] An illusory wall appears. As in, the shimmering outline of a wall, not a pseudo-hologram or a piece of text promising an illusory wall along with recommendations involving horses and using both hands.
Author
Topic: Perplexicon - Down the Foxhole - Raining Mecha (Read 176423 times)