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TheDerangedOne
As stated on the tin, mildy insane.
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... Iora seems apparently IS the sort to take very well to the KISS (Keep It Simple, Stupid) method and use it to get out of doing too much mech design... while also making above average mechs because of it.
After all, Simple is easy to fix and get back in bed once the work's done.
... not sure ...hmmm... There probably is a long path forward in Simplifying mech designs in ways other than stripping them down... or rather simplifying them without reducing their performance.
After all, Simple is easy to fix and get back in bed once the work's done.
... not sure ...hmmm... There probably is a long path forward in Simplifying mech designs in ways other than stripping them down... or rather simplifying them without reducing their performance.
Waruiko
Versed in the lewd.
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Efficient just means the biggest result from the minimum effort that doesn't fail.
Jordisk
Experienced.
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Less "Xanxia Protagonist" and more "Highschool Romcom Battle Harem Anime Protagonist" (yes, that is actually a common genre of anime), but agreed.
I072
New
lost star
Connoisseur.
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Her life was over. Hina Selena of the Vermeer had prided herself on her detachment from earthly matters. Rising above it all was a small passion of hers. It had even tinted her interests as a designer. She'd spent her life working on flight mechanics. Her very childhood had been on the floating cities of her home planet. Drifting above the sands and through the wind, free of everything. She'd been the untouchable beauty desired by all. Sent here to prove the strength of her family and possibly grab hold of the opportunity offered. At a bare minimum her brilliance should have gotten some good marriage prospects from the other candidates that could further her career and family.
Instead, she'd slipped and fallen into the mud in the first hour of this accursed contest. She'd suffered a wardrobe malfunction in the second hour. The third hour had been oil from a rupturing fuel line. All of this on camera. She was now the dirt girl. That one recording would be spread far and wide no matter what her family would say. It was inevitable.
The only thing that had gone right was her mech, and that was just barely. Flight was hard in mechs. Every second in the air required fuel. Even Second Rate mechs required careful allocations of weight versus lift. You could only break physics so much. Third Rate mechs were worse. They were something like ninety percent flight systems and ten percent weapons. She'd ended up creating a flying bird and loading it with as many missiles as she could feasibly have it lift, and even then it was an ungainly, unsightly beast.
Her designs had never been as flawed as this salvaged heap of rusted metal. The fuel requirements gave it an anemic run-time. The missiles meant it had almost no endurance. In any other contest the design shouldn't have progressed past the first round. Yet here it'd managed to get into the top ten, then the top five.
"How is this possible?" She breathed out as she looked at the lineup.
"Ya'll all seem to be wondering that." The voice from behind her made her stiffen up and turn quickly.
The designer she'd been sent to possibly learn from, possibly charm, definitely make a good impression on was behind her. He was in the same room as her and the other contestants! Hina smoothed out her dress and straightened her stance and tried to ignore how she wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
"I figured I'd step in and look at the last contestants. We're down to ten, so ya'll are above the rest." Bolt drawled out as he surveyed them. "Do recall that you started at the same spot. If you think your mech's shit understand that the losers had shittier ones."
His words drew nothing but silence as the candidates stared at him. Hina could sympathize. There really wasn't much proper etiquette for situations like this. There were formal conversations designers could have, but Bolt wasn't following them. Everyone was a bit lost. And perhaps a bit resentful. (She still remembered the mud, and the recording. SHE'D HOLD IT AGAINST HIM FOREVER, ahem.)
"Considering everything, I'll let ya know a bit of my thoughts on this test. I don't do anything once, but this one is something fer you to consider. Most designers spend their life behind a design desk, and while that's fine for a career, you all want to be more. That means new experiences." Bolt switched his gaze to the arena. "Picture this. Four days ago there was a battle. Three days ago, you were tasked to bolster your forces with another mech. You have a printer but no feed stock. What do you do?"
Another beat of silence was his answer before Hina sighed internally and answered. "You salvage." She gave the most obvious answer.
"You salvage. Then you get the mech working enough to get back to your bay, and then you make it work." Bolt nodded to the arena. "Most o' you won't bother or be in the position when this is needed, but some might." He shrugged. "Got a friend that got in something like this working for a merch group in Second Rate territory. He's probably gonna be a senior in a year or two. That means he's a step up from most of the galaxy. Lotta masters became masters by doing the unusual. None of them spent their life behind a desk. Thinking you can be safe for the rest of your life in this field is a poison that will kill your advancement. Ya don't always have ta take risks, but you do have to take some." The man turned away and began to leave. "Now, I've probably made a bit of mistake giving ya free advice, so I'm gonna leave before the next rounds begin."
Hina watched him go with a complicated mix of feelings in her breast. She didn't quite agree with him, but it did make some sense. Spending every day designing sounded good for advancement, but it felt like a very easy way to get into a rut. What exactly did she want? It was a very good question and not one she could easily answer.
It also wasn't going to be answered now. There were ten people left. With single elimination that meant nine matches for first and second and a tenth for third. Her current opponent was Iora.
Hina paused as the brackets came up and glanced at the sleeping man. She felt her hands twitch. Iora was the one that slept at her coming-of-age ceremony. He'd stayed in bed during his grandfather's funeral. He'd been 'occupied' at his graduation party. How the hell was he here, and why was he taking up a slot?!
The start of the match had her attention snap back to the arena. Her flier wasn't particularly noteworthy. Just a bird with missiles. It took to the air anyway and she spared a moment of pride. Pride that dropped as the opposing mech began to shoot.
Of course he had a rifleman. One of the better counters to her mech. The only one worse would have been from that Gauger brat who had the wall of weapons. How he managed to reload that monstrosity was a serious question that she'd actually love to know the answer to.
Unfortunately Hina didn't know enough about mech fighting to tell if her pilot was better or worse. All she could see was the mech flying in the air and trying to avoid the rifle shots. It swooped and let loose a wave of missiles as it dodged, and more shots flew out to follow it. The battle became a contest of who could hit the most shots without taking damage. The missiles had the advantage, but not as much as she'd like. Third Rate missiles were horrible.
Eventually a hit managed to strike the bird's wing. The joint seized and the thing lost mobility. Credit to the pilot, he was able to land and even fire off a last volley of missiles. Several hit the dodging rifleman and breached its armor.
The two mechs approached one another and Hina closed her eyes reflexively before she forced them open. The two mechs clashed with stuttering movements from the damages. The rifle was dropped and a small holdout dagger was pulled out. The bird twitched and tried to use its beak.
It was a slow and sluggish battle, but also a rather inevitable one. Very slowly her bird was worn down, and Hina sighed as it dropped to the ground. She lost.
"Damnit!" Iora muttered.
Hina didn't even recall moving to strangle him. She just remembered being held back by her fellow heirs.
Instead, she'd slipped and fallen into the mud in the first hour of this accursed contest. She'd suffered a wardrobe malfunction in the second hour. The third hour had been oil from a rupturing fuel line. All of this on camera. She was now the dirt girl. That one recording would be spread far and wide no matter what her family would say. It was inevitable.
The only thing that had gone right was her mech, and that was just barely. Flight was hard in mechs. Every second in the air required fuel. Even Second Rate mechs required careful allocations of weight versus lift. You could only break physics so much. Third Rate mechs were worse. They were something like ninety percent flight systems and ten percent weapons. She'd ended up creating a flying bird and loading it with as many missiles as she could feasibly have it lift, and even then it was an ungainly, unsightly beast.
Her designs had never been as flawed as this salvaged heap of rusted metal. The fuel requirements gave it an anemic run-time. The missiles meant it had almost no endurance. In any other contest the design shouldn't have progressed past the first round. Yet here it'd managed to get into the top ten, then the top five.
"How is this possible?" She breathed out as she looked at the lineup.
"Ya'll all seem to be wondering that." The voice from behind her made her stiffen up and turn quickly.
The designer she'd been sent to possibly learn from, possibly charm, definitely make a good impression on was behind her. He was in the same room as her and the other contestants! Hina smoothed out her dress and straightened her stance and tried to ignore how she wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
"I figured I'd step in and look at the last contestants. We're down to ten, so ya'll are above the rest." Bolt drawled out as he surveyed them. "Do recall that you started at the same spot. If you think your mech's shit understand that the losers had shittier ones."
His words drew nothing but silence as the candidates stared at him. Hina could sympathize. There really wasn't much proper etiquette for situations like this. There were formal conversations designers could have, but Bolt wasn't following them. Everyone was a bit lost. And perhaps a bit resentful. (She still remembered the mud, and the recording. SHE'D HOLD IT AGAINST HIM FOREVER, ahem.)
"Considering everything, I'll let ya know a bit of my thoughts on this test. I don't do anything once, but this one is something fer you to consider. Most designers spend their life behind a design desk, and while that's fine for a career, you all want to be more. That means new experiences." Bolt switched his gaze to the arena. "Picture this. Four days ago there was a battle. Three days ago, you were tasked to bolster your forces with another mech. You have a printer but no feed stock. What do you do?"
Another beat of silence was his answer before Hina sighed internally and answered. "You salvage." She gave the most obvious answer.
"You salvage. Then you get the mech working enough to get back to your bay, and then you make it work." Bolt nodded to the arena. "Most o' you won't bother or be in the position when this is needed, but some might." He shrugged. "Got a friend that got in something like this working for a merch group in Second Rate territory. He's probably gonna be a senior in a year or two. That means he's a step up from most of the galaxy. Lotta masters became masters by doing the unusual. None of them spent their life behind a desk. Thinking you can be safe for the rest of your life in this field is a poison that will kill your advancement. Ya don't always have ta take risks, but you do have to take some." The man turned away and began to leave. "Now, I've probably made a bit of mistake giving ya free advice, so I'm gonna leave before the next rounds begin."
Hina watched him go with a complicated mix of feelings in her breast. She didn't quite agree with him, but it did make some sense. Spending every day designing sounded good for advancement, but it felt like a very easy way to get into a rut. What exactly did she want? It was a very good question and not one she could easily answer.
It also wasn't going to be answered now. There were ten people left. With single elimination that meant nine matches for first and second and a tenth for third. Her current opponent was Iora.
Hina paused as the brackets came up and glanced at the sleeping man. She felt her hands twitch. Iora was the one that slept at her coming-of-age ceremony. He'd stayed in bed during his grandfather's funeral. He'd been 'occupied' at his graduation party. How the hell was he here, and why was he taking up a slot?!
The start of the match had her attention snap back to the arena. Her flier wasn't particularly noteworthy. Just a bird with missiles. It took to the air anyway and she spared a moment of pride. Pride that dropped as the opposing mech began to shoot.
Of course he had a rifleman. One of the better counters to her mech. The only one worse would have been from that Gauger brat who had the wall of weapons. How he managed to reload that monstrosity was a serious question that she'd actually love to know the answer to.
Unfortunately Hina didn't know enough about mech fighting to tell if her pilot was better or worse. All she could see was the mech flying in the air and trying to avoid the rifle shots. It swooped and let loose a wave of missiles as it dodged, and more shots flew out to follow it. The battle became a contest of who could hit the most shots without taking damage. The missiles had the advantage, but not as much as she'd like. Third Rate missiles were horrible.
Eventually a hit managed to strike the bird's wing. The joint seized and the thing lost mobility. Credit to the pilot, he was able to land and even fire off a last volley of missiles. Several hit the dodging rifleman and breached its armor.
The two mechs approached one another and Hina closed her eyes reflexively before she forced them open. The two mechs clashed with stuttering movements from the damages. The rifle was dropped and a small holdout dagger was pulled out. The bird twitched and tried to use its beak.
It was a slow and sluggish battle, but also a rather inevitable one. Very slowly her bird was worn down, and Hina sighed as it dropped to the ground. She lost.
"Damnit!" Iora muttered.
Hina didn't even recall moving to strangle him. She just remembered being held back by her fellow heirs.
Waruiko
Versed in the lewd.
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Passions and fiery tempers abound here. Also some very solid advice that likely papers over some of the oddities of the contest. "My contest is weird because I'm actively trying to force my prospective students to advance without poisoning their budding philosophy even if I don't end up teaching them," is a hell of an excuse for why every stage of this is so messy and had people getting hurt. Similarly its a good excuse for the baby designers that made it this far to have a bad showing. They were literally not trained for this sort of situation and only endurance and stubbornness would let them get to the second round, let alone the third.
I read novels
I really do
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heh, the great and powerful merch dealers
Last edited:
I073
New
lost star
Connoisseur.
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It was considered a given that all heirs were very well trained and highly educated. When your family had enough money to purchase a planet a proper education was a necessity rather than a privilege. Educated didn't mean smart. Educated didn't mean competent. Herald Bjornson wanted to say he was both. He was aware enough that say that his judgement was probably suspect. He'd grown up in a bubble of praise and false challenge.
That was probably why the path of the designer appealed to him. A mech didn't care about your origin. It cared about how it was made. If you failed you had honest and instant feedback. You couldn't bribe a mech. The mech wouldn't give false feedback in fear of offense. Herald was bad at making mechs. He therefore loved trying anyway.
Really though, the entire contest had been a breath of fresh air. He'd gotten lost. He'd made mistakes. He'd even broken a bone for the first time in his life! He would rather avoid that experience from happening again, but he'd done it. (Ow.)
It was a surprise that his carefully made mech had advanced, but he'd rolled with it. Consideration, care, and thought had apparently put him above his peers. That was nice to know. His little spearman wasn't anything special. He'd tried to cram a set of rifles into the shoulders, but after the first match he'd had to remove them. They'd just been too finicky to maintain right and had compromised too much. He'd instead added a small handgun as a backup weapon and focused on countring. Altering the composition of the spear and tweaking a few things here and there to better fit his opponents was just good sense. Sure it made him work hard, but that was fine. Herald would say he was having fun if etiquette didn't make stating that impossible.
Perhaps he should join a mercenary company after this? Or maybe found one? He was a spare of a spare so the risk was perfectly fine, and the money was irrelevant truthfully. The Senior in charge of this match had raised good points about advancing, and he truly did want to advance. He wouldn't be a designer if he didn't want it after all.
Contemplations like that occupied him between matches. His current opponent was a man that had made the massive mech of metal and guns. It was quite the statement. The mech had managed to succeed through firepower and armor. It was also a mass of metal scars now. Each match had required more and more repairs, and the beast was just barely holding on by this point. That didn't detract from the threat though. It almost felt like it enhanced it really. You could tell this was a scarred monster.
Herald had adjusted the boosters for this fight, and added a small additional set around the hips to exploit the most obvious weakness. It'd still be a fight that could easily be over in aseconds. He was fairly sure that the armor could hold up for a little bit of the damage, but not what that thing could put out. It would be up to the pilot in the end. He'd done everything he could.
"I'm not familiar with your family." Herald said politely to the man who'd built the mech.
"Good for you. They're barely worth the time." The man said back with barely banked anger. "Might be worth more than your little trick though."
"Might be." Herald agreed with a nod. "I'm quite aware that my adjustment isn't much. It isn't like we had time."
"Tch." His opponent made a noise of frustration and turned back to the match.
Herald shrugged off the rudeness. If the other man wanted to try to needle him pointlessly more power too him. Herald would dearly love becoming an apprentice, but no one here would be harmed by a loss, including him. Some of them would even be able to progress even after a loss here. This had been one of the few times a contest had stakes that actually meant something to people with their resources and that had a way of causing you to think.
Back in the arena the match began with a bang as the larger mech fired off every weapon it had equipped. The accuracy left much to be desired really, but the mass of projectiles more than made up for the lack of precision. Rounds pinged off the spearmen's armor and chunks flew off as the protection did its job, barely. Even as that happened the mech moved as fast as it could, boosting hard with all the additional thrust it could get.
Ponderously the gun-mech turned to following the circling mech. Every step slammed down and it was steadily losing focus. One of the shotguns in it's hand had just the right angle to fire as the spearman circled though and the pilot judged that was the best shot it could get. The weapon fired off and more armor pinged off. One of the added boosters on the hips flew off like a rocket as something came lose and Herald winced.
"Should have fastened that better." He observed.
"There's a reason they're seated in the damned armor normally. The forces involved had it already stressed. Stupid." His opponent pointed out bluntly.
The addons had done their job though. The spearman was close now. The weapon leveled down and stabbed. Metal shrieked against metal and the spearman set his feet and pushed hard. The weapon dug deep before he ripped it out with another clang.
"Oh, it survived." Herald said with a content smile. "Quite nice." He hadn't been sure the spear was good enough really. He could not call himself a specialist in making spears.
The other designer made another noise of frustration.
What followed next was a lot of poking. Herald wanted to wax poetic about it, but it was really just poking. The pilot of his mech was good, there was no doubt there, but when you had to spin around an opponent and stab them with a spear there really weren't many good descriptions for the action. The mech was poked to death. It was stuck like a wild boar. It was stabbed. It was skewered. And Herald was out of descriptions he could think of in his head right then and there.
He was making it sound boring. It was actually interesting from a technical standpoint. The spearman had to maneuver just right to keep out of reach of the many weapons. It involved a lot of ducking and boosting as well as stabbing. The armor could only take so much, and it was very much on its last legs. It took about a minute before the damage was enough to drop the larger mech, and that concluded the match.
To Herald's complete lack of surprise his opponent stalked off immediately. The designer didn't bother to say anything to the departing man. He obviously had a lot of anger or something like that. It wasn't anything of Herald's business anyway. He needed to get ready for the finals. That was going to mean a lot of work!
It was him versus the sleeping man. He was quite looking forward to it even if his opponent wasn't taking it really seriously. He did hope that the poor man didn't get strangled before the end of it. More than a few people looked pretty close.
That was probably why the path of the designer appealed to him. A mech didn't care about your origin. It cared about how it was made. If you failed you had honest and instant feedback. You couldn't bribe a mech. The mech wouldn't give false feedback in fear of offense. Herald was bad at making mechs. He therefore loved trying anyway.
Really though, the entire contest had been a breath of fresh air. He'd gotten lost. He'd made mistakes. He'd even broken a bone for the first time in his life! He would rather avoid that experience from happening again, but he'd done it. (Ow.)
It was a surprise that his carefully made mech had advanced, but he'd rolled with it. Consideration, care, and thought had apparently put him above his peers. That was nice to know. His little spearman wasn't anything special. He'd tried to cram a set of rifles into the shoulders, but after the first match he'd had to remove them. They'd just been too finicky to maintain right and had compromised too much. He'd instead added a small handgun as a backup weapon and focused on countring. Altering the composition of the spear and tweaking a few things here and there to better fit his opponents was just good sense. Sure it made him work hard, but that was fine. Herald would say he was having fun if etiquette didn't make stating that impossible.
Perhaps he should join a mercenary company after this? Or maybe found one? He was a spare of a spare so the risk was perfectly fine, and the money was irrelevant truthfully. The Senior in charge of this match had raised good points about advancing, and he truly did want to advance. He wouldn't be a designer if he didn't want it after all.
Contemplations like that occupied him between matches. His current opponent was a man that had made the massive mech of metal and guns. It was quite the statement. The mech had managed to succeed through firepower and armor. It was also a mass of metal scars now. Each match had required more and more repairs, and the beast was just barely holding on by this point. That didn't detract from the threat though. It almost felt like it enhanced it really. You could tell this was a scarred monster.
Herald had adjusted the boosters for this fight, and added a small additional set around the hips to exploit the most obvious weakness. It'd still be a fight that could easily be over in aseconds. He was fairly sure that the armor could hold up for a little bit of the damage, but not what that thing could put out. It would be up to the pilot in the end. He'd done everything he could.
"I'm not familiar with your family." Herald said politely to the man who'd built the mech.
"Good for you. They're barely worth the time." The man said back with barely banked anger. "Might be worth more than your little trick though."
"Might be." Herald agreed with a nod. "I'm quite aware that my adjustment isn't much. It isn't like we had time."
"Tch." His opponent made a noise of frustration and turned back to the match.
Herald shrugged off the rudeness. If the other man wanted to try to needle him pointlessly more power too him. Herald would dearly love becoming an apprentice, but no one here would be harmed by a loss, including him. Some of them would even be able to progress even after a loss here. This had been one of the few times a contest had stakes that actually meant something to people with their resources and that had a way of causing you to think.
Back in the arena the match began with a bang as the larger mech fired off every weapon it had equipped. The accuracy left much to be desired really, but the mass of projectiles more than made up for the lack of precision. Rounds pinged off the spearmen's armor and chunks flew off as the protection did its job, barely. Even as that happened the mech moved as fast as it could, boosting hard with all the additional thrust it could get.
Ponderously the gun-mech turned to following the circling mech. Every step slammed down and it was steadily losing focus. One of the shotguns in it's hand had just the right angle to fire as the spearman circled though and the pilot judged that was the best shot it could get. The weapon fired off and more armor pinged off. One of the added boosters on the hips flew off like a rocket as something came lose and Herald winced.
"Should have fastened that better." He observed.
"There's a reason they're seated in the damned armor normally. The forces involved had it already stressed. Stupid." His opponent pointed out bluntly.
The addons had done their job though. The spearman was close now. The weapon leveled down and stabbed. Metal shrieked against metal and the spearman set his feet and pushed hard. The weapon dug deep before he ripped it out with another clang.
"Oh, it survived." Herald said with a content smile. "Quite nice." He hadn't been sure the spear was good enough really. He could not call himself a specialist in making spears.
The other designer made another noise of frustration.
What followed next was a lot of poking. Herald wanted to wax poetic about it, but it was really just poking. The pilot of his mech was good, there was no doubt there, but when you had to spin around an opponent and stab them with a spear there really weren't many good descriptions for the action. The mech was poked to death. It was stuck like a wild boar. It was stabbed. It was skewered. And Herald was out of descriptions he could think of in his head right then and there.
He was making it sound boring. It was actually interesting from a technical standpoint. The spearman had to maneuver just right to keep out of reach of the many weapons. It involved a lot of ducking and boosting as well as stabbing. The armor could only take so much, and it was very much on its last legs. It took about a minute before the damage was enough to drop the larger mech, and that concluded the match.
To Herald's complete lack of surprise his opponent stalked off immediately. The designer didn't bother to say anything to the departing man. He obviously had a lot of anger or something like that. It wasn't anything of Herald's business anyway. He needed to get ready for the finals. That was going to mean a lot of work!
It was him versus the sleeping man. He was quite looking forward to it even if his opponent wasn't taking it really seriously. He did hope that the poor man didn't get strangled before the end of it. More than a few people looked pretty close.
Gilar
Making the rounds.
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Hmm, Spite and Flyer quite obvious, but i have trouble with deciding what nickname out of Lucky,Packrat and Dark horse assign to Iora Tagami and Herald Bjornson. Iora doesn't feels like Packrat at least - too much work.
M203
New
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Bolt found himself more entertained than he'd thought by the contest. Even if it was ultimately a diversion it had given him a fair amount to think on. Mostly on how to properly teach moving forward. His experience with Sami was not going to prepare him for the future. It was probably going to be an ongoing problem really, but it was also something that he could only fix through experience.
Right now he watched as the two mechs moved in. One mech belonged to the person he'd nicknamed Dark Horse. The other was to Lazy. A spearman versus a rifleman.
Both mechs had a very distinctly different approach despite the similar conclusion. The spearman was built careful precision and thought. Dark Horse, Herald Bjornson from the Carnegie faction actually didn't have a talent for mech design. There was a complete lack of deviation from conventional work. His work was enthusiastically boring, if that made any sense. Herald was well educated but ultimately lacked any sort of inspiration that would make him a prominent mech designer, which was probably why he was here. Rote practice and dedication had still allowed him to progress this far. That was commendable.
Lazy, Iora Tagami of the Konsu Clan had built a rifleman. The thing was streamlined and optimized for easy work. Iora was someone who wanted to do the least amount of work possible. Which meant all his decisions were built around that. Amusingly, it was something Bolt had done frequently himself. Iora did it to keep from working. Bolt did it because he knew for a fact that you never had enough time. As a designer, the man had a surprising knowledge of optimization for his level. Unfortunately if he become a student Bolt would have to break him of that habit. Lazy was fine, but not when it compromised work. He'd be a problem child no matter who tried to teach him.
Of the two, the Spearman was put together better, but the Rifleman was better repaired. Iora's work had allowed him to repair the mech to the utmost. This would have resulted in Iora being the clear leader, but the choice of rifle was evening things out. The rifle was easy to reload and design a mech around. It was not particularly notable for anything else. Herald's work might not have been inspired but the solid and careful construction meant it was able to take far more than one would expect.
The battle began rather simply. On a flat arena with minimal cover the beginning steps were quite obvious. The rifleman raised his weapon and fired, and the spearman charged. It was more energetic and skillful than it sounded. The melee weapon user could juke shots when they moved and the rifleman had to adjust his aim based on judgement more than inbuilt targetting.
Were this between humans without mechs, the rifleman would have a clear advantage. A body shot from a rifle was not something most people could shrug off. On a mech with armor, this was a bit different. The rifle in this case fired a three round burst that splashed off the armor and caused some of it to dent or crack depending on the angle on the hit. It did not cause critical damage. This was a sign of good skill on Herald's part. Properly designed armor was meant to buckle safely from impact if it couldn't deflect it right off. Enough hits should cause it to break off without damaging internals rather than fracturing and damaging the stuff. A proper pilot would roll the mech to maintain their armor as well. Which is what the spearman did.
As he approached the reason this was an equal battle became apparent. The rifleman had to backpedal. If he let the enemy get too close he was doomed. This wasn't easy. If the arena hadn't been flat and free of debris it would have been a lot more difficult actually. The rifleman boosted back and fired, but the rate of fire was less and he had to dodge the spear thrusts as he moved. The accuracy was far worse as well. It was shaping up to be a rather lengthy battle.
"Minor alert." Phillipe spoke over the security line and interrupted Bolt's thoughts. "Seeing signs of activity."
"Activity?" Bolt kept his voice low.
"Looks like a raid against the art gallery. No further information." The young man replied.
"Much as I don't care about that, an actual attack would look very bad." Bolt noted and then gave an order. "Squash it, capture secondary. We were waiting for something like this."
"On it."
Bolt turned his attention back to the battle. He wanted to help but, they'd planned for this and he would just get in the way. He was a mech designer, not a security expert. He focused on what he could do. Evaluating the battle.
It was reaching a crescendo. Both mechs were being worn down. The rifleman continued to backpedal and then the spearman managed to clip one of the boosters responsible for giving him the ability to maneuver. The strike forced the mech to slow down and then the spear was up and aimed for the chest.
The rifleman twisted and tried to get another set of shots off. They went into the spearman's shoulder and the arm twitched as something internal broke. Using one hand the spearman choked up on the spear and stabbed with his good hand. The blade went into the torso and there was a visible spark from the wound.
Safeties snapped into place and the mechs both went still. That was the match. Victory to the Spearman. Good match, if rather standard.
"So that would be Herald as the winner." Bolt mused and winced internally. They had to do a ceremony thing now. "How's the security?" He asked quietly.
"Running battle." Phillipe answered curtly.
Lovely. They couldn't see a sign of it here, but that was not good and it also meant they couldn't keep people here. Thankfully they'd planned for this somewhat. Bolt got out of his chair and clapped his hands together.
"So, congratulations are in order." The designer said to the representatives. "Let's go meet the winners."
First place was Herald. Second place Iora. Third place the man Bolt had nicknamed Spite. The contestants looked like they had mixed reactions. Iora looked like he was hating life. Herald looked vaguely pleased and more than a little mystified. Spite looked angry.
The ceremony itself wasn't particularly noteworthy. A bit of talking, a few speeches from both him and the representatives, and then arrangements. On Bolt's recommendation Herald would return home for about a month and get his affairs in order before they'd meet up again. It was the absolute bare minimum of courtesy Bolt could get away with. Intentionally so. He'd arranged for everyone to meet up very far away from where the running battle was, and if the security was any good no one would notice it. That still didn't mean he didn't want people out as fast as possible.
Unfortunately for nobles like this, that meant they'd stay for the entire day and a few days afterwards. It was utterly ridiculous, but not something Bolt could change. Lilly was already getting ready, and a few discrete back-channels were being informed. If they were lucky everyone would leave without incident.
No one expected luck.
Right now he watched as the two mechs moved in. One mech belonged to the person he'd nicknamed Dark Horse. The other was to Lazy. A spearman versus a rifleman.
Both mechs had a very distinctly different approach despite the similar conclusion. The spearman was built careful precision and thought. Dark Horse, Herald Bjornson from the Carnegie faction actually didn't have a talent for mech design. There was a complete lack of deviation from conventional work. His work was enthusiastically boring, if that made any sense. Herald was well educated but ultimately lacked any sort of inspiration that would make him a prominent mech designer, which was probably why he was here. Rote practice and dedication had still allowed him to progress this far. That was commendable.
Lazy, Iora Tagami of the Konsu Clan had built a rifleman. The thing was streamlined and optimized for easy work. Iora was someone who wanted to do the least amount of work possible. Which meant all his decisions were built around that. Amusingly, it was something Bolt had done frequently himself. Iora did it to keep from working. Bolt did it because he knew for a fact that you never had enough time. As a designer, the man had a surprising knowledge of optimization for his level. Unfortunately if he become a student Bolt would have to break him of that habit. Lazy was fine, but not when it compromised work. He'd be a problem child no matter who tried to teach him.
Of the two, the Spearman was put together better, but the Rifleman was better repaired. Iora's work had allowed him to repair the mech to the utmost. This would have resulted in Iora being the clear leader, but the choice of rifle was evening things out. The rifle was easy to reload and design a mech around. It was not particularly notable for anything else. Herald's work might not have been inspired but the solid and careful construction meant it was able to take far more than one would expect.
The battle began rather simply. On a flat arena with minimal cover the beginning steps were quite obvious. The rifleman raised his weapon and fired, and the spearman charged. It was more energetic and skillful than it sounded. The melee weapon user could juke shots when they moved and the rifleman had to adjust his aim based on judgement more than inbuilt targetting.
Were this between humans without mechs, the rifleman would have a clear advantage. A body shot from a rifle was not something most people could shrug off. On a mech with armor, this was a bit different. The rifle in this case fired a three round burst that splashed off the armor and caused some of it to dent or crack depending on the angle on the hit. It did not cause critical damage. This was a sign of good skill on Herald's part. Properly designed armor was meant to buckle safely from impact if it couldn't deflect it right off. Enough hits should cause it to break off without damaging internals rather than fracturing and damaging the stuff. A proper pilot would roll the mech to maintain their armor as well. Which is what the spearman did.
As he approached the reason this was an equal battle became apparent. The rifleman had to backpedal. If he let the enemy get too close he was doomed. This wasn't easy. If the arena hadn't been flat and free of debris it would have been a lot more difficult actually. The rifleman boosted back and fired, but the rate of fire was less and he had to dodge the spear thrusts as he moved. The accuracy was far worse as well. It was shaping up to be a rather lengthy battle.
"Minor alert." Phillipe spoke over the security line and interrupted Bolt's thoughts. "Seeing signs of activity."
"Activity?" Bolt kept his voice low.
"Looks like a raid against the art gallery. No further information." The young man replied.
"Much as I don't care about that, an actual attack would look very bad." Bolt noted and then gave an order. "Squash it, capture secondary. We were waiting for something like this."
"On it."
Bolt turned his attention back to the battle. He wanted to help but, they'd planned for this and he would just get in the way. He was a mech designer, not a security expert. He focused on what he could do. Evaluating the battle.
It was reaching a crescendo. Both mechs were being worn down. The rifleman continued to backpedal and then the spearman managed to clip one of the boosters responsible for giving him the ability to maneuver. The strike forced the mech to slow down and then the spear was up and aimed for the chest.
The rifleman twisted and tried to get another set of shots off. They went into the spearman's shoulder and the arm twitched as something internal broke. Using one hand the spearman choked up on the spear and stabbed with his good hand. The blade went into the torso and there was a visible spark from the wound.
Safeties snapped into place and the mechs both went still. That was the match. Victory to the Spearman. Good match, if rather standard.
"So that would be Herald as the winner." Bolt mused and winced internally. They had to do a ceremony thing now. "How's the security?" He asked quietly.
"Running battle." Phillipe answered curtly.
Lovely. They couldn't see a sign of it here, but that was not good and it also meant they couldn't keep people here. Thankfully they'd planned for this somewhat. Bolt got out of his chair and clapped his hands together.
"So, congratulations are in order." The designer said to the representatives. "Let's go meet the winners."
First place was Herald. Second place Iora. Third place the man Bolt had nicknamed Spite. The contestants looked like they had mixed reactions. Iora looked like he was hating life. Herald looked vaguely pleased and more than a little mystified. Spite looked angry.
The ceremony itself wasn't particularly noteworthy. A bit of talking, a few speeches from both him and the representatives, and then arrangements. On Bolt's recommendation Herald would return home for about a month and get his affairs in order before they'd meet up again. It was the absolute bare minimum of courtesy Bolt could get away with. Intentionally so. He'd arranged for everyone to meet up very far away from where the running battle was, and if the security was any good no one would notice it. That still didn't mean he didn't want people out as fast as possible.
Unfortunately for nobles like this, that meant they'd stay for the entire day and a few days afterwards. It was utterly ridiculous, but not something Bolt could change. Lilly was already getting ready, and a few discrete back-channels were being informed. If they were lucky everyone would leave without incident.
No one expected luck.
EternitynChaos
Once there was a Maiden...
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Awww, I was hoping Iori would win lol
Rockow
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I see you're using the battletech approach to armor. Ablative armor and torso twisting.
M204
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Lilly had slept in her cockpit while the contest was going on. This wasn't due to some need so much as intuition and paranoia. She'd expected some sort of problem at some point. Most of her people had, though on her orders they'd simply been at half readiness instead of full readiness. This was the first time in awhile that they'd been on an actual planet with functioning leisure infrastructure. Taking some time off for some sort of leisure activity was just good for morale.
Admittedly that brought another issue to the forefront. Team cohesion was a very serious matter that had to be frequently addressed by the Wrench Rats. They recruited a lot from not-quite-sane battlefield survivors after all. Disciplinary problems and other issues could and would pop up if people weren't on top of things. Teamwork exercises and parties helped mitigate a lot of that, assuming you didn't have to have people being alert all the time.
Hence Lilly sleeping in the cockpit. If she was available in a few seconds, a lot of her people could sleep safe. It wasn't a large hardship truthfully. Being tiny meant that most cockpits were actually pretty comfortable with just a bit of seat adjustment. It didn't beat a bed, but it wasn't like Lilly would wake up in pain or anything from a few nights.
It was still almost a relief when the problem occurred. It was an actual relief that they had forewarning for once. The Art Gallery had been one of like three possible targets. It was the least guarded and least valuable in her eyes. Letting it take damage was perfectly acceptable, and the explosions and running firefights were completely within their tolerances. Several mechs were deployed as backup and Lilly kept an ear open for the next hits.
To her mild irritation the next hits took their sweet time. The running battle kept on foot and moved through tunnels and placeoss where mechs couldn't get to. It was only after the attackers were cornered several hours later that the next shoe dropped. Though calling it just a shoe was underselling it.
A planet like this had a very robust series of organizations dedicated to security. This included a significant number of mechs for additional security. None of them were authorized to move while this was going on. Lilly and Phillipe had deliberately given an order to both reduce confusion and prevent backstabbing. Only their own forces could be deployed at the moment. When those orders were blatantly disobeyed her people had given them a single warning and began to intercept. The response to that had been mad, literally mad.
Riots spontaneously began to occur as the mechs engaged one another. Half the police mechs deployed to attack Lilly and her forces. The other half deployed to counterattack them. Battles began to flow without rhyme or reason. None of it made sense, because there were no real lines of communications. It wasn't just that half the locals were traitors. It was like everyone was without sense.
Then it got worse because it seemed to spread. Several security people who'd accompanied the nobles turned on their allies. People loyal for years on end attacked their fellows without a care or warning. The world was engulfed in chaos as sabotage became rampant.
Into this a series of ships came in from orbit suddenly and then dropped mechs from the sky. Blackened things, they had no identifying markings, nor any sort of known Friend or Foe tags. The traitors rallied around them as they landed, and the mechs began to massacre the civilians around them without warning or reason. Blood literally painted the streets and they began to move towards the nearest city.
Lilly deployed then. There was no other alternative if they wanted to avoid the city becoming a massacre. She took Typhoon. The mech was loaded into a massive truck designed to ferry mechs and brought a quarter of the way across the world. Once it was close enough the mech was dropped along with her fellows. Naoto was left behind, guarding Bolt and the nobles, where there was already conflicts. She had a small detachment in comparison. Most notable was the singular Einherjar Berserker, piloted by a man that had heavily favored the Bloody Berserker.
He led as battle began. With a thunderclap the mech blurred as it activated it's shifter. A streak of color followed his path as the mech bent space and time to appear in front of the leading enemy mech. The axes slashed and crushed an enemy, then the rest fired on him. He blurred again, and Hoarfrost exploited the hole to slam into the enemy line. Snow began to fall as mechs exploded from the frost strikes.
Above them clouds began to gather. Forgotten Soldiers fired into the enemy mechs then disappeared from sight before the enemy could counterfire. The enemy shifted to face them in an attempt to endure the onslaught.
Lilly took a deep breath and let it out. Then she pushed her willpower into Typhoon. The clouds darkened still further. Hail began to fall. Lightning arched down from the sky and raced towards Typhoon as the storm began to gather. The bright light then circled around the mech before spreading out. It avoided her allies. It didn't avoid her enemies. Any mech that had taken any sort of damage found the electricity crawl into its systems like clinging vines and fried it from the inside out.
The undamaged ones didn't stay undamaged for long. Lilly's gatling guns began to fire as the mech got into range. The pale-colored bullets flew through the air like more hail. It was as if the mech had become a living storm. What was worse for the enemies was that they bent unnaturally as the Star-Shifter began to activate, twisting the patterns of space and making the bullets hell to dodge. Mechs fell to the ground in veritable piles as they were shredded.
Above them all the storm began to intensify as the last of the enemies began to drop. Lilly tilted her head and examined the field. That hadn't been hard, but it had been senseless. Why do something so comically evil when she was known to be on the planet?
She almost discounted the movement and thunderclap. A lifetime of training and experience had her turning to face it. The Einherjar Berserker staggered slightly as it tried to regain its footing and attack her at the same time. The painting was different. The Friend or Foe was not her people. The axes were certainly on her way.
Lilly leaned into the attack. With less momentum and at an awkward angle they hit the armor and did practically nothing against her resonance defenses. This wasn't an expert. He was still a heavy, and that much weight behind the weapons could cause some damage to her. Lilly triggered another lightning storm and the electricity hit the nearest mech full throttle.
"Venerable Lilly, we've been ambushed!" Someone called out.
That was not good. It was actually very bad. They'd had vision of all the mechs that had come in. Where had these new ones come from? Jamming roared through her comms and the sky darkened as something started to happen. The sounds of screaming seemed to hit her senses even if there was no way it'd get through the soundproofing in the cockpit.
A Son of War slammed his banner into the ground. Lilly knew she had allies ready to fight, even as things grew darker. She watched as a mech raced to her and felt herself grin just a bit. Well it was exciting at least.
Admittedly that brought another issue to the forefront. Team cohesion was a very serious matter that had to be frequently addressed by the Wrench Rats. They recruited a lot from not-quite-sane battlefield survivors after all. Disciplinary problems and other issues could and would pop up if people weren't on top of things. Teamwork exercises and parties helped mitigate a lot of that, assuming you didn't have to have people being alert all the time.
Hence Lilly sleeping in the cockpit. If she was available in a few seconds, a lot of her people could sleep safe. It wasn't a large hardship truthfully. Being tiny meant that most cockpits were actually pretty comfortable with just a bit of seat adjustment. It didn't beat a bed, but it wasn't like Lilly would wake up in pain or anything from a few nights.
It was still almost a relief when the problem occurred. It was an actual relief that they had forewarning for once. The Art Gallery had been one of like three possible targets. It was the least guarded and least valuable in her eyes. Letting it take damage was perfectly acceptable, and the explosions and running firefights were completely within their tolerances. Several mechs were deployed as backup and Lilly kept an ear open for the next hits.
To her mild irritation the next hits took their sweet time. The running battle kept on foot and moved through tunnels and placeoss where mechs couldn't get to. It was only after the attackers were cornered several hours later that the next shoe dropped. Though calling it just a shoe was underselling it.
A planet like this had a very robust series of organizations dedicated to security. This included a significant number of mechs for additional security. None of them were authorized to move while this was going on. Lilly and Phillipe had deliberately given an order to both reduce confusion and prevent backstabbing. Only their own forces could be deployed at the moment. When those orders were blatantly disobeyed her people had given them a single warning and began to intercept. The response to that had been mad, literally mad.
Riots spontaneously began to occur as the mechs engaged one another. Half the police mechs deployed to attack Lilly and her forces. The other half deployed to counterattack them. Battles began to flow without rhyme or reason. None of it made sense, because there were no real lines of communications. It wasn't just that half the locals were traitors. It was like everyone was without sense.
Then it got worse because it seemed to spread. Several security people who'd accompanied the nobles turned on their allies. People loyal for years on end attacked their fellows without a care or warning. The world was engulfed in chaos as sabotage became rampant.
Into this a series of ships came in from orbit suddenly and then dropped mechs from the sky. Blackened things, they had no identifying markings, nor any sort of known Friend or Foe tags. The traitors rallied around them as they landed, and the mechs began to massacre the civilians around them without warning or reason. Blood literally painted the streets and they began to move towards the nearest city.
Lilly deployed then. There was no other alternative if they wanted to avoid the city becoming a massacre. She took Typhoon. The mech was loaded into a massive truck designed to ferry mechs and brought a quarter of the way across the world. Once it was close enough the mech was dropped along with her fellows. Naoto was left behind, guarding Bolt and the nobles, where there was already conflicts. She had a small detachment in comparison. Most notable was the singular Einherjar Berserker, piloted by a man that had heavily favored the Bloody Berserker.
He led as battle began. With a thunderclap the mech blurred as it activated it's shifter. A streak of color followed his path as the mech bent space and time to appear in front of the leading enemy mech. The axes slashed and crushed an enemy, then the rest fired on him. He blurred again, and Hoarfrost exploited the hole to slam into the enemy line. Snow began to fall as mechs exploded from the frost strikes.
Above them clouds began to gather. Forgotten Soldiers fired into the enemy mechs then disappeared from sight before the enemy could counterfire. The enemy shifted to face them in an attempt to endure the onslaught.
Lilly took a deep breath and let it out. Then she pushed her willpower into Typhoon. The clouds darkened still further. Hail began to fall. Lightning arched down from the sky and raced towards Typhoon as the storm began to gather. The bright light then circled around the mech before spreading out. It avoided her allies. It didn't avoid her enemies. Any mech that had taken any sort of damage found the electricity crawl into its systems like clinging vines and fried it from the inside out.
The undamaged ones didn't stay undamaged for long. Lilly's gatling guns began to fire as the mech got into range. The pale-colored bullets flew through the air like more hail. It was as if the mech had become a living storm. What was worse for the enemies was that they bent unnaturally as the Star-Shifter began to activate, twisting the patterns of space and making the bullets hell to dodge. Mechs fell to the ground in veritable piles as they were shredded.
Above them all the storm began to intensify as the last of the enemies began to drop. Lilly tilted her head and examined the field. That hadn't been hard, but it had been senseless. Why do something so comically evil when she was known to be on the planet?
She almost discounted the movement and thunderclap. A lifetime of training and experience had her turning to face it. The Einherjar Berserker staggered slightly as it tried to regain its footing and attack her at the same time. The painting was different. The Friend or Foe was not her people. The axes were certainly on her way.
Lilly leaned into the attack. With less momentum and at an awkward angle they hit the armor and did practically nothing against her resonance defenses. This wasn't an expert. He was still a heavy, and that much weight behind the weapons could cause some damage to her. Lilly triggered another lightning storm and the electricity hit the nearest mech full throttle.
"Venerable Lilly, we've been ambushed!" Someone called out.
That was not good. It was actually very bad. They'd had vision of all the mechs that had come in. Where had these new ones come from? Jamming roared through her comms and the sky darkened as something started to happen. The sounds of screaming seemed to hit her senses even if there was no way it'd get through the soundproofing in the cockpit.
A Son of War slammed his banner into the ground. Lilly knew she had allies ready to fight, even as things grew darker. She watched as a mech raced to her and felt herself grin just a bit. Well it was exciting at least.
ThirtySecondStep
Getting out there.
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I'm seeing a three-wave attack, laid out quite oddly.
Wave One attacks a mid-priority location (presumably without mechs, which is bizarre for people in Mech Land) and falls back to tunnels too small to fit a single mech.
Wave Two airdrops several unmarked mechs, which foment rebellion/cause insanity/trigger sleeper agents (and we don't know which), and begin killing civilians.
Wave Three is unknown, but given that it didn't trigger until after Lily started Typhoon's storm, it's likely they're targeting either Bolt or the nobles he's with. This means they're either attempting to capture Bolt, kill Bolt, or do the same to a large collection of important nobles.
Some of the noble's bodyguards and aides secretly being sleeper agents tracks in such a cutthroat high society, even a 3rd-Rate one. The issue is that there are so many being triggered at once. The expense and effort of raising and training a sleeper agent to rise high enough to be a guard or aide for a rival noble is expensive enough that the rational move would be to focus on a few highly-trained agents. This means that, if the betraying party are sleeper agents, they're the result of 30-40 years of effort by a party (or group of parties) with resources exceeding a high-level 3rd-Rank noble house, and a willingness to expend several decades of effort to achieve a goal. If the goal was sufficiently profitable, or beneficial for the hostile party's end goals, this could happen. But the mass-rebellion of the average civilian means that there's either 10-20x the number of sleeper agent/double agents working for the enemy, in order to effectively conceal the formation and needs of a rebellion, or the existence of another option.
Option Two: Glow-based Madness. The number of suborned parties involved in attempting a rebellion like this organically beggars rational expectation, but we've seen mind-altering effects in both Ves and Bolt's mechs. It's entirely possible that such spiritual effects aren't a complete unknown, and another Designer has independently developed something similar, which is being used to drive both select individuals and massed groups insane. The fact that the madness preceded the mechs Lily killed implies that either the mech(s) broadcasting the signal is(are) hidden, or the tech has been reframed to work without a mech, which would likely anger the MTA. This is still a significant investment, either in building and hiding the mechs or enduring the MTA's response to mass weapons not anchored to a mech. This means one of three things must likely be true:
- The expected payout is worth the effort and danger for the organization as a whole
- The group is significantly powerful enough that the effort is minimal and the knock-on effects don't matter
- The attacking group is fanatical enough that any amount of effort is worth it, and any amount of danger is acceptable
IMHO, the likeliest result is the second, and my best guess as to the offensive party is one of Bolt's Master's enemies. As a Star Designer, Bolt's Master has shown targeted omniscience, cross-universal instant communication, and the ability to build mechs more advanced than 1st-Rate technology. Any being capable of reasonably interacting with someone on that scale would be capable of trivially solving the issues listed with either approach. Bolt being attacked or captured by proxies connected to his Master's enemies would also be an excellent story hook for the next arc of the story, given that canon leaves the universe entirely around this time.
Wave One attacks a mid-priority location (presumably without mechs, which is bizarre for people in Mech Land) and falls back to tunnels too small to fit a single mech.
Wave Two airdrops several unmarked mechs, which foment rebellion/cause insanity/trigger sleeper agents (and we don't know which), and begin killing civilians.
Wave Three is unknown, but given that it didn't trigger until after Lily started Typhoon's storm, it's likely they're targeting either Bolt or the nobles he's with. This means they're either attempting to capture Bolt, kill Bolt, or do the same to a large collection of important nobles.
Some of the noble's bodyguards and aides secretly being sleeper agents tracks in such a cutthroat high society, even a 3rd-Rate one. The issue is that there are so many being triggered at once. The expense and effort of raising and training a sleeper agent to rise high enough to be a guard or aide for a rival noble is expensive enough that the rational move would be to focus on a few highly-trained agents. This means that, if the betraying party are sleeper agents, they're the result of 30-40 years of effort by a party (or group of parties) with resources exceeding a high-level 3rd-Rank noble house, and a willingness to expend several decades of effort to achieve a goal. If the goal was sufficiently profitable, or beneficial for the hostile party's end goals, this could happen. But the mass-rebellion of the average civilian means that there's either 10-20x the number of sleeper agent/double agents working for the enemy, in order to effectively conceal the formation and needs of a rebellion, or the existence of another option.
Option Two: Glow-based Madness. The number of suborned parties involved in attempting a rebellion like this organically beggars rational expectation, but we've seen mind-altering effects in both Ves and Bolt's mechs. It's entirely possible that such spiritual effects aren't a complete unknown, and another Designer has independently developed something similar, which is being used to drive both select individuals and massed groups insane. The fact that the madness preceded the mechs Lily killed implies that either the mech(s) broadcasting the signal is(are) hidden, or the tech has been reframed to work without a mech, which would likely anger the MTA. This is still a significant investment, either in building and hiding the mechs or enduring the MTA's response to mass weapons not anchored to a mech. This means one of three things must likely be true:
- The expected payout is worth the effort and danger for the organization as a whole
- The group is significantly powerful enough that the effort is minimal and the knock-on effects don't matter
- The attacking group is fanatical enough that any amount of effort is worth it, and any amount of danger is acceptable
IMHO, the likeliest result is the second, and my best guess as to the offensive party is one of Bolt's Master's enemies. As a Star Designer, Bolt's Master has shown targeted omniscience, cross-universal instant communication, and the ability to build mechs more advanced than 1st-Rate technology. Any being capable of reasonably interacting with someone on that scale would be capable of trivially solving the issues listed with either approach. Bolt being attacked or captured by proxies connected to his Master's enemies would also be an excellent story hook for the next arc of the story, given that canon leaves the universe entirely around this time.
Last edited:
M205
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An Einherjar Berserker was meant to get up close and personal. It had the armor and durability to support this role. In this case that meant it was only half dead from the point-blank lightning. It activated its shifter ability and attempted to jump away, only for it to veer strangely and force the mech to compensate outside her shifted area.
Lilly filed that observation away. Typhoon's shifting device was causing interference with the Berserker's equipment apparently. Useful, but also potentially dangerous to her own side if she wasn't careful. She switched to audio speakers to bypass the jammer.
"Status!" She called out even as she surveyed the area.
"Being attacked! Enemy FoF is unknown signature!" A shout came back.
"Play hurricane!" Lilly ordered back.
Typhoon was new and they hadn't had much time to practice with it. To keep things secret they'd actually barely practiced at all. That said, there were a few tactics that didn't require much rehersal. Hurricane was Lilly standing in one place and everyone else revolving around her.
Another Berserker jumped into her field of view. This one had obviously learned from the previous one and had tried to compensate for the distorted space. It didn't appear to have helped much. It was still forced to shift and boost to prevent falling over, which gave Lilly critical time to aim the gatling guns at it. The twin held weapons were not something that even the heavy armor of her current opponent could ignore. The mech recoiled as the bullets impacted it and then fell to the ground in pieces a second later.
This was a delaying action. Lilly could practically smell the trap trying to constrict around her. It still made little sense, but that didn't matter that much. All that mattered was living.
"What's with the screaming?" The expert asked as she dialed down the power on her mech. Typhoon's Storm-Shifter was a hungry thing and if she ran it at full all the time it'd run out quickly.
The screaming was like nothing she'd ever heard before. Haunting and terrified. It felt as if there should have been more though. It was like it was being muffled by the Glows being thrown around. Was the enemy using a new type of Glow? Ves hadn't come out with anything new that would darken the sky and make things scream.
Movement caught Lilly's attention. The Berserker she'd downed was lurching. A few steps forward and a stomp stopped it. Off in the distance she could see a Valkyrie move and attempt to attack her allies. A Valefar intercepted it and started to duel it, even as it raked its glow across people.
'Those are locked to Hexxer women.' The expert noted to herself. Hexxer and Friday exclusive mechs on the same side was extremely unusual.
She wanted to intercept and aid her allies, but again Typhoon was a hungry mech. This was also a trap that was just being sprung. Hasty maneuvering would potentially expose her. The enemy couldn't know Typhoon's abilities quite yet. Her other two mechs were more documented. This was Typhoon's first real deployment. It was best to keep her current abilities uncertain.
Around her the battle began to intensify. Several key things became apparent. The enemy pilots were acting strangely. Some were taking too many risks and being punished, others were conservative and twitchy. Still others were competent and deadly. It made Lilly think of some of the more dangerous drugs used by pilots. Many of the motions reminded her of the worst front-line fighters her father had deployed. The people that had to be strapped in and given their fix before they could function.
There was some uncomfortable conclusions that were starting to become apparent. Lilly frowned and then frowned deeper as the screaming intensified. Something dangerous moved in the distance and then angled to an approach vector. The expert turned to meet it and gagged slightly as the overpowering smell of blood hit her.
What came at her looked like a mech. It moved like a mech. Mechs weren't typically covered in what looked to be dried blood. Nor did they move quite like whatever this thing was moving. A normal person wouldn't have noticed it. Lilly did and wished she didn't. This wasn't being piloted by a person, whatever it was.
One gatling gun aimed and began to fire as the enemy accelerated towards her. The rain of bullets flew out, but between one second and the next the enemy's form blurred and everything missed. Lilly's eyes narrowed even as the thing approached still faster. The gun shifted from aiming at the enemy to doing a sweeping suppression spray.
A spark came from the side and Lilly fired her other gatling right in that direction. The enemy blurred again, or in this case the effect that made it seem to be in another area dissipated and the bullets sparked as they pinged off the rust coated armor. The monster shaped like a mech roared as it held up one hand to block and then its mouth sparked.
Lilly shifted her mech slightly so that the armored shoulder was leading. Not even a second later the red beam impacted the metal. Parts of it melted. Alerts flared. That arm went partially limp and damage reports showed half her mechs body was damaged.
The enemy resumed its approach. The unsettling stride made her want to shiver and she suppressed the instinct harshly. She'd done almost no damage with her primary weapon. The heavy gatling gun had shredded an Einherjar within seconds. This thing, whatever it was, had managed to tank it with scratches. She did not want to see it get close.
Willpower flared as the Storm-Shifter hit full power. Above her the clouds shifted, as if she was at the eye of a hurricane. Around her hail and lightning intensified. The enemy's meant to support and distract her allies found themselves under fire from incidental damage.
Lilly meanwhile carefully shifted her mech. Heavy feet stomped as the mech moved faster than it should have. Typhoon couldn't move as fast as an Einherjar, but it could still use it's shifter to move. More importantly it could use the shifting space to force the enemy to take a longer route. It also let her fire her gatlings in tandem on the target.
It was still very difficult. The thing moved bizarrely. Not human, not alien. It moved it like it was adjacent to reality and was smart as well. It juked her shots and used that perception altering technique more than a few times to get closer and closer. Lilly fired her weapons until they started to glow with heat and the most she accomplished was to cause a few gouges in the metal armor as it buckled from the strike. Every crack bled an unnaturally bright red.
She was being worn down and cornered. Especially by the dangerous mouth beam thing. With Storm-Shifter at full power she could force it to miss, but the device was not something that she could keep up indefinitely. Eventually she would have to drop it. All she was doing was delaying the inevitable.
Or at least that was what it looked like to the thing she was fighting. It wasn't an expert. It was just a thing with very good armor and probably expert adjacent as an analog or whatever. The key thing was that it lacked the resonance field that all experts had that mitigated damage from non-experts. That meant that her target wasn't the thing with the good armor. It was everything else.
While the thing lurked around her and tried to get closer for a killing blow, all its allies had slowly been dropped by incidental fire from her. Soon her allies were taking shots at it while it stalked her. It tried to ignore them, but approaching her directly quickly wasn't possible without taking a full face of her primary weapons. The armor might have been able to stand up to direct hits, but it was still taking damage and more of it. It was getting chipped down, and as the enemies were dropped, more and more firepower was being aimed its way.
Eventually it decided that it had run out of time. It rushed her despite the damage. Lilly spun her gatlings and fired full-bore. As the hail-like projectiles hit it, she shifted her position so that her allies were in just the right spot. Then she shifted where she was pushing her willpower from the Storm-Shifter to the lightning generator. The creature surged forward and right into her trap.
The result was akin to one of those little glass ball toys with electricity in them. All the lightning in the storm and from her focused on a singular spot. In this case the monster-thing. The result wasn't exactly pretty. It was an explosion that resembled a boiling pot exploding more than a mech being destroyed.
A few seconds after the sky started to lighten and the jamming stopped. Lilly powered down Typhoon and flicked the comm on. "Status?"
"Most of the enemies are cleared. Moderate material losses. Several pilot casualties. They weren't targeting pilots but they would go after ejections if they were in range." The report came with a bit of repressed rage. "Getting reports from other areas."
Lilly closed her eyes and prayed just a bit. "Bolt?"
"Conflicts were complicated there, but he wasn't threatened directly. Apparently he put the heirs to help repair." The response was quick and contained a very small chuckle.
"Hah!" It did make Lilly feel better, which was likely the point. "We're gonna have a lotta cleanup ain't we?"
"Likely."
Lilly filed that observation away. Typhoon's shifting device was causing interference with the Berserker's equipment apparently. Useful, but also potentially dangerous to her own side if she wasn't careful. She switched to audio speakers to bypass the jammer.
"Status!" She called out even as she surveyed the area.
"Being attacked! Enemy FoF is unknown signature!" A shout came back.
"Play hurricane!" Lilly ordered back.
Typhoon was new and they hadn't had much time to practice with it. To keep things secret they'd actually barely practiced at all. That said, there were a few tactics that didn't require much rehersal. Hurricane was Lilly standing in one place and everyone else revolving around her.
Another Berserker jumped into her field of view. This one had obviously learned from the previous one and had tried to compensate for the distorted space. It didn't appear to have helped much. It was still forced to shift and boost to prevent falling over, which gave Lilly critical time to aim the gatling guns at it. The twin held weapons were not something that even the heavy armor of her current opponent could ignore. The mech recoiled as the bullets impacted it and then fell to the ground in pieces a second later.
This was a delaying action. Lilly could practically smell the trap trying to constrict around her. It still made little sense, but that didn't matter that much. All that mattered was living.
"What's with the screaming?" The expert asked as she dialed down the power on her mech. Typhoon's Storm-Shifter was a hungry thing and if she ran it at full all the time it'd run out quickly.
The screaming was like nothing she'd ever heard before. Haunting and terrified. It felt as if there should have been more though. It was like it was being muffled by the Glows being thrown around. Was the enemy using a new type of Glow? Ves hadn't come out with anything new that would darken the sky and make things scream.
Movement caught Lilly's attention. The Berserker she'd downed was lurching. A few steps forward and a stomp stopped it. Off in the distance she could see a Valkyrie move and attempt to attack her allies. A Valefar intercepted it and started to duel it, even as it raked its glow across people.
'Those are locked to Hexxer women.' The expert noted to herself. Hexxer and Friday exclusive mechs on the same side was extremely unusual.
She wanted to intercept and aid her allies, but again Typhoon was a hungry mech. This was also a trap that was just being sprung. Hasty maneuvering would potentially expose her. The enemy couldn't know Typhoon's abilities quite yet. Her other two mechs were more documented. This was Typhoon's first real deployment. It was best to keep her current abilities uncertain.
Around her the battle began to intensify. Several key things became apparent. The enemy pilots were acting strangely. Some were taking too many risks and being punished, others were conservative and twitchy. Still others were competent and deadly. It made Lilly think of some of the more dangerous drugs used by pilots. Many of the motions reminded her of the worst front-line fighters her father had deployed. The people that had to be strapped in and given their fix before they could function.
There was some uncomfortable conclusions that were starting to become apparent. Lilly frowned and then frowned deeper as the screaming intensified. Something dangerous moved in the distance and then angled to an approach vector. The expert turned to meet it and gagged slightly as the overpowering smell of blood hit her.
What came at her looked like a mech. It moved like a mech. Mechs weren't typically covered in what looked to be dried blood. Nor did they move quite like whatever this thing was moving. A normal person wouldn't have noticed it. Lilly did and wished she didn't. This wasn't being piloted by a person, whatever it was.
One gatling gun aimed and began to fire as the enemy accelerated towards her. The rain of bullets flew out, but between one second and the next the enemy's form blurred and everything missed. Lilly's eyes narrowed even as the thing approached still faster. The gun shifted from aiming at the enemy to doing a sweeping suppression spray.
A spark came from the side and Lilly fired her other gatling right in that direction. The enemy blurred again, or in this case the effect that made it seem to be in another area dissipated and the bullets sparked as they pinged off the rust coated armor. The monster shaped like a mech roared as it held up one hand to block and then its mouth sparked.
Lilly shifted her mech slightly so that the armored shoulder was leading. Not even a second later the red beam impacted the metal. Parts of it melted. Alerts flared. That arm went partially limp and damage reports showed half her mechs body was damaged.
The enemy resumed its approach. The unsettling stride made her want to shiver and she suppressed the instinct harshly. She'd done almost no damage with her primary weapon. The heavy gatling gun had shredded an Einherjar within seconds. This thing, whatever it was, had managed to tank it with scratches. She did not want to see it get close.
Willpower flared as the Storm-Shifter hit full power. Above her the clouds shifted, as if she was at the eye of a hurricane. Around her hail and lightning intensified. The enemy's meant to support and distract her allies found themselves under fire from incidental damage.
Lilly meanwhile carefully shifted her mech. Heavy feet stomped as the mech moved faster than it should have. Typhoon couldn't move as fast as an Einherjar, but it could still use it's shifter to move. More importantly it could use the shifting space to force the enemy to take a longer route. It also let her fire her gatlings in tandem on the target.
It was still very difficult. The thing moved bizarrely. Not human, not alien. It moved it like it was adjacent to reality and was smart as well. It juked her shots and used that perception altering technique more than a few times to get closer and closer. Lilly fired her weapons until they started to glow with heat and the most she accomplished was to cause a few gouges in the metal armor as it buckled from the strike. Every crack bled an unnaturally bright red.
She was being worn down and cornered. Especially by the dangerous mouth beam thing. With Storm-Shifter at full power she could force it to miss, but the device was not something that she could keep up indefinitely. Eventually she would have to drop it. All she was doing was delaying the inevitable.
Or at least that was what it looked like to the thing she was fighting. It wasn't an expert. It was just a thing with very good armor and probably expert adjacent as an analog or whatever. The key thing was that it lacked the resonance field that all experts had that mitigated damage from non-experts. That meant that her target wasn't the thing with the good armor. It was everything else.
While the thing lurked around her and tried to get closer for a killing blow, all its allies had slowly been dropped by incidental fire from her. Soon her allies were taking shots at it while it stalked her. It tried to ignore them, but approaching her directly quickly wasn't possible without taking a full face of her primary weapons. The armor might have been able to stand up to direct hits, but it was still taking damage and more of it. It was getting chipped down, and as the enemies were dropped, more and more firepower was being aimed its way.
Eventually it decided that it had run out of time. It rushed her despite the damage. Lilly spun her gatlings and fired full-bore. As the hail-like projectiles hit it, she shifted her position so that her allies were in just the right spot. Then she shifted where she was pushing her willpower from the Storm-Shifter to the lightning generator. The creature surged forward and right into her trap.
The result was akin to one of those little glass ball toys with electricity in them. All the lightning in the storm and from her focused on a singular spot. In this case the monster-thing. The result wasn't exactly pretty. It was an explosion that resembled a boiling pot exploding more than a mech being destroyed.
A few seconds after the sky started to lighten and the jamming stopped. Lilly powered down Typhoon and flicked the comm on. "Status?"
"Most of the enemies are cleared. Moderate material losses. Several pilot casualties. They weren't targeting pilots but they would go after ejections if they were in range." The report came with a bit of repressed rage. "Getting reports from other areas."
Lilly closed her eyes and prayed just a bit. "Bolt?"
"Conflicts were complicated there, but he wasn't threatened directly. Apparently he put the heirs to help repair." The response was quick and contained a very small chuckle.
"Hah!" It did make Lilly feel better, which was likely the point. "We're gonna have a lotta cleanup ain't we?"
"Likely."
Simonbob
Really? You don't say.
- Joined
- Jan 3, 2014
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Yup.
Drugs, fucking with people's minds, and inhuman monsters.
Wonder what it was all for?