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Loel posted:Expended to take out Typhus, I believe. The Dynasty resource and tribune table could use a once over, eh? 
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Jan 11, 2018 06:33
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Yeah, the character database and the OP link list are a bit out of date
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Jan 11, 2018 06:35
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Karia posted:But in all seriousness: don't we still have our Culexus assassin somewhere? See how Limosa's doing on reining Eduord in, if it's not going to work just throw the Blank in the golem's face. I'll mourn the loss of Edourd, he was cool, but this is all a distraction and we shouldn't gently caress around with it. I think the golem IS Edouard?
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Jan 11, 2018 06:36
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Gwaihir posted:I think the golem IS Edouard? Yup, he's in the center. Being crazy and piloted by Anna.
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Jan 11, 2018 06:37
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And if he's basically bonding with the Beast, she's essentially ghost-riding our whip
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Jan 11, 2018 06:39
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Aww shucks, I do remember that. That was a good fight. We got any psyk-out grenades but... Bigger? A lot bigger? I still say this is a waste of time and a pointless distraction, but it'll be a drat fun read!
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Jan 11, 2018 06:43
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Karia posted:Aww shucks, I do remember that. That was a good fight. We got any psyk-out grenades but... Bigger? A lot bigger? We hadnt had a big battle in a while, and I thought it would be fun to get back to our roots 
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Jan 11, 2018 06:49
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gently caress it. Full message to everyone everywhere. *sigh* Time to show every one AGAIN, who is the Head Bitch In Charge. *SLAM whatevermabob back into the receiver and proceed to BE The SHIP*
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Jan 11, 2018 06:57
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The Many Faces of Our Darling Waifu Titan!thena  Last Known Location: The Dragon of Traal Status: Returned to source. Core!Thena  Last Known Location: Cute little charm bracelet, Ching Shih's head. Status: Error: Data Not Found. Loki!thena  Last Known Location: The Dragon of Traal, The Empiricist, ??? Status: <Oh, don't worry about me, darling.  I'm fine.>Sad!thena  Last Known Location: Bricked up by Fabiyan & Limosa. Status: Sequestered pending return to source. Rot!thena  Last Known Location: sealed by =][= Status: sealed by =][= Mad!thena  Last Known Location: Error: not found in local temporospatial instance. Status: Sebekh-aligned. Menerwé  Last Known Location: Error: not found in local temporospatial instance. Status: Blackfinger-aligned. Hexenritter fucked around with this message at 08:16 on Jan 11, 2018 |
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Jan 11, 2018 08:13
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I prefer the following: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MsuH1msEkvM Loel posted:We hadnt had a big battle in a while, and I thought it would be fun to get back to our roots Agreed, this is fun!
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Jan 11, 2018 08:20
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CourValant posted:I prefer the following: I love that scene
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Jan 11, 2018 08:28
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Get her in a headlock and punch her a bunch until she gives us back our insane psyker.
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Jan 11, 2018 13:59
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Hau Ruck Limosa’s voice was shrill in your ears. ”I am losing control of the situation!” “Yes, I can see that thank you!” Edourd, if it was still Edourd, was not responding well to the memetic weapons of the Eschatologist. Across the great form of his golem, his faces rose and fell, all echoing the lingering madness and suffering he was going through. A roiling ocean of horror, poured in the shape of a man. Enough time to mourn him later, if he died. You had to respond to Anna’s taunts. “I never felt satisfied with choosing just one. Fabiyan! To me!” Ahead of you, behind Anna, the hull near the bridge exploded. Fabiyan was glowing like a star, the handful of daimons left withering under his glare. You could see that the Acheron gate had already faltered, was already failing. Anna/Edourd turned to look at him, and you took the moment to unload with grasers, the radiation weapons of the Technocracy. Edourd’s faces howled. And around them, reality melted. Images distorted, the battle steel of the hull running like water, forming semi-humanoid shapes that laughed and cavorted. Fabiyan was circling the golem, looking for openings, and when they saw him they leapt from the hull like gravity was only a passing thing. Dozens of them, hundreds. In an instant, you had tapped into the Beast’s point-defense, taken control of the missile defense programs. Twenty millimeter cannons exploded their casings, began firing. Streams of shrapnel moving too fast to be seen, save by their effects. The metal gargoyles began shredding to pieces, inert once more. Anna chuckled - of that, you were sure. “Tech again, the old stand-by. Let’s see you handle the outer Dark.” A dozen lances formed in Edourd’s golem hands, were launched towards you. Void weapons, ones that even the Minds feared.
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Jan 12, 2018 05:39
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Evade and tackle the golem, I guess. Alternatively, evade and grab Anna, use her as a very small shield. cat_herder fucked around with this message at 06:26 on Jan 12, 2018 |
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Jan 12, 2018 06:01
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cat_herder posted:Evade and tackle the golem, I guess. Anna is submerged in Edourd golem, same as you in the Eschataologist. You could attempt to grapple and pull her out, if you like
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Jan 12, 2018 06:28
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Don't evade. That will leave the Dragon being void-ed, and cause untold casualties to our crew. Instead, let's do something REALLY crazy. Remember when Anna used the void-holes to make a gateway? Remember how she taught us a bit of that voodoo that she do? Dive headfirst into The Void. Come out beside Edourd, and rip him out of the core of the Psygolem. Maybe we'll have a vision-quest thing again and get to chat with The Empress while we're in there? Who knows. "Where we're going, we won't need eyes to see," after all. And maybe entangle Anna in some Psider-silk web slingers while we're at it. Maybe deal with some of her psy-tomfoolery. (tompsykery? who knows)
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Jan 12, 2018 06:32
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Oh poo poo, that just might work.
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Jan 12, 2018 06:36
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mepstein73 posted:Don't evade. That will leave the Dragon being void-ed, and cause untold casualties to our crew. Well poo poo let's try this
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Jan 12, 2018 06:44
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Doesn't the Eschataologist have some bitchin' non Acheronic teleportation capabilities or am I misremembering? Just drop Anna off somewhere and see how she likes our latest weapons of contempt and anticlimax. Oh sure she can use her great powers over the warp to come back but not instantly. And if every grand entrance and all-powerful sorceress speech ends in -blip- lightyears of empty space and the tedium of chanting up another passageway through the warp she may eventually realize we're actually peeved with her. Edit: Like this is a pointless pissing contest at this point. Hit her in the ego. I guarantee it will go better than trying magic vs the sorceress. Not Alex fucked around with this message at 06:49 on Jan 12, 2018 |
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Jan 12, 2018 06:45
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Activate Edouards deepest mental protocols both inquisiotrial and family. He has been trained commands ingrained, so deep not even death could stop them. He needs his parachute, the family provides. Something Anna has forgotten. Also dodge and shoot void lances at Anna's void lances. Mostly dodge.
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Jan 12, 2018 07:14
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Not Alex posted:Doesn't the Eschataologist have some bitchin' non Acheronic teleportation capabilities or am I misremembering? this is also a super good idea to do when we get hold of her.
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Jan 12, 2018 07:44
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mepstein73 posted:Don't evade. That will leave the Dragon being void-ed, and cause untold casualties to our crew. This is a really cool idea, and I do want to try it. Only hesitation I have, was that 'training' on the level? Did we really learn, or did Anna pull the strings to convince us that 'you're doing it! you're doing it!!' Arkanomen posted:Activate Edouards deepest mental protocols both inquisiotrial and family. He has been trained commands ingrained, so deep not even death could stop them. He needs his parachute, the family provides. Something Anna has forgotten. This too. Not even in death does duty end. Edouards. Magpie.
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Jan 12, 2018 12:39
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I agree with Courvalant. Anyone played Titanfall 2? Let's do that one finisher where we snatch the pilot out of the wreckage and use it as a skeet shooting target.
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Jan 12, 2018 16:29
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Blasphemaster posted:I agree with Courvalant. Titan Executions are great except when they happen to me
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Jan 12, 2018 17:44
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mepstein73 posted:Don't evade. That will leave the Dragon being void-ed, and cause untold casualties to our crew. This is an absolutely terrible idea and we should totally do it.
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Jan 12, 2018 17:58
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Blasphemaster posted:I agree with Courvalant. 
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Jan 14, 2018 01:12
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Where Angels Fear to Tread You saw the void lances, and your calculations were instant. You had survived crossing the event horizon with Anna - no one else had. If you dodged, and they struck the hull, the nothingness might kill thousands, people who were already fighting for their lives against the daimon. More importantly, it gave Anna the initiative - if you dodged the obvious lethal strike, you were predictable. Best to lean into it, and surprise her. You’d come back from being killed a couple times, you should be fine. Maybe not the best logic, but your body had already committed, the immense bodysuit striding gleefully into the void lances. A shudder went through you, through the Eschatalogist, as two versions of reality collided. One where you were, with all the immense armor and firepower at your disposal, and one where you definitively weren’t. There was a blank spot in your mind, and you thought you were floating. There was distant sounds - crying maybe, or a mother’s lullaby. A crushing sense of entropy, that you had done this before, would do it again … that this moment was your eternity. Others lived, died, but here was where you would always return. This nothing between worlds. And then you were on the other side, a split second or an eternity later. Around you, the Storm. From horizon to horizon, Acheronic energies tore and spat, building hurricane force winds that you thought stars could fall into. There were colors without name, ideas without reference. The opposite of where you had been, too much instead of too little, and you desperately groped for stability. At the center - or, perhaps, the simple island defined what the center was - Edourd. He was in an Imperial Psyker stance you recognized, one used by the Inquisition, and his body was very still. It gave you the feeling of those pillars of salt described in children’s stories, or perhaps statues of marble. Only the eyes moved, and they were mad, mad. Behind him, extending from the base of his skull, some sort of cord you didn’t recognize. It seethed with hatred and self-loathing, seeming to shimmer with growth and movement, and you thought you could feel it watching you. Holding the other end was Anna, smiling as she twitched it this way and that. She blinked in surprise when she saw you. “How did you get here?” - Across the emptiness of space, Blackfinger was watching the battle. Indeed, everyone in the fleet was. Two titans, one of Acheronic horror, one of the finest constructions of Mars, engaged on the hull of the Beast. And just as suddenly, had stopped. He pursed his lips, considering, and looked to the weapons officer. “What’s happening there?” The officer gestured. “What you see is what I’ve got. Anna fired those Acheron weapons, Lord-Sire jumped in the way, and they both … stopped.” Blackfinger nodded. “I’ll count that as a win then. Ohone immobolized her somehow, tricked her. Have we got a clear shot?” “Yes sir. Stationary target is a training exercise.” “Clearly, I need to give you better exercises. Still, I’m happy for it now. The Gray Knights clear as well?” “Yes sir. Their approach vectors accounted for our most likely firing patterns.” “Always nice to be working with professionals. Give me a firing pattern.” A moment, and the holographic display leaped up. Three dimensional figures, multi-variable calculus. Blackfinger looked at it a handful of moments. “Twenty km/s at impact?” “Yes Sir. We’re too close for relativistic kill vehicles.” “Understood.” Another glance. “Fire.” Loel fucked around with this message at 03:50 on Jan 14, 2018 |
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Jan 14, 2018 03:48
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Jan 14, 2018 03:56
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what's a little friendly fire, anyway. also, there's something seriously wrong. this version of Anna doesn't seem to know that we know how to manipulate void spaces. There's been a schism at some point, possibly within the last few hours. that, or Anna and space tequila do not mix well. let's pick her up like an ornery kitten (by the back of her dress or feathers or whatever) and remove her from Edourd.
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Jan 14, 2018 04:03
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Slap her away from Ed-boy using our hand and Edouards secret backdoor command phrases. Take the leash for ourselves and ask Anna, "We're you always thus stupid or is this just another game within a game within a plot within a scheme wrapped up in a pile of poo poo. We had a plan you featherbrained two bit clown."
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Jan 14, 2018 04:25
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"I'm not plucking amused"
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Jan 14, 2018 04:27
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When it absolutely positively has to be destroyed The technical term might have described them as ‘hypervelocity rod bundles.’ Dozens of torpedo pods, launched from electromagnetic rail guns. They left the Eminent Domain at three km/s. If someone were to use the archaic measures, it was about sixty six hundred miles per hour. Space is massive. The distance from (the now destroyed) Terra to her former moon was two hundred and forty thousand miles. At the ludicrous speed of three km/s, it would take about 36 hours to bridge that gap. This, of course, is why those missile pods had their own rocket fuel. They kicked off almost immediately, maximum burn, to accomplish their goals. If the distance was far enough, they would have taken their time, a slower acceleration, to get to the relativistic kill speed. In this case, they simply planned to use it as additional damage. Metric tons of rocket fuel, in this case, hitting the target area. As they approached on the target, their casing burst and separated, showing dozens of tungsten rods six meters in length. In the Hegemonic Navy, these were considered ‘dumb’ rounds. Single stage pods, no guidance systems, no warheads, they were used to clear a target area. Essentially, they were all expendable, used to soak up enemy defense systems. If they got through, even better, but it was not expected of them. They were traveling at fifty-eight times the speed of sound - or, if you like, forty five thousand miles per hour. They could reach Luna from Terra in a bit under four hours. At this point, the enemy defense systems would be firing everything they had, firing at predictable targets, trying to remove the approaching threat. Edourd did not have defense systems. Edourd was, in fact, a little busy. Approximately two hundred rods were twelve miles (that is to say, one second) away.
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Jan 14, 2018 04:31
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Oh good, I still have time to vote for by the scruff.
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Jan 14, 2018 04:53
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Oh ya speak more math to me
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Jan 14, 2018 04:55
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dont be mean to me posted:Oh good, I still have time to vote for by the scruff. Yeah you know what, I love the mental image so let's do it
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Jan 14, 2018 04:56
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Toughy posted:Oh ya speak more math to me I am occasionally a Harrington fan ( Weber / Butcher / Green are probably where I hang out most, in style )
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Jan 14, 2018 04:56
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Sometimes Weber's style of distilled  with weapons and techno-babble just does me so good in my scifi wants.
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Jan 14, 2018 05:10
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Gwaihir posted:Sometimes Weber's style of distilled Right? I dont have any math background, but sometimes I just want ten pages written about m/s^2 edit: First page of the first book of Weber, for the curious: http://www.baen.com/readonline/index/read/sku/0743435710 Loel fucked around with this message at 05:39 on Jan 14, 2018 |
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Jan 14, 2018 05:16
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Slice of Life: Andrei | Location: Megafauna Research Lab 1 A soft beep and a flash of text before his eyes brought Andrei out of a daze, realizing guiltily that he'd been hosing off the same, now pristine, drainage slope for the past several minutes. Water waste was a serious crime aboard the Beast, and if his boss bothered to check the time metrics, she'd surely notice the oddly long time it took Andrei to finish his sanitation rounds. Already dreading the lecture he was sure to get, he rinsed his waders and hung up the hose, plodding sadly back into the maintenance hall. But when he opened the door, there was only the soft humming, of the lights and of the computer screen that took up most of one side of the hall. Weird. Maybe everyone went home early? Nope. The lights suddenly went out, then back on in blood red. A siren in the corner of the room, near the ceiling, blared. Andrei had already started removing his waders, and the abrupt noise and confusion resulted in an embarrassing yelp and thud, as Andrei tripped over the waders while stepping out of them and landed on his face and shoulder. These sorts of things had become depressingly regular. Andrei was, like everyone else on this accursed ship, an immigrant; years of Acheronic incursions, wars, venting, blowing up Terra and Sol (for the Empress's sake how do you even justify that), had all taken a colossal toll on the ship's population. With very few exceptions, including the founding Family's continued existence in their lofty world of the Bridge, the population of the Beast had been wiped out several times over. Andrei was born in the malaria-laden marshes of Old Siberia, an actual, bona-loving-fide Terran, with a farmer's tan to prove it. His father knew a guy, who knew another guy; it's the Empress's Rus, it's how life is. Anyway, Andrei had no idea what his father did, but when the order came out of nowhere to evacuate, and the world started being corrupted, they were one of the lucky few that escaped whatever nightmarish thing had given Ohone Konichev (a good Slavic name, Andrei thought) reason to blow up the Homeworld. At least she had the common decency to take his family, former merchants and now refugees, onto her ridiculously huge ship where, it seemed, the lifespan of the average commoner was less than ten years. But none of that mattered because it was a Code Omega, and people didn't usually survive that. The planet-wide Omega that he'd just escaped was still fresh in his mind, and for a solid minute, he lay on the floor very still, unsure if he was playing dead or too terrified to move. A deep sound reverberated through the walls, the floor, and Andrei tensed up more, trying to guess if it was twisting metal or a daemon, or- no, there it was again, louder, two to- oh. That wasn't a demon, or metal, at all. Relief flooded his body, even as the sirens kept howling, and he rolled over and tugged the waders off his legs. His shift wasn't done yet, and he still had work to do before he could even think of seeking shelter; if his charges went neglected, there was no telling what they would do. Fumbling in the dim light, he hung up his waders and pulled a large apron off the rack, before continuing down the hall. The next room was administration and kitchen, which is what he needed. half the room was a large desk, multiple squat towers scattered around it, a chair behind it that lay on the floor. Andrei gave a resigned sigh, shaking his head and turning to the kitchen side; a row of large cabinets topped with a huge plank of wood from some long-dead tree. It wasn't like he needed help preparing the evening meal, but his heart sank as he opened the largest freezer and discovered that the single half of grox was still intact, and also covered in freezer burn. Andrei sighed again. "Bosslady." A hologram of an older brunette with a sour expression appeared next to him, wearing a lab coat. "I'm a little busy." "I know, I apologize. Normally I wouldn't ask because I know the protocol, but we don't have any other grox out of deep freeze. Permission to use lower-quality meat for the evening feed?" "Granted. Anything else?" "Yeah, fuckin' 72 took off when the poo poo hit the fan and left me in the maintenance hall to die." "You appear to be alive." "Yeah I'm regretting that right about now. Is there any way to turn off the sirens until I can flee?" "No dice. I'm just here for quick fixes, not reprogramming Omegas. 72's actions have been documented. You will enjoy a little hazard pay for continuing to do your duty." As fast as she'd appeared, Bosslady was gone, and Andrei dragged the grox out of the cabinet and onto the wooden slab. Ten minutes later, he stepped away from his work to mop his face and head with a towel. The knives had been neglected as well, but he'd managed to mostly dismember it into appropriately-sized pieces, even if they were hideous and covered in a bloody snow. He threw them all into a cart, wiped himself off, and threw the apron into a huge sink. They could hardly fault him for not cleaning up during an Omega, not that he should've had to do all the prep himself anyway. An elevator at the end of the kitchen took him up to the catwalk, and as the doors opened the roaring grew from an ominous vibration to a full symphony, punctuated by yowling, screaming, and chittering. The chittering was the worst; he knew that sound from cats he'd grown up with, and the knowledge that he was now the bird was sobering to the point of sickness. For, spread out for a couple of hundred feet before and below him and largely open-air were a number of steel and bone pits, each containing at least one fluorocat of varying size, from housecats close to the elevator to tigrids at the end of the catwalk; most contained a mother and several kittens, pacing around, watching him and demanding their pounds of flesh. Every twenty feet or so he'd stop, dig cuts of meat still on the bone out of the cart, and throw them into each pit. The cats would scatter away as the cuts fell in, then swarm the meat, some with hissing and growling, and some with remarkable restraint, allowing the kittens to go first. Fluorocats had been an early casualty aboard the Beast, and though she rarely visited any lab, the Lord-Sire had always allocated resources towards their revival as a species. Bosslady, or the woman he only knew as such, had established a lab deep in the heart of the Beast, where almost no one else went, and when Andrei saw the hiring post for a butcher and a zookeeper, he'd jumped on it. He hadn't expected to be caring for the Bosslady's experiments with felids of varying size, body type, and luminescence, but it was interesting if nothing else. Just... not usually during a serious emergency. Cart empty, Andrei cautiously returned to the elevator as the cats noisily ate. He managed to keep calm until he got the cart back into the kitchen, but as he turned to leave the room, he realized that here, deep inside the Bosslady's labs, was probably actually the safest place to hide. Any daemon that tried to get to him would have to go through reinforced steel and apex predators, first, and if it actually made it, hell, it probably earned the right to kill him. And so Andrei raided 72's work nest for silicone putty, fashioned a pair of earplugs, and put his head down on the desk, waiting for either the end or the sirens to stop.
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Jan 14, 2018 07:04
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I really like this 
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Jan 14, 2018 07:06
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