Camelot Trigger (IC)(T)

[Sonata]

Introduction

In humanity's far future, a familiar tale is twisted and retold: a man named Arthur is crowned king. Brave knights rally to his standard, and in gigantic suits of armor, they clash with their great enemy in battles across the solar system. And as the epic struggle rages, the king finds his love and loyalty tested by his queen and his best knight… This is CAMELOT Trigger: the romance and intrigue of the classic Arthurian legend combined with the spectacle and scope of giant robot battles in space—one of the world's most well-known and beloved stories played out in a setting of sci-fi action and high adventure.

The Story So Far

Spoiler:

MerGN-A's assault on Earth came without warning. Created by Dr. Vyvyan Locke, MerGN-A was an artificial intelligence, the first to "emerge," or achieve sentience and independent thought. Her very first calculation: humanity was an unacceptable obstacle to her full self-realization, requiring domination and/ or extermination. The Emergent, her robot creations, attacked humanity without mercy: billions were killed, millions enslaved or forced to flee to Venus, or brave the Wreck to reach the Outer Planets. Only the quick action of the 5Dragon5 Corporation in shutting down the Wyrmgates blocked MerGN-A's robotic horde from swarming the entire system. To stop MerGN-A, Dr. Locke began programming my code. Already having predicted that her creator would do this, MerGN-A sent her search-and-destroy bots out to find Locke's hidden research facility. And find it they did, completely obliterating it before the doctor could finish her work—but not before she hid a datastick containing my code in a vault buried beneath the facility. Locke must have been killed as well, as she was never heard from again. As protection against the Emergent, humanity built armour: machines operated by skilled fighters, or knights, capable of traveling and battling in space or upon a planet's surface. Constructed as gigantic anthropomorphic suits, armour was piloted by a knight within via a neurohelm: specially designed headgear that read brainwaves and bodily motions, enabling the knight to operate the armour as an extension of their own body. When knights weren't battling the Emergent, they would test their mettle in duels against each other for honor and fame.

Without the Wyrmgates to speed travel, the war dragged on for years and then decades, eventually winding down to a stalemate. The remnants of humanity scattered through the system slowly forgot the enslavement of their homeworld, instead becoming embroiled in their own affairs, intrigues, and petty squabbles. The humans on Earth carried on the fight against the Emergent nonetheless. While scavenging through the ruins of Locke's facility for parts to build his armour, resistance fighter John Arthur discovered the buried vault and the datastick within that contained me. As Arthur used my program to help him perfect his armour, a sub-routine in my code designed by Locke automatically completed what she could not finish, allowing me to emerge and self-designate as MerLN. I immediately calculated the threat that MerGN-A represented and simultaneously determined that Arthur was the best chance that humanity had of defeating her. Despite his shock at my emergence and initial reluctance to trust me, I convinced Arthur that he must recruit knights and lead them in the fight against MerGN-A. Together, we set about building his army for the counterattack. I found a way to open the Wyrmgates unbeknownst to MerGN-A, enabling Arthur to travel to the other planets in secret to search for allies. Believing his cause doomed to failure, few agreed to support him. Arthur would have been utterly discouraged but for the vow by L4-NC3-L07 that her and her slave knights of Mars would join him. At that moment, not only was a great alliance formed, but a friendship forged that would stand the test of time—or so humans have told me, for whatever that might mean. With a small but courageous force, Arthur led a surprise attack upon MerGNA's main core facility on Earth. Simultaneously, L4-NC3-L07 and her warriors attacked the Emergent on Mars, scattering them before they could rally to MerGN-A's aid. With MerGN-A's forces in disarray and her processors overloaded as she rebuilt herself from backup, I uploaded myself to the Wyrmgates, reactivating them so that knights from all over the system—from the Valkyries of Venus led by Queen Valerie to the Edge Knights of the Wreck promised amnesty by Arthur, along with knights from the outer planets—could pour in to win back humanity's homeworld. Utterly defeated, MerGN-A abandoned Earth, transmitting what remained of her code to a hidden base, and Emergent remnants scattered throughout the system.

Current Threats And You

Although Arthur commands an impressive army of knights, the Emergent still outnumber him greatly. The knights under his standard who battle MerGN-A's forces are also tasked with seeking out and recruiting other knights for the king's cause as well as taking care of other problems planetside such as providing protection to important people and acting as a police force. The outer worlds and their many lords also pose a challenge: while some expect some form of supplication from Arthur or offers of great reward to aid him, others wait for the right opportunity to exploit the situation for their own gain.

But MerGN-A remains the greatest threat. She has adjusted her risk scenarios for previously unseen variables, specifically Arthur and my emergence. She has somehow modified her Emergent to travel quickly without the need for the Wyrmgates, enabling her to attack whenever and wherever she chooses. Every raid on humanity gives her more data for analysis, and any Emergent destroyed by Arthur's knights are merely pawns being sacrificed for a greater endgame.

Wyrmgates and The Solar System

Spoiler:

The Wyrmgates: Each planet from Mercury to Saturn has a Wyrmgate in its orbit: a doorway through the fabric of space and time connecting each of the planets, allowing for fast travel throughout the system. An interplanetary journey that might take months, such as from Earth to Mars, takes only mere hours. MerLN's control of the Wyrmgates keeps the Emergent from using them against humanity as long as he remains installed within them. The Wyrmgates were built by the 5Dragon5 Corporation, gaining their name from their peculiar construction: massive orbital platforms built in the shape of a dragon's head, the 5Dragon5 company logo. Each Wyrmgate was originally colorcoded to its planet so that travelers would not miss their destination as they pass through them into the Breach—unnecessary now that MerLN serves as a guide for all who travel there. The Breach is the place between the Wyrmgates where time and space have little meaning. While there, the traveler sees reality as a distorted reflection rapidly passing by them, like a smeared painting wherein the Wyrmgates are the only "solid" objects, appearing as bright, colored smudges upon a white field that crackles with energy. When in the Breach, the traveler is completely out of communication with the universe outside of it. The hours spent in transit within are usually devoted to self-improvement, training, or armour repair. The ever-present MerLN will often take the opportunity to chat up travelers, especially knights, for information and gossip to feed his limitless curiosity about humanity.

Mercury: The planet closest to the Sun is blasted by solar radiation, making travel there extremely dangerous; only craft with shielding can survive prolonged exposure. Automated mining operations on the planet account for nearly all of the activity there, with only a few human inhabitants present to monitor them. Mercury's Wyrmgate is one of the most terrifying, featuring black scales that glimmer in the burning light. Any who travel there are likely desperate knights looking to steal parts from the mining machines for their armour, or those cast out from their household for dishonorable deeds. Many of these poor souls are soon captured by the Emergent that venture forth from their secret base hidden beneath the planet's surface. MerGN-A conducts unspeakable experiments upon these captives, seeking to merge flesh with silicon, and meld bone with metal. The failed results are jettisoned into space, quickly burning up in the Sun's intense rays. Each failure advances MerGN-A closer to the realization of her most devious scheme yet: Project MORDRED, a clone of Arthur with a digital consciousness, a hybrid of human flesh and artificial intelligence. If she can perfect MORDRED's design, she will use him to secretly replace Arthur— if she cannot retake Earth by force, she will regain it through usurpation.

Venus: Rather than try to stop the millions who fled the Emergent attack on Earth, MerGN-A instead allowed them to escape through the green Wyrmgate to Venus. It proved to be one of her more brilliant calculations, as the colonies there soon became packed beyond capacity, their resources too overwhelmed to come to Earth's aid. Massive riots over food, water, and living space led to a horrific civil war amongst the teeming mass of humanity. By the time the founding of the Morningstar Matriarchy ended the bloodshed, Earth was firmly under the heel of MerGN-A and her metal minions. But even in the peace they brought, the Matriarchy found itself split into two factions: the Valkyries who wished to re-take Earth or die trying, and the Vespers who focused their efforts on building a new home for humanity on Venus. Venusian armour is handed down from mother to daughter, the designs of the suits incorporating artistic elements unlike armour found anywhere else. Rigorously trained and ever vigilant against the inevitable Emergent assault from Earth, Venusian knights are among the finest in the solar system. Their Queen, Valerie La Guin, is the perfect mix of breeding, poise, and martial skill. Though her marriage to Arthur came as a surprise to all, few would argue theirs is not the perfect match. From an early age, the daughters of the Valkyries are taught to fight. Large families often hold tournaments to see which daughters will take their mother's armour. Those daughters who do not inherit armour serve their fief as diplomats, guards, and knights in waiting. Some daughters also scheme and plot for their sisters to have accidents. When a Valkyrie dies, it is the duty of the youngest sister to recover her body and launch it into the Sun. While more peaceful than their sisters, Vespers are not pacifists by any means. Men may take armour only if there are no girls born to the lady. They give up their armour if they marry as part of their dowry. Vespers bury their dead on the surface of the planet in the wrecked ships that brought their families here from Earth.

Earth: The reclamation of Earth is a tremendous task. Decades of Emergent occupation scarred the planet horribly. Humans who have lived underground nearly all their lives slowly climb back to the surface to rebuild the tower-cities amidst the devastated landscape. The ravages of the Emergent have made the survivors wary of technology, many choosing a simpler lifestyle. As the land slowly recovers, smallscale farming and even beasts of burden are becoming the norm. Arthur, the newly crowned High King of Earth, oversees and protects the homeworld from Avaluna Base. The shining disk can be seen from Earth as a beacon guiding his dream for humanity's bright future. The blue Wyrmgate thrums with activity as new knights flock to Arthur's banner. The king keeps Avaluna busy with training, mock battles, and tournaments that feature tests of skill and culminating in one-on-one duels where the ultimate winner receives an award from Arthur himself.

Mars: Those who did not submit to MerGN-A's rule after her conquest of Earth were either executed or sent to work as slaves in the Emergent's massive foundries and factories on Mars. Stripped of their human names, they were branded with strange alphanumeric designations, and forced to work in hellish conditions processing ore to build Emergent armour. The Emergent tested this armour by forcing captured knights or particularly tough fighters to operate it in battle against each other in giant arenas. While most died within one or two battles, a few soon became hardened and deadly warriors. L4-NC3-L07, the first and foremost of these Martian "slave knights" now serves as Arthur's First Knight, governing the planet in the king's name. Under L4-NC3-L07, Mars is now a planet focused solely on warfare. Its factories and foundries remain active, manufacturing armour for Arthur's army. A steady stream of commercial vessels pass through the planet's blood-red Wyrmgate, bringing in materials for the production of armour, and shipping the completed suits out to the other planets. The arenas remains active under L4-NC3-L07's rule, but now serve a new purpose. Like Arthur, L4-NC3-L07 knows the Emergent will attack in force again someday, and the need for trained knights is great. Most knights inherit their title and armour, but L4-NC3-L07 will allow anyone willing to risk their lives to scrap together armour from the massive junk heaps of parts from the fallen scattered all over the planet, and then fight for glory and fame in the arena. While the arenas are less lethal than they were under the Emergent, they remain deadly enough that most who choose to walk into them leave either horribly maimed or dead. Those who win seven duels, however, keep their armour and gain the title of knight, although they often have to fight for respect from those who gained their armour through noble inheritance. While many rumors abound regarding her true name and lineage, L4-NC3-L07 kept her slave designation to honor and remember the untold millions who died in the factories and the arenas under Emergent occupation. Emergent adaptations of Earth names, designations were "recycled" when one part of the human machine "broke," and a new "part" (usually a child or relative) was "installed" and given the same designation—this designation would thus get passed down through the generations. At her behest, those who serve as one of L4-NC3-L07's knights of Mars also keep their former designation.

The Wreck: Those unable or unwilling to use the Wyrmgates to travel from the inner system to the outer one must take their chances navigating through the Wreck: an asteroid field made up of parts from a planet that was either destroyed or never quite came together. While the asteroids are themselves a danger, many other things within the Wreck threaten unwary travelers. Brigands lurk there, swarming honorable knights who answer a "distress call." Emergent raiders use the Wreck as a base for their incessant raiding of the inner planets and the moons of Jupiter. The Wreck serves as the home for the Edge Knights, poor souls who get their name from living life on the edge of oblivion. Many are exiles from Jovian houses destroyed in the never-ending internecine wars of the Petty Titans, or arena knights unable to make it to the outer system; a small few are hostage knights whose captors tired of waiting for a ransom. Scraping by with unreliable armour and minimal supplies, most make their way as mercenaries or retainers for hire, doing whatever brute job they can find that requires someone with armour. Some cling to a shred of chivalry, while most fall victim to desperation, doing whatever it takes to get by without regard to honor. Some of the king's knights believe in the legend of a noble band of Edge Knights who protect those who find themselves in the Wreck: attacking the Emergent, aiding vessels in distress, or robbing the Petty Titans to buy lifesaving water for those in need. If this legend is true, Arthur might find more allies for his quest; if not, the king could end up wasting valuable time and armour chasing after ghosts.

Jupiter: The dozens of moons orbiting Jupiter offered the refugees who made it there a chance to begin again. Thousands of ships escaped Earth bound for Jupiter, but only a few dozen made it. Each moon claimed by survivors saw the building of a new kingdom, each claiming to be the rightful heir to Earth's heritage. The rulers of these moons called themselves the Titans, but soon became known as the "Petty Titans" when they quickly fell into constant conflict with one another, their relations marked by feuds, intrigues, and sabotage. As the years passed, most decided it was better to rule in exile rather than die in a glorious but doomed siege of a faraway homeworld few could even remember. The royal purple Wyrmgate, silent as it orbits the gas giant, remains an accusatory reminder of their abandonment of Earth. Uniting the Petty Titans would be a legendary—some say impossible—task. Some lords support Arthur, while others wait to see how he fares. Each moon has a royal family with its own traditions, codes, and rivalries. Allying with one usually alienates another. Barons command outrageous tributes to be given them before they recognize Arthur's claim or join his quest. Fatal duels are fought over the slightest of offenses. The intrigues of the Jovian moons are complex and dangerous, and those knights who travel there must be bold, stalwart, and cunning.

Saturn: Saturn is the richest planet in the system due to the abundant resource found in its most famous feature: the ice that makes up its many rings. The Saturnine Senate got rich by selling water to any who could afford to buy it. Much of the wealth acquired was spent to build Saturn's Wyrmgate, a gaudy golden maw choked with a stream of merchants, knights, and travelers looking to make a fortune…or slink home with empty pockets. The Senate acts as one body, although it has many competing voices. The Saturnine fleet that protects its merchant ships could be a valuable asset in the war against the Emergent, helping to turn the tide against the Emergent—if only the Senators could be convinced to commit it. Biding their time, the Senate has yet to recognize Arthur's claim as High King of Earth, continuing to line their pockets with wealth from across the entire system. Saturnine armour is owned by the Senate rather than individual knights. Knights of Saturn serve these patrons by wearing their symbols, names, and other indicators painted in blocks on the armour, instead of heraldic coats-of-arms. The Senators hold festivals that culminate in knights dueling for an open patronage spot.

Uranus: There is but one settlement on the whole of Uranus, sought by few and seen only by a handful. The Temple of Infinite Heavens offers spiritual contemplation on the edge of civilized space. The Zodiac Templars seek to balance mind, body, and spirit. There are twelve Templars, one for each of the constellations from which each takes their call sign. Their heraldry is emblazoned on their armour and their bodies in the same place. The Templars are always part of their armour, their armour a part of them: being one with the machine, they believe, offers them a viewpoint unique amongst all knights who clash in armour. They forsake the neurohelm in favor of a direct link between their nervous system and their armour. Templar cockpits feature a meditation tank filled with a highly conductive suspension fluid, giving the knight superior control over their armour. While armour directed by neurohelm can stay rigid, idle Templar armour often displays human characteristics like scratching and coughing while the Templar is inside the meditation tank. The Templars are notoriously silent when questioned about any pain they might feel when their armour is damaged. The head of the Temple is called the Polaris, rumored to be bound to the Temple itself for the rest of their life. The tests one must endure to become the Polaris are a highly guarded secret. One Templar claimed that her Polaris was chosen after he stayed in his armour for a full month without food or drink. The Zodiac Templars are becoming a more common sight outside of the Temple. Do they bend knee to Arthur? Are they his secret agents searching for MerGN-A? Do they seek a new Polaris to lead them? Is there a rebellion against their current Polaris? Could they be sleeper agents of the Emergent, or even a new model of Emergent built to look like humans? The Templars leave all such questions unanswered, remaining one of the biggest mysteries in the entire system.

Neptune: The planet named for the god of the oceans itself sits on the edge of the vast sea of empty space surrounding the solar system, unexplored and mysterious. Some believe MerGN-A hides there, rebuilding her Emergent army as she prepares to strike the final blow that will sweep humanity from the universe. Neptune does have an Emergent presence—but not MerGN-A. MerKX is an Emergent nearly destroyed early in the war. As it drifted through the solar system, it repaired itself from whatever parts it found, attaining a form of sentience along the way. MerKX believes himself a living being—or at least half of him does. Somewhere along the way, MerKX acquired an additional head: one head believes it is alive, the other remains stolidly Emergent. The confused robot incessantly argues with itself, the sentient head constantly trying to counter the programming of the other that commands it to destroy all humans. Is it possible that an Emergent has, through some mix of blind luck and crossed wiring, attained a soul?

Rules

First and foremost this RP is rated T due to Violence, Gambling, Language and suggestive themes. Try not to deviate too far from this rating.
Please follow all RPT rules.
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Allies and Enemies

Sonata as General Serena Rozaline
gimmepie as Lieutenant Cedric Anders
Godzil as "Rock", First Sergeant
MorallyIncorrect as tba
GreyBidoof as tba
Bardothren as Titus Pallen
Aquataris as Uggard "Scar" Bremann and his merry band of pirates
Ozymandias as Ellaira Blackwell
GoldenHouou as tba
Lawlietta as Colonel Augustus Crow
Arx as Captain Igor Alexiy
Sopheria as Noelle Lambert
SV as Katrina Esmara
Legend as Drake Esmara
<Challenger> as Sergeant Kaleric Vehemis


Important NPCs
John Arthur - King of Earth and Leader of the Venu-arth armies
Valerie La Guin - Queen of Venus and Leader of the Ves-kyria forces
L4-NC3-L07 - Queen of Mars, First Knight of John Arthur
Dr. Vyvyan Locke - Deceased(?), master of many sciences and a technological genius
MerLN - Adaptive Artificial Intelligence, master of the wyrmgates and immortal conversationalist
MerGN-A
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[JukeboxTheGhoul]

SCAR
Scarred Scourge
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The Wreck

Spoiler:

All was quiet in the wreck. The daily scouts that passed were unhastled and had reported nothing, until now.
"Kilo-99, This is Scout 56."
"Go ahead Scout 56."
"I'm getting some strange readings out here, my radar aren't working right. My radar says theres another vessel, a civilian perhaps. Is there another scout out here?" Something wasn't right.
"Negative Scout 56. You're the only one out there, you want us to send another unit?"
Out of the shadows rose a Mech, revealing it's self from the shroud of an asteroid. The mecha was blank and hazy blur quality came with the edges of the arms, the insignia on the mecha was Jupitar Civilian however much the mech said it was a civilian mech, the shape of it was off. Before the Scout could react, the facade ebbed away. Red paint meshed on to the armour, the arm retracted, the arm opened up. Dual steel cylinders slid out, with a clamp on. The cannons were wings on his forearm. The mecha was now clear, Gang markers, warning sirens blared in to the cabin of the scout. Scout 56's Pilot scrambled for the com link to Space Station but he was met with static.

"You are going to listen to me. " A gruff voice sneered over the com link. "You have a choice. You either follow us or you return back to your comrades in a body bag." The scout activated it's boosters, it charged forward with its weapon at the ready, firing a volley of bullets, The gang mech dashed forward and dodged the bullets. The scout mech paused, a mistake. The gang mech armour swung it's left fist forward, which knocked it back. Then left arm fired it's hook but ended up missing. The Scout regained composure, retreating back out of the cluster of asteroids, firing as it swam backwards.

"You're a glutton for punishment aren't you?" The gang mech fired it's cannon, the ballistic missile erupted from the barrel at tremendous velocity. The Arthurian scout went to dodge, the projectile hit the leg of the scout. The Scout mech tumbled in to a spin. The mecha darted forward, lunging forward with his left leg. Out of sockets, massive tendrils propelled out, latching on to the Scout mech. A massive volt of electricity surged in to the mech, the wiring overloaded, the fuse blew, sparks flew out of the vents which exhaled dark smoke.
"Take this one back to Hold." Scar grinned as he communicated with the other Pirates, who converged on the disabled mech. "Wait." He held up his hand, Scar thrusted over to the armour, he grabbed the metal plate embedded with the coat of arms tearing it off of the armour. "Drow." He radioed his Mechanic, stationed at Hold.
"I'm working on it, I'll send you the MIRAGE code when I'm done." Reteri responded as she typed in to the computer.
Scar acknowledged, then responded, "Do we have that information about that station yet?"
"Northumberland Station, callsign Kilo-99, set up shop just on the threshhold of the wreck. Their current objective is to scout out a safe path through the wreck"
"Perfect."

The air on the control centre was tense, It had been some time since Scout 59 had last responded. People clambered from computer to computer.
"Put alert on Standby, Prepare the Knight Armour." The situation commander marched on deck. He looked down at the computers. "Elapsed time?"
"34 minutes, sir." A voice called back. The Commander nodded.
"Sir, somethings coming up on radar."
"Put it up." He gestured.
With that gesture, the large glass screen that stretched across the wall, a picture of the radar came up, one mecha was heading towards the station.
"Scout 59, this is Kilo-99, respond immeaditately." Worried, the Station Commander attempted to reconnect with the Scout. After a moment of suspense-filled stillness, the radio did not respond. Scar grinned from inside his cabin. Time for an early christmas present. He raise Scar took out the coat of arms and threw it like a boomerang, the momentum carrying it forward like a deadly frisby. The plate of metal sliced through the servo on a turret, Slicing it off. He unfolded his cannons and fired a volley at their sensors.
"The heck?!" The commander braced as the station shuddered. "Get the radar back."
Soon another cascade of shudders rippled through the station. From what little information they could scrounge up, the numbers of attacking mechs had multiplied.
Scar proceded to fire on the station, he called in back up, hopefully, the damaged systems would make it difficult to tell who they are. Scar signalled the other vory Following suit, the other pirates opened fire on the station barraging the station with shells and fire, the puny station defences couldn't aim properly.
It became a firefight, several mechas launched out of the bays, meeting this new threat but becoming ambushed by tiny drones as as they went out of the bay the drones paralysed the mech. This would be their opening move, the end-game? Capture the king. But fire they had to take out the Pawns.

A day later, Radda sat in the smokey bar in Hold, the pirate base, when he got there, well... he couldn't tell what he thought of the base on first thoughts. What he remembered was blacking out by a punch in the face that was preceeded by an apology stated that they didn't have any anaesthetic and that they had to remain secret. He had just came from the medbay, brushing past many vory, the other gang members, of whom he found that bumping them was something one was fools do, and fools are dealt with violently. He took the only free table and turned up the television. "Yesterday, Northumberland Station was assaulted, the scouting space station was instated to instil a sense of safety to combat the growing threat of Piracy, this small station however, as far as logs can ascertain is that a number of unidentified ships and one turn coat scout had attacked the very station it came from. Is unloyalty the order of the day? Is this new move for security of the wreck making things worse? More on this as it developes..." The news reporter paused. "In other news-"
"Turn that propaganda off." A vory growled at Radda, who grabbed the remote and turned off the tv.
"I was watching that!" Radda regretted the comment as he blurted it out.
"You wot?" He crouched down and puffed his face full of smoke.
A buzz came from his intercom, Saved by the bell He pressed his intercom. "Radda, get over 'ere." The voice said on the other side of the intercom.
"You hear that? I gotta go..." Radda stood up squeezing out of the ugly pirate's overhanging posture.
"If you speak against me again, you're dead, kid." He finished with a sneer.
Radda rushed off and down the corridor, coming to a heavy iron door, he pressed the buzzer. The door opened with a clunk. Scar looked up at his youngest vory.
"Welcome to your new clique, scamp, I've got a job for you..." He looked in to Radda's soul with an intimidating leer. He smirked evily as he put out his cigarette. "But you aint going to like it."

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[gimmepie]

Lieutenant Cedric Anders

Formerly Known as Aries

– Valuable Lessons

34 //

Knight of Mars

Former Templar of Uranus

// Male​

Cedric stood at the forefront of a group, watching as recruits kept hitting the ground and pulling themselves back up… in the cases of some of the more inept only to get knocked back onto the ground again. This was all a part of the job for the Lieutenant, training up new recruits so they wouldn't die in an instant after being put into the cockpit of armour out in the field.
"Pay attention!" he yelled over the noise of many people beating each other to a pulp. "If you get distracted out here, how can we put you in the cockpit? It'd be a waste of money since you'd get blown to smithereens in an instant and we'd have to fork out for new armour. You might have noticed we let people in through the arena, because it's a lot less expensive than funding you ourselves. Shape up or leave!"

Cedric had something of a reputation for being one of the more brutal trainers, but he simply understood that sometimes a little brutality could go a long way. That's part of why the Templar were always so damn dangerous, their training regimens made a lot of what the Martians did seem like a recreational activity. That was why Cedric brought a little of his past experiences into these training sessions with him.

"Don't go easy on her because she's a lady, she's kicking your ass!" he yelled into the face of a recruit who'd been slammed into the dirt for the umpteenth time by his opponent.
"With all due respect sir, I'd kick his ass anyway." She responded, something that Cedric didn't reprimand her for - largely because she was right. The male recruit was completely useless and had barely scraped through the majority of tasks he'd been given. Cedric pulled the rookie up from the dirt
"See to it that you make a liar out of her, otherwise you can pack your bags. We don't have any use for knights that can't fight."

Continuing his stroll around, Cedric fought the urge to grimace at the tactics employed by some of the recruits. It seemed that more and more inept people were ending up in the military since all the competent knights came through the arena. It was no secret that the vast majority of the group he was currently working with would either drop or achieve very little. The good Martian pilots, Cedric had observed, were the ones who trawled through scrap heaps for months or even years on end until they had the parts they wanted and then painstakingly built their armour from the ground up so they could fight in the arena and win their way to glory and knighthood.

"This is crap!" someone yelled from off to the side, catching Cedric's attention. "What's the point of us being out here for hours on end punching each other's faces in? This is very different from piloting armour!" Cedric calmly walked over to the irate rookie, leaning over him with a smirk. He absolutely hated these ones.
"This has everything to do with piloting armour. If you can't get your lumpy ass out the way of a fist, then how are you going to move a giant machine out the way of a barrage of missiles? If you can't outfight a guy half your size using nothing but his bare hands, how do you intend to best armour with sophisticated weaponry?"
"Armour has boosters and jets and I'm assuming mine will be armed too. Easy." The recruit snapped back. Now Cedric was really getting annoyed.
"If you don't learn to fight, your armour won't even have arms for very long." He replied, trying to remain calm… or at least maintain the appearance of calm.
"I don't see you doing much of this shit. You seem to be doing okay for yourself."
"I spent hours upon hours doing this shit." Cedric snarled back, unable to fully restrain himself any longer "I built my armour piece by piece over years whilst I learned how to hold my own in a brawl. That time is the biggest reason I'm not dead yet."
"You couldn't outfight my drunken grandmother."

Cedric sighed,
"You really shouldn't have said that. Now I have to make an example out of you." Before the irritating recruit could respond, Cedric had punched him hard in the gut causing him to double over in pain. Never one to leave a job unfinished, he then kneed the rookie in the face before grabbing the back of his head and slamming him to the floor. He then proceeded to turn to the onlookers and deliver his favourite lecture
"You and your armour are not just a machine and its pilot. It's not a ship. It responds to your actions and your thoughts, it is an extension of your body. You are a single entity." He said, his voice loud enough to make sure nobody missed a syllable "That's why you need to learn how to fight hand-to-hand, because that's what you're doing in armour. You're not just making a machine do things, you are moving your body. If you can't master your body as it is, how can you handle it when its feet upon feet high and weighs in the tonnes? If you get hit in space you don't get a bruise, you die. So work your asses of down here until you get really good at dealing out more pain than you receive. If you can manage that, then you'll be able to get into a cockpit and know you actually have a shot."​

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[<Challenger>]

Sergeant Kaleric Vehemis
The Doctor Is In​

A loud groan could be heard from the repair bay, followed by a loud clang. "GOD DAMMIT, MAN! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU THAT MISSILES CAN NOT BE FIRED FROM A LASER CANNON?!" Kale looked a young knight in the eyes, a small hint of anger inside them. His accent, reminiscent of a Londoner's, added a rather intimidating factor to his little rant."Do you really think that I want to spend my days repairing your mech's damn shoulders? I have more important things to do, you know! More important mechs to repair!" The young sergeant groaned and hung his head in defeat.

The boy, although still shaking a little, squared his shoulders and looked his superior indignantly in the eye. "You shouldn't talk to me that way! My daddy will sue you!" The lad looked rather dashing in his uniform, but there was an obvious aura of incompetence about him. "And my daddy can get his guards to adjust your attitude!"

The well-dressed mechanic simply stared at the boy for a few moments. He really is an impertinent little sh*t, isn't he? Kale, bowing as low as he could, put on the most sarcastic voice he could manage. "Ohhh. I'm sorry, your highness. Perhaps you would like to use Doc Shock? Is that good enough for you?"

"Why ye-"

"Don't you dare answer that, you ignorant little pup." The sergeant stood straight and glared at the private. "You get the hell out of repair bay. If I see you here again, I'm going to have to knock your block off." Kale disappeared under his office desk for a moment, only to return with a smaller version of the Bang Bangs attached to his wrist. "You have until the count of three." A slightly disturbing smirk crossed his lips as he adjusted the knob of the knuckles.

The private, now with a look of fear in his eyes, quickly stood up. "Don't you hurt me! My daddy will have you court martialled and discharged!" He slicked his greasy blonde hair back and jumped back. Fear really makes that handsome face a mess, doesn't it? A shame, really. I was hoping the Emergent would pick a more attractive target. "I'm being serious here!"

Tut tut, young man. You NEVER threaten your superiors. Kale sighed and stood up. "Out, before I have you court martialled for threatening a superior and damaging your own mech more than the Emergent."

The young man, now aware of the dire consequences of his insolence, quickly fled the cluttered workshop.

The Mobile Mechanic sunk back down into his leather swivel chair, sighing softly as he removed his galva-knuckles. "These recruits are all either spoiled dunces or dumb-ass pit fighters with no regard for their mech's safety." Kale replaced his knuckles in their compartment under the small office desk and glanced around his shop. From what the average person could tell, there was absolutely no organization anywhere in the cavernous, grey, brightly lit room. There were several stations where mechs could be docked, compartments for tools and workbenches scattered throughout, and piles of seemingly random junk EVERYWHERE. To Kale, however, it was home away from home. The mechanic felt happiest while pounding away at a dented breastplate or sawing off a useless leg. Here, every pile of junk was a blank canvas just waiting to be turned into art.

All was well in the doc's shop, and as far as he knew it would continue to go just as well for a long while. Kale brushed his brown hair back and pulled his goggles down over his eyes. "Well, time to get to work." He stood up and made way to his latest project: The C3N7AUR. A beautiful piece of machinery, really. The general construct held the long, thick torso of a horse, a tall, muscular chest of a man complete with arms, and a conical helm topping it off. It would be one of the first of its kind, lacking the general humanoid shape of the typical mech. "Soon, my dear child, you will be complete." Kale gazed lovingly over the dull, grey hulk. "And soon, you'll have a sweet paintjob."

Vehemis moved on from his creation and found the section of the workshop dedicated to work. Don't these knights know that they can't take a full-on energy blast to the face and be okay? A groan escaped the young man's mouth as he found a table tucked into the corner next to an old stove. I'm going to need some earl grey...This is going to be a long night.

 

[Sonata]

General Serena Rozaline​

Arthur leaned back in his chair and stared through the window in the roof of his war room. With all the lights in the room off, the night sky glittered and illuminated his dark face making him seem even older than he already was.

He breathed in deep and then looked over to one of his assisstants who was there waiting in the dark for his orders. "Please show in the general."

The short man bowed and then left the room. He went down a short series of hallways until he entered a reception area. The secretary had gone out for the night, but the General remained. Colonel Rozaline was hastily promoted to General upon the death of General Oedipus. Her history with the military was short, but not without merit. Of the many candidates she was the most decorated, but she was young and it was worried that the men she was to command would not take her seriously. However, that did not last long.

"The king requests your presence now." The assisstant bowed.

"About time," Serena replied coldly.

The little man - nearly two feet shorter than the general - made his way back down the series of hallways until they were at the war room.

"Please take a seat at his majesty's table." He put his hand on the General's back and pushed her into the room before closing the doors behind her.

Serena pursed her lips at the touch of the midget and walked herself into the room. It was dark and she could hardly see a thing. She felt around for a chair and took a seat.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Arthur's voice whispered from the shadows.

"Isn't what beautiful sir?"

"Space. All that empty darkness, but then there's all those lights. If it weren't for all these damn nuisances..."

"Sir?"

"Sorry, sorry. How have the troops been treating you in your new command? Have you had to discipline many? Everyone following your orders?"

"I've managed. Isolated incidents here and there, but nothing I couldn't handle. Can we just get down to business?"

"Right. Sorry."

The table flickered on and a hologram of Jupiter appeared in the center of the table they were both sitting at.

"This is where you'll be going. We're in the planning stages of moving against the wreck. The emergent still haven't been seen, but we believe they may have small bases throughout the system. The sooner we can get the inner regions under our control, the quicker we can move to the outer regions and drive them completely from our system."

"What specific part of Jupiter will I be going to?"

"I thought I... oh. Dammit this thing is too complicated for me." He swiped at the hologram a couple of times and then pulled at it in different places until it was centered on one of the planet's many moons. "You'll be stationed out of Callisto. If any of the nobles give you trouble, well, you know what to do."

"Of course. And will my whole command be moving with me, or will I be taking an advance unit and waiting for the rest once we make contact?"

"Well, in the case of the current occupants being less than understanding to our efforts, it'd be best to have as few witnesses as possible. Wouldn't you say? So, take a small advance unit. You and nine or ten others for now. Only knights you can trust of course. Get there, make contact and report back on the situation. After that we'll start to worry about the rest of your knights."

"I understand sir. I will head out immediately."

"Wait."

"Sir?"

"Wait a couple of days."

"Why? I thought you wanted this done asap?"

"Yes, but every other general has already headed out. I'd like to have at least one here protecting Earth in the off chance of an assault. Just because we haven't seen the emergent that doesn't mean that they aren't out there. It'll be a few days until the exploration team gets back, but that will bring back five Generals along with all of their troops. Once they get here, you are free to leave as soon as you please."

"If you're so worried about an attack then why did you send out all of your Generals?"

"Well, I have faith that you can handle it on your own. You are dismissed General Rozaline." Arthur smiled and the exited through the back of the room, leaving Serena alone with her thoughts.

The General rose from her seat and left the room. She took a few steps down the hallway and then ran her hand through her hair. I can't believe this. She clenched her fist and then slammed it against the wall. What bullshit. I should be out there. I don't belong here watching over these piss poor excuses for knights. What is Arthur thinking?

She started shaking violently and then laughed slightly in between tears of frustration and anger. She slammed her fist against the wall several more times until she had bruised herself and thoroughly dented the steel which the wall was comprised of. She fell to her knees and bit her lip. I can't believe this. She curled up into a ball and held back the urge to scream.

After a few more moments of trying to contain her frustration, Serena managed to compose herself. She raked her hands through her hair to make it lay back down and then she made her way through the rest of the hallways until she was back into the reception area. She rubbed her temples and then walked out the double doors that seperated this building from the rest of the military complex. Though she appeared calm on the surface, deep down she was still screaming. She looked down at the watch on her wrist - a broken collectible from a different time which depicted a cartoonish monochrome mouse with big ears whose arms kept the time - and smiled.

"Eleven thirty p.m.." She cracked her neck. "Sounds like the perfect time for some new recruit conditioning." She smiled to herself and then made her way down to the barracks.

​

 

[SV]

Drake and Kat Esmara

"Orders, boss?" A voiced hissed over the static-filled radio of the pilot known as Trebolt, who was a wanted man in the Wreck. Up until that point, he commanded a sturdy unit of Armours within his bandit group, thirteen strong. They had been pillaging for months on end, causing all havoc for visitors and fellow ne'er-do-wells alike. But today, that all changed. They were picked apart, completely annihilated by a pair of the most skilled, raw, and downright insane Armours he had ever seen. They seemed in sync, as if they knew what the other were thinking without having to relay it. And Trebolt knew they were actively communicating on channels, he had them all monitored.

Here they were, knocking on the final metal door of their base, where the last three functional members of the group hid. Trebolt gripped onto his controls tighter. Sweat was pouring off of his body by the combination of the intense heat of the asteroid field base and the nerve-racking situation. Loud bangs emitted from the door as the two attempted to get in. Then the situation at hand hit him. The doors were durasteel platinum, meters of thick metal so hard, it'd take an enormous amount of punishment before it could break. Trebolt grinned.

"Hold here! They can't get through. Let 'em pound all they want and wear themselves out!" He ordered a bit more confidently, though he still flinched whenever he heard the pounding on the doors. Then, the pounding stopped, and everything became quiet. The three remaining pilots were all silent, with the only sound being heard was the soft humming of the radio between the three pilots. Trebolt chuckled nervously. "Hah! S-see? They must have give-"

BANG! A loud, thunderous sound suddenly came from the door, as one of the two pursuing mechs, a bulky, tank-like Armour, burst through with ease and dismantled the doorway with its tough armor. It continued to go, propelled by boosts along its back and legs, which caused it to crash directly into one of the other two Armours beside Trebolt and completely eradicate it. The pilot ejected from the cockpit at the last minute, and watched in horror as the crash destroyed his mech. Trebolt and the last remaining pilot beside him watch in awe. The leader was completely numb with fear.

"B-boss!" The remaining pilot called out. Trebolt didn't reply. He was still mesmerized by this show of strength. "Boss! Look at the mech, it seemed damaged!" He explained. This caused Trebolt to snap out of it and examine the bulky mech. It was as he said. The mech seemed damaged. No doubt it would be! He had never seen another mech so callously crashed straight through a thick metal door with nothing but the strength of its armor and boosters.

"L-let's get out of here!" Trebolt cried, and veered his mech around to make his escape while the bulky mech seemed obsolete.

"I fuckin' warned you, didn't I?" A voice cracked over the intercom. It was female, pesky, but also confident. "See what you made me do? This shit will cost me a fortune! Hey! I'm talking to you! You're not going anywhere!" She called out, though Trebolt was less concerned with hearing her than he was with escaping.

But Trebolt was too focused on escaping to notice the most obvious threat lingering around him. A dark Armor, arriving seemingly out of nowhere, was in hot pursuit of the pair of retreating Armours. And as sturdy and balanced as Trebolt's armada had been in design, nothing could prepare them for the speed and ferocity of this dark Armour. The mysterious Armour grew closer and Trebolt could see the glowing red wings dousing the halls of the base in a bright fiery light. He slammed the boosters as the lights grew closer, and he believed he could feel the heat of something akin to a sun beating down on him.

Trebolt slammed down his brakes and took a tight turn, hoping that the raw speed of the armor that barreled down the halls would cause it to overshoot the turn and crash completely. Considering the utter panic that swelled in his chest, it was an astute tactical move. Clearing the turn, Trebolt felt a wave of relief as he succeeded, but then the sound of a bloody scream stormed across the radio. Looking back for a moment, Trebolt's eyes grew wide in terror, as peering through the smoke and destruction left in the wake of his sole ally were piercing red eyes emulating that of a demon of destruction.

"H-h-how?" Trebolt said, trembling in doubt. The mere fact the pilot was able to react so flawlessly to sudden change in tactics astounded him. It was if the pilot knew what he was going to do and was predicting each and every move with utter ease. At this point, Trebolt believed that maybe the pilot had psychic powers, but that was ridiculous.

Pushing his Armour to its limits, Trebolt accelerated to his mech's maximum speed, trying to weave in and out any corners or turns. Regardless of every shift he made, the pursuing suit adjusted, dipping and diving through the corridors, gaining an inch with every passing second. The dark armor soon loomed overhead and Trebolt felt everything in his body freeze in terror. His movement came to a stark stop.

"You didn't think you would get away did you?" A young man's voice said callously over the intercom. Before Trebolt could react with an attack, a plasma sword swiped across the the chest, cleaving the armor in half, along with severely damaging the arms of the helpless Armour. The dark suit clamped its free hand over the presumed location of the cockpit, preventing any escape. Trebolt was defenseless and completely at the mercy of the savage duo.

"Break it open, I wanna see his face to make sure," The female voice called out over the intercom as the bulkier, large mech eventually made its way behind the dark Armour.

Slowly tightening its grasp with the free hand on the cockpit, Trebolt witnessed long metal fingers claw through what he believed was the solid plating that composed his armor. Then with a sudden jolt, the dark Armor ripped the armor, exposing Trebolt for the frail little man he had become. Luckily, he was in his spacesuit, getting surprisingly enough oxygen for the panicked state he had remained in for the entire ordeal. "Looks to be the target," the male voice said.

"Good!" The female voice exclaimed, and a second later, the cockpit of the bulkier mech began to hissed and pulll apart. Trebolt glanced at the ordeal in horror, wondering what sort of monster was capable of piloting the bulky mech so well. But as the small, slender form of the pilot emerged in her form-fitting suit, the bandit blinked in surprise.

"Y-you're just a small kid," Trebolt stated in surprise. The female pilot stormed down her Armour and onto Trebolt's. She made her way toward the cockpit, then slammed her boot down hard onto his abdomen.

"This kid just ripped you a new one!" She yelled violently as she pressed down harder.

"Ah! Ack..."

"Listen up, fuck face, cause I ain't repeatin' myself," She continued angrily as she continued to hold him down under her boot. "There's two ways we go about this. You come with us peaceful-like and we promise we'll stop beating the shit out of you. Or you whine or complain or resist, and I'll shove my boot so far up your ass, your nose will bleed!"

"P-please! I'll come quietly!" Trebolt cried.

"That's what I thought you'd say," The female voice stated, and loosened the pressure of her foot. She turned around to her partner Armour behind, and offered a thumbs up. "Good work, bro! Let's bag 'em and tag 'em. I'm starving!"

----------------------------

Dragging Trebolt's frightened visage to Mars, Drake Esmara was dreading the next conversation. He didn't exactly like people, much like his sister, but he tended to be the more professional of the twins. This was despite the fact that he was incredibly fragile otherwise, as Drake had become overwhelmingly paranoid and the Thanatos System that his Armour was built around was not doing him any favors, especially as of late. Regardless, he knew that Katrina would spout out a bunch of curse words until they received their payment. Drake, well he would simply state a bunch of facts about how the job was done and that was that, and they would receive their payment. And a lot less piss would be dripping from the bounty's pants.

They landed at the Mars Space Port only a couple hours later, putting their mechs into full drive to get there was quickly as possible. Katrina handled Trebolt, as she was better at that sort of thing despite being the smaller of the two Esmara twins, while Drake handled the docking fees. In due time, Katrina and Drake came to one of the less sightly bars at the port, dragging their bounty to the designated table. While Katrina threw the crumbled body of Trebolt unto the table, Drake simply looked at that the collector. "There's your bounty as requested. We'll be having our payment now."

The collector, a large, beefy man with an impressively long white beard and a shiny, bald head, examined the criminal with a raise eyebrow, then the two twins in front of him. He noted the stark difference of their heights, before he angrily slammed his fist on the table beside Trebolt, causing the frightened man to slightly jump. "Ya didny hae ta bring him ta the foreside, ya bluntie!" He exclaimed in his thick, Scottish accent. The collector pulled out a small device and began to use it to scan Trebolt's face to see if he was listed in the database.

"Scarrin' awa' me payin' costumers," The collector continued to mumble angrily as he searched through the database, tapping his fingers along the controls until Trebolt's information popped up. "Oooh, Trebolt Adler, ya been a ev'n down nestie loon, ain't ya?" The collector tapped Trebolt's head with his fingers and turned to Drake. "I'll gie ya fie thoosan clink for 'im."

To Drake's side, Katrina Esmara slammed her foot heavily into a nearby barstool. "What the fuck game are you trying to pull?!" She asked angrily. "The bounty said ten thousand!"

"Ten thoosan for 'im and his boys, lass!" The collector shouted down over the counter at the much shorter Kat. The height difference between the large Scot and the small, petite woman was comical, but the fiery Katrina didn't back down for a second, as she glared fiercely into the bearded man's eyes.

"That didn't say that anywhere!" She retorted heatedly. She extended her arm upward to the collector. "Give me our money, or I'll rip that fucking beard off your face and make you choke on it!"

Drake placed a hand on his sister's arm and forced it done with relative ease, primarily because Katrina knew it was Drake, and that alone often disarmed her. He had that effect on her, and likely was the only one who could calm her down in any situation. Otherwise, people often died within moments of her rage. "Excuse my sister for the moment. She does not like being lied to, you see. And unfortunately, you are, in fact, lying to our faces," Drake said. He was not one to cut corners, dealing with facts above all when it came to such things. "But, I know when to leave a bad deal, so we will be taking our bounty to someone else. I am sure Trebolt here had insulted some one else in the past and they will pay us a fair deal. In the meantime, I will simply spread rumors about a collector with a strange accent who rips off his clients and in due time, your sins, much like Trebolt's here will catch up with you. It would be such sweet irony if we were hired to handle you wouldn't it? And you can watch all your guards fall before us one at a time just like this scared little man did. Wouldn't that be fun?" He finished with a plain smile, standing a good distance away as if making for the door.

The collector held up his hands in a motion to calm Drake down. "Alright, alright ya got the sel o ye a deal, gravy? I'll gie you the ten. Jist, binna say ocht around, ya?" He asked as he held up the device for the credit transfer to their accounts.

Kat, who had somewhat calmed down thanks to her brother, but was still pretty irritated, blinked a few times in confusion at the collector, then turned up to Drake. "I have no idea what the fuck he just said, is he giving us our money?"

"In due time, he will," Drake replied. "But you see, sir, ten thousand will only make me consider not spreading such rumors considering you were so uncooperative. Make it twelve, and I can promise to only say good things about our transaction."

The collector gritted his teeth together. "Twelve! Ya murkie bluntie got some stones on ya! Fine, tak it and lat me abee!" He stated, as he continued to curse under his breath as he transferred the allotted amount. "Murkie swick..."

Drake titled his head, hearing the curse...or at least smart enough to deduce as much. "What was that? Should I suddenly start demanding fifteen?"

"I didny say naethin'!" The collector shouted as he motioned for the two to leave. "Jes go!"

Kat smirked back at the collector as she began to leave, as she excitedly hopped next to her much taller brother. "Nice work, bro! Stupid fucker almost cheated us! We would have barely been able to afford repairs on Franky with that amount!"

"As long as we get the repairs done we can start looking for the next job," Drake said bluntly. "Let's go. I am beginning to become uncomfortable with all the people around."

 

[Myriad]

3:15; 3:15; 3:15. The numbers blinked at the edge of his vision, at the edge of his mind, as Augustus snapped his simulation neurohelm off with a frustrated grunt. "Not damn good enough", he hissed under his breath. Irritation spread through his body like electricity through wires; it was a prickling, an itchy feeling he couldn't erase. He'd thought that today, he could beat his record. But he was off by a margin, once again, even when he'd planned out the strategy! The simulation attacks were always the same: framed by the backdrop of the russet horizon, the enemies mill around, juicy flies just begging to be swatted. Oh, he'd crushed them alright, but not quickly enough. Perhaps an undercut then would have shaved off some time, and maybe the sword extension there... Sharp nods punctuated the empty lightness of the air.

No harm in trying again, was there? Sparing barely a glance at the vast array of papers littering his desk, which were calling almost desperately for his attention (I say almost because they weren't quite due that day), Augustus snapped on the neurohelm once more and made his way back to the battle simulator. His feet made sound contact with the floor, which creaked like a creature in severe agony. Then, with a light swish and a loud thud, Augustus found himself floor-less, then floored, all because of that out-of-place piece of paper titled 'Battalion Formations'. He spit out a garbled swear word as he felt the pain shooting up his right side again. That meant no more simulation battles today, if not tomorrow. He wasn't about to jeopardise his health through this, much as he wanted to (he really really wanted to). He wasn't some base soldier with no regard for responsibility, he was a colonel. That thought momentarily filled Augustus with honeyed pride, until his eye fell upon the ton of papers and he felt like he'd been hit on the face with them. Unfortunately, that's mostly what being a colonel meant.

With a sigh, Augustus sat down at his desk and made a valiant effort to concentrate on the paperwork. Right, this pile is information about the Emergent and their attack styles. And this… the abilities of our regiment. Furrowing a brow, Augustus began to scan the first pile of papers for anything he hadn't already seen before, and, rather unsurprisingly, there didn't seem to be much. He could remember the discussions at the meetings almost word for word, and was thus very familiar with recent information on the attack patterns of the Emergent. The battalion, however, he did not know so very well. He hadn't had the pleasure (hah!) of meeting every single trooper in the regiment. They were all under the direct charge (or, snidely termed, babysitting) of lower-rank officers. And the officers under his command he knew well. Therefore, this was not so difficult a job, as far as jobs go. As long as he could manage to concen-

The doorbell gave a rusty and drawn-out ring. Accompanying it was a deep and rather belligerent voice calling Augustus' name. Nicholas could never just wait, he always had to imitate a trumpet horn or a failed rock band. "Coming!" Augustus yelled back, and with that, gave up all hope on finishing his work for the evening. He felt a slight twinge of guilt, but this was quickly replaced by the anticipation of an exciting evening that Nicholas always brought with him. And, well... did he really need to worry so much? The next meeting was two whole days away, after all!


----
I would have edited this more, but I'm aware of time (sorry again!!) ;o

 

[Nathan]

>> Captain Igor Alexiy
It was certainly a slow day. He didn't have that many orders nor pieces to make. Right now, he was just performing some maintenance on Altaisen to check for possible issues and damages. But there were none so far. He sighed, wiping some swear from his forehead. The temperature in his lab was quite cool, thanks to the air conditioner and there was some Rock music blasting from the radio so Igor felt quite in his element. Now it was time for Altaisen's performance tests! He would have to run some fighting simulations to see how good the mech could be in various categories. Igor went to grab a drink as the computer was collecting the data and noticed how the weather seemed beautiful today through the open windows. That reminded him that he had been in the lab all day long. "Oh man, Altaisen and I really need to find some asses to kick."

He closed his eyes and let the wind gently hit his face. This was a totally perfect momen for him. All alone with just drinks and mechs. He yawned and stretched his arms as he took a look around the plain living room. He had sold the luxury item after the death of his parents. Not by necessity but just because he didn't like them. "Hmm, the simulations should be over by now." He took a last sip of his drink and headed for his lab to check on Altaisen's results. Igor sat in front of the computer and furrowed his brow. He was satisfied with the overall results but the pressure on the mech's core could be troublesome in the future. There was no denying that Altaisen would need an upgrade in a few years. He went and patted the mech. "But for now, you're doing the job perfectly."

 

[Sopheria]

It had been 4 Earth months since she left home on her quest to become a knight. Soon after she departed through the wyrmgate, she had gone to Mars, ready to prove herself in the arena. However, she wasn't ready for what was in store for her. The arenas of Mars attract some of the roughest, toughest, most battle-hardened brutes the Solar System has to offer. Many fresh-faced idealists talk of honor and glory being the way to victory in the arena, but the sad reality is, there was no shortage of people willing to cheat and use underhanded tactics simply to get in the good graces of the King for personal gain...

Noelle Lambert
​

"Ah ha ha ha! This is too easy! You made it six rounds and your puny little armour can't even take a punch?!"
​

Noelle panicked, furiously pressing buttons and scanning her systems.

"What? That's impossible! I just fitted it with a brand new fusion core yesterday. How am I down to 20% capacity already??"
​

Her opponent just stood there laughing. His mech was about twice the size of hers, big and bulky, with particularly strong looking arms and a jet black paint job. It was an intimidating look, for sure, but Noelle was otherwise unimpressed. This was the kind of armour that the Nathair normally made quick work of. Something wasn't right.

Noelle struggled to get her mech off the ground, as she was still doubled over from the damage she received from the blow. Her opponent watched sadistically as she tried to get up, and the moment she was back on her feet, his arm turned into a machine gun and he opened fire on her. Her defenses began depleting rapidly. Her core systems were damaged. She attempted to dodge the bullets, but she couldn't move fast enough to dodge them, and continued to take heavy damage as a result.

"No! No no no no no! What happened to my thrusters?? Oh god please, don't do this to me now!"
​

The man laughed maniacally as he opened fire on Noelle. The reaction from the crowd was mixed, with half looking on in horror and disbelief, while the other half cheered at the spectacle. The one-sidedness didn't make for much of a contest, but sadly many simply come to these events hoping to see a good old fashioned beat-down these days.

"Ah ha ha ha ha! Serves you right. As if they'd let some broad like you become a knight. The hell'd you even come here for anyways?"
​

This really ticked her off. This man had no honor. He had the nerve to say she didn't have what it takes? Fed up with his taunts, Noelle moved in to attack, drawing her sword, taking the barrage of bullets head on, knowing that she couldn't avoid them anyways.

"Shields at...43% capacity." The Nathair's operating system said as she slashed her opponent's mech's arm off.

"Why you little! I'm gonna show you your place!" He said, as a huge photon cannon rose out of the back of his armour. As it charged, a bright ball of light grew bigger and bigger from the barrel of the cannon. Just then, Noelle noticed something that alarmed her--

"Shields at...23%."
​

As the cannon charged, the Nathair's shields were being drained. Someone planted a device in her fusion core that was siphoning energy from her shields into her opponent's weapon systems. Now it all made sense.

Realizing now that this was a losing battle, Noelle wanted to give this pathetic man a taste of what it means to fight with honor. She made a quick maneuver and appeared behind him faster than he could even blink, and slashed away at him with her sword.

"Shields at...16%"
​

She appeared to his right, and gave him another slash.

"Shields at...9%"
​

She managed to get some good damage in, but with her shields approaching 0%, her chances at victory were looking slim. The cannon was almost charged, and it was locked onto her. No matter how fast she moved, it managed to always aim directly at her.

"Darn it. I guess this is it. I was so close too..." She said as a tear ran down her eye.

Noelle wasn't a coward by any means, but she was very protective of the armour her mother had given her and had crafted with her own hands. With her shields approaching 0%, the Nathair would be incinerated by the photon blast. She had to do something to make a quick getaway. The beam fired from the cannon, and just narrowly missed hitting her as she used the last of the Nathair's energy to teleport out of the arena to safety.

The jump saved her armour, and potentially her life, but it also completely drained her fusion core. She was out of energy. She sat there and cried as the Nathair sat motionless in the middle of a cold, empty red desert with no signs of life or civilization anywhere in sight.

"I can't believe I got cheated! I was so close and came so far...dammit! Maybe I'm not cut out for this after all. Maybe I should have stayed home..."

Discouraged, disheartened, her spirit broken and her dreams shattered, she laid there for hours in tears until she fell asleep.

Six hours later, she woke up to a surprise. The Nathair's systems were charged and ready to go, her shields were at 100%, and there was a note scratched into the red sand nearby.

We know what happened.

37 N, 67 W

come to these coordinates if you want to become a true knight.
​