The Little Shop of Weapons

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The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Janus on Fri Dec 26, 2014 7:18 pm

First topic message reminder :

The hustle and bustle of the city was without a doubt in it's usual swing. Businesses constantly coming and going so fast due to crime, high rent, poor sales, and what not. It was with these 'natural' sources that a single shop could slide in and occupy a small building cramped between two others. No windows, and the entrance was below street level. One would need to use the stairs to descend down to the buildings entrance, as there was a separate business above the lower. The only hint at what this new business was, would be a very plain sign with an anvil and a hammer. A forge. Should one dare the short trip down the stairs, they would find the front door. Past this, the store itself. Cramped, small, and every single inch that wasn't floor space filled with weapons and armor of all classes. However something was very odd. Not a single item was doubled, unless required ( Such as gauntlets, boots, twin daggers / swords ). Also, perhaps it was the lighting but something was different about the items. Their quality, if the eyes of the customer where trained well enough to see, is beyond the level of any other merchant on the streets. The light source itself was simple orbs of magical light stuck to the ceiling.

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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Andion Isurand on Tue Jun 23, 2015 8:21 pm

Baetonin still hoped to catch a glimpse of something that would give him ideas for his spell research or ways to advance the technology his people employed. Observing other recent conflicts in a manner similar to how he now watched the battle between Hren and the Our Nostrum armored squad, transport and exo-framed woman, had so far failed to provide these new ideas lately. It was then that he noticed the long, space-faring vessel overhead, descending across the city towards its docks. It was a stately vessel, for which technological weaponry and the placement of viewing ports and access points were not yet entirely obvious.

In the form of a typical crow, Baetonin flew up to the roof atop one of the higher buildings overlooking the battle below and a block down the street, and dropped down behind the small retaining wall that bordered the flat roof on all sides. He then took some seconds to both cast a spell to produce a brief communications effect, followed by him sending the following interplanar message to his enclave council liaison: "Unrest and pockets of destruction in primary market city of Nexxian border region TC-35. Also marking arrival of long spacefaring planeshifting vessel of Elementian appearance. Requesting deployment of three scouting probes to my last point of arrival."

Two dozen miles north of the city limits, out in the desolate savannah, a circular portal soon opened to a radius of about three feet, remaining open long enough to permit three cloaked scouting probes to emerge in series. Each of them would appear as sleek segmented non-reflective cermet ovoids, three feet long and two feet wide, covered in various recessed sensors set behind transparent ceramic lenses, further protected by cermet armored iris apertures. However, they were next to impossible to notice, locate or identify, what with their cloaking screens warping light and energy around their exteriors along with their silent induction engines manipulating gravity as a means of propulsion. The portal itself remained visible from one side, until it closed seconds afterwards.

Meanwhile, Baetonin quickly shifted back to his native humanoid form, causing the articles he wore to emerge from having been melded with his previous form, while he kneeled behind the small walls that bordered the edge of the rooftop he currently occupied. This granted him access to the holocom bracer he wore under the sleeve of his long coat, which he then used to contact and direct the probes to approach his location at a safe altitude measuring tens of meters above the tallest building in the city, at speeds which would still allow them to map the terrain and scan the spectrum to analyze, identify and track living beings, vehicles and other active technological devices within the scope of their programming and the sensitivity of their sensors.


Last edited by Andion Isurand on Sun Jun 28, 2015 8:01 am; edited 11 times in total
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Nethuama on Tue Jun 23, 2015 11:17 pm

[Relentless.] Wisps of thick, grey smoke slowly poured from the guns’ barrels, the screeching of the Primal Fuses fading. Sssss… Their weapons would remain trained on where Hren stood, or maybe once stood. Those manning these great turrets were ever vigilant as the dust began to clear from the crater they had made. Not the entirely accurate, but most entities in this realm were relatively durable to combat what did hit. They only expected the barrage lethality to be minimal; an effort in suppressing the Hobbe member. However, there was no ceasefire to confirm their succession. Instead the outer Claire-Vanguard released the foregrip almost in unison, before the dust had even settled. Their forearms slid beneath said foregrip, supported by the brachialis whilst their augmented digits grasped two spherical devices holstered in their harness. Only a few knew of their purpose, but it was possible Hren would, too, recognize these things. In subtle under-handed pivots, they pressed a button and lobbed them – The hiss and whizz of gears and pressure chambers coming to ear.

Beep, beep, beep… Their diameter would expand and at the third beep, the devices promptly engaged. An inward sound of suction blared into the senses, space ionizing and particles scraped together with the sudden inverted rush of meta-forces. The closer these strange assault grenades came to a source of power, Hren, the louder and more brilliant it became. That is if he was still there and conscious, but that mattered not. Vum-boom! Their behavior abruptly ended (if they had reached the target’s proximity) before bathing the area in a baleful light. The spheres’ shell shattered, unleashing a concussive wave upon the Hobbe that stretched approximately eight feet.

This was to also properly disperse the dust that lingered, reducing its own cloud to knee level. Kiish! Just after the discharge, the leading Anubria orcs stomped forward with shields before them, clawed feet digging into the aging asphalt. The chainsaw-edged swords were lowered for a potential upward hew. Occasionally the tip contacted the street, throwing up sparks amidst their shrill lags. It was not too hasty but certainly was considered a charge to most opposing parties. The Claire-Vanguard followed behind, rifles horizontal in case of that preemptive counter. Eeeaaah! With just one pull of the trigger, they fired off brilliant, crooked gauss bolts at Hren’s legs once visual was established – Which was rapid, of course. During each bay of the rifles, wheels beneath the luminescent ampules moved outward, moving them horizontally to the sides simultaneously.

Meanwhile something bizarre came through the interface airways, it was garbled but still the soldiers wielding them understood some. These men and women were intelligent, militant within the cartel’s parameters. “Thez things are nuthing— comparison— power. D— Die. You are my gateway—,” Disjointed through the archaic sensors, the devices could only pick up so much from the ambient beyond the mundane. The power source did, though, provided some kind of hook. Currently inconsequential to the circumstances, it was logged within the vehicle’s systems. There was another explosion not made from their weapons, the guarding squad perking up and glancing to the surroundings with weapons bared. But like the distant symphony of bombs in a war, they were disregarded hitherto. Alessa hung the microphone beside its station and hung down inside the pit, watching over the rim once more with her piercing orbs.

The hounds were having a much easier time dealing with their prey, dashing through the streets. They maneuvered over cowering citizens and junk lying about, communicating to each other in unnatural shrieks. Finally the man had made a possibly crucial mistake once he turned and shot his tongue forth. These creatures were quite fond of violent Catch. The first of the pack’s front had sensed the tongue coming to its feet, choosing to act immediately as it was a few feet from its legs. Its maw would thrust forward, leading its body into a dive for said tongue. If upon grabbing the organ, it would swiftly pivot its body and fall to the floor into a slide. Garbage and muck was there for its fall, but this did not stop the others - probably to leap over their brother and keep going. This was to hopefully snag Patrekk before detachment and perhaps disrupt his trajectory. Hitting a building was effective in its own sense to most everyone in this world.

They and the Our Nostrum squad continued to look over Baetonin’s presence despite it being displayed for them to see. Nothing was too out of the ordinary, especially if they remained peaceful throughout the commotion. The people below the surface had their own problems as the cries of mutants beneath manholes grew louder.


[Anubria Orc Vanguard x2, Anubria Human Vanguard x1, Claire-Vanguard x6]
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by NPC-Roster on Tue Jun 23, 2015 11:56 pm

Well even one of Hrens considerable durability seemed to be taking damage, he knew now that there would be no time for defense, at least not while they were concentrating their fire and not stopping. He became enraged at the continued barrage, and decided to stop guarding. His skin turning a hot shade of red, as he brought the stick down and took the damage full body this time for a chance to finally break the momentum of the soldiers. This would be done prior to the usage of the Assault-Grenade or perhaps just as it was done, as the enraged status of Hren would add potency to his original attack, causing 5 frag-attacks of greater magnitude to erupt beneath and slightly behind the soldiers and the trucks, while also causing the individual chunks of shrapnel to explode with the charged negative energy, creating a potentially lethal miniature fireworks display of exploding randomized rubble adding an extra offensive measure, more potency, and greater radius to his attacks. If nothing else this should have at least momentarily halted the assault, or maybe even wounded or killed someone. Now at lower vitality, his body did not seem to notice as his rage suppressed his pain. (5/10ths health.), he stepped simultaneously forward with his attack, continuing into a sprint clearing an impressive amount of distance despite his size to get out of the radius of the grenades and skirt around the Vanguard with shields, making his way through some collapsed rubble giving him some cover in the process.

The hound was able to react to the tongue-lashing, but the organic muscle ripped at the last moment and retracted as Patrekk landed, cursing as toxic blood spurted from the damaged muscle, which was already repairing itself. He turned in the air with deft grace as the hounds pursued him even amidst the others attack. Upon hitting the ground he sprung forward bending forward with his hands to either side of him. (Like a ninja-run) his taloned nails suddenly releasing flachette like razors from beneath themselves, 10 flachettes released each were poisoned, though that would probably do nothing against the hounds, save for the fact when interacting with any other chemical it would cause a reaction that would produce strong electricity causing potential paralysis/internal burning/nerve damage etc. There were dozens of them released in the span of a few moments some sticking to the floor, as some were sent upward, while some spread out to either side at the very least making evasion extremely unlikely if the hounds kept up their pursuit. Patrekk would have to turn a shop corner and would grasp a lamp-post and swing around it to launch himself around the corner into a somersault that would transition into a roll on the ground that would seamlessly turn into a spring forward if he was not stopped, the distance achieved from the stun about 50 meters. (Posts till Patrekk reaches Hobbes Manor 3-4)

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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Nethuama on Wed Jun 24, 2015 3:32 am

[Relentless.] The advancing squad recognized their target’s prowess, and it was only a matter of time until they were to experience it. Before approaching and escalading pandemonium, each one had been briefed on their targets should they be encountered. Specialized exo-frames had been installed onto their bodies for such a chance, both granting the required strength and durability. Its use was soon to be tested with a last minute strike from the target. The grenades were over halfway through their arc intended as the monstrous Hren brought his mighty crudgel toward the earth past an easy halt. It was apparent that situation was going to result in an inevitable hit-for-hit. Bone-like spines jutting from the Anubria orcs (much like Mors) began to twitch as they sensed the Hobbe’s slightest movements. Even with this attribute, they could react only so fast to the seismic assault, nonetheless. Their great, muscular bodies pivoted to the left and right (left one left, right one right) as they drove the shield’s bottom edges into the asphalt. The grinding of the oiled rock reverberated up the shields’ walls, feet sliding back during to further brace for what was yet to come. This was properly set three quarters before impact which was to cause a show in itself.

Boom! Hren’s asphalt rending lash then collided against the shields in a deafening cry – the Anubria orcs breaking the street beneath their feet as their shields revealed their function. The mass kinetic force (and raw energy alike) transferred into the piezo-like material and connected conduit network. Immediately this would be unleashed back with impressive pressure from that aforementioned disk, protecting the men behind this wall. The street’s surface was uprooted; it crumbled into intersecting cones of airborne, ionized shrapnel (as said attack was to be dispersed back to the earth). Those at their protector’s outer flanks were not so fortunate against the lines of destruction. Although their helmets’ alert had warned them, they could not evade the onslaught.

Blam! Those seismic eruptions launched the two Claire-Vanguard into a mid-air somersault as if they were ragdolls. Landing in the parking lots to the sides of the streets, they began to tumble about eight feet until stopping. One managed to stop early against the door of an abandoned car, causing the metal to buckle against his back. Yellow arcs danced about their forms with every scrape on the pavement, fading with their lifeless halt. Rifles that they had wielded landed a few feet away, the ampule shells only cracked by the fall. Their groans could be heard from beneath the helmets, echoing against the metal plate. Limbs struggled to move and their torsos felt heavy, but their state would not last long. Same with Hren’s in exchange for such an abrupt attack.

His blunt weapon would have just begun to hit the ground as those grenades detonated in a blinding, concussive burst of radiation. It was nothing lethal, even with what shrapnel there was, to a brute such as Hren but the affects were considerable. An intense influx of meta-galvanized energy in high-quanta had flashed before the retinas. Even to the Anubria orcs and the remaining Claire-Vanguard this was a hazard, hiding behind the tower shields with only a crack of visibility. Promptly after the brief illumination, the defenders strafed opposite of each other with the supporting leg leading. Before this the two standing exo-men let the sensory devices drop to their hips, the strong strap over their opposing shoulder. They took their compacted Claire-Tech weapons, pressing the butt betwixt the upper-pectoral cylinders and shoulder frame. With right and left leading, they stepped into firing upon the hulking but weakened man with the same firing mode. Not as extreme as the rifles, they did pack a respectable punch even to those strong types.

Meanwhile the Anubria-Vanguard rushed in with a calculative jog, their advance almost an oval to those watching overhead. Their pace differed, the right one running in first. Hren’s would likely identify them as shapely, hissing blobs even as they closed in. The first Anubria orc mentioned rose his screaming sword three-quarters of the way until he was able to get within the target’s proximity. Subsequently it would stop on its right foot, the sword swung downward in a forty-five degree angle – Aimed to the midsection behind the elbow. Those shields were to be angled, muscles budging  as it was held back for that imminent follow up. Of course the Claire-Vanguard ceased their semi-automatic offensive once the hulking mutants closed their arc of encroachment. Crouching slightly, they separated and began to circle around to the area in front said Anubria orcs. The one that had yet attack was a follow up if the opportunity came, seeking to aid his equally huge brethren once needed.  

The remaining lashes blew up against the vehicle’s head and sides, inflicting only superficial damage to the plating. Dents and the occasional scorches left in these concaves had littered it, tossing the debris over the vehicle’s top and into the porthole. Alessa managed to block the rain of rubble with her raised forearm, slouching down in the pocket until it was over. Now she had grown truly impatient of the status to their mission. Her eyelids narrowed and she rose up after blowing a bang from her face, closing the hatch and disappearing inside the transport. Was she coming out? Who knew, maybe she was frightened or about to utilize the only practical exit.

As this went on, the hounds were having problems of their own. That hound’s quick reaction did little to hinder Patrekk but it did not give up. It leapt back to its paws and sped back toward the still pursuing pack. As for them, that fiendish target managed to stop in time and turn to release a volley of poisoned razors. The force caused a pair in front to be knocked off their pursuit, allowing one to deftly leap over the stunned. Patrekk’s blades from above had also momentarily dropped one more at the rear in the current formation. The other dog left behind then hurdled over his briefly subdued brethren. Now only these two continued the direct chase, those that had been delayed chose another path. Breaking off they circled around using their brethren as navigation points. Through the trashy, pipe-ridden alleyways they darted to intercept the nimble man. Pouring out from between two brick structures a few yards from Patrekk, they veered to see their target just finishing his roll. Not a second after the others emerged, circumnavigating that mentioned street lamp. They enclosed on the man in an attempt to stop those gravity-defying leaps but there was indeed distance. This close, Patrekk was likely to see the strands of saliva from their maws.

As for the chemicals administered through those sharp projectiles, they found it energizing. The mix of the substances induced a flood of energy into their bodies, expelling from those luminescent wounds. Tendrils of colorful ejection whipped started to sprout and swipe before dissipating. Hiems’s taint had granted such attributes on accident, a byproduct of a new physical, eternal system. Mutated glands and organs cycled this surge about, empowering the cells or leaving via, as said, those tears.
 

[Anubria Orc Vanguard x2, Anubria Human Vanguard x1, Claire-Vanguard x6/-2 Stunned] [Hren: Blind 1P?]


Last edited by Nethuama on Thu Jun 25, 2015 3:23 am; edited 3 times in total (Reason for editing : Had to clarify something.)
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by NPC-Roster on Thu Jun 25, 2015 2:50 pm



The flashbang went off, the flickering lights managing to blind Hren, though this only fueled his enraged stated. He was not going to allow Our-Nostrum to push him around so easily, even if he was robbed of his sight, even if they kept shooting at him relentlessly. When they finally stopped there had to be a reason, in his anger addled mind, all he wanted to do was crush and kill. He brought his cudgel to bear and began sweeping it back and forth along the ground in front of him, sending chunks of debris flying randomly in front of him, the charged bombs meant to stop the encroaching hissing blobs, at least long enough to regain his sight so he could engage them fairly. Dozens of small fragments were sent without much accuracy towards the Orcs but once again their AoE effect would make up for this slightly, while their proximity would also help. The exploding chunks and shrapnel creating their own display to potentially halve the Orcs. The effect also caused Hren to back up from his own attack towards the front of a shop, disengaging the encroaching Anubria Orcs and keeping his stick held handily in front of him, with both hands. He simply could not engage them in conventional melee while he was blinded. Or did not want too it seemed. "FUCK!" a switch was hit along his cudgels exterior and a click and whir would be the result, as a chain suddenly left the weighted end of his stick, causing it to hit the ground. Grabbing the chain with his opposite hand, Hren began to swing it around him over his head creating a 4 meter circle around him, which would glow violet.

The razors only seemed to make things worse, but had at least delayed them. His journey brought Patrekk through a more busy street of running people seeking to get away from the warzone. His path was cut off however as two hounds came at him, using the speed he had built up, Patrekk tipped forward to plant his hands upon the floor, using the momentum he had gained to turn in place charging himself with energy to gain even greater speed. As the hounds encroached his handstand would turn into an upside down spinning wheel of sustained kicks, as his legs stretched out. Even if the creatures fed on his poison somehow, the Primordial Chaos Hounds did have an opposite. The "Monsters" knew of the Nihilus or the "opposite" of Vivi, however they were not affiliated with it. Regardless a repulsive effect would ensue against the two hounds as those spurs in his heels also threatened to cut/pierce the hounds as they came upon him, seeking to send them both flying into the opposing directions and into the other hounds or perhaps into buildings. His speed was worth noting on par with a buzzsaw lessening the chance of the hounds simply biting his legs to near nill. Once done he would curl up in mid spin and use the momentum to roll forward before trying to leap to a nearby roof. His tongue bleeding in his mouth, as he mentally cursed Our-Nostrum. They would pay for this ridiculousness one way or another. (Posts till escape 4.)

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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by MrMystic on Thu Jun 25, 2015 2:56 pm

From the primary ship hailed in royal colors the cockpit detaches and makes its way through the air with stealth in mind; though, it pauses over the fray with hellfyre-plasma gattling-cannons focused on the greater part of the field. A booming voice echoes from the amplified communicator with authority,

"Cease and desist this is Elementian authority!"

The voice seemed soldiery in tone possessing more of a monotone, but perhaps unknown to either the Hobbes family and Our Nostrum. Civilian Soldiers armed with Saber SMGs(15), Elementian Magitek Elites wearing mana forged suits that cause the soldiers to stand approximately nine feet tall with a huge extended bladed arm and twin sonic-cannons holstered on their shoulders plus huge devil-like tails with a hollow spike at their tips(6), and four Elementian Mages caped in scarlet red wielding huge swords that look mechanically inclined. That isn't even the worse of it, as the plethora of personnel surrounds the two cartels on all fronts within a matter of seconds thanks to their Elementian genealogy, two massive figures reeled down from the cargo area,which they move to the brunt of the ship at ready.

Each Sentinel at ready standing nearly fifty feet tall if not more the Ogre Sentinel clad in heavy metal with a frost-cannon aimed squarely on the fray, while the mighty Silver Knight Sentinel wields its tremendous lance arm at ready and a torrent of air stirring about it.

Another voice continued though more commanding and suave than the one before,
"There is a tremendous reward in it for the one whom brings forth the fugitive Galvery, because we know he has been here for our biological sensors tell us so. We can work together and gain great boon or if you wish we can all fight it out here to the death. Your choice."

The voice would vanish as a cloud of particle energy is consumed into the gattling-cannons and they ready to fire if necessary.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by NPC-Roster on Fri Jun 26, 2015 12:40 am


Enough was enough. The true Patron of the city was used to blood being spilled, it was a sign the city was operating as it should. The lessers fighting amongst themselves was good for buisness. But things had already gotten close to getting out of hand, and when the foreign ship began firing its plasma vulcans, Sentry drones picked up the foreign craft. The hovering-mechs had two turbine fans on either side of their cylindrical bodies, they glowed a green colour and turned slightly to accomodate a quicker movement.

The Sentry Drones were lightly-armoured in alchemical ablative steel, designed to increase its resistance to shock, while increasing their melting point and decreasing heat retention. In addition there was a dense layer of insulation beneath the armour to protect the drone from electrical or magnetic attacks as well as providing additional resistance to heat, shock, and cold as well.

The Drones had guns upon their bottom and sought to rose higher as they made their way towards the disturbance, as the gatling-vulcan had a broader barreled gun below it, and a sensor array on the barrel of each. There were 4 in total and they would train their weapon-systems on the Elementian-Ship. "You are in Violation of Market-Airspace... You shall vacate beyond the city limits immediately or hostile measures will be taken..."



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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Nethuama on Fri Jun 26, 2015 3:47 am

[Relentless.] Objectively the outcome became ever bleaker to the Hobbe. Spectators in the distance found even their eyes inflicted by those grenades. Covering their faces and hiding behind the various pipes and dumpsters, shrieks roared about the gathering. Many fled as they foresaw even greater consequences to the war. Rambunctious children remained far from the carnage, tiny eyes peaking over whatever obstacle to be unseen. Hren’s blind fury forced the Our Nosturm squad to deviate from their plan, remaining stationary behind those shields. Glowing rubble ricocheted from their shields, giving only minor recoil to their wielders. Ever patient, they waited for a window to present itself until the ground shook beneath them. It was not their weapons, nor did the parties cause enough damage. The Hobbe’s desperate hews made it all the worse, instantly causing the floor to crumble beneath them from center-south. They clutched their weapons and dropped in with legs curled as best they could. Chunks of the street caused a few to be land awkwardly, hitting the piles with a crash.

Water and dust erupted to the skies like a geyser, enveloping whoever fell within into the now destroyed sewer ways. The dense ground beneath the parking lots dropped into a decline where the surface sank, the Claire-Vanguard that had then regained their composure tossed in with their squad. The Anubria orcs landed in a crouched amid the cloud, debris further broken by their heavy forms and strong soles. It was badass. Luckily the vehicle had been just outside of the collapse, its front at the edge of property destruction. Alessa had felt the quake shoot through the vehicle, yet the suit allowed her to properly balance. After all, this hulking transport not been flipped just yet; spared by lucky positioning. Perhaps Hren would join them in the fissure, end this once and for all but this was not the case.

The remaining Claire-Vanguard rose to their feet with subtle whizzing and hisses to follow, briefly surveying their surroundings. Those clunky sensors hanging at their hips were suddenly at alarm, drawing the attention of the rifle-bearing guards once detached. These newcomers were designated hostile by their approach, amber dots closing in on their position. Eventually there was visual between the Claire-Vanguard and the others, marching forward to regroup until a voice boomed from the aperture. Through their lenses they could not see anyone unless the Elementian force too had leapt into said hole. Their vision-adaption settings were limited, switching to what they could with little motion. The Elementians lit up to the squad’s sight behind the lenses, monitoring the behavior in another’s individual resonance. It was as if they had been possessed, the circular openings lit by a dim pulsating glow. Regardless, that broadcast prompted them to take position behind the shields once they were in unit coherency.

This was one of the many occasions the Adivuo Vadettes came into play. One of the men armed with the compact Claire-Tech let their weapon drop, hanging from the shoulder. Hastily he reached back and grabbed a handle sticking out beneath their bulky backpacks. Kiiish… Pulling out an odd, segmented hexagonal device, he swung it to his side – This somehow triggered triad of stakes to protract with a much denser one at their center.   Accordingly, they would either raise the shields above them (or against them depending), preparing until further instructions regarding abrupt circumstance. That mentioned Claire-Vanguard would crouch slightly as he drove the pylon into the ground but did nothing else. It was left there to let its pieced shell shift about, giving off a gentle hum that drowned whatever mechanism within. Of course this had attracted the attention of the city’s leader whose drones were heard amid this ceasefire. The Patron’s little minions would make an appearance for the denizens who had likely fled with the coming of the Elementian forces. The audience took to the streets in fear once the earth began to get swallowed up by the acrid depths.  

The Our Nostrum militias were all too familiar with the Patron’s machinations, encountering them more often than not. Through the gradually fading veil, they could hear the authoritative voices of the various parties, including their superior’s raving.  Finally a familiar accent came through private airways once Alessa’s own speaker-carried voice ended, “We are outnumbered, fall to Route G, will rendezvous in Celesin moon time.” A signal bathed in static to outsiders, translated through only Primal Fuse systems. They wasted little time in moving after ignoring what the ‘Elementian Authority’ had even said for the sake of their own situation. Grenades, shields, and gunfire readied against those seeking to deter them from escaping the impending war. Except their exit would be a portion untouched by block-wide devastation. One had to pick their battles in this world, especially when so many had intervened just in a matter of minutes. They would return, obviously. Anyways, their calculative gaits could be heard rustling the debris as they ventured just beneath the southwest, even passing Hren if he were present.

Meanwhile at the surface, Alessa had found it rather bothersome with such a rapid escalation. This was only expected, having come prepared for problems such as these. Although the transport did not possess enough firepower to contend, it would certainly survive. Layers of nondescript, dull metal painted with dirt and grime was surely to enlighten those attacking the figurative block of armor. As the Elementians came into the harmless pandimensional array, the crewmen would immediately engage the doors. Click! Nnnnnn… Gears and wheels droned within the troop cabin, the thick doors lifting up from the street in whines and moans. The Anubria human gave off a shrill, challenging cry to the unknown men coming from the heavens, the doors finally closed with a resounding thud. Not exactly hiding inside of their vehicle, but there was not much they could do without bringing in the big guns. Our Nostrum did not wish to add onto a situation involving the Patron’s forces. Already he felt Ashcroft was dangerously unpredictable. Alessa had made it into the operator cabin, casually walking up to their controls and using their microphones. She supported her body with the other hand, having grabbed hold of a ceiling mounted safety handle, “Whut in tha fuck’s the Elementian authority?” Not allowing them to respond, she held the button to speak again, “I’m afraid you are out of you’l jurisdiction, boys, and there’s nobody here by that name, afraid.” That hollow voice was ended with a click, adding on before the Patron’s drones interceded, “Now what we truly want is for you wankers to fuck off an- Hah, and there they are: the Patron’s toys. Hah.” They had entered the radius as blue specks upon the screens, radar warning of their emergence in the area with a two-second beep. She decided to stay and see what happens pending backing up and flattening whatever lied behind it. Alessa’s emerald pools shined with the screen’s light, watching those flying automatons meet up with the Elementians that rounded up.  

Patrekk and the hounds were far from the newly formed chasm but they did suffer the aforementioned quake that rippled through the industrial sector. Pipes twisted and contorted with the pressure, causing many people unaffected by the fighting to fully experience its chaos. This would likely cause the man and canine abominations to lose their footing as well. Paws spread to gain some kind of balance, but most of them dropped to their sides or knees while doing their best to stand. The very vibrations coursing through the streets excited the taint mutating their body, degrading the regulation systems working on overdrive to keep them focused. Without Hiems, their conduct was a toss between several things. Channels released what excess it could, directing flows elsewhere to limit the strain. Patrekk’s kick and their approach were to not come just yet depending on who could get up and run first. The hounds were not as dexterous as that fiendish man, having fallen into each other during the area’s unexpected trembling. Anyways, their nigh-unstoppable persistence kept them viciously focused even with that the area shaking. Claws ripped frantically at the ground for that shred of traction, bringing those frightening maws into a flail, seizing whatever piece of Patrekk they could latch onto.
 

[Anubria Orc Vanguard x2, Anubria Human Vanguard x1, Claire-Vanguard x6] [Hren: Blind 1P] [Pyrrhic Pylon 2P]
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by MrMystic on Fri Jun 26, 2015 8:43 pm

The ground started to rumble, and quake then suddenly it erupted sending pieces everywhere. The. Elementian troops stood by as most of the targets their weapons were aimed at were swallowed by the earth.

Inside the control room at the center stood a man, who adorned a black coat, by the orders he was barking you could tell he was in charge. He stood about 8ft tall, and from what features you could make of his face, his elementian lineage was apparent. His voice was burly and robust, his words elegant, yet smooth, well mostly. He watched on through the viewport as the ground gave way.
"Fuuuck, well that one is my own damn fault." His voice full of anger as he spoke, yet he still managed to keep a calm about himself."Tell the drone that we will stand down, and that i take full responsibility for that explosion. Then tell it we will be at the docks and to send a liaison so we might finish our business and leave, and the sooner they send someone the sooner we can leave. Now what is the status on the Elementian?
On the right of the man was a soldier who stood at a monitor, repeating everything he said, and when he finished he replied to the man.
"Message sent Sire, as for the Elementian the readings are sporadic, too many life signs, and the after effects of the explosion seem to be distorting the sensors. The troops down below are inquiring as to what you want them to do."

"Alright send in Alpha team, and this time deactivate the fail safe protocol, we don't need to be responsible for the destruction of another city block. Tell them to make their way back to the docks, and to take their time and buy stuff from the shops, and most importantly deactivate their weapons, and under no circumstances do the fire unless provoked."

The repowered it drive core, and as it headed back towards the docks three projectiles shot from its aft cannons.

Back at the docks the vessel, began its merging sequence with the cruizer. Inside the mysterious figure prepared for the representative that the patron of the market would send.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by NPC-Roster on Sun Jun 28, 2015 1:55 pm

Hren was buried by the collapsing earth, or rather fell into the opening fissure right before the volley of plasma immolated and blasted the block further. The collapsing street perhaps blocking passages in the waterway beneath. One thing was certain though, for now Hren was done and if anyone wanted to dig him out, they would be vulnerable to attack from something else perhaps.

As for Patrekk he was more agile than the hounds but the quakes attack still affected him, even so, it affected him less than the hounds, he did not bother trying to keep his footing or rather his "clawing" as he was in the middle of a handstand amidst the quake, instead he pushed off the earth free of its current problems and thusly allowing him the freedom to enact his intent upon the compromised hounds striking with enough deft speed to avoid having his legs mauled, as his movement resembled that of a buzzsaw. If they bit his legs they were probably liable to get their heads and teeth crushed and splattered from the force of the effete lads spiraling wheel kick albeit with damage on Patrekks part.


Finally if the Drones were capable of emotion they might have been surprised that the force stood down, they escorted the force back to port. "A representative will be sent to see you shortly, refrain from entering the city till then..." a mechanical voice spoke out in unison amidst the drones.

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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Nethuama on Tue Jun 30, 2015 5:51 am

[Remedy, Irresolution.] There was little chance to salvage what they could of this mission, but it all depends on the drones’ presence. Alessa was untamed, unpredictable as opposed to Ashcroft but she was not an idiot. She knew they had nothing to hide, now. Three quarters of the force vacated the area, leaving the crewmen and the squad within the transport. Alessa knew there were inevitable questions regarding the vast property damage. It was an easy lie to weave together seeing as they had appeared before the combat; a smile to fool even a machine. Conversely, the General would not cooperate – even when the alleged battle had died down.

She waited with eyes on the black and white screens, observing what was occurring outside this vehicle. The picture flickered, static lines vibrating at the sides; it was primitive but still very effective. Upon those multiple screens, Alessa witnessed the Drone squadron’s departure with Elementians not far behind. Releasing the overhanging bar with tiny hisses of her digits, she turned and stepped out. She entered the enclosed personnel room as the final forces began to pass through the streets (or re-embark on the same drop ship they had arrived on). Secured into the customized power-backpack was a standard C-6 Rifle (with chainsaw bayonet), while at her left side hung large but aesthetically simple machete. Slung over her left shoulder was something yet to be seen by non-Our Nostrum; a massive variant to the Claire-Tech armaments. It had two great Primal Fuses that only the likes of Fenris had laid eyes upon, delivering unimaginable firepower in past experience. Only with the exo-frame installed directly into her form, was she strong enough to carry all these weapons without complication.

The cranking gears echoed through the wreckage, rear doors disengaging and lowering to now cracked asphalt. Setting right into the indent they had previously made, she and the others marched out. Once stepping off the ramp, the Anubria orc led them around their transportation with shield bared. Alessa’s breath quickened through her nostrils, quick glances about the possibly unstable area. Reaching the edge of the hole, the two Claire-Vanguard (C-2 and C-6) and her pausing a moment to survey. Not a word was exchanged between for what seemed seconds, “We extract within twenty minutes before the drones return.” She brushed her bangs aside with an open palm, speaking in a low voice. Turning their backs to the rubble-filled fissure, they pointed their opposite (or unused) hand four feet away at an angle.

Pshew- Kish! Stakes of an unknown metal were launched into the ground, the gaseous propellant snapping in the air. Attached to each one was a cord of dense thread fed from an inner reel mechanism, supporting just under the weight of those plated Anubria orcs. It was not possible to support the two of them, or even the individual monstrosity. The barricade-wielding mutant was obligated to jump off and endure the impact. Their fall was far more awkward at this angle and did not have the random luxury having an open pile of debris.

Backing up almost in unison, Alessa and the two Claire-Vanguard stepped back with said edge beneath their booted soles. Carefully they bent their legs and began the descent, walking backwards on the intact supporting wall. The feral General was the second to plant their feet on the ground, the Anubria leaping off over their heads afterwards, arms out. It landed in a crouch some feet away with a resounding thud, making small craters around its feet. It turned to its small team, dust settling around its knees. Hren was, on all accounts, a large entity and there was only so much to bury him. It was likely parts of him stuck out even if it was an arm or leg. Hopefully there was something to identify to one’s gaze. Anyways, as they approached the pile that had eaten their target, she stood back and threw the weapon from her shoulder with an upward jerk. Weeeooh-sssss… Catching the top-mounted foregrip and taking aim next to the hip, the squad continued around her and to that aforementioned pile.

Her chin inclined and those emerald orbs rested on Hren’s asphalt, premature grave before another ordered slip from full lips: “Dig Mister Hren out of there, now. Please try to be gentle with him.” Sarcasm twisted the last portion of her orders, as if she hinted to disregarding Hren’s current condition. The humming Primal Fuses powering her weapon drowned other devices and rippled under her words, finger over the trigger. Her squad did as they were told and two broke off (Anubria human and rifle Claire-Vanguard) to begin removing the debris, holstering their weapons. It was a fast process, the different boosts working to rapidly unearth their target. This was all if they were left alone in the first place, the pylon ceasing its calibration with a friendly unit within the vicinity (without personally engaging). Drones staying meant they did not leave the personnel carrier, Alessa still watching the screen and silently mouthing the counting down to the Adivuo Vadette’s activation.

Patrekk’s situation was to become problematic even as the hounds were deterred by that quake. They were too close by that initial cutting off measure, not having adequate room to avoid each other. Of course this had not stopped them. One of the two that followed Patrekk directly would seize the man’s ankle in its jaw, saliva flying from its teeth. Each one was an unnaturally strong blade capable of inflicting harm on light armored vehicles. The Chaos-tainted hound was to inadvertently rotate on the fiendish man’s limb, tearing through flesh like warm butter. Bam-squish! Its head hit first, forming a depression around the dog’s shattering skull. Next was its back, smashing the device implanted into their spine; the overflow channel sensors failed whilst it siphoned chaotic energies attempting to leave. Colorful spectrums of sparks leaked into the world pending unstable overcapacity. Unable to properly adjust to such an influx, the apparatus detonated in a respectable power of pandimensionally-charged plasma. The high pressure would toss aside all parties within proximity (six feet) of Patrekk and that now vaporized hound. Who knew what was to happen now with that Hobbe associate being so close. It was all up to one’s prowess and overall durability, but it was not a terribly lethal blast.
 

[Anubria Orc Vanguard x2, Anubria Human Vanguard x1, Claire-Vanguard x6] [Hren: Blind Fading] [Pyrrhic Pylon 1P]
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by MrMystic on Sun Jul 05, 2015 2:26 pm

Inside the cruiser the mysterious figure prepared for the arrival of the representative. When j he finished he decided he might as well do some shopping in the market.
"Where is Frigga?" The mysterious figure spoke to his second in command "I want to take her on an outing into the market."
"She is in you quarters sir, should we not stay in the ship like the drone told us?"
"Please no one commands me, beside how can I pass up a chance for getting a new weapon."
"Okay sir I'll prep her exo suit, and have your guard standing by."
"No need for either, we shall be fine, I however will take my weapons if that shall ease your mind, no further argument on the matter please." With that said he headed to his quarters to get Frigga. She was a black wolf, who looked deadly yet friendly at the same time. After he had Frigga at his side he left the ship heading for the shops.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by NPC-Roster on Sun Jul 05, 2015 9:53 pm


Hrenn was buried, and more street collapsed on top of him. The terrain he was encased in becoming impassible, as his current status was thrust into a state of ambiguity amidst the anonymous rubble.

Patrekk suffered for his offensive maneuver, but the ripping teeth would find it hard to gain purchase along his cartilage body, they shredded flesh, but did not quite get muscle, partially in thanks to the briefness of the hounds contact and its lack of getting a good grip, while Patrekks durability was at least higher than a normal humans. His spinning transitioned into a cartwheel that propelled him higher into the air, his tongue apparently having healed lashed out for a street-lamp directly above him and pulled him skyward towards another building where he would start running again, but with less speed due to the leg damage, though that too would be repaired soon.


As for the Drones they remained in place, and just as Frigga and the Mysterious Figure headed out the Representatives of the Patron-Clan would arrive. One figure was as tall as an Elementian, he wore what appeared to be Bionic-Power armour, though his head was currently bare. He had a strong jaw, and short straw colored hair in a short military style. His skin was also light greyish blue. His eyes were also red and he had an aquiline nose. Upon The giants forehead a stitched grizzly scar could be seen across his temple and over his brows in a horizontal line. Upon his back a massive gun was slung, that would have been too big for a normal man to wield, while on his lower back there was a Tribarrel Frag-Gun. At his hip a Carbine hung the same way a side-arm pistol would. A mace hung upon the opposite hip, once again, a bit unfeasible, for a man of normal stature to use.

The larger man was flanked by several Elite-Towerguards in Exo's. They had rifles pointed up, 10 of them wielding Repeating Magna-Rifles, 5 of them wielding B-Launchers. They hung back about 50 feet from the ship, while 20 feet ahead of them the diplomat was sent. He himself was flanked behind him by four masked men wearing cloaks who stood silent. A slim man wearing glasses who had bird like features, he had a simple pistol at his hip. "Greetings... And welcome to Market..." the man said assuming they had come out to meet them. "To what do we owe the sight of your ship and people?" the representative asked. "And to what do we owe the reasoning of your violation of our airspace and destruction of the block nearby...?"

The large man behind him remained vigilant, as did the soldiers, but they made no threatening moves.


(In case things get messy IC for the sake of clarity I'm going to maintain a list of my characters in regards too the meeting with the Elementians.)

x1 Boss: Patron-Guard

x15 Elite: Tower-Guards

x1 Diplomat

x4 Bio-Drones (Sentry-Type)

x4 Mech-Drones (Sentry-Class)

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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by MrMystic on Tue Jul 07, 2015 5:23 am

Cayle was greeted by the diplimat, and a few soldiers. 'Maybe I should have brought a few guards, or at least given Frigga her exo-suit. Oh well no sense in fretting over it now' he thought to himself. He however was not unprepared for a conflict for he had a few of his weapons on him. On his back hung a quiver which held a dozen and a half Spears of his own design. Next to the quiver was a large hammer, which seemed to big even for someone of his size. On each side of his hip sat two guns (desert eagle style). He also had a sword on his left hip as well as a few hidden knives. Finally on his right wrist was some sort of mechanical contraption. Frigga also was a handful even without her exo suit.
"Greetings I am here just to browse you market place, I hear it is the best around. This here is my friend Frigga, she loves the out doors. I again humbly apologize for the destruction of your beautiful market, and will explain in further detail, but please I have prepared a banquet come join us." Cayle pointed at his ship which seemed to open as he pointed at the it. "Everyone is welcome...weapons and all." He seemed to be a little hesitant on the last part of that, but he wanted them to trust him...for now.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by NPC-Roster on Tue Jul 07, 2015 8:52 am

The Diplomat paused as Cayle spoke. It seemed folly too go inside. "I will be bringing my guards..." he said after thinking on it a moment. "The soldiers will remain outside." he told him. The implications were obvious. The male was laying it on a little thick calling the market "beautiful" but he supposed he would take the comment but also considered it to most likely be flattery to smooth things over. He would go inside with the masked Biodrones, and the soldiers would maintain their distance. The Hergarion blinked a few times, as if thinking extremely hard, his head nodded by a fractional degree as if affirming something.

"Alright boys I don't really like the feel of this... I want you all to be frosty. I would like to call for backup but we don't want to appear overly hostile by the Patrons will... Therefore if anything DOES happen you puss-born sons of bitches better be ready to act without A MOMENTS FUCKING HESITATION..." the Patron-Guards tone shot up, reaching an almost comically shrill point at the last word, as spittle flew from his mouth, a sudden burst of over the top zeal seemingly overcoming him for a brief moment. The men nodded in the affirmative and yelled "BY HIS WILL IT SHALL BE DONE!" with zeal before spreading out. 4 Rifle-men on each side of the Hergarion Boss. While the B-Launcher users would spread about to have 2 within each group of 4.  There would then be two rifle-men and a b-launcher user on either side and behind the Boss respectively.

The other two groups spread out till they would be on opposite sides of the front of the ship, essentially spreading out till they flanked its front. The Boss would wave as he did so. "No cause for alarm! We just can't be too careful with those big guns you guys are toting..." he said as he took out a cigar from a compartment and lit it with his fingertip which apparently had that feature. He spoke loudly despite the fact the cigar was held between his teeth. He had something of a toothy grin on his face as he spoke as well. In truth he had no intention to start a fight, he was essentially being honest in that they WERE just being careful. They might not have had the extensive resources of the Elementians, but they seemed aware of this, and were eager to avoid being put at anymore of a disadvantage than they already were, and yet despite knowing they were probably outclassed they did not seem the slightest bit phased or frightened, it was as if they all had nerves of steel. It seemed they were highly disciplined, trained, experienced, and equipped. The Patron had sent some of his best.

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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Galvery on Tue Jul 07, 2015 10:04 am

The Prince was not the only Elementian in the frame as a legend amongst his people lays in wait off world some hundred miles or so from the planet. Avarus Fang, Praefecfus General or General Fang waiting on the main deck of the grand flag ship Fira; which, was a tremendous vessel stretching over three miles long and in its shadow resided nearly an entire battalion of Elementian Destroyers. Numbering in the hundreds the Destroyers varied in sizes anywhere from 800 feet to half a mile long, however in the meantime they remained inert awaiting the Generals' command. Avarus was a mighty individual to say the least, but he didn't look like your typical Elementian as he stood over ten feet tall. A monstrous individual that during an unfortunate accident via Arcane Genetics had permanently been transformed into his Augmented form-the A.E cells in his body almost constantly dispensing energy.

He stood as a tremendous snake-like being with a heavy osteodermis and plated scales, long powerful looking claws an arms, huge venomous looking head with horrible fangs and beady red hues; however, he also wore a suit that not only gave him greater power but sustained him so his energy my never flicker out because of his unfortunate situation. His power was also eventually gonna be his down fall it would seem if he ever were to drain himself. His suit was formed from Elementian Steel to represent his esteemed rank, but was also alloyed with mana to give him that extreme boost. He carried no visible weapon as of yet, but his presence alone spoke of honor and deadly nature. His voice came along as a vicious hiss as he spoke to his second, "Prepare my vessel if need be. We cant allow our Prince to be killed."

The underling nodded as left the command deck-their ship was immense and a prize with a gigantic cannon at the brunt of the ship; though, not a planetary destroy it looked dangerous enough it could perhaps begin such a process. Plated in heavy metal with hundreds of smaller gatling-cannons lining its outer hall it was truly a military masterpiece and the elemental ring that circles its mid-point created a plasmic energy field about it that emitted such heat even the Destroyers kept their distance.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Caden on Tue Jul 07, 2015 9:07 pm

The clop of hooves rung dully through the air, all but muted by the sound of battle and chaos happening. The Marketplace was mostly closed doors and barred windows given the current circumstances. Few if any buyers dared to risk their lives for a few purchases and even less shopkeepers intended to risk their goods. But it wasn't the battle that brought the massive black Helion with fiery eyes, and a mane that seemed smoke. Small horns had started to show on Ishtari's head, a thing she seemed sure proud of. But if the raging battle and mayhem didn't phase the well trained mare, it was doubly so for the rider.

Caden sat the saddle with the surreal grace of a man that seemed born to it, his movements appeared fluid in general. The snow white cloak of rank fastened by the Lion Crest at his breast was in direct contrast to the inky black flanks of his ride. Unfortunately for Cayle his path into the Market would be intersected by the Primoris. Caden coming to a stop in front of the man before dismounting and patting Ishtari's neck as his cloak settled. An easy smile took his face as he turned his turquoise gaze to the figure, the tapetum lucidum reflecting the light faintly was perhaps one of the only indications the six foot man was more than he appeared. The gaze saw Cayle and obviously measured him to the core, but what the results were was impossible to tell. Only the warm smile as the Primoris' silken timbre offered a greeting. "I am Caden, Primoris Fulminis to the Celesin Imperium and I must apologize for keeping you from your destination. But I am afraid you'll be unable to visit the city."

As ever the Primoris Fulmins was polite and charming, though it may be lost on the large being before him. Caden was for all intents and purposes unarmed, his well fit black utilitarian slacks and coat spoke plainly of military position. And if Cayle didn't understand the Cloak or Crest in this place then it might have benefit him to do a touch more research. But before Cayle could offer a rebuttal Caden would continue on. "You see arriving with armed forces and destroying a city block under Celesin jurisdiction doesn't really grant the best of welcomes. Don't worry we have sent another to speak to the fleet of ships similar to yours above. But it would be in your best interest to retreat."

His words were simple, plain and cordial. But despite the tone it was obvious it was not a request. Celesin had sent a single man to deal with this potential threat, Cayle and his kind may have saw that as an insult. But there was little Caden could do about that. Perhaps you can return another time if we decide to give you leave. Might I suggest next time forgoing all the flash and firepower, really it would be a shame if anything happened to it. Consider it a token of goodwill that you are not being required to compensate for the damages."

Caden stood now silent, hands clasped one over the other before him as he simply waited.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by NPC-Roster on Tue Jul 07, 2015 10:25 pm

Well this was bad. The last thing they wanted was Celesin attention, this far on the frontier even the Ultonis only came out this far out semi-rarely. However it seemed there had been some mechanism that had alerted the Imperium. Out of all the skirmishes in all the galaxy this had gotten their attention. Uranius cursed at the sudden appearance of the Primoris. It seemed Caden was seeking to defend them, but the fact of the matter was the Patron sanctioned many things that were certainly not "Legal" to Imperium standards, which were at least known to the Patron and high level associates of his due to Celesin's wide territory and high profile. Caden was perhaps ignorant at how things were ran here, and Uranius preferred to keep it that way. This night was proving to be beyond testing. What stroke of misfortune had caused things to escalate from a routine lynching, to the violation of air-space by a foreign power and the destruction of an entire block, to the rousing of the sleeping giant across the great cosmic pond?

These Elementians certainly had big ships, big people, and big guns, but Celesin was the "Devil" he sort of knew, and yet he knew that things could get very hot very quickly. It was an ironic twisting of the principal he would rather deal with these unknown apparently wandering but disruptive star-farers, than the people he knew would be very interested in many of markets affairs, such as slavery, drug-use and production, and even the rare smuggling of arms or technology from the Imperium itself just to name a few things. (Though no Magi-Tech.)

His men would certainly be outclassed now, even Uranius veteran of 1000 battles doubted he could best the Legendary likes of a Primoris though foolish pride and programmed traits still tempted him to do so, such thing would be folly the chance of survival being close to zero not withstanding. He fell silent not saying a word, his men maintained their current formation, not moving an inch, their steely discipline almost bent at the presence of such a being based on reputation alone but extensive mental conditioning and programming was a powerful thing, it would take more than presence to break these men and force them to do something stupid.

Tensions were certainly high however, and the Hergarion Boss could not help but rest his right hand on his side-arm.

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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by MrMystic on Thu Jul 09, 2015 9:54 pm

The Prince now getting upset, with being forced to leave was a bit agitated, but hid it well. "I am truly sorry about the hole I created, but I was not the only one creating destruction out there, my recon drone only blew up when it was assaulted by the fugitive I am after. Please allow me 1 hour to gather my people and I will leave, as for the General you detected I know him I can ask him to leave but he has done nothing, he is just searching the outskirts for the fugitive as well." When Cayle saw he was truly out gunned, he patted Frigga on the head, and she looked up at him as he nodded at her Frigga then ran back to the cruiser.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Andion Isurand on Sat Jul 11, 2015 10:00 pm

Baetonin's three supporting scouting probes had long since arrived, observing and mapping the area while cloaked, since the initial elementian vessel touched down preceding the meeting between a small portion of its crew and the native forces of the market. Monitoring them through his holocom bracer, Baetonin had bade two of the probes take the opportunity to record the encounter on the ground, while the third probe, had been directed up closer towards the elementian fleet in orbit, and was currently in the process of making a survey.

In so doing, Baetonin had obtained the reason for the elementians having come, as well as the image and voice of someone claiming to be Caden, Primoris Fulminis to the Celesin Imperium. Suddenly wary from what little he had heard of the primoris' substantial capabilities, Baetonin set about examining the space around where he was situated upon a high rooftop about two blocks west of the destructive collapse. With senses currently enabled by divination to perceive the auras of various effects that might prohibit him from teleporting away from the city by means of spellcasting, he had to make sure he could do so from his current position before deciding his next move.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Nikolai on Mon Jul 13, 2015 6:06 pm

Roughly five miles out from the fleet of Elementian ships space appeared to distort for a moment before a ship started to arrive from the contorted space. A dark dull grey, it would be relatively hard to spot the sleek sheep if not for the extended antennae that pulsed with a blue luminescence. The Celesin Revenant Class Ship was one of their medium battleships, coming in at just over 350 meters in length.  It's sleek contours and distinct all but seamless appearance was standard to most Celesin technology. (The Revenant)

Once the ship has arrived from the null space, the distortion returned to normal. The front of the ships hull sported what seemed to be a massive weapon that ran the length of the entire ship. And like they had sent Caden, no other ships arrived with the Revenant. Konstatine had come aboard in hopes of testing out the newest upgrade to the ship. The Magi Accelerator.

Nikolai stood at the helm, though the ships Pilot was immersed in the GREIL Sphere they were still aware of the Alis Dominus. A towering man at 6'5 with a broad build and heavily muscled frame. Mostly hidden by the sleek yet full body black armor with silver highlights. His helmet hung from a clip at his belt, opposite the MS Mace. His back covered by the Dominus Shield and Solis Spear, which were sized to fit his stature. With a violent scar running the length of his face from his left temple the Alis Dominus has quite the intimidating presence. Glancing down at the small child like woman who insisted she remained by his side he could only scowl. How could this messy disorganized grease ball be the chief scientist for Celesin Technology. Muttering something about candy wrappers and showers he told the crew to open a transmissions signal and hail the lead vessel.

If and when the vessel accepted the signal, which would be accompanied by a full view of Nikolai and the girl child. He would introduce himself. Nikolai unfortunately was hardly a diplomat, he did not have the grace or charm of the Primoris Caden. The Dominus didn't hold the same status or capability as a Primoris, but he supposed as the guards of the Emperor he would make due. "I am Nikolai Krause, Alis Dominus to our Lord Mesiphidon. I've been sent under orders to see your fleet on it's way from planetary orbit and given authority to use any means necessary to accomplish that request."

He glanced down at Konstatine beside him again, and smacked her wrist which was slowly extending towards the controls before him. "Stop being so anxious, we don't need to fire that yet. I'll tell the Empress..." His brows rose at his subtle threat. Voice lowered so that maybe those on the other end couldn't hear him. Clearing his throat he looked back to the front. "I've been given leave to offer you a generous ten minutes before making your decision. Once your fleet has gone we will allow one cruiser or frigate class ship access until further notice." Not being terrible skilled in negotations Nikolai chose to wait with the comms open for a reply from whoever was in charge. At least they hadn't sent that hothead Tyne. She would probably be fighting Konstantine to be the first to give the order.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Konstantine on Mon Jul 13, 2015 7:01 pm

Konstantine yelped when her hand was smacked.

“What gives?! Huh? Whats with the abuse? Come on, you think they care if we swat some flies? Whats it gonna matter anyway?” she’d say; settling back into the gravity suspended chair with a deep, childish frown and her brows knit so powerfully they they formed a knot between her eyes. The diminutive King looked to be on the verge of a meltdown. She began to grumble as Nikolai addressed the foreign aggressors over the comms; no doubt being a bit of an embarrassment and dampening the message.

“You wanna talk about snitching to the brass, I’ll tell ‘em you’re hitting people. We don’t hit…” she’d say; trailing off as she eyed the controls again. “Snitch.”

Why? Well, goddammit it was her accelerator. Her baby; something she’d been working on for some time. Did Nikolai understand how difficult it was to accelerate something that was neither force nor particle? To build a dummy core modeled after her own kind’s that made them tick? It had taken three months! She hadn’t seen the sun and anybody but all the little tech-head peon eggheads who were assigned to her— or thats what the Alis called them all anyway. Jocks versus nerds all over again. Frankly, Konstantine took “techy” and “egghead” to be a compliment. They’d never hold a candle to her, though. Unknowingly, she inadvertently reminded them of this on the daily.

Compared to the Alis Dominus towering over her and beside her, Konstantine made him look like he was babysitting some sickly, dirty child. her black tank top was covered in pale, powdery stains from the snacks she’d been eating. Something involving a lot of powdered sugar. As for grease, well, that hadn’t been a metaphor. Aside from the confection powder her bare skin was smeared with something tacky and black that had attracted plenty of animal hair (from where?!) and dust. Her tight black pants hugged skinny, vaguely shapely legs and were riddled with tears, a smear of something red and of course— more of that sticky substance.

The only feature that showed her as something more than some raggedy young stowaway were the various 6mm wire jacks with blue LED style lights flashing around them arranged across her shoulders, collar, forearm and nape. Certainly not a human being. And her featured, doll like with eyes such a stark, pale gray they looked almost white set her as the spitting image of Empress Esarhaddon— only much smaller and younger in appearance.

A mere four feet and eleven inches in height, dirty, mouthy and impatient? It was no wonder Nikolai was annoyed at having to be the little King’s escort.

The loud rustle of another foil package being torn open would sound off before Nikolai was finished speaking. The little pain in the ass had, as soon as she was done yanking her black hair into a messy topknot atop her skull, decided it was time to get an enormous cinnamon roll…

“Want one?” She asked as usual.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Galvery on Tue Jul 14, 2015 3:56 pm

The General bolstered at the sight of the challenge he saw in the two, but to be honest he was also somewhat amused not only by the young girl's antics but mostly by the arrogance of the Celesin Imperium, for it seem Avarus Fang and his small fleet did not warrant nothing but a single vessel. The Fira was an awesome ship to say the least stretching over three miles in length with a solid build to boast about as it were made from hall to the inter-workings in ablative space age Elementian Steel, banded and holstering a plethora of firepower; though, its main weapon was something equivalent to the adjacent vessel-Quintessential Plasmic-RailCannon; which, fired a projectile as long as a bus in a half ionized and saturated with pure plasma heated to almost 7 trillion degrees equivalent to Earth's quark-gluon plasma. A devastating weapon capable of destroying mid-sized moons, but nothing on par with such things as the energy beam from the Death Star on Star Wars.

The ship was built to take a hammers, while still dishing out punishment of its own with a plethora of Elementian Fighters in the hanger and visibly on deck blocked of with an invisible barrier powerful enough to withstand the constant barrage of heated microwaves and ionization of the intense plasma barrier that encompasses the ship via the Elemental Circlet that circles the ship. The general was old and wise despite his monstrous appeal, but all the while was full of pride because he was a true warrior fashioned from nearly five centuries of non-stop war with the forces of the dark god Rahama so he replies as one of such caliber would, "Krause, Alis Dominus...I am Avarus Fange, Paefectus General of thee Elementian Empire my forces shall stand down," and his order was given to the small fleet of destroyers; which, immediately back off and turn away to enter the dismal darkness of the ether, "but I will not. The High Prince of Elementia-heir to the thrown is on your planet and I will not leave until A. I see his ship depart with him safely on board, B. You hand him over to me or C. You kill me or I kill you." Placing one of his mighty hands over his heart in a soldierly manner he pays his respects, which then he continues by saying,

"My respects to your Emperor and Empress, but I have a duty to uphold as do you and your superiors; however, if this does not satisfy you I am in no mood to harm this ship or that fine piece of technology. We can find a nice place to settle down and we can settle this as honorable warriors do, because we both do not want to start a war over nothing more than a misunderstanding." To show sincerity he looks to the Nom Regna Captain at the hail of the might vessel saying, "Power down our cannons and divert the power equally amongst the Fira's defensive systems, plus prepare my ship. Just in case." Returning his reptilian stare to the two Celesinians he ask, "I leave you to decide Alis Dominus."
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Caden on Wed Jul 22, 2015 6:10 pm

Caden remained impassive and silent as the Prince said his piece. Cool turquoise eyes waiting with a practiced patience that may or may not have been genuine. ”And if there was a fugitive within our lands than proper protocol is to alert those in authority, and see how they wish to handle the situation.” Caden glanced to Uranius and his men a moment, their stone silence saying more than words. But he could detect the slight trembling even training could not suppress. Never the less the Imperium wasn’t stupid, they were aware less than honest activities happened where people thought they were unwatched. Instead of saying anything however, Caden’s lips turned for but a moment into a knowing smirk before he took to addressing the prince again. ”This fugitive of yours didn’t demolish a city block or show up with a fleet. To our ends that makes them less of a priority, if you have concerns take it through the proper channels. I’m sure you’ll be directed to someone capable of helping your situation.”

With a nod Caden turned to re-mount Ishatari, the massive mare had made little to no noise or even seemed to have moved during the whole encounter. Once settled he looked to Uranius ”See that our guest gathers his men in a timely fashion and no further… accidents happen.” His hand briefly motioned to the rest of the commotion going on. ”I assume your men are capable of bringing all this to an end? I’m sure you wouldn’t want Imperial forces to reduce your people’s faith in you, yes?” His brow rose almost teasingly with the question before he gathered up his reigns and sat content to see it all play out.

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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by NPC-Roster on Fri Jul 24, 2015 5:26 pm

This was somewhat unexpected and Uranius had a feeling that the Prince was in something of a lazier mood for the simple fact he was relegating tasks to people who did not answer to anyone directly but were merely "tolerated". Market was something of a "whore-state" in that all the powers that be could consider it "within their territory" but so far had been content to simply let it be. Now things had changed. Uranius did not answer the Primoris instead he brought his gun down, despite the fact he was no Dog of Celesin, the fact of the matter was that these Elementians had gotten a lot of unwanted attention very quickly, and Markets very survival was now threatened. Cadens veiled jab was also perhaps what the Primoris might consider a "mercy" in that he was at least giving market a chance to clean this up on their own. His gun brought to bear along with his mens other firearms.

Uranius did not look at the Celesin Prince when he spoke. "And being ordered like a common soldier does not diminish the peoples faith? I suppose this is the lesser of two evils and beats martial-law however..." His gaze upon the Elementian party. "Let us exchange a means of contact, but for now you must leave Market City or there will be dire consequences and not of the Patrons make..." this was already a disaster, potentially turning into a nightmare. "We have no space forces but if you persist you will have to answer to the Imperium of Celesin apparently..." Uranius icy gaze upon the Elementians never faltering. "Though that would be YOUR problem if this causes any more damage to the city it will be MY problem..." he cocked his battle-gun and a light "whirring" sound ensued upon the turbine like cylinder that was before the broadened barrel.

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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by MrMystic on Sat Jul 25, 2015 1:28 am

The prince scoffed without saying a word and headed back towards his ship. As he drew near the door opened, and the prince turned back around. "I will be gone shortly." He spoke firmly as he raised his hand and pointed at his men who were coming towards the ship. He entered his ship, and his men would soon follow.

Inside his ship he was met by his Second. "Sir We lost the fugitive, he must have fled this world, our scans are not picking him up anywhere."
"That is fine Demi we will be leaving as soon as the men have finished boarding. Send General Fang a message and let him now we are departing. Stay just outside the sector though just incase until further notice. I will be in my quarters." The Prince then turned down a corridor and disappeared.

The ship started to take off, and leave the atmosphere.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Nikolai on Tue Jul 28, 2015 1:30 pm

Whatever emotional displays the General went through appeared to wash over Nikolai without any effect. Nikolai listened until the end of the General's response and instead of answering right away he instead turned to Konstantine. "Choose your output capacity but hold until I give clearance." His voice firm as was the look he gave Konstantine that said he would brook no nonsense from her right then. Nikolai's hand passed through what appeared a holo-display a gestured command to the Ship's GREIL Pilot interface.

After a moment from his gesture the smooth apparently seamless hull of the Revenant class ship began to split and part into three sections. Revealing that the sleek vessel was indeed mostly a weapon. Barring the ARES Shield system that protected it's hybrid Magi Core. He wasn't sure which percentage Konstatine would choose to use, but he knew that at only 50% capacity the Accelerators could vaporize a planet. The Accelerators were based on the need for Celesin to prevent Hyper Giant stars from going Super Nova and destroying established civilizations. Celesin only sent one medium class ship, but while the General did not bring a planet destroyer the Imperium had sent one that could extinguish stars.

Nikolai certainly wasn't going to reveal what output percentage he had authority to utilize. Not that it mattered with Konstantine on board she could access any capacity. He didn't discredit her, in fact he was always impressed by her creations. But really the Emperor let her run with too much slack. He supposed it was due to the same lack of what many species called morals, they were peas in a pod in that regard.

Finally Nikolai looked back to the screen. His voice and tone the same as it had been since the beginning, this wall all routine to him. "General your response implies you have more options than offered. While I don't doubt your intentions, this is not a situation where your desires or your duties hold any relevance. I am being generous in retaining my original ten minute time limit, which is almost at it's end now. You've been granted leave of one Cruiser or Frigate if you wish to wait. Heed this offer, or perish with your ship. There are no other options." His glanced turned to Konstantine, keeping her in sight to prevent any preemptive attempt to fire.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Konstantine on Fri Jul 31, 2015 3:36 am

As the foreign general spoke Konstantine rolled her eyes. “Yadda, yadda yadda, blah blah blaaah” she’d say; shifting her weight in her seat while she was forced to listen to, in her eyes, an entire avalanche of pure uncut bullshit.

Honestly, she’d hoped that the Goon General wouldn’t just take his ball and go home before she finally got to test her weapon, er— Solution for problematic celestial bodies on them. Please, puff up, she thought! Lets make it a pissing contest, alright?

“You show me yours...I’ll show you mine…” she mumbled. And if Nikolai had glanced to his lower right he’d see that her eyes had bled to a hot, bright blood red. Bright as halogen but crimson. Seconds later, she snickered and laughed; shaking her head with disbelief at the Goon General’s thinly veiled threat about not harming their pretty little ship.

Boy, was he really laying it on thick!

Just as Konstantine wanting to grab the metaphorical microphone and kick some truth to the woefully underprepared “Elementian Empire” capital ship (Goons!), Nikolai had given her the magic word.

“Yeah, I got it…” And even she thought it would be prudent to be reasonable about the test. First run was, per her own traditions, always below twenty percent. The second test, she’d allow a dual scrimmage up to fifty. After? Well, her brother in law— the old man on the throne as she called him, Mesiphidon— was going to have to give her leash a bit of slack and allow Konstantine to find a star to destroy. The diminutive King scooched her chair forward and raised her right arm; the limb sizzling and turning black in an instant.

Nikolai would be the first to see what happened after the darkness- the inken skin sloughed away like ash to reveal deep a deep gunmetal imitation of sinew and bone; the smart material that existed on all dimensions holding its facsimile before taking on a different, more complex shape. It was something like a key; complex and chitinous with sections floating perfectly inline with the linear structure and acting as cuts.

Rather than do something as counterintuitive as jamming the strangely morphed limb into the Revenant’s command dash she used her still normal left hand to remove one of the floating cuts of smart metal in the form of a long, diamond shaped little structure. A closer look at the material would reveal strange patterns upon the metallic surface. Was it organic? Casually, Konstantine brought it to hover over a conveniently matching slot on the dash; the business end attracted to it as if heavily magnetized.

Immediately, the Revenant’s instantly constructed HUD bloomed over her vision and allowed her to interface directly with the ship in a most intimate manner. Now the dummy core was briefly tethered to her own. Needless to say, there would be other ways for the Accelerators to be employed by those certainly neither King nor Drasen, but, this was only Mark1.
Black fingers scrolled over commands and manipulated a display that Nikolai wouldn’t be privy to, however, if he had his eyes on the ship’s displays for acceleration rate he’d note that she’d chosen “12.5%”. Reasonable, even for her. But there was always a method to her madness.

“Houston, engines are at full capacity. Waiting to lift off on your word. Mark, five….four…three” Nikolai, no doubt, wouldn’t know where Houston was or that she was pretending to be a NASA aeronautics engineer. There were reasons most didnt get her humor— it was born on other worlds.

With eyes still red hot and her hands and arms still blackened past her elbows, Konstantine no doubt looked very different from the pouty, petulant child from moments before. In that rare moment she managed to actually appear as she should: A King in rare form. Her right hand moved over a round sensor-trigger about the size of a tea saucer— and a little too close. If she sneezed she may well accidentally fire the thing and let the Goon General know just how little wiggle room he had for all of his puffing up.

Blue light crackled down the length of the Accelerator as it was fully exposed; four “wings” of false hull having peeled back from the structure. Once the Accelerator reached its chosen capacity what looked like thick black smoke began to unfurl lazily from between the weapon’s elegant structure. Of course, true smoke behaved much differently in the vacuum— this had to be something else.

And then Konstantine slammed her palm onto the dash.

“Haha, I got you! Come on, laugh! It was funny!” she’d say; immediately dissolving into giggles no matter how Nikolai reacted to her feigning a hit on the trigger and slapping her hand onto a different part of the glass display and left a bright handprint of light that soon faded.

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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Galvery on Sun Aug 02, 2015 2:58 pm

The tyrant general scoffed at the other two, then grins as he looks to the Captain and his crew at the helm. He says, "Prepare the..," which just then he gets a beep on the coms and its the Prince's ship. The Captain quickly responds by flipping the switch, which he is then informed the royal VIP is about to depart and then the officer informs General Fang. Looking almost disappointed Avarus Fang says, "Lets leave. Our duty here is complete and there is no need for a war...yet." Cancelling communication with Revenant, which then the Fira with a loud decompression sound splits into two separated half's; which, then the two halves turn with thrusters in full blow. The ships would then float off into the endless abyss of space, dwelling into the ether to meet up with the Prince.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

Post by Nethuama on Fri Aug 21, 2015 9:37 pm

[Hard Nosed.] The situation had escalated quickly with the intervening of outsiders; bringing an alpha team into such violence. Empires had marched into the space around the planet, flaunting their technological prowess in a fashion of a helicopter’s rotary blades. The Our Nostrum force had were already leaving before the Celesian forces had arrived. Archaic probes sensed their advance, warning Alessa’s transport after her timed retreat.

The strange hexagonal device detonated long after the force disappeared into the sewers. Alessa mouthed the countdown with those full lips, eyes emerald in the primitive monitors. A flash of light would have consumed the area just as the Elementian platoon began their return. The General hung on as the transport was set in reversed, rushed backwards likely into a soldier falling back. She cared little, there were just a lot of bumps as the vehicle then moved around the hole. Circumnavigating the edge, it ran through ruins and the very sides of buildings. Debris bounced off its hull as it vanished behind a cloud of dust it created into the scattered outer cityscape.

As for the team, they managed to simply escape and return to the waypoint. It was unknown where this place was but it could be a checkpoint or a hideout. Nobody knew where the Our Nostrum resided inside the city, only seeing their goons and glimpses of the Vanguard. There were rare stories since the Vanguard were in the areas that required the most protection. These men were not capricious but were following orders like zealots to a priest. Ashcroft was displeased but it was no fault to any of his men, simply the sudden appearance of an extraterrestrial.

More was to come, but the land was there's for all they were concerned. The Hunter awaited the Patron's messengers.
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Re: The Little Shop of Weapons

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