Stormfortress Tchangoor
Ducal Hall
It was an appropriately dark place, unreasonably spacious, and devoid of all chairs but
the one on a raise dais. The four captains of Nightduke Tohryu Sugrmannustela Afuda
had to stand, waiting, for their lord to appear.
They dropped to their knees, instantly, as a tall man with overly large pauldrons and
a night-black cloak completely covering his body walked... no, more like glided into the
room. "Rise." he said, his voice so unnaturally melodious.
His eyes were an arresting purple, his face placid and yet in its fine features holding it
seems a barely-restrained malice. It was so precisely threatening, that no one under
him should be so foolish as to forget their rightful place. He cast his gaze first upon
the captain to the far left. "Ostendo Pillanar, your sacrificial loli was weak. The enemy
is still upon us."
The captain in question was clad in a skintight black suit, his close-cropped hair a
shocking pink. Pits and nubs dotted the suit, direct interface plugs for a command
mecha. "It is as you say, great Tohryu. However, it seems the foolish TFF forces have
decided not to kill the loli and instead have brought her inside."
"Mercy, I can understand... but that is sheer foolishness." muttered the high officer
next to him. He was clad in more conventional armor, though leaving the arms bare
and the legs unencumbered. His sleek black hair was pulled up in a topknot, creating
the odd presence of a knight and a samurai combined.
Nightduke Tohryu merely gestured aside, and a line of blood appeared on the captain's
face. The yaoi officer winced and clutched at his cheek. "When I need your opinion,
Hondelus Osic, I will ask for it. Until then, consider talking the least useful of things
you may do with your tongue."
"I beg forgiveness for my momentary lapse, Tohryu-sama." He bowed deeply.
The nightduke scoffed slightly. "They may be fools, but they are persistent fools. Your
incompetence allowed them to get this far." He began to point at each general, from
left to right. "Captain Pillanar, your mecha garrison is depleted. Captain Osic, the clone
tanks will run dry long before any swarm can do any damage that a Bolo will even
notice. This region is under your responsibility, and you have failed me greatly."
The two captain seemed abashed. The next two hid the signs of their pleasure.
"Captain Shupali."
The third in line stepped up. "Yes, my lord?"
"Move the test subjects into my pyramid ship. I will take them to Stormfortress Anjalar.
This training facility is now also useless to me."
Captain Anagol Shupali adjusted his glasses, letting them glint. He bowed, letting his
bangs cover his face. "It shall be done as soon as possible."
"My lord, if I may... it is only a single Bolo." Captain Osic dropped back to one knee.
"By your grace, we have managed to destroy those before."
"This is no ordinary Bolo..." the Nighduke responed. "The Goldspear is here, and that
more than anything convinces me of how seriously TFF intends to grab at my domains.
So be it. If you can crush them, I will look upon you all... more favorably."
"Thank you, my lord." all four said at once. The last among them, licked at cherry-red
lips and smiled viciously. Captain Lucile Morgan was in charge of intelligence for the
area and well-read besides that. There were hundreds of world being contested, and
literally thousands of elite units that they might face. The Good Shepherd was not an
unknown quantity, and it spoke to the Nightduke's own competence that he knew just
what he was facing with only minimum memory prodding.
"I already have a plan."
"... yes, there is always a plan." The world's overseer repressed a sigh. These yokels
might as well have signed their own death warrant by that statement. He swept out
of the room with hardly any more attention to them. He had more important problems
to deal with. TFF landed in force along the mainland, conveniently when he was out
inspecting the research facilities on the lesser continent. He had perhaps been too
merciful himself, in dealing with the rabble on his world.
It was full of traitors and incompetents. Heads will roll, order shall be regained, and
his world shall withstand the latest effrontery. It was not like this situation had not
happened before.
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Wahlana Valley
4 kms south-southwest of the city of Rathgrith
I am Bolo, mark XXXVI/S of the Line. I am the island of logic in the sea of insanity. I
am the golden spear that strikes true into the heart of the unholy.
I am... frustrated.
For fourteen hundred years, have I served humanity well. My guns have destroyed
their enemies, my hull had suffered grievously in their defense. This had only made me
even more dismayed at how so -fragile- humans are.
The city of Rathgrith is not a large one. It has one main thoroughfare, with secondary
roads arranged in a grid around it; like a chessboard. The stormfortress in the distance
is a large imposing metal pyramid, with its top chopped off. I could destroy both with
ease, but I may not. Explosions ripple across the city streets, and buildings collapse
for no readily apparent reason. Out there, my companions in battle are fighting for
their lives and I am powerless to help.
"Are they... are they all right?" Ayami Daikoro asks softly.
I bring up my main screen. They are well. My sensor pods are following the action,
even if sometimes the fighting becomes too fast even for the cameras. During brief
pauses, I run calculations distilling the events into statistical information. I am certain
she knows of the SRW interface. This, I explain, is the SQUARE console tactical view.
Red and blue triangles mark where I percieve the combatants. There is no such thing
as a truly simultaneous attack, not when I can time things down to the nanosecond.
Positioning, feints, and the attacks that are truly meant to be decisive - these I bring
together and arrange into turns. Attacks and counter-attacks. For the girl's sake I
show the results of these, Hits or Misses, and the effects on their statistical combat
performance... known as HP and MP.
Hit Points is the aggregate of my observations and computations on a combatant's
ability to do battle. Stamina, endurance, defense... the higher the HP, the longer one
may fight or endure damage. Movement Points refer to the ability to perform special
attacks. It may also be termed as Mental Point, or in the case of magic, Mana Points.
This is the reserve of tricks, concentration, energy and willpower that may be used in
a fight.
In addition, combat is also decided by four statistics.
ATK is the ability to cause damage; modified by strength, weapons, and the use of
special abilities or attacks.
DEF is the ability to cause damage; modified by fortitude, armor, and again special
abilities or equipment.
HIT is the ability to actually hit the enemy. EVD is the ability to avoid being hit.
These pairs of statistics clash during combat. One must overcome the other, for true
damage to be one, and the conflict actually be decided in violence. I know the limits
of my companions, but not the enemy. These secondary statistics are all capped at
255, for tradition's sake. Any more gets ??? and may need to me to use one Infinite
Repeater to be rid of the target.
"I hope... they make it." the girls adds. It is sad, in just the past few hours she had
been shown more kindness and respect than she'd ever felt for her entire life before
this. "The Kapitansiya, they're... pretty strong."
My tactical readouts show that the HP of my companions are rather low compared to
the enemy bosses. It is not surprising, we are an armored mechanical combat group
after all. Fighting on foot, with swords... it is not something they do with any great
frequency.
My commander is at the central plaza, sitting down cross-legged on the street. His
enemy is Ostendo Pillanar. Their battle is of words rather than direct violence, but no
less lethal because of that. He is armed only with a cavalry saber, while the enemy
stands above with a powered suit. It is the fact that my commander does not seem to
be afraid of the obvious mismatch in power that is keeping the regional overseer from
attacking.
__________________________ __________________________
Charles Bhepin ---------------------- Ostendo Pillanar
Bolocommander Lvl12----------------Mechknight Lvl 18
HP 2100/2100 ------------------------HP 13000/13000
MP 45/45 ----------------------------- MP 90/90
ATK 175 HIT 94 ------------------- ATK 18 HIT 102
DEF 150 EVD 105 ----------------- DEF 190 EVD 98
__________________________ __________________________
Shinji is at a road perpendicular to the main street, barely fending of flaming sword-
strikes from a screaming lunatic. Hondelus Osic has a shining red daikatana, and seems
to be concentrating more on burning the boy's clothes off than killing him. Shinji has
a shorter, more sensible sword. He is fifteen years old. He has no need to compensate
for anything.
__________________________ __________________________
Shinji Ikari -------------------------- Hondelus Osic
Pilot Lvl14 --------------------------- Fighter/Mage Lvl 18
HP 1610/1800 ------------------------ HP 8000/8000
MP 45/45 ----------------------------- MP 70/90
ATK 145 HIT 79 ------------------ ATK 160 HIT 144
DEF 160 EVD 125 ---------------- DEF 140 EVD 129
__________________________ __________________________
Camille is also in a swordfight, and at least seems to be doing well. Newtypes tend to
be less fearsome on their own than inside their mecha. However, after training one in
actual swordsmanship, that battle precognition becomes absurdly useful. The master
of developement for the cyber-newtypes, Anagol Shupali, was understandably keen
to know more about one of most notorious of Newtype pilots. However, as the yaoi
scientist explained; only the brain was necessary. The limbs: might be more trouble
than they're worth.
__________________________ __________________________
Camille Vidan ----------------------- Anagol Shupali
Newtype Lvl17 ---------------------- Cyber-newtype Lvl 18
HP 2100/2100 ----------------------- HP 7000/7000
MP 60/60 ---------------------------- MP 60/60
ATK 173 HIT 120 ---------------- ATK 150 HIT 130
DEF 110 EVD 190 ---------------- DEF 120 EVD 185
__________________________ __________________________
Unsuprisingly; Alexander II and his opponent, Lucile Morgan are tearing up the place
with their soul-cutters. Male or female, man or machine; it didn't matter what it was
that they were fighting. Both proves to be always that vicious in combat. They seem
rather well-matched. The shortblade against the blade whip however broods a greater
tactical problem.
__________________________ __________________________
Magnos Aleksandros II -------------- Lucile Morgan
Fighter Lvl17 -------------------------- Fighter Lvl 18
HP 4100/4500 ------------------------ HP 5370/6000
MP 55/55 ----------------------------- MP 50/50
ATK 190 HIT 87 --------------------- ATK 215 HIT 103
DEF 160 EVD 130 ------------------- DEF 150 EVD 145
__________________________ __________________________
All my armor, all my might; and I can do nothing to help them. I can only watch, if
they live or die... this, is true anathema to my purpose. It is my place to suffer for the
sake of my cherished humans. This should not be. How did it come to this?
Breaking through my mechanical misery, my 12th processor chimes in with its memory.
======================================================
B.B. Rain, I think I may see a fatal flaw in the Kennys deployment. The tried-
and-tested way to get rid of swarm attacks has always been area-of-effect
weaponry. If the flashcloned troops can be teleported that precisely back into the
fray, why not a bomb? Schlock-smart Munitions can tear through massed enemy
formations with ease, and will be absurdly cheap to replace. They're vastly more
disposable than humans with weapons that barely even work.
Consider the resources allocated for this concept:
cloning/nanite goo tanks
advanced replicators
teleporters
neuron imprinting
a ship in orbit or a mobile facility
That's a lot of logistics. And the troops aren't really immortal anyway. All that's
needed is to destroy the Respawn ship. Sure, it's under a cloaking device.
But then if we have a cloaking device that can't be detected, don't we have better
uses for them than to be put in a ship that sits around behind or apart from the
fleet? Torpedo boats, scouts, insertion of really elite troops into hostile territory...
and so on. Failpile? Or a bunch of Khornate Chaos Marines? Which one really has a
higher chance of success? The Chaos Gods can bring their warriors back anyway.
If they're intended for low-intensity duty for most of the time, then they don't NEED
the flashcloning facilities.
If the battlefield is so dire that any army sent into the fray will be chewed up by the
enemy swarms? Nuke it from orbit. If you need to capture it intact? Virus bomb. If
the virus bombs don't work? Send in one-man armies. The Inverse Ninja/Heroic
Protagonist Law ensures that one person will be able to do what whole hordes can't.
If there's teleporting around, and I was the general, the first thing I'd do is to
DISABLE it, if not just for the other side then jam it both ways so the enemy
doesn't 'port a nuke into my command center. Or in the middle of my armored
column. Or chokepoints. Or mobile AA/artillery lines. Etc, etc.
Teleporting is a hideous, hideous advantage.
I see them more useful in breaching and infighting conditions. Or, forget about
mechanical teleportation. Give them each the equivalent of an auto-resummoning
contract... divine intervention tends to trump technological barriers. In any case,
if the Rule of Cool applies, then there are some things that don't need any more
finagling.
So, if you will, take and write this mission for me:
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The Bolo "Luminance" is assaulting the Stormfortress Karnal, but is prevented from
getting to it by the reinforced mountain region in the way. It could simply push
through, but that's rather too simplistic. It's a good thing actually that there's a
Failpile around.
Your mission is to break into the tunnels and hollowed-out spaces into the mountain
and destroy the Hellbore and heavy artillery emplacements set into the cliffs
covering the only approach into the valley. It will be dirty, bloody, corridor-to-
corridor fighting. It is perfect for your disposable troops.
The Luminance will breach a gate with its main guns. Then, several Tie-Crawlers
packed to the brim with explosives will be sent in to further open the way for the
24th Failpile. Choose two platoons, led by sargeants in Appleseed-grade Powered
Armor and troops in IG standard flak suits. You will most likely face Infection Forms,
droids, mutons, and a whole heap of traps (both types).
Statistical notations:
Code:
Failpile Squaddie á á á á á áFailpile Corporal á á á á á á á Failpile Sarge
HP 600 á á á á á á á á á á á á áHP 700 á á á á á á á á á á á HP 1400 á
MP 10 á á á á á á á á á á á á á MP 30 á á á á á á á á á á á á MP 50
Weapons: á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á
Lasgun á á á á á á á á á á á á áRocket Revolver á á á á á á á áBolt Pistol
Vibroblade Bayonet á á á á á á or HE Autocannon á á á á á á á Ion Drill
Plasma Grenade á á á á á á á á á Plasma Grenade á á á á á á áPlasma Grenade
Flashbang grenade á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á Acid Grenade
Seriously, if they're meant to DIE, stop turning them into line troops and let them DIE. You're squeezing the tragicomic out of the concept with your wrangling. ^_~
Pierce the aliens with your drill!
edit:
Why not just consider yourselves elite troops, then? As in, -our- Immortals. The
Kennys, Failpile, etc... would just be self-referencing irony. As long as you don't face
any of the -enemy's- Spartans.
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