Centuries ago, worldwide desertification resulted in the near total depletion of food, water, and energy. Civilization collapsed, and billions died in what was called the twilight, the last gasp before the dying of the light.
It was PRISM alone that saved mankind. A clean, hyper-efficient energy that to this day defies physics as we understand it, PRISM allowed the human race to pull itself back from the brink of extinction. With mercy, compassion, and cooperation, the survivors may have been able to restore the world that was lost to us.
But mercy, compassion and cooperation – these are not the words that define man. PRISM was developed into a weapon, used to power the humanoid war machines known as "mecha." What remained of humanity coalesced into eternally warring city states protected by massive walls, state of the art rail guns, and of course, mecha. The brutal cycle of our species continued, undeterred by its brush with annihilation.
Outside civilization's mighty walls, precious little exists but sand and salt and kaiju. But though many curse the lands beyond as a wasteland, there are still those who call it home, and name themselves the rightful kings of the Old World's ashes.
Centuries ago, worldwide desertification resulted in the near total depletion of food, water, and energy. Civilization collapsed, and billions died in what was called the twilight, the last gasp before the dying of the light.
It was PRISM alone that saved mankind. A clean, hyper-efficient energy that to this day defies physics as we understand it, PRISM allowed the human race to pull itself back from the brink of extinction. With mercy, compassion, and cooperation, the survivors may have been able to restore the world that was lost to us.
But mercy, compassion and cooperation – these are not the words that define man. PRISM was developed into a weapon, used to power the humanoid war machines known as "mecha." What remained of humanity coalesced into eternally warring city states protected by massive walls, state of the art rail guns, and of course, mecha. The brutal cycle of our species continued, undeterred by its brush with annihilation.
Outside civilization's mighty walls, precious little exists but sand and salt and kaiju. But though many curse the lands beyond as a wasteland, there are still those who call it home, and name themselves the rightful kings of the Old World's ashes.
Pillars of Salt
I
You are August Eberhardt, Captain of the Free Ship Ahriman, and as usual you are being shouted at.
The holographic map that floats before you lays out the situation in all its grim detail. For the better part of three days you have been pursuing The Happy Return, a merchant ship headed for the city state of Alleghaine. Aboard the ship is enough PRISM to keep your crew sustained for months, and more traditional riches besides – but though you've finally drawn close enough to launch a proper sortie, you may be too late. The Happy Return is barely a hundred miles from being safely within the range of Alleghaine's rail guns, and to engage it there would be a particularly painful act of suicide.
"We're losing time!" Chalcedony pounds her fist against the console, and the hologram flickers for a moment before steadying. "If we're going to sortie, we have to launch now!" Her long brown ponytail whips and forth with each movement of her head, like the expectant tail of a cat poised to leap.
At the other end of the console Johann gives a long, unhurried sigh, opening one pale green eye to track Chalcedony's flailing. "I know you're used to giving commands," he says, his voice so quiet that you almost have to work to hear it, "but on a Free Ship, a Captain outranks even a Princess."
Chalcedony scowls at him. "I'm not commanding anyone," she snaps. "I'm advising. If it were up to me, we'd already be out there."
"They're too close to the city," Johann says. "Even if we could sortie before they're within rail gun range, all the ship would have to do is hold out until Allegehaine mecha arrive to protect them."
"Then we just have to be fast!" Chalcedony says. "The alternative is losing the ship for good!"
Johann seems unmoved. "There will be other ships."
"Really?" Chalcedony asks. "When? Where will they be headed? How much PRISM will they carry? How many guns? How many mecha? We know we can take The Happy Return, but a new ship means unknowns!" She wheels on you, eyes pleading. "You can't wait for the perfect scenario. Sometimes you have to roll the dice!"
"Sometimes you have to wait for better dice," Johann says. His eyes are open now too, finding yours. "All life – but ours in particular – is a marathon, not a sprint. There will be other scores, so there's no use putting ourselves at risk for this one."
They are both looking at you now – to tell the truth, the entire bridge is looking at you, even the ones that should really be focused on their instruments - but you are unable to tear your eyes away from the blinking dots of light that hang in midair, representing the Happy Return drawing ever closer to safety. "Cecilia?" You ask, causing your helmswoman to straighten slightly in her seat. "Anything to add?"
Cecilia shrugs a single shoulder. "I'm behind you either way skipper," she says. "But this is kinda what your job is all about." She leans back against the window, ignoring the desert landscape as it speeds by.
You grit your teeth. To attack now would be reckless, and quite possibly deadly for everyone aboard. To pull away would mean to trudge back to safe harbor with few supplies and less money – which might be equally deadly, in time. A Free Ship has few friends in the wastes, and the Ahriman is no exception.
August Eberhardt
Captain of the Free Ship Ahriman
Allegiance: The Salt Accords Faction: Freelord Alexander Tau Rank: Free Captain History: Born in Libertalia in 3228. Sold to Dr. Ryuto Misagi in 3232. Underwent pilot conversion surgery, survived. Sold to Titan PMC in 3234, where he received pilot and military training. Sold to Free Captain Querulous Jack in 3240. Paid off contract in 3243, officially recognized by the Salt Accords as a Free Pilot. Participated in the assault on Setti Battleship Infinite Ziggurat in 3245. During the assault, liberated the now-Free Ship Ahriman and was recognized by the Salt Accords as a Free Captain. Pledged service to Freelord Alexander Tau in 3247.
Mecha
Jabberwock
KNIGHT-class
Unpainted
Stats:
Mech Skills
Hull: 0
Agility: 1
Systems: 0
Engineering: 1
Triggers
Stay Cool (+2)
Perform a task that requires concentration, dexterity, speed, or precision under pressure: pick a lock while your squad trades fire with encroaching guards, carefully disarm an explosive, or unjam a gun under fire.
Assault (+2)
Take part in direct and overt combat: fight your way through a building packed with hostile mercenaries, trade shots over rain-slick trenches, fight in chaotic microgravity as part of a boarding action, or engage an enemy in the smoking urban rubble of a city under orbital bombardment. Loud, direct action.
Lead or Inspire (+2)
Give an inspiring speech, or motivate a group of people into action; efficiently and effectively administer organizations like companies, ship crews, groups of colonists or mining ventures; effectively command a platoon of soldiers in battle, or maybe an entire army.
You shake your head. "It's not worth it. Pull back."
The Ahriman shudders as the bridge crew follows through on your command, power levels dropping as it cuts speed. The tension in the room drains way as The Happy Return pulls further and further ahead, until it reaches the cover provided by Alleghaine's rail guns. That's that, then.
Chalcedony jabs a finger in your direction, her mouth opening and closing as if she can't figure out exactly what it is she wants to say. Finally she just huffs, shakes her head, and stalks out the door in the general direction of her quarters. The door slides shuts behind her with a click-click-click of moving metal.
You sigh. Chalcedony is a top rate pilot, and you're lucky to have her, but she can be so difficult to manage sometimes. You don't need more problems – you're barely managing to keep your head above sand as it is. "Next time, everybody," you tell the bridge crew. "Get us further into no-man's-land. Towards Libertalia, just to be safe. Cecilia, you have the bridge." Your helmswoman gives you a lazy, two fingered salute as the bridge crew leaps into action, the Ahriman swinging around so that its back is to Alleghaine. You hear a few discontented mutters from the bridge crew as you leave, but it seems there are always discontented mutters these days.
"That was wisely done, Captain," Johann says, falling into step behind you as you leave the bridge. "A sortie would've been a hugely unnecessary risk."
"I don't think everyone will see it that way," you say, stepping into the elevator.
Johann joins you, sliding into a corner to ensure you have plenty of room to yourself. He's an odd bird – at twenty-five he's old for a pilot, and his childhood in the city state of Sett instilled in him a quiet, fastidious respect for everyone around him. Gold and silver tokens are threaded throughout his dark hair, which hangs loosely down to his shoulders. Despite having six years on you, he's nearly half a foot shorter, and yet he rarely looks up at you directly, preferring to keep his eyes focused on the ground below him. "They will come to understand," he assures you. "And if they don't, they will leave, and can be replaced. The same couldn't be said if we were rotting in the sands."
You can't argue with any of that. "Would be nice to land a score though."
"It would," Johann says with a soft smile. "We will find a better target."
The elevator doors open, and the mecha bay greets you with a rush of sweltering air. The bay, a sturdy garage with ceilings reaching fifty feet into the air, is designed to hold five mecha, but hasn't housed more than three since you took control of the Ahriman. Engineers dart back and forth, some carrying heavy tools, others arguing over technical specifications, others taking long drags from thermoses of coffee. All of them wear as little clothing as decency will permit, and some significantly less than that. It's dangerous to forgo the recommended safety equipment, you know, but you've only been in the bay half a minute and you're already dripping sweat. Besides, nobody joins a pirate crew because they're a stickler for caution. Tools, computers and various parts clutter nearly every inch of the floor, except for three wide disembarking lanes, which have been kept spotless so that the mecha can enter and exit the bay in a hurry.
Chalcedony's mecha, Primogenitura, is closest to the door. A towering red and gold ROOK-class with enough armor to stop a shot from a rail gun, it's the tallest of the Ahriman's three mecha and yet so bulky that it still appears squat. Primogenitura is the absolute pinnacle of Ranchicourt engineering, or at least it was when Chalcedony's family was overthrown little over a year ago. Scaffolding hugs the side of the mecha's frame, and there are still a few engineers running last minute prep work on the limbs. You leave them to it – a mecha can never be in too good repair.
Johann's mecha is next, the thin and gangly Gottfried. A black and blue BISHOP-class, Gottfried is designed for battlefield control rather than straight up combat, and within its frame is housed extensively modified cyber-weaponry, as well as sensors sharp enough to pick out a mouse from within the walls of Alleghaine. It's not a typical BISHOP build – there really is no typical BISHOP build – but you've seen the mecha in action, and it's scarily effective with Johann in the cockpit.
The final mecha is yours, called into service after your last was blown apart in a firefight with a Ranchicourt patrol. Though its hardware is good to go, it as of yet remains unpainted, and for now stands as white as your hair. You run fingers along the back of your neck until you find the familiar, cool metal of the implant port at the base of your skull, a thousand thoughts flickering through your brain. In the corner of your vision you can see a few engineers sneaking furtive glances at you over coffee.
Your mecha is…
[] Jabberwock
[] Achilles
[] Pequod
[] [Write In]
It is a…
[] ROOK-class
Sturdy but slow, the ROOK-class prioritizes heavy armor and short range weapons so that it can be first through the breach.
[] BISHOP-class
Outfitted with extensive sensors and a variety of battlefield control tricks, the BISHOP-class values creative problem solving over a straight-up brawl.
[] KNIGHT-class
Lightly armored but fast and packing a punch, the KNIGHT-class is a mobile skirmisher that is comfortable in many situations.
Stay Cool (+2) Perform a task that requires concentration, dexterity, speed, or precision under pressure: pick a lock while your squad trades fire with encroaching guards, carefully disarm an explosive, or unjam a gun under fire.
[Triggers offer bonuses of +2/+4/+6 to any skill check they apply to. I will automatically apply Trigger bonuses where I deem them to apply, but posters can argue for Trigger bonuses to apply in other situations as well.]
