HoratioVonBecker
Imperfectly Aligned
Hey, I was wondering why we only grabbed two blasters. Seriously, why wouldn't we be able to stunt firing eight blasters at once? It totally fits our ranged weaponry Style.
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Ravana Quest [Exalted/Aberrant]
- Thread starter Havocfett
- Start date
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
[X] Hot Guy
->[X] Write-in: The hottest guy around! Which is to say yourself! Who else would be a better voice to tell you how fucking awesome you are? You can record a few dozen voice samples on the way there until it builds a profile for you.
All my yes.
[X] Chahna Chola. She's always been pretty strict on any ship she supervised but she's been a thousand times worse since that boy she was pining over died in some stupid fucking race.
I know it's not true but I'm going to pretend that boy is Ravana. Because that's actually hilarious.
->[X] Write-in: The hottest guy around! Which is to say yourself! Who else would be a better voice to tell you how fucking awesome you are? You can record a few dozen voice samples on the way there until it builds a profile for you.
All my yes.
[X] Chahna Chola. She's always been pretty strict on any ship she supervised but she's been a thousand times worse since that boy she was pining over died in some stupid fucking race.
I know it's not true but I'm going to pretend that boy is Ravana. Because that's actually hilarious.
[X] Hot Guy
->[X] Write-in: The hottest guy around! Which is to say yourself! Who else would be a better voice to tell you how fucking awesome you are? You can record a few dozen voice samples on the way there until it builds a profile for you.
[X] Chahna Chola. She's always been pretty strict on any ship she supervised but she's been a thousand times worse since that boy she was pining over died in some stupid fucking race.
->[X] Write-in: The hottest guy around! Which is to say yourself! Who else would be a better voice to tell you how fucking awesome you are? You can record a few dozen voice samples on the way there until it builds a profile for you.
[X] Chahna Chola. She's always been pretty strict on any ship she supervised but she's been a thousand times worse since that boy she was pining over died in some stupid fucking race.
And now you know the secret reason Jodi Blake wants to kill the entire world in Panopticon. It's really for the good pf the universe that it die if living means a Blando will always exist.
- Location
- in the trash
Silent Starling went Nephandi when he realised that no matter how many points in social attributes or Mind he got, he would never be able to outdo that bland, dense motherfucker.
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Ridiculously Average Guy
I'm you, but stronger
- Location
-
So, since we're rushing for time, I think we should use Maw on the car.
Then, once we reach the robot, just attach the two, and use the car as a head.
Then, once we reach the robot, just attach the two, and use the car as a head.
HoratioVonBecker
Imperfectly Aligned
Sadly, that would reveal our nature to the Lodi Khans before we even get the robot.
On the other hand, we can just say we're a very weird Godblooded.
On the other hand, we can just say we're a very weird Godblooded.
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Ridiculously Average Guy
I'm you, but stronger
- Location
-
I'll be honest, I just want Ravana driving MEGAS.
- Location
- in the trash
He's piloting a Zaku Custom. It's painted red and goes 3 times faster.
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Sirrocco
Pedantic
...but then the ensuing mecha battle might damage the car. No. Best to do this one vehicle at a time.
- Location
- in the trash
Maybe he can just fuse with the car and regrow the damaged parts?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Sirrocco
Pedantic
If he had an appropriate self-heal power, he absolutely could.
He does not have an appropriate self-heal power.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Oh god the next update has so much infodumping and I can't figure out how to avoid it I'm so sorry.
ckk185
Crazy Bunny Girl Scientist
- Location
- Port city
It's okay. You can make it up to us by having a shit ton of buttons in Ravana's car.
Playing For Keeps
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Playing for Keeps
Oversight this deployment goes by the name of Chahna Chola. Biggest, hugest bitch, hidden behind a mask of Not Fun and with a stick so far up her arse that you'd think she's the legendary monkey sage with the extending staff (and that's not a dick joke).
And she'll probably offer Harmattan more chai. And have her maidservant and her manservant with her. One of them might even be playing some - he shudders - calming music. There's nothing that infuriates him like calming music. And he swears, if she's set up the little shrine with the tiny compact mountain stream in a null-entropic field, he'll... he'll...
... he'll not do anything because she's the bitch from Oversight he can't do a thing to. But he'll want to do something. Something violent. Seriously, who is she trying to impress? Everyone knows she's a Chola.
"Thanks for the heads up Daxa," sighs Harmattan, "Want me to bring you some of her chai?"
"Nah, she's a terrible cook," says Daxa, "Want me over there as moral support?"
"You're the best Daxa," he returns. They get on one of the lifts and drop, momentarily shrouded from view as it twists and turns to take them to the Bridge.
"Mmm, I know," says Daxa. She tilts her chin up and he bends down, kissing her deeply, passionately. They embrace for a moment then break away. "Unfortunately I'm not the best today. Unlike someone I actually do have precombat checks to deal with."
"You tease," says Harmattan. Daxa smiles as Harmattan steps off the lift. "After the deployment, your room or mine?"
"I'll have the mech bay clear by twenty-two hundred," says Daxa, "I'll grab some of Da's chai and a shitty movie." He nods his assent and Daxa gestures at the lift, which rockets her away to some other corner of the Vikrant. All alone, Harmattan walks into the bridge.
It's pretty much exactly as bad as he feared. The servants are there, the manservant playing some soothing melody that sets his teeth on edge, a pot of chai sits on a portable table in front of Chahna, and the tiny shrines are breeding. There are two of them now, flanking Chahna for some reason he can't (and frankly doesn't want to) comprehend. The Mech Colonel (Arulmozhi Chola, patrician, he'd never exalted. They got drunk sometimes and he'd bitch about it. Good guy, auged up to shit, corporate type) and Infantry Major (Panchavan Madeviyar. She'd gotten some absurdly good scores in Officer School, didn't quite qualify for the Pilots. Rajaraja had poached her for one of his proper military battalions a while back. Harmattan suspected she was a Sura who didn't want to disclose it, seeing as her disruptor was some sort of artillery artifact) are already here, seated, and holding cups of chai.
Chahna is, uh, unmistakably Chola. She's got patches of light, white scales, dark blue hair, the light, chai-colored skin most of the family has, regal features, and slitted eyes. In technical terms, it is an honor to serve under her. In practice it's mostly a pain.
"Namaste, Captain," she says, not bothering to actually go through the motions of the greeting, "Your flight suit isn't zipped up all the way."
"Namaste, Lady Chola," says Harmattan, clasping his hands together and bowing slightly. He zips up his flight suit and remains standing, waiting for her permission to sit. He took a seat unprompted once. It hadn't gone very well for him.
"Please take a seat," she says, "Have some Chai, I made it myself."
Of course she made the chai herself. Why not? Why would non-shitty things ever happen around her?
The maidservant pours a cup of chai, which Harmattan dutifully accepts as he sits down. Chahna takes a sip of her chai, somehow ignoring the fact that it's strong enough to curl eyebrows. He braces himself and drains half of his cup, carefully keeping his face neutral as he swallows the impossibly strong chai. Some of the infantrymen loved the stuff, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. There was a proper way to prepare chai, yeah? Lots of sugar, milk, more sugar, and keep it somewhere stronger than dishwater and weaker than combat stims. Chahna's chai was unsweetened, had no milk, and he's fairly certain that he's taken combat stims with less caffeine.
"I apologize for interrupting you so soon before deployment," says Chahna, "But there are some...minor matters to discuss before you deploy."
Harmattan nods.
"First, who, or what, ever destroyed the prison-station is in those pods. Our primary objective is to capture them or retrieve their corpse," says Chahna, "Our political cover for this operation may well depend on you succeeding on this count."
"What are we looking for?" asks Harmattan.
"We're not sure. Humanoid. Definitely Sura," says Chahna, "Raja Uthtama believes that they're an exalt. Possibly a Lunar Saboteur from the Scarlet. There were reports of a cocoon of hair anchored to a cell wall five days ago, we're unsure if it's related but if it is then you're looking for a Dalit named Mohini. It's either sorcery she cast, in which case she may have brought the Station down with artillery magic, or something ate her and put it up, in which case we have no idea what you're dealing with. Even if she's not responsible, she, or whatever ate her, is likely to have information. We don't have nearly enough data to say one way or the other, but they're probably our best lead on the culprit."
Harmattan nods. Kill someone who took down a space station. Simple enough. There was something in there about capturing but the Vah didn't really pack nonlethals. The infantry could handle that if it came up.
"Second, if the Videhas leave our wing and go independent then it will be incredibly difficult to justify refusing Rajaraja Chola's push for remilitarization," says Chahna, "That means we need to keep them happy and that means that you need to keep Janaka Videha alive. He's not exactly a fragile asset, but his death or capture is absolutely unacceptable. Steal his glory, force-eject him, I don't care, but bring him home alive. This applies until his deployment on our Vikrant ends. Captain Harmattan, as far as I'm concerned you have primary responsibility over this objective."
Panchavan bristles when Chahna talks about denying Rajaraja, but the Oversight officer ignores it. Harmattan's got no issue with the orders, he didn't care much for Dynasty politics and he was already babysitting Janaka on most deployments anyways.
"Finally, I realize none of us are particularly fond of restrictive rules of engagement," says Chahna, "But this is a district of Rama Hive in the Capital, not some backwater populated by aliens. We can't afford being painted as vicious warmongers despoiling the capital instead of its defenders, dedicated to rooting out evil wherever we find it. As such I expect an absolute minimum of collateral damage from you all. Are we clear?"
The officers all nod along obediently, regardless of their actual opinions on the matter.
"Excellent. Dismissed," she says, "I'll see you all in a few hours."
Thoughts on Rules of Engagement?
[ ] No.
[ ] Fuck No.
[ ] Hell Fucking No.
[ ] Yes.
-> [ ] For real. (0.0x)
-> [ ] Just kidding.
[ ] I'll think about it (and decide no later).
Ravana reaches the rendezvous early. He stops the car and hovers for a moment, before opening up the voice selection menu again and selecting a male voice. He's probably going to wind up fusing with this totally sweet machine at some point so he can... like, fly with no hands and also eat people with his flight adjusters. And there's a bit of him which feels it'd be a bit... weird to fuse with a female voiced machine.
Look, okay, when it comes down to it, he doesn't know if fusing with machinery might get it pregnant. He doesn't want some half-totally-frickin'-sweet racer half-human half-plant-monster brat asking for child support. He doesn't have room for kids in his life right now. And if having a male voice'll help protect him from fatherhood, then by Kali, he'll use a male voice.
"... that is so fucking dumb," the voice in his head observes. "Just when I think you can't get any more stupid, you manage it. Wow."
He ignores her.
His transport shows up a minute or two later, also early. It's a small ship, one of those oblong salvage barges with the cargo scoops and shit. Its cargo scoop is deployed, hanging from the ship's belly for Ravana to park the Trishula in.
The ship sends him a text-only message.
He sends back a tentative 'Y' and receives a prompt response.
Ravana doesn't respond, instead rotating the Trishula towards the salvager and flooring it. Acceleration pushes him into the back of the seat and as he approaches the scoop he slams on the brakes, turns the car sideways, and switches to wheels. His head snaps forwards as the Trishula lands on one of the inside walls of the cargo scoop. The captain fires him more texts as he brings the Trishula to a gradual stop inside of the cargo scoop.
He thumbs back a quick 'Y'.
Lodes? Lodis, obviously. Ravana thumbs back another 'Y'.
Ravana has never undergone FTL travel before this point. He's gone fast. He's gone faster. He's gone unreasonably faster. But up until right now he has never, under any circumstances, gone fast-est.
It's quite the experience.
The world stretches, twists, breaks. They're somewhere else for a brief moment, where the air is just shy of unbearably hot and blue and white suns, brilliant and oppressive, shine from every angle at once. An instant later, it's gone.
The salvager's only in realspace for a moment. It reappears outside of the Rama Hive theater shield, crosses through, and warps again.
He can hear it. A whisper, more than anything, just on the inner edge of his hearing. Barely heard words in a language he doesn't-
Back again. They're above a building on the inner edge of the district, where it merges into the Hive Proper. They're at least twenty or thirty stories up, the exit to the cargo scoop pointing towards the towering heights of the Hive. Ravana boots up the Trishula, sends the Salvager a quick 'Thanks for the ride' message, switches back to anti-grav and pulls out of the cargo scoop.
Above him the sky is dominated by the hulk of the prison-station, incinerating itself against the great shields of the hive. The shield glows iridescent around the impact creating a beautiful, if slightly worrying, lightshow. The detailed domed of the Askardham temple and the gleaming spires of the Mewat Spaceport stand a scant few kilometers away in opposite directions. Away from the bulk of the hive the district slopes downwards, merging almost seamlessly into the jungle as it goes. He can see the Vikrant on the horizon, little more than a dot on the opposite side of the hive's shields, as well as its complement streaming away from it. He can just about make out the shapes of individual CRAVATs streaming towards the district, their radiators angled forwards in attack positions. Below him is a massive facility of some sort, dominated by large, squat, seamless white buildings and rugged-looking testing facilities. A few scattered soldiers, professional-looking types, stand guard at various points around the facility.
The salvager warps out and Ravana looks around for a landing pad or conveniently open section of warehouse before a circular section of flooring rises out of the ground nearby. It's flanked by holo-tags warning people to get clear, and as he angles towards it it splits in half, revealing a tunnel into the facility. Ravana grins, tunnels are fun.
He approaches, cuts the anti-grav as he enters the tunnel, and floors the accelerator. He hits the tunnel at fuck-knows miles per hour, gleefully spiralling down its long, winding interior. The walls are semi-transparent, evidently made to showcase the workings of the facility, the foundries and testing facilities and the like, to someone driving down it the boring way. Ravana still gets glimpses but they're blurry and off-angle. He's a bit too busy driving down the walls and ceiling to get a good look.
He sees the end of the tunnel with fractions of a second to spare, slams the wheel to the left, and lowers one of the windows. He comes out of the tunnel upside-down, one arm out the window, flipping off a massive hangar of terrified technicians as he spins. He hits the anti-grav as he rights the Trishula, comes within a foot of ripping a woman's head off, and skids sideways halfway across the hangar, supported on a cushion of air.
He slips the keys into a pocket, slams open the door, and steps into the hangar. "Sup!" He says, a gigantic grin plastered across his face.
One of the techs twitches.
"Well, I can certainly see why Nasreddin recommended you," says a voice above him. Ravana looks up and sees a dragon-blood in the rafters, wearing the long white robes of a scientist. She's wood-caste, green scales, foreign features, short, plump, and old. "We are, unfortunately, in a bit of a hurry so I can't quite provide you proper hospitality. Do you need a briefing or can we talk while you deploy?"
"I'm good," says Ravana, "You can make it up to me afterwards, yeah?"
"Excellent. Follow the holo-tags, we'll talk until I hand you over to my granddaughter," says the woman in the rafters, "Don't worry, my staff won't touch your car." On cue holo-tags pop up on the hangar floor, illuminating a path into a side corridor.
"Cool," says Ravana. He secures the briefcase with Draupadi's bribe in the car, sticks his stolen valuables in the glove compartment, rolls up the windows, and then follows the holo-tags.
The dragon-blood talks to him as he walks, he can't taste her scent on the air so presumably she's using an intercom system. Doesn't sound like it, though, must be a damn good intercom. Or Wood-dragons can mask their scent somehow. "My granddaughter will handle most of your briefing but before she starts wowing you with wondertech let's talk reality."
"First, you're not getting real support here," she says, "All of our guys will be evacuating civilians at first, then reinforcing strongholds inside the district while we wait for backup. We simply don't have the numbers to give you meaningful support against the full complement of a Vikrant. That means you're on your own against a Mech Regiment, a Mechanized Infantry Battalion, and an Aerospace Group, so don't get yourself killed playing hero. Harrass them, take targets of opportunity, just keep them distracted and looking for you so they don't put full force on us. Your objective is to be a nuisance and survive until reinforcements arrive, and the bag of tricks will help with that."
"Second, they're corporates, most of those mechs aren't anything special and most of their fighters are CRAVAT drones. That said, Chola's been getting more military lately, they're running at least some Vijayantas in that regiment. It's pretty nasty, decent armor, burst-cannons, and hyper-alloy blades. If they pin you down those things'll make short work of you. They've also brought in a Warstrider, the Arjun, and some sort of unidentified fighter craft that's been hanging by the back of the formation. The Warstrider's Videha Dynasty, and which means it's probably commanded by a Dragon-blood from one of their more talented Kshatriya bloodlines. You're best off keeping away from both of those."
"Finally, the launch catapult'll put you down a dozen kilometers from the jungle. You have plenty of time to figure out their approach vector and decide how you want to approach this before the enemy arrives. You're going to need to hold out for three hours, so I highly recommend trading space for time. The city favors you a lot more than the jungle does, stick to it and fade away from the slums when things get too hot. People'll die, sure, but it's better than letting them run rampant over the district."
Ravana nods. He already knew about the Chola's military forces from Draupadi's briefings, save for the warstrider and mystery fighter, so none of that was really new to him, but the rest was...well, he was probably going to ignore most of it, to be honest.
"She thinks we're overhyped," says Surpanakha, "Probably assumes we're some half-witted hotshot who's going to get themselves killed. Draupadi's briefing was thorough, though it didn't catch the Warstrider, they've got very little that's a true threat to us. We'll eat them in any half-decent mech. Just don't go all soft and we'll be fine."
Ravana nods and continues on. After a minute or so of following the holo-tags through mazelike corridors he comes out onto a walkway overlooking what he's pretty sure is a launch catapult. One end is a massive closed gate, then there's a titanic, triple-laned launch ramp that leads to the back of the chamber where a single war mech stands.
The mech's short, a diminutive six meters tall, sleek, blue, and deadly. It's all jagged angles and angular armor, a swept-back horn protrudes from its head, and its sensor suite is a gash across the front of its face, a visor, or maybe a mouth. A massive shield attached to some sort of rotary gun covers the left forearm while a sub-arm on the right side supports a massive particle lance. The only real break in the armor is a mirror-plate in the center of the chest. There's a large thruster assembly in back, maybe a small fusion torch, though Ravana can't really tell from here. The entire thing resembles nothing so much as a Rumh, one of those ancient first-empire warmechs that show up on TV occasionally.
"That's not a Rumh," says a voice off to his left. Ravana turns with a start and finds a woman standing on a small hover-skiff just to the side of the walkway. She's a dragon-blood, wood caste, heavily scaled, pretty, vaguely reminiscent of one of those Yaksi statues the less reputable temples put up. Her eyes are...off. They smell wrong, twitch too often, glow a bit more than he's comfortable with. She looks him over a few times, focusing on his still-glowing caste mark, before looking him in the eyes and suddenly seeming to recognize him. "Wait, you're Ravana!" she says, "I'm a huge fan. Watched all your races. Pity about the crash, you totally should've won. Though you're an exalt now, I guess, so that's nice. how'd that happen?" Ravana opens his mouth, only for the dragon-blood to start talking again. "No, wait, probably traumatic. Nevermind. It took me a moment to recognize you, you're so bright now. And so many...mouths. That probably means you're a lunar, yeah?" Ravana opens his mouth again. "Oh, who cares. My name's Aisha. Aisha Begum Khan Lodi. Step on board, I'll brief you while we float over."
Ravana, wisely, decides that he's probably not getting a word in edgewise during this conversation and steps onto the hover-skiff.
"Hmm, you seem taller than you were on TV," says Aisha, who's a good six inches taller than Ravana, "Exaltation side effect? Probably. Oh, hey, put this on. Wouldn't want to ruin that Shalwar setup you've got going." She pulls an armored pilot's suit out of...somewhere and throws it to him. "Don't worry about the size, it'll adjust to you once you've got it on. I'll have an aide put your clothes in your car while you're out, yeah?" Ravana nods and starts stripping, folding his clothes on one of the skiff's seats before putting on the piloting suit. It's loose at first, then collapses in around him, becoming comfortably tight. It's not exactly form-flattering, too much armor and kinda plain on the coloring, but it's not bad.
Oh, and also it'll probably protect him from shrapnel and stuff. That's important too.
"Oh, shit, I've been so rude! Haven't given you a chance to say anything this whole time," says Aisha, "Uh, you have any questions?"
"She can shut up! The wonders never cease," chimes Surpanakha.
"Yes!" says Ravana, "Several." He points at the war mech. "First off, if that's not a Rumh, what the fuck is it?"
"Oh, yes, I should probably mention that," says Aisha, "Well, ah, allow me to present to you...the Akbar! Our prototype next-generation combat mech. Once it's in production the main-line Akbar it will be the first true VARG to enter the galactic market since the collapse of the central empire. It's got a full set of top-of-the-line computer assistance routines, brand new stealth baffle technology, a targeting relay for artillery or naval fire support, full defensive shielding, empire-era speed and maneuverability, and a full complement of weapons and utility equipment," Aisha coughs. "Or, well, uh, it'll have all of those once testing's finished. Your Akbar's got the computer assist, the stealth gear, and the targeting relay. We're still working on the Vernier system so we've mounted a nuclear thrust system instead. Downside, the lateral thrust is hard to control and has knocked some of the test pilots unconscious, plus side, you've got limited flight capabilities and basically unparalleled forward thrust for a combat mech and you're a pretty ace pilot so I don't think the minor 'thirty-lateral-gs' problem will hurt too much. The Heavy Particle Lance, that's the gun mounted on the sub-arm, still has cooldown issues so rate of fire isn't great, plasma spear isn't ready for field tests so you've got a couple of disruptor blades in recharging racks instead, aaaand the pulsar mounted to the left arm had a minor barrel detonation problem so it's got a rotary design to mitigate heat buildup while we work on that. Also we threw a shield on it because people kept shooting the new rotary pulsar in the sims, but the shield's actually been working pretty well for us soooo we're probably keeping that in the final design. Tri Barreled utility launcher on the right wrist. Two electrified grappling cables for maneuvering, interfacing with electronics, and, uh, theoretically electrifying hostile pilots. One backup disruptor blade you can launch into your hand, but it's a bit of a pain to deploy. Probably gonna mount the blade on the interior vambrace on the next model to deal with that. Oh, and a full comms suite in the shoulders, complete with flares so you can signal us while the Jammer's on."
"Right, that brings me to question two," says Ravana, "What Jammer?" The skiff reaches the Akbar and Ravana steps off as he waits for Aisha's reply.
"Oh, yeah, uh, I think that Nanima mentioned that we can't really give you much support in the way of dudes." Ravana signals in the affirmate. "But we have set up this neat jamming system prototype over the district. It's, uuuuuh...you probably won't understand the science. Basically it's spreading particles right now and when it finishes in a few minutes it'll disrupt wireless comms with a longer range than, oh, a few hundred meters or so, mess with sensor readouts, confuse targeting systems, that sorta thing. Should keep the enemy from co-ordinating, which outta help you out, but it also means we can't really co-ordinate either. Well, I mean, we the Lodi Khan's can, because we've got landlines and stuff setup, but we as in you and us won't be able to. So you have the flares! Blue means you want us to turn off the Jammer, Red means you're fucked, don't fire Green just means you want us to know your location for some reason. Jammer'll take a bit to wind down, have to wait for particles to disperse, aaaaaand….I think that's everything."
Ravana walks along the walkway to the front of the Akbar. He's level with the mirror-disk on its chest and looks up at the head. "Uh, last question," he says, "How the fuck do I get to the cockpit?"
"It's a VARG," says Surpanakha, "The cockpit's in the chest." Ravana blinks and looks down. The mirror-plate splits and parts in front of him then an interior hatch drops, creating a cushioned walkway into the cockpit itself. A female tech clambers out and gestures for Ravana to enter.
The cockpit's pretty swanky, noticeably nicer than the cockpit on any of his racers. The walls are all cameras, giving him a full view of the launch catapult around him, the seat's comfortable but closed in, screens with status-displays, controls, sensor readouts, and comm-windows. A pair of neural scanners flank his skull to control movement, a control stick to his right controls the nuclear thrust system, dozens of buttons and switches control disruptor blade deployment, the sub-arm, comm systems and the like. He spends a moment familiarizing himself with the controls, then decides that this mech is fucking awesome.
Ahead of him the great gate at the end of the launch catapult opens, revealing the Vantian sky and the iridescent glow of the theater shields. His sensors spring to life, marking dozens of aircraft, mechs, and APCs approaching through the jungle. The walkway in front of him retracts.
"HQ to Akbar Custom," calls Aisha over the comms, "You ready to launch?"
"Fuck yeah," says Ravana, "This thing's amazing. Point me at 'em."
"Alright Akbar Custom," says Aisha, "Launching in three, two, one-"
Stage one of the fight: You're engaging three squadrons of combat mechs solo, with all of a long-range jammer for assistance for the foreseeable future. Base difficulty is 9, base dice pool is 18d10+3 autosuccesses. You can add up to four dice from charms. DO NOT ROLL YET
What is Ravana's Lethality Policy against the Armored Regiment?
[ ] Terrorize them. Pick them off systematically, eat ejecting pilots, make sure that anyone who survives is a PTSD-riddled wreck. (.3x. Lowers Difficulty by 2, creates Magnitude 1 worth of Servile Mortals. Requires you to suppress compassion. What the fuck dude?)
[ ] They're soldiers, they went into this knowing what might happen. If they eject, they eject, but you can't afford to pull any punches. They're probably all going to die. (.7x)
[ ] They don't actually stand a chance here, try your best not to kill anyone. If people die...it sucks, but you really need to protect the district. (1x. Increases Difficulty by 1)
[ ] You're the Chosen of Theion. You say they don't stand a chance and don't deserve to die for trying to do their jobs? Then you're not killing anyone. And fuck anyone who says otherwise. (1.5x, Increases Difficulty by 3)
How is Ravana Engaging the Armored Regiment?
[ ] The environment is a weapon. There's gonna be a lot of collateral from you throwing buildings at people and turning streets into giant bombs, sure, but you do what you've got to do, and if the locals happen to die...so what? (0.0x. Lowers Difficulty by 2, requires you to suppress compassion. Not happening.)
[ ] Trade space for time. People'll die but...what're you gonna do? If you fuck this up then everyone dies. (.7x. Suppress Compassion)
[ ] Engage them in the district proper. You'll try to minimize collateral damage, but shells going wide and mechs detonating is pretty much inevitable. (Increase Difficulty by 1)
[ ] Hit them in the jungle, engage them there and keep them there. Collateral damage is unacceptable. (1.5x. Increases Difficulty by 2)
Charm Use
[X] Greedy Gawping Grip (I have already included this and it will remain included barring a truly batshit vote to the contrary. 3 motes committed, +3 autosux.)
[ ] Infernal Monster Style (6 Motes. +3 dots of physique, raising dice pool to 21d10 base. May parry any lethal/bashing attacks. Only 1 dice from charms available afterwards.)
->[ ] Many-Armed Wrathful Deva Style (3m commited per arm-set, up to 9m. Each arm reduces MAP by 1 and increases the amount of attacks you can perform and receive the benefits of Infernal Monster Style by 1. Note how many arms you want to create in your post.)
[ ] Invincible Crown Halo (8 motes, +7 L/B soak. Increases based on magnitude of witnessing servile characters)
[ ] First Theion Excellency (1m/dice up to dice cap from charms. Must be used in accordance with Theionic principles)
[ ] Write-in
[ ] None (.5x)
Channels
[ ] Antagonistic Hero Thing (Difficulty 12+ Only)
[ ] Compassion (Difficulty 11+ Only)
[ ] Conviction (Difficulty 9- Only)
[ ] I Will Break the Nine Monitors (Difficulty 7 Only)
[ ] Theion (Difficulty 14 or Difficulty 7)
[ ] Willpower only (Adds 1 sux.)
[ ] Write-In
[ ] None (.5x)
Status: 3 Personal Motes Committed to Greedy Gawping Grip. Flaring at 3-7 level. Currently piloting Prototype VARG Akbar Custom. 11 exp gained this Act.
Oversight this deployment goes by the name of Chahna Chola. Biggest, hugest bitch, hidden behind a mask of Not Fun and with a stick so far up her arse that you'd think she's the legendary monkey sage with the extending staff (and that's not a dick joke).
And she'll probably offer Harmattan more chai. And have her maidservant and her manservant with her. One of them might even be playing some - he shudders - calming music. There's nothing that infuriates him like calming music. And he swears, if she's set up the little shrine with the tiny compact mountain stream in a null-entropic field, he'll... he'll...
... he'll not do anything because she's the bitch from Oversight he can't do a thing to. But he'll want to do something. Something violent. Seriously, who is she trying to impress? Everyone knows she's a Chola.
"Thanks for the heads up Daxa," sighs Harmattan, "Want me to bring you some of her chai?"
"Nah, she's a terrible cook," says Daxa, "Want me over there as moral support?"
"You're the best Daxa," he returns. They get on one of the lifts and drop, momentarily shrouded from view as it twists and turns to take them to the Bridge.
"Mmm, I know," says Daxa. She tilts her chin up and he bends down, kissing her deeply, passionately. They embrace for a moment then break away. "Unfortunately I'm not the best today. Unlike someone I actually do have precombat checks to deal with."
"You tease," says Harmattan. Daxa smiles as Harmattan steps off the lift. "After the deployment, your room or mine?"
"I'll have the mech bay clear by twenty-two hundred," says Daxa, "I'll grab some of Da's chai and a shitty movie." He nods his assent and Daxa gestures at the lift, which rockets her away to some other corner of the Vikrant. All alone, Harmattan walks into the bridge.
It's pretty much exactly as bad as he feared. The servants are there, the manservant playing some soothing melody that sets his teeth on edge, a pot of chai sits on a portable table in front of Chahna, and the tiny shrines are breeding. There are two of them now, flanking Chahna for some reason he can't (and frankly doesn't want to) comprehend. The Mech Colonel (Arulmozhi Chola, patrician, he'd never exalted. They got drunk sometimes and he'd bitch about it. Good guy, auged up to shit, corporate type) and Infantry Major (Panchavan Madeviyar. She'd gotten some absurdly good scores in Officer School, didn't quite qualify for the Pilots. Rajaraja had poached her for one of his proper military battalions a while back. Harmattan suspected she was a Sura who didn't want to disclose it, seeing as her disruptor was some sort of artillery artifact) are already here, seated, and holding cups of chai.
Chahna is, uh, unmistakably Chola. She's got patches of light, white scales, dark blue hair, the light, chai-colored skin most of the family has, regal features, and slitted eyes. In technical terms, it is an honor to serve under her. In practice it's mostly a pain.
"Namaste, Captain," she says, not bothering to actually go through the motions of the greeting, "Your flight suit isn't zipped up all the way."
"Namaste, Lady Chola," says Harmattan, clasping his hands together and bowing slightly. He zips up his flight suit and remains standing, waiting for her permission to sit. He took a seat unprompted once. It hadn't gone very well for him.
"Please take a seat," she says, "Have some Chai, I made it myself."
Of course she made the chai herself. Why not? Why would non-shitty things ever happen around her?
The maidservant pours a cup of chai, which Harmattan dutifully accepts as he sits down. Chahna takes a sip of her chai, somehow ignoring the fact that it's strong enough to curl eyebrows. He braces himself and drains half of his cup, carefully keeping his face neutral as he swallows the impossibly strong chai. Some of the infantrymen loved the stuff, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. There was a proper way to prepare chai, yeah? Lots of sugar, milk, more sugar, and keep it somewhere stronger than dishwater and weaker than combat stims. Chahna's chai was unsweetened, had no milk, and he's fairly certain that he's taken combat stims with less caffeine.
"I apologize for interrupting you so soon before deployment," says Chahna, "But there are some...minor matters to discuss before you deploy."
Harmattan nods.
"First, who, or what, ever destroyed the prison-station is in those pods. Our primary objective is to capture them or retrieve their corpse," says Chahna, "Our political cover for this operation may well depend on you succeeding on this count."
"What are we looking for?" asks Harmattan.
"We're not sure. Humanoid. Definitely Sura," says Chahna, "Raja Uthtama believes that they're an exalt. Possibly a Lunar Saboteur from the Scarlet. There were reports of a cocoon of hair anchored to a cell wall five days ago, we're unsure if it's related but if it is then you're looking for a Dalit named Mohini. It's either sorcery she cast, in which case she may have brought the Station down with artillery magic, or something ate her and put it up, in which case we have no idea what you're dealing with. Even if she's not responsible, she, or whatever ate her, is likely to have information. We don't have nearly enough data to say one way or the other, but they're probably our best lead on the culprit."
Harmattan nods. Kill someone who took down a space station. Simple enough. There was something in there about capturing but the Vah didn't really pack nonlethals. The infantry could handle that if it came up.
"Second, if the Videhas leave our wing and go independent then it will be incredibly difficult to justify refusing Rajaraja Chola's push for remilitarization," says Chahna, "That means we need to keep them happy and that means that you need to keep Janaka Videha alive. He's not exactly a fragile asset, but his death or capture is absolutely unacceptable. Steal his glory, force-eject him, I don't care, but bring him home alive. This applies until his deployment on our Vikrant ends. Captain Harmattan, as far as I'm concerned you have primary responsibility over this objective."
Panchavan bristles when Chahna talks about denying Rajaraja, but the Oversight officer ignores it. Harmattan's got no issue with the orders, he didn't care much for Dynasty politics and he was already babysitting Janaka on most deployments anyways.
"Finally, I realize none of us are particularly fond of restrictive rules of engagement," says Chahna, "But this is a district of Rama Hive in the Capital, not some backwater populated by aliens. We can't afford being painted as vicious warmongers despoiling the capital instead of its defenders, dedicated to rooting out evil wherever we find it. As such I expect an absolute minimum of collateral damage from you all. Are we clear?"
The officers all nod along obediently, regardless of their actual opinions on the matter.
"Excellent. Dismissed," she says, "I'll see you all in a few hours."
Thoughts on Rules of Engagement?
[ ] No.
[ ] Fuck No.
[ ] Hell Fucking No.
[ ] Yes.
-> [ ] For real. (0.0x)
-> [ ] Just kidding.
[ ] I'll think about it (and decide no later).
*
Ravana reaches the rendezvous early. He stops the car and hovers for a moment, before opening up the voice selection menu again and selecting a male voice. He's probably going to wind up fusing with this totally sweet machine at some point so he can... like, fly with no hands and also eat people with his flight adjusters. And there's a bit of him which feels it'd be a bit... weird to fuse with a female voiced machine.
Look, okay, when it comes down to it, he doesn't know if fusing with machinery might get it pregnant. He doesn't want some half-totally-frickin'-sweet racer half-human half-plant-monster brat asking for child support. He doesn't have room for kids in his life right now. And if having a male voice'll help protect him from fatherhood, then by Kali, he'll use a male voice.
"... that is so fucking dumb," the voice in his head observes. "Just when I think you can't get any more stupid, you manage it. Wow."
He ignores her.
His transport shows up a minute or two later, also early. It's a small ship, one of those oblong salvage barges with the cargo scoops and shit. Its cargo scoop is deployed, hanging from the ship's belly for Ravana to park the Trishula in.
The ship sends him a text-only message.
"SA(L)VAGE GOD" said:Afternoon. RAVANA, Y/N?
He sends back a tentative 'Y' and receives a prompt response.
"SA(L)VAGE GOD" said:
"SA(L)VAGE GOD" said:Get in mah belly.
Ravana doesn't respond, instead rotating the Trishula towards the salvager and flooring it. Acceleration pushes him into the back of the seat and as he approaches the scoop he slams on the brakes, turns the car sideways, and switches to wheels. His head snaps forwards as the Trishula lands on one of the inside walls of the cargo scoop. The captain fires him more texts as he brings the Trishula to a gradual stop inside of the cargo scoop.
"SA(L)VAGE GOD" said:
"SA(L)VAGE GOD" said:
He thumbs back a quick 'Y'.
"SA(L)VAGE GOD" said:
Lodes? Lodis, obviously. Ravana thumbs back another 'Y'.
"SA(L)VAGE GOD" said:Bitchin'. HERE WE GO.
Ravana has never undergone FTL travel before this point. He's gone fast. He's gone faster. He's gone unreasonably faster. But up until right now he has never, under any circumstances, gone fast-est.
It's quite the experience.
The world stretches, twists, breaks. They're somewhere else for a brief moment, where the air is just shy of unbearably hot and blue and white suns, brilliant and oppressive, shine from every angle at once. An instant later, it's gone.
The salvager's only in realspace for a moment. It reappears outside of the Rama Hive theater shield, crosses through, and warps again.
He can hear it. A whisper, more than anything, just on the inner edge of his hearing. Barely heard words in a language he doesn't-
Back again. They're above a building on the inner edge of the district, where it merges into the Hive Proper. They're at least twenty or thirty stories up, the exit to the cargo scoop pointing towards the towering heights of the Hive. Ravana boots up the Trishula, sends the Salvager a quick 'Thanks for the ride' message, switches back to anti-grav and pulls out of the cargo scoop.
Above him the sky is dominated by the hulk of the prison-station, incinerating itself against the great shields of the hive. The shield glows iridescent around the impact creating a beautiful, if slightly worrying, lightshow. The detailed domed of the Askardham temple and the gleaming spires of the Mewat Spaceport stand a scant few kilometers away in opposite directions. Away from the bulk of the hive the district slopes downwards, merging almost seamlessly into the jungle as it goes. He can see the Vikrant on the horizon, little more than a dot on the opposite side of the hive's shields, as well as its complement streaming away from it. He can just about make out the shapes of individual CRAVATs streaming towards the district, their radiators angled forwards in attack positions. Below him is a massive facility of some sort, dominated by large, squat, seamless white buildings and rugged-looking testing facilities. A few scattered soldiers, professional-looking types, stand guard at various points around the facility.
The salvager warps out and Ravana looks around for a landing pad or conveniently open section of warehouse before a circular section of flooring rises out of the ground nearby. It's flanked by holo-tags warning people to get clear, and as he angles towards it it splits in half, revealing a tunnel into the facility. Ravana grins, tunnels are fun.
He approaches, cuts the anti-grav as he enters the tunnel, and floors the accelerator. He hits the tunnel at fuck-knows miles per hour, gleefully spiralling down its long, winding interior. The walls are semi-transparent, evidently made to showcase the workings of the facility, the foundries and testing facilities and the like, to someone driving down it the boring way. Ravana still gets glimpses but they're blurry and off-angle. He's a bit too busy driving down the walls and ceiling to get a good look.
He sees the end of the tunnel with fractions of a second to spare, slams the wheel to the left, and lowers one of the windows. He comes out of the tunnel upside-down, one arm out the window, flipping off a massive hangar of terrified technicians as he spins. He hits the anti-grav as he rights the Trishula, comes within a foot of ripping a woman's head off, and skids sideways halfway across the hangar, supported on a cushion of air.
He slips the keys into a pocket, slams open the door, and steps into the hangar. "Sup!" He says, a gigantic grin plastered across his face.
One of the techs twitches.
"Well, I can certainly see why Nasreddin recommended you," says a voice above him. Ravana looks up and sees a dragon-blood in the rafters, wearing the long white robes of a scientist. She's wood-caste, green scales, foreign features, short, plump, and old. "We are, unfortunately, in a bit of a hurry so I can't quite provide you proper hospitality. Do you need a briefing or can we talk while you deploy?"
"I'm good," says Ravana, "You can make it up to me afterwards, yeah?"
"Excellent. Follow the holo-tags, we'll talk until I hand you over to my granddaughter," says the woman in the rafters, "Don't worry, my staff won't touch your car." On cue holo-tags pop up on the hangar floor, illuminating a path into a side corridor.
"Cool," says Ravana. He secures the briefcase with Draupadi's bribe in the car, sticks his stolen valuables in the glove compartment, rolls up the windows, and then follows the holo-tags.
The dragon-blood talks to him as he walks, he can't taste her scent on the air so presumably she's using an intercom system. Doesn't sound like it, though, must be a damn good intercom. Or Wood-dragons can mask their scent somehow. "My granddaughter will handle most of your briefing but before she starts wowing you with wondertech let's talk reality."
"First, you're not getting real support here," she says, "All of our guys will be evacuating civilians at first, then reinforcing strongholds inside the district while we wait for backup. We simply don't have the numbers to give you meaningful support against the full complement of a Vikrant. That means you're on your own against a Mech Regiment, a Mechanized Infantry Battalion, and an Aerospace Group, so don't get yourself killed playing hero. Harrass them, take targets of opportunity, just keep them distracted and looking for you so they don't put full force on us. Your objective is to be a nuisance and survive until reinforcements arrive, and the bag of tricks will help with that."
"Second, they're corporates, most of those mechs aren't anything special and most of their fighters are CRAVAT drones. That said, Chola's been getting more military lately, they're running at least some Vijayantas in that regiment. It's pretty nasty, decent armor, burst-cannons, and hyper-alloy blades. If they pin you down those things'll make short work of you. They've also brought in a Warstrider, the Arjun, and some sort of unidentified fighter craft that's been hanging by the back of the formation. The Warstrider's Videha Dynasty, and which means it's probably commanded by a Dragon-blood from one of their more talented Kshatriya bloodlines. You're best off keeping away from both of those."
"Finally, the launch catapult'll put you down a dozen kilometers from the jungle. You have plenty of time to figure out their approach vector and decide how you want to approach this before the enemy arrives. You're going to need to hold out for three hours, so I highly recommend trading space for time. The city favors you a lot more than the jungle does, stick to it and fade away from the slums when things get too hot. People'll die, sure, but it's better than letting them run rampant over the district."
Ravana nods. He already knew about the Chola's military forces from Draupadi's briefings, save for the warstrider and mystery fighter, so none of that was really new to him, but the rest was...well, he was probably going to ignore most of it, to be honest.
"She thinks we're overhyped," says Surpanakha, "Probably assumes we're some half-witted hotshot who's going to get themselves killed. Draupadi's briefing was thorough, though it didn't catch the Warstrider, they've got very little that's a true threat to us. We'll eat them in any half-decent mech. Just don't go all soft and we'll be fine."
Ravana nods and continues on. After a minute or so of following the holo-tags through mazelike corridors he comes out onto a walkway overlooking what he's pretty sure is a launch catapult. One end is a massive closed gate, then there's a titanic, triple-laned launch ramp that leads to the back of the chamber where a single war mech stands.
The mech's short, a diminutive six meters tall, sleek, blue, and deadly. It's all jagged angles and angular armor, a swept-back horn protrudes from its head, and its sensor suite is a gash across the front of its face, a visor, or maybe a mouth. A massive shield attached to some sort of rotary gun covers the left forearm while a sub-arm on the right side supports a massive particle lance. The only real break in the armor is a mirror-plate in the center of the chest. There's a large thruster assembly in back, maybe a small fusion torch, though Ravana can't really tell from here. The entire thing resembles nothing so much as a Rumh, one of those ancient first-empire warmechs that show up on TV occasionally.
"That's not a Rumh," says a voice off to his left. Ravana turns with a start and finds a woman standing on a small hover-skiff just to the side of the walkway. She's a dragon-blood, wood caste, heavily scaled, pretty, vaguely reminiscent of one of those Yaksi statues the less reputable temples put up. Her eyes are...off. They smell wrong, twitch too often, glow a bit more than he's comfortable with. She looks him over a few times, focusing on his still-glowing caste mark, before looking him in the eyes and suddenly seeming to recognize him. "Wait, you're Ravana!" she says, "I'm a huge fan. Watched all your races. Pity about the crash, you totally should've won. Though you're an exalt now, I guess, so that's nice. how'd that happen?" Ravana opens his mouth, only for the dragon-blood to start talking again. "No, wait, probably traumatic. Nevermind. It took me a moment to recognize you, you're so bright now. And so many...mouths. That probably means you're a lunar, yeah?" Ravana opens his mouth again. "Oh, who cares. My name's Aisha. Aisha Begum Khan Lodi. Step on board, I'll brief you while we float over."
Ravana, wisely, decides that he's probably not getting a word in edgewise during this conversation and steps onto the hover-skiff.
"Hmm, you seem taller than you were on TV," says Aisha, who's a good six inches taller than Ravana, "Exaltation side effect? Probably. Oh, hey, put this on. Wouldn't want to ruin that Shalwar setup you've got going." She pulls an armored pilot's suit out of...somewhere and throws it to him. "Don't worry about the size, it'll adjust to you once you've got it on. I'll have an aide put your clothes in your car while you're out, yeah?" Ravana nods and starts stripping, folding his clothes on one of the skiff's seats before putting on the piloting suit. It's loose at first, then collapses in around him, becoming comfortably tight. It's not exactly form-flattering, too much armor and kinda plain on the coloring, but it's not bad.
Oh, and also it'll probably protect him from shrapnel and stuff. That's important too.
"Oh, shit, I've been so rude! Haven't given you a chance to say anything this whole time," says Aisha, "Uh, you have any questions?"
"She can shut up! The wonders never cease," chimes Surpanakha.
"Yes!" says Ravana, "Several." He points at the war mech. "First off, if that's not a Rumh, what the fuck is it?"
"Oh, yes, I should probably mention that," says Aisha, "Well, ah, allow me to present to you...the Akbar! Our prototype next-generation combat mech. Once it's in production the main-line Akbar it will be the first true VARG to enter the galactic market since the collapse of the central empire. It's got a full set of top-of-the-line computer assistance routines, brand new stealth baffle technology, a targeting relay for artillery or naval fire support, full defensive shielding, empire-era speed and maneuverability, and a full complement of weapons and utility equipment," Aisha coughs. "Or, well, uh, it'll have all of those once testing's finished. Your Akbar's got the computer assist, the stealth gear, and the targeting relay. We're still working on the Vernier system so we've mounted a nuclear thrust system instead. Downside, the lateral thrust is hard to control and has knocked some of the test pilots unconscious, plus side, you've got limited flight capabilities and basically unparalleled forward thrust for a combat mech and you're a pretty ace pilot so I don't think the minor 'thirty-lateral-gs' problem will hurt too much. The Heavy Particle Lance, that's the gun mounted on the sub-arm, still has cooldown issues so rate of fire isn't great, plasma spear isn't ready for field tests so you've got a couple of disruptor blades in recharging racks instead, aaaand the pulsar mounted to the left arm had a minor barrel detonation problem so it's got a rotary design to mitigate heat buildup while we work on that. Also we threw a shield on it because people kept shooting the new rotary pulsar in the sims, but the shield's actually been working pretty well for us soooo we're probably keeping that in the final design. Tri Barreled utility launcher on the right wrist. Two electrified grappling cables for maneuvering, interfacing with electronics, and, uh, theoretically electrifying hostile pilots. One backup disruptor blade you can launch into your hand, but it's a bit of a pain to deploy. Probably gonna mount the blade on the interior vambrace on the next model to deal with that. Oh, and a full comms suite in the shoulders, complete with flares so you can signal us while the Jammer's on."
"Right, that brings me to question two," says Ravana, "What Jammer?" The skiff reaches the Akbar and Ravana steps off as he waits for Aisha's reply.
"Oh, yeah, uh, I think that Nanima mentioned that we can't really give you much support in the way of dudes." Ravana signals in the affirmate. "But we have set up this neat jamming system prototype over the district. It's, uuuuuh...you probably won't understand the science. Basically it's spreading particles right now and when it finishes in a few minutes it'll disrupt wireless comms with a longer range than, oh, a few hundred meters or so, mess with sensor readouts, confuse targeting systems, that sorta thing. Should keep the enemy from co-ordinating, which outta help you out, but it also means we can't really co-ordinate either. Well, I mean, we the Lodi Khan's can, because we've got landlines and stuff setup, but we as in you and us won't be able to. So you have the flares! Blue means you want us to turn off the Jammer, Red means you're fucked, don't fire Green just means you want us to know your location for some reason. Jammer'll take a bit to wind down, have to wait for particles to disperse, aaaaaand….I think that's everything."
Ravana walks along the walkway to the front of the Akbar. He's level with the mirror-disk on its chest and looks up at the head. "Uh, last question," he says, "How the fuck do I get to the cockpit?"
"It's a VARG," says Surpanakha, "The cockpit's in the chest." Ravana blinks and looks down. The mirror-plate splits and parts in front of him then an interior hatch drops, creating a cushioned walkway into the cockpit itself. A female tech clambers out and gestures for Ravana to enter.
The cockpit's pretty swanky, noticeably nicer than the cockpit on any of his racers. The walls are all cameras, giving him a full view of the launch catapult around him, the seat's comfortable but closed in, screens with status-displays, controls, sensor readouts, and comm-windows. A pair of neural scanners flank his skull to control movement, a control stick to his right controls the nuclear thrust system, dozens of buttons and switches control disruptor blade deployment, the sub-arm, comm systems and the like. He spends a moment familiarizing himself with the controls, then decides that this mech is fucking awesome.
Ahead of him the great gate at the end of the launch catapult opens, revealing the Vantian sky and the iridescent glow of the theater shields. His sensors spring to life, marking dozens of aircraft, mechs, and APCs approaching through the jungle. The walkway in front of him retracts.
"HQ to Akbar Custom," calls Aisha over the comms, "You ready to launch?"
"Fuck yeah," says Ravana, "This thing's amazing. Point me at 'em."
"Alright Akbar Custom," says Aisha, "Launching in three, two, one-"
Stage one of the fight: You're engaging three squadrons of combat mechs solo, with all of a long-range jammer for assistance for the foreseeable future. Base difficulty is 9, base dice pool is 18d10+3 autosuccesses. You can add up to four dice from charms. DO NOT ROLL YET
What is Ravana's Lethality Policy against the Armored Regiment?
[ ] Terrorize them. Pick them off systematically, eat ejecting pilots, make sure that anyone who survives is a PTSD-riddled wreck. (.3x. Lowers Difficulty by 2, creates Magnitude 1 worth of Servile Mortals. Requires you to suppress compassion. What the fuck dude?)
[ ] They're soldiers, they went into this knowing what might happen. If they eject, they eject, but you can't afford to pull any punches. They're probably all going to die. (.7x)
[ ] They don't actually stand a chance here, try your best not to kill anyone. If people die...it sucks, but you really need to protect the district. (1x. Increases Difficulty by 1)
[ ] You're the Chosen of Theion. You say they don't stand a chance and don't deserve to die for trying to do their jobs? Then you're not killing anyone. And fuck anyone who says otherwise. (1.5x, Increases Difficulty by 3)
How is Ravana Engaging the Armored Regiment?
[ ] The environment is a weapon. There's gonna be a lot of collateral from you throwing buildings at people and turning streets into giant bombs, sure, but you do what you've got to do, and if the locals happen to die...so what? (0.0x. Lowers Difficulty by 2, requires you to suppress compassion. Not happening.)
[ ] Trade space for time. People'll die but...what're you gonna do? If you fuck this up then everyone dies. (.7x. Suppress Compassion)
[ ] Engage them in the district proper. You'll try to minimize collateral damage, but shells going wide and mechs detonating is pretty much inevitable. (Increase Difficulty by 1)
[ ] Hit them in the jungle, engage them there and keep them there. Collateral damage is unacceptable. (1.5x. Increases Difficulty by 2)
Charm Use
[X] Greedy Gawping Grip (I have already included this and it will remain included barring a truly batshit vote to the contrary. 3 motes committed, +3 autosux.)
[ ] Infernal Monster Style (6 Motes. +3 dots of physique, raising dice pool to 21d10 base. May parry any lethal/bashing attacks. Only 1 dice from charms available afterwards.)
->[ ] Many-Armed Wrathful Deva Style (3m commited per arm-set, up to 9m. Each arm reduces MAP by 1 and increases the amount of attacks you can perform and receive the benefits of Infernal Monster Style by 1. Note how many arms you want to create in your post.)
[ ] Invincible Crown Halo (8 motes, +7 L/B soak. Increases based on magnitude of witnessing servile characters)
[ ] First Theion Excellency (1m/dice up to dice cap from charms. Must be used in accordance with Theionic principles)
[ ] Write-in
[ ] None (.5x)
Channels
[ ] Antagonistic Hero Thing (Difficulty 12+ Only)
[ ] Compassion (Difficulty 11+ Only)
[ ] Conviction (Difficulty 9- Only)
[ ] I Will Break the Nine Monitors (Difficulty 7 Only)
[ ] Theion (Difficulty 14 or Difficulty 7)
[ ] Willpower only (Adds 1 sux.)
[ ] Write-In
[ ] None (.5x)
Status: 3 Personal Motes Committed to Greedy Gawping Grip. Flaring at 3-7 level. Currently piloting Prototype VARG Akbar Custom. 11 exp gained this Act.
Air Forces: 4 squadrons of aerospace fighters, totalling 64 fighters+ the Mystery Fighter. A squadron is 16 aircraft.
غ-Wings: The TA-54 is the primary all-purpose starfighter of Vant. It has four vehicular blaster cannons, full defensive shielding, and a pair of missile bays. While generally used for aerospace superiority, the missile bays and powerful blaster cannons mean that it is a viable threat to you. There is a single squadron of hostile غ-wings in the combat zone and they are manned.
CRAVATs: A cheap, near-disposable aerospace superiority fighter, the CRAVAT is about as durable as tissue paper, has minimal defensive shielding, and is armed with the grand total of a pair of vehicular blaster cannons. There are three squadrons of hostile CRAVATs in the combat zone and they are all unmanned. They are effectively useless while in range of the long-range jammer. That said, if that jammer goes down having forty-eight pairs of vehicular blaster cannons aimed at you is going to go south very quickly.
Ground Forces: An armored regiment and mechanized infantry battalion, totalling 500 infantry, 40 APCs, 1 Mobile Headquarters, 52 mechs, and the ARJUN. A mech squadron is 13 mechs, an infantry unit is one APC and 12 infantrymen.
VVK-7 Sarath: In much of the local galaxy the Sarath is considered a top-line combat mech, in Vant and the Scarlet Empire it's a second-stringer used primarily by corporate security forces. It's taller than average for a combat mech, standing at a towering nine meters tall. It's armed with a light particle lance, a missile pod, a pair of vehicular blasters, and a disruptor blade. The disruptor blade's recharging rack is mounted in the center of the chest and can be activated while sheathed to ward off grappling or other close-ranged fauna. It light shielding and heavy computer assistance. Saraths make up the vast majority of the armored regiment you're fighting, and while the long-range jammer cripples their missiles and computer assist they can kill you if you aren't careful. Cockpit is in the head, seat launches during ejection.
CEASE-1 Vijayanta: The Vijayanta is the official main-line combat mech of the Vant military. It's cost means that only dedicated militaristic houses and the Golden Army actually deploy it as a mainline mech, most other houses give it to squadron commanders and other mechanized HQ units. It stands at about seven meters tall, has thick armor, full defensive shielding, and thorough computer assistance. It's armed with a light particle lance, a missile pod, a pair of slaved burst cannons on a waist mount, and either a sword or lance. Only the highest ranked members of the Armored Regiment, squadron HQs and the like, pilot Vijayantas, and outside of enemy artifact weapons they're going to be the most dangerous things you fight. Cockpit is in the head, which detaches during ejection.
ARJUN: A warstrider owned by the Videha Dynasty. It's eighteen meters tall, has an unknown, but surely massive, armament, and maneuvers like a mech half its size. At the very least it's armed with a pair of disruptor blades and a heavy particle lance. It has extensive computer assistance, enormously thick armor, warship-class shielding, and who knows what else. Its pilot is almost certainly a dragon-blood. The ARJUN represents an unparalleled investment on the part of the Videhas, one that might very well kill you if you engaged it on its own. Cockpit is in chest, entire cockpit launches during ejection.
Unidentified Fighter: You dunno? Probably nothing good, though.
غ-Wings: The TA-54 is the primary all-purpose starfighter of Vant. It has four vehicular blaster cannons, full defensive shielding, and a pair of missile bays. While generally used for aerospace superiority, the missile bays and powerful blaster cannons mean that it is a viable threat to you. There is a single squadron of hostile غ-wings in the combat zone and they are manned.
CRAVATs: A cheap, near-disposable aerospace superiority fighter, the CRAVAT is about as durable as tissue paper, has minimal defensive shielding, and is armed with the grand total of a pair of vehicular blaster cannons. There are three squadrons of hostile CRAVATs in the combat zone and they are all unmanned. They are effectively useless while in range of the long-range jammer. That said, if that jammer goes down having forty-eight pairs of vehicular blaster cannons aimed at you is going to go south very quickly.
Ground Forces: An armored regiment and mechanized infantry battalion, totalling 500 infantry, 40 APCs, 1 Mobile Headquarters, 52 mechs, and the ARJUN. A mech squadron is 13 mechs, an infantry unit is one APC and 12 infantrymen.
VVK-7 Sarath: In much of the local galaxy the Sarath is considered a top-line combat mech, in Vant and the Scarlet Empire it's a second-stringer used primarily by corporate security forces. It's taller than average for a combat mech, standing at a towering nine meters tall. It's armed with a light particle lance, a missile pod, a pair of vehicular blasters, and a disruptor blade. The disruptor blade's recharging rack is mounted in the center of the chest and can be activated while sheathed to ward off grappling or other close-ranged fauna. It light shielding and heavy computer assistance. Saraths make up the vast majority of the armored regiment you're fighting, and while the long-range jammer cripples their missiles and computer assist they can kill you if you aren't careful. Cockpit is in the head, seat launches during ejection.
CEASE-1 Vijayanta: The Vijayanta is the official main-line combat mech of the Vant military. It's cost means that only dedicated militaristic houses and the Golden Army actually deploy it as a mainline mech, most other houses give it to squadron commanders and other mechanized HQ units. It stands at about seven meters tall, has thick armor, full defensive shielding, and thorough computer assistance. It's armed with a light particle lance, a missile pod, a pair of slaved burst cannons on a waist mount, and either a sword or lance. Only the highest ranked members of the Armored Regiment, squadron HQs and the like, pilot Vijayantas, and outside of enemy artifact weapons they're going to be the most dangerous things you fight. Cockpit is in the head, which detaches during ejection.
ARJUN: A warstrider owned by the Videha Dynasty. It's eighteen meters tall, has an unknown, but surely massive, armament, and maneuvers like a mech half its size. At the very least it's armed with a pair of disruptor blades and a heavy particle lance. It has extensive computer assistance, enormously thick armor, warship-class shielding, and who knows what else. Its pilot is almost certainly a dragon-blood. The ARJUN represents an unparalleled investment on the part of the Videhas, one that might very well kill you if you engaged it on its own. Cockpit is in chest, entire cockpit launches during ejection.
Unidentified Fighter: You dunno? Probably nothing good, though.
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Thoughts on Rules of Engagement?
[X] Yes.
-> [X] Just kidding.
"Ma'am," Harmattan assures the Chola, "I guarantee my men will do their very best to remain within these rules of engagement. We have no interest in a political... issue. Indeed, we are humanitarians of the very highest order, interested in the peace and well-being of our great nation."
Hmm. He's probably gone a bit far there. He should have been more subtle in his lying-to-her-face.
"And if there are any accidents, it was probably their fault anyway," he quickly adds.
[X] Yes.
-> [X] Just kidding.
"Ma'am," Harmattan assures the Chola, "I guarantee my men will do their very best to remain within these rules of engagement. We have no interest in a political... issue. Indeed, we are humanitarians of the very highest order, interested in the peace and well-being of our great nation."
Hmm. He's probably gone a bit far there. He should have been more subtle in his lying-to-her-face.
"And if there are any accidents, it was probably their fault anyway," he quickly adds.
Da Boyz
The Cutest Apocalypse.
[X] You're the Chosen of Theion. You say they don't stand a chance and don't deserve to die for trying to do their jobs? Then you're not killing anyone. And fuck anyone who says otherwise. (1.5x, Increases Difficulty by 3)
[X] Hit them into the jungle, engage them there and keep them there. Collateral damage is unacceptable. (1.5x. Increases Difficulty by 2)
[X] Infernal Monster Style (6 Motes. +3 dots of physique, raising dice pool to 21d10 base. May parry any lethal/bashing attacks. Only 1 dice from charms available afterwards.)
->[X] Many-Armed Wrathful Deva Style (3m per arm-set, up to 9m. Each arm reduces MAP by 1 and increases the amount of attacks you can perform and receive the benefits of Infernal Monster Style by 1) 9m
[X] First Theion Excellency (1m/dice up to dice cap from charms. Must be used in accordance with Theionic principles) 1m
[X] Invincible Crown Halo (8 motes, +7 L/B soak. Increases based on magnitude of witnessing servile characters)
[X] Theion (Difficulty 14 or Difficulty 7)
Maximum Ravana!
[X] Hit them into the jungle, engage them there and keep them there. Collateral damage is unacceptable. (1.5x. Increases Difficulty by 2)
[X] Infernal Monster Style (6 Motes. +3 dots of physique, raising dice pool to 21d10 base. May parry any lethal/bashing attacks. Only 1 dice from charms available afterwards.)
->[X] Many-Armed Wrathful Deva Style (3m per arm-set, up to 9m. Each arm reduces MAP by 1 and increases the amount of attacks you can perform and receive the benefits of Infernal Monster Style by 1) 9m
[X] First Theion Excellency (1m/dice up to dice cap from charms. Must be used in accordance with Theionic principles) 1m
[X] Invincible Crown Halo (8 motes, +7 L/B soak. Increases based on magnitude of witnessing servile characters)
[X] Theion (Difficulty 14 or Difficulty 7)
Maximum Ravana!
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Aleph
Princess of Stabbity
- Location
- The sixth circle of Hell (second on weekends)
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Thoughts on Rules of Engagement?
[X] Hell Fucking No.
This seems a measured and reasonable response to such orders.
Right then, now the rolls. Base difficulty is 9, base dice pool is 18d10+3 autosuccesses. We can add up to four dice from charms, and get two from a stunt. That means we've basically got 18-24 dice for (Diff-3) successes. That means we can expect around 9-12 sux. The issue is Difficulty modifiers.
What is Ravana's Lethality Policy against the Armored Regiment?
[X] They don't actually stand a chance here, try your best not to kill anyone. If people die...it sucks, but you really need to protect the district. (1x. Increases Difficulty by 1)
How is Ravana Engaging the Armored Regiment?
[X] Hit them into the jungle, engage them there and keep them there. Collateral damage is unacceptable. (1.5x. Increases Difficulty by 2)
This boots us to Diff 12 - or trying to get 9 sux on 20 dice - but is not entirely done out of compassion - in the jungle, they are dealing with mobility penalties while we are free to move as we wish. The main issue is getting them there. Killing nobody at all is tempting, but it's also +3 Difficulty - I doubt we can reliably pull it off, and an unlucky roll would be Very Not Good for us. More to the point, this is only the beginning, and I want to conserve our motes - this is far from the last fight we're going to have to deal with today.
I'll write in a stunt once I've finished deciding which Charms to use, though I'm open to other arguments.
[X] Hell Fucking No.
This seems a measured and reasonable response to such orders.
Right then, now the rolls. Base difficulty is 9, base dice pool is 18d10+3 autosuccesses. We can add up to four dice from charms, and get two from a stunt. That means we've basically got 18-24 dice for (Diff-3) successes. That means we can expect around 9-12 sux. The issue is Difficulty modifiers.
What is Ravana's Lethality Policy against the Armored Regiment?
[X] They don't actually stand a chance here, try your best not to kill anyone. If people die...it sucks, but you really need to protect the district. (1x. Increases Difficulty by 1)
How is Ravana Engaging the Armored Regiment?
[X] Hit them into the jungle, engage them there and keep them there. Collateral damage is unacceptable. (1.5x. Increases Difficulty by 2)
This boots us to Diff 12 - or trying to get 9 sux on 20 dice - but is not entirely done out of compassion - in the jungle, they are dealing with mobility penalties while we are free to move as we wish. The main issue is getting them there. Killing nobody at all is tempting, but it's also +3 Difficulty - I doubt we can reliably pull it off, and an unlucky roll would be Very Not Good for us. More to the point, this is only the beginning, and I want to conserve our motes - this is far from the last fight we're going to have to deal with today.
I'll write in a stunt once I've finished deciding which Charms to use, though I'm open to other arguments.
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Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
Thoughts on Rules of Engagement?
[X] Yes.
-> [X] Just kidding.
An appropriately measured response to someone whose horrible chai you had to drink.
---
@Havocfett Can I get a clarification on Invincible Crown Halo? By servile characters, does that mean anyone who is serving someone else or people who are servile to -us-?
The answer to that probably changes what I'll vote for vis a vis how hard to work to keep the armored regiment alive.
[X] Yes.
-> [X] Just kidding.
An appropriately measured response to someone whose horrible chai you had to drink.
---
@Havocfett Can I get a clarification on Invincible Crown Halo? By servile characters, does that mean anyone who is serving someone else or people who are servile to -us-?
The answer to that probably changes what I'll vote for vis a vis how hard to work to keep the armored regiment alive.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Servile to you.
You can try to stunt in instilling principles of awe or terror for whatever options you pick.
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Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
Hmm. Okay, thanks, that's what I suspected.
What is Ravana's Lethality Policy against the Armored Regiment?
[X] They don't actually stand a chance here, try your best not to kill anyone. If people die...it sucks, but you really need to protect the district. (1x. Increases Difficulty by 1)
How is Ravana Engaging the Armored Regiment?
[X] Engage them in the district proper. You'll try to minimize collateral damage, but shells going wide and mechs detonating is pretty much inevitable. (Increase Difficulty by 1)
Charm Use
[X] Infernal Monster Style (6 Motes. +3 dots of physique, raising dice pool to 21d10 base. May parry any lethal/bashing attacks. Only 1 dice from charms available afterwards.)
->[X] Many-Armed Wrathful Deva Style (3m per arm-set, up to 9m. Each arm reduces MAP by 1 and increases the amount of attacks you can perform and receive the benefits of Infernal Monster Style by 1)
[X] First Theion Excellency (1m/dice up to dice cap from charms. Must be used in accordance with Theionic principles)
Channels
[X] Compassion (Difficulty 11+ Only)
Right, so my idea is that we eat increased difficulty to keep a reasonable amount of the armored regiment alive as well as the surrounding populace. Fight both in such a way to demonstrate our Ravana-ness and how if they really knew any better they'd totally be on their knees or something. That hopefully sets up more efficient ICH usage on future turns where we probably will end up taking damage in the face for real when the better combatants get off their asses and will need the soak.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Oh, hey, for the people voting for Many Armed Wrathful Deva, please not how many arms you want to create. I'll make that explicit in the update in a moment.
Aleph
Princess of Stabbity
- Location
- The sixth circle of Hell (second on weekends)
- Pronouns
- She/Her
You're spending a minimum of 10m, 1wp here. On one fight against, mostly, mooks.
What are you intending to spend against the boss fights that are being set up against Harmattan and Janaka Videha?