- Location
- France
The end of the world damaged the moon though, so I wouldn't be surprised if they'd had fun knocking down satellites though.
- Location
- France
She kicked a giant fissure into the moon. There are a whole bunch of hints about the moon being linked to the Company and the development of powers, but that's probably not something we can affect.Oh? I was not aware of that. I thought "kick the moon in two" was a turn of phrase...
What did Prevailer do?
[X] Nevill
- Location
- USA
Results from Previous round votes:
2 Votes plan CCC
*************************************************************************************
Winning Plan:
[Morning] Train the warband in combat with Mist around their feet
[Afternoon] Practice with Builder (see below)
[Owner] Purchase street maps of Ar Harbour, and the area between here and there. Her street maps won't be perfectly accurate in this world, due to not showing roads that are no longer in repair, but they should still prevent us from getting totally lost en route.
[Builder] Practice the combat uses of her skill. I get hold of a bunch of balls (the polystyrene "particles" used in that museum should do) and throw them at her; while her job is to use her Gift to stop them after I let go but before they hit, largely by making them grow 'sails' or other bits in mid-air.
The aim here is for her to practice using her Gift on small, moving targets while under time constraints. This will be a useful skill under both a union ambush or an attack by the Tank.
[Smasher] Afternoon: Train the warband in combat.
Day 27 Log :
7 AP at start of day (6 at end of last day +1 for half night's sleep)
-2 Train warband with smoke machine (5 AP)
Roll 9, +1 for success (6 AP)
-2 Practice with Builder (4 AP)
Roll 3, +1 for success (due to Builder's roll), (5 AP)
Builder Train for combat use of her skill
Roll 10, success
Owner: Purchase Street Maps
Roll 9, success
Smasher: Train the Warband in combat
Roll 6, success
End of day, 5 AP
*************************************************************************************
Train the warband in smoke impaired circumstances:
A single month's training, or not even that, would never have been considered enough in the old world. Expertise took ten thousand hours, or something similar, and even a simulacrum thereof wouldn't come quickly.
I knew this, I did.
But it was still easy to look over the warband and think about how far we'd come. Their ability to follow directions, their fighting spirit, and even their ability to integrate the exotic tactics and stratagems we'd planned felt like it had come leagues and bounds.
I had to remind myself that the proof was in the pudding. I'd never seen them kill en masse before, and this new training had never been truly put to the test. I'd given them a few weeks of discipline and instruction. I probably hadn't truly changed them.
But damn it felt like we had. They had no trouble with the smoke machines, running through all of their drills while the 'haze' settings output pooled around their feat. They dodged imaginary gunfire, kept track of sight lines, engaged imaginary enemies and performed as well as I could've imagined.
Thinking that, however, put another chill up my spine.
As well as I could've imagined.
If they had little to no experience in group fighting, how much less did I have in orchestrating it? I'd never led a group of 50 Ultras into battle against an equivalent force on prepared ground. I'd barely even spoken to someone who had.
Should I have spent more time with Subtracter? The woman was a vicious brute, she'd stolen my life away, but if I put all that to the side could I have gotten more out of her experience? She was one of the few living who'd done what I was about to do.
Long practice kicked in and I stopped second guessing myself, pushed instead of second guess the second guessing. I had asked her things, had gotten minimally useful replies, and a loathsome task. Her experience would have hinged on her gifts, which I lacked entirely. Advice from her would have taken the form 'fly rapidly around kicking everyone's heads off until She appears, then lick Her boots.'
Nonetheless, it was easy to fall into such patterns. I'd had a month. Looking at my warband, I thought I'd done pretty well, but had I done well enough? Was there ways I could have done better? Would it be sufficient?
Tomorrow, King Arthur would tell me the answer.
*************************************************************************************
Work with Builder on training her gift in combat:
"This isn't working," I told her.
Builder didn't say anything, but the brand new black eye made her agreement more than obvious.
"What's going wrong?" I asked. "Balls only fly because they are shaped for flying. If you can just make them have protrusions that are a different shape they should miss."
"You are throwing the balls too fast," she complained, in a monotone voice, "Like I told you at the start, and again after the first hour!"
"No one is going to gently toss weapons at you," I retorted, heatedly, "They are actually going to try and kill you. We are talking about arrows, bullets, or at the very least slings and thrown rocks. I'm not exactly a trained pitcher, here. If these are too fast for you then you aren't going to stop anyone who is trying seriously!"
She held up both hands in a congratulatory gesture.
"Ex-act-ly!" she said, "I'm not a combat Ultra. I made that clear to you when I joined up! My conjuration isn't like Adder's, it takes time for things to manifest. Even a brisk walk makes it hard for me to put something on someone. Something at any kind of pace? Forget it!"
I scowled at her, trying to figure out how to motivate her.
"And shouldn't your gift be protecting me?" she complained. "That hurt a lot, and I know Ultra strength doesn't go along with projectiles."
"I made you bulletproof," I told her. "That has nothing to do with thrown objects."
She pulled a face.
"That's dumb."
I shrugged.
"It's how my gift…"
Ok, yeah, I got the irony.
"Look," I said, "I'm not pressing you because I enjoy it. Or because I'm trying to emphasize how you much you depend on us or anything. You know me well enough to know I'm not about that. I'm trying to save your life. We are going into battle. Tomorrow you will live, or you will die."
She looked up at me.
"Throw again," she said.
I grabbed the museum prop, took aim.
Life wasn't a movie. You didn't suddenly get better at something just because you needed to. I drew my hand back to throw, already sick with the certainty that the ball would fly unhindered, would slam once again into my friend's form.
I threw it.
Or, at least, I tried to.
But something had joined my hand to my waste, and something else had grown rapidly across my eyes, a sort of stone visor.
"Shit!" I snarled, moving a hand up to push the visor aside.
Builder had moved, while I'd been distracted, and was now hunkered comfortably down behind the couch.
"That wasn't the drill!" I objected.
"You said to stop the objects, well, they move too fucking fast. So I stopped the stationary target. Best I could do."
I chuckled, dropping the prop down to the ground alongside the powdery stone she'd built up on me.
Life wasn't a movie. But movies were made by people, people drawing on their life experiences. Desperation wasn't magical, didn't give you new capabilities that you'd never had before. But it was certainly inspirational, and, on the right day, if you were lucky, it might let you make better use of the abilities you already had.
*************************************************************************************
Debrief Posse:
"You already know how my part went!" said Builder, cheerfully.
Owner shot me a dark look from where she knelt at her side, a cold cloth pressed to the bruise around her face.
It was possible, I'd allow, that I'd thrown the props a bit too hard.
"And yours, Owner?" I asked.
"I didn't beat up any of our friends, if that's what you are asking!" she fired back.
I looked over to Smasher, finally invited to a briefing, letting Builder settle Owner down a bit.
"Training's going well," said Smasher. "They were all talking about your morning thing, so I put them through their paces, tired them out. Stuff went pretty good."
I grinned. I could tell that things had gone well because Smasher had arrived without her characteristic haze of alcohol. I had no idea how long her straight edge my last, but we'd been lucky enough that it got her to the edge of the battle. If it went one more day she'd actually fight alongside us.
"I got your maps!" interrupted Owner. "They are great. And I didn't just get the ones of the Old world either?"
I looked over dubiously.
"I also bought maps based on what the situation might be if, say, there'd been a few decades of decay and urban war. It didn't cost me anything to try, and my gift came through!"
I still figured the maps of the old world, or at least of Owner's version of it, would be more useful, but there might be something of worth in these. Worth a look, anyway.
"I'll check them over," I said, "Now get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day."
*************************************************************************************
Walter Note: The battle will be more than one update long. You are deciding on your initial approach in this week's response.
The Plan:
– We attack on the 28th. The only person who finds out about this early is Prevailer, who gets to discover this on the 25th. On the 26th, those members of our Posse that we can trust not to blab find out.
-On the 28th, Smasher and the warband find out. Preferably while being herded into the trucks.
– Merlin's invisible troops are, of course, invisible. They are also carrying Knight equipment. Picker's assassins carried Knight equipment. Hmmm. But what the Knights are asking for in exchange for the use of their equipment is morally completely reprehensible. I can't countenance that, and would lose my Resistance contact if I did. (I would deserve to lose my Resistance contact if I did that. I would be truly a monster.)
– I need to bear in mind that Merlin and Arthur might have empowered the same people. That is to say, some of Merlin's invisible assassins might have Ultra Strength, or Speed, or Toughness. They're already hitting above their weight – on top of that, they may actually have some weight to hit on top of.
– Another option for dealing with Merlin is to take advantage of KEM. I know where she lives, what she can do and who she cares for; leaving that report on Merlin in the right place should be enough to get her killed outright. However, I shouldn't use KEM on more than one person. Merlin is a greater threat than Guinevere.
– Third option – use Owner to demolish Merlin's house in the middle of the night (buying and demolishing the property).
– Fourth option – take advantage of Builder's stuff-stretching ability to ensure that our confrontation happens in an ankle-deep flood. Even invisible people can be seen walking through ankle-deep water – if nothing else, by the foot-shaped hollows in the water.
– We hope the KEM managed to take out Merlin, and we further hope that doing so reversed her Power's effects. However, if not, we have a multipronged strategy against those invisible troops. Firstly, Merlin herself is killed quickly – sniper bullet, if necessary (no showboating here). Second, a smoke machine may make invisible people visible, and a laser can blind their spotters, effectively making them ineffective on the field.
– Guinevere is easily handled. I need merely imbue my Posse with fireproof; after that, Smasher can take her out easily. (Ankle-deep water should mess with her, too, by extinguishing a lot of fires).
– Lancelot and Arthur are unlikely to be trouble in the final confrontation.
– That giant Union tank, on the other hand, is a problem (and not a small one). But Builder should be able to deal with it; her power works at any range. She can close off any gun barrels by extending the barrel material _inwards_, she can mess up the engine by making the internals just grow crazy spikes everywhere, and so on. Once she can see it, she can ruin it utterly – and probably without even leaving any external sign of her sabotage, so it can all be blamed on the Union being idiots.
– Builder is our go-to person for ranged anti-Union-tech operations. No machine can long survive her vengeful gaze, once she's decided to smash it. And if the Union gets wise to the point of limiting our visibility (say, with smoke), the Smasher can just smash the smoke…
– If the Ar Harbour team don't want to come out and fight, we can draw them out by taking hostages. from the people they care for. This strategy is unpleasant and distasteful, but it will work, and will draw them away from buildings. Moreover, I don't actually need to permanently harm the hostages, not if I'm threatening enough.
-Talking of Smasher, if she can smash *fire*, then Guinevere doesn't stand a hope.
*************************************************************************************
Day 28:
Days remaining: 0- Go time!
AP available: Not tracked in crisis situation
Prestige: 3
Timeslots available: Not tracked due to crisis, you will be assumed following the plan unless votes contradict
Posse: 3 or 3 out of 3 slots filled
Force size: 45
Condition: Healthy
2 Votes plan CCC
*************************************************************************************
Winning Plan:
[Morning] Train the warband in combat with Mist around their feet
[Afternoon] Practice with Builder (see below)
[Owner] Purchase street maps of Ar Harbour, and the area between here and there. Her street maps won't be perfectly accurate in this world, due to not showing roads that are no longer in repair, but they should still prevent us from getting totally lost en route.
[Builder] Practice the combat uses of her skill. I get hold of a bunch of balls (the polystyrene "particles" used in that museum should do) and throw them at her; while her job is to use her Gift to stop them after I let go but before they hit, largely by making them grow 'sails' or other bits in mid-air.
The aim here is for her to practice using her Gift on small, moving targets while under time constraints. This will be a useful skill under both a union ambush or an attack by the Tank.
[Smasher] Afternoon: Train the warband in combat.
Day 27 Log :
7 AP at start of day (6 at end of last day +1 for half night's sleep)
-2 Train warband with smoke machine (5 AP)
Roll 9, +1 for success (6 AP)
-2 Practice with Builder (4 AP)
Roll 3, +1 for success (due to Builder's roll), (5 AP)
Builder Train for combat use of her skill
Roll 10, success
Owner: Purchase Street Maps
Roll 9, success
Smasher: Train the Warband in combat
Roll 6, success
End of day, 5 AP
*************************************************************************************
Train the warband in smoke impaired circumstances:
A single month's training, or not even that, would never have been considered enough in the old world. Expertise took ten thousand hours, or something similar, and even a simulacrum thereof wouldn't come quickly.
I knew this, I did.
But it was still easy to look over the warband and think about how far we'd come. Their ability to follow directions, their fighting spirit, and even their ability to integrate the exotic tactics and stratagems we'd planned felt like it had come leagues and bounds.
I had to remind myself that the proof was in the pudding. I'd never seen them kill en masse before, and this new training had never been truly put to the test. I'd given them a few weeks of discipline and instruction. I probably hadn't truly changed them.
But damn it felt like we had. They had no trouble with the smoke machines, running through all of their drills while the 'haze' settings output pooled around their feat. They dodged imaginary gunfire, kept track of sight lines, engaged imaginary enemies and performed as well as I could've imagined.
Thinking that, however, put another chill up my spine.
As well as I could've imagined.
If they had little to no experience in group fighting, how much less did I have in orchestrating it? I'd never led a group of 50 Ultras into battle against an equivalent force on prepared ground. I'd barely even spoken to someone who had.
Should I have spent more time with Subtracter? The woman was a vicious brute, she'd stolen my life away, but if I put all that to the side could I have gotten more out of her experience? She was one of the few living who'd done what I was about to do.
Long practice kicked in and I stopped second guessing myself, pushed instead of second guess the second guessing. I had asked her things, had gotten minimally useful replies, and a loathsome task. Her experience would have hinged on her gifts, which I lacked entirely. Advice from her would have taken the form 'fly rapidly around kicking everyone's heads off until She appears, then lick Her boots.'
Nonetheless, it was easy to fall into such patterns. I'd had a month. Looking at my warband, I thought I'd done pretty well, but had I done well enough? Was there ways I could have done better? Would it be sufficient?
Tomorrow, King Arthur would tell me the answer.
*************************************************************************************
Work with Builder on training her gift in combat:
"This isn't working," I told her.
Builder didn't say anything, but the brand new black eye made her agreement more than obvious.
"What's going wrong?" I asked. "Balls only fly because they are shaped for flying. If you can just make them have protrusions that are a different shape they should miss."
"You are throwing the balls too fast," she complained, in a monotone voice, "Like I told you at the start, and again after the first hour!"
"No one is going to gently toss weapons at you," I retorted, heatedly, "They are actually going to try and kill you. We are talking about arrows, bullets, or at the very least slings and thrown rocks. I'm not exactly a trained pitcher, here. If these are too fast for you then you aren't going to stop anyone who is trying seriously!"
She held up both hands in a congratulatory gesture.
"Ex-act-ly!" she said, "I'm not a combat Ultra. I made that clear to you when I joined up! My conjuration isn't like Adder's, it takes time for things to manifest. Even a brisk walk makes it hard for me to put something on someone. Something at any kind of pace? Forget it!"
I scowled at her, trying to figure out how to motivate her.
"And shouldn't your gift be protecting me?" she complained. "That hurt a lot, and I know Ultra strength doesn't go along with projectiles."
"I made you bulletproof," I told her. "That has nothing to do with thrown objects."
She pulled a face.
"That's dumb."
I shrugged.
"It's how my gift…"
Ok, yeah, I got the irony.
"Look," I said, "I'm not pressing you because I enjoy it. Or because I'm trying to emphasize how you much you depend on us or anything. You know me well enough to know I'm not about that. I'm trying to save your life. We are going into battle. Tomorrow you will live, or you will die."
She looked up at me.
"Throw again," she said.
I grabbed the museum prop, took aim.
Life wasn't a movie. You didn't suddenly get better at something just because you needed to. I drew my hand back to throw, already sick with the certainty that the ball would fly unhindered, would slam once again into my friend's form.
I threw it.
Or, at least, I tried to.
But something had joined my hand to my waste, and something else had grown rapidly across my eyes, a sort of stone visor.
"Shit!" I snarled, moving a hand up to push the visor aside.
Builder had moved, while I'd been distracted, and was now hunkered comfortably down behind the couch.
"That wasn't the drill!" I objected.
"You said to stop the objects, well, they move too fucking fast. So I stopped the stationary target. Best I could do."
I chuckled, dropping the prop down to the ground alongside the powdery stone she'd built up on me.
Life wasn't a movie. But movies were made by people, people drawing on their life experiences. Desperation wasn't magical, didn't give you new capabilities that you'd never had before. But it was certainly inspirational, and, on the right day, if you were lucky, it might let you make better use of the abilities you already had.
*************************************************************************************
Debrief Posse:
"You already know how my part went!" said Builder, cheerfully.
Owner shot me a dark look from where she knelt at her side, a cold cloth pressed to the bruise around her face.
It was possible, I'd allow, that I'd thrown the props a bit too hard.
"And yours, Owner?" I asked.
"I didn't beat up any of our friends, if that's what you are asking!" she fired back.
I looked over to Smasher, finally invited to a briefing, letting Builder settle Owner down a bit.
"Training's going well," said Smasher. "They were all talking about your morning thing, so I put them through their paces, tired them out. Stuff went pretty good."
I grinned. I could tell that things had gone well because Smasher had arrived without her characteristic haze of alcohol. I had no idea how long her straight edge my last, but we'd been lucky enough that it got her to the edge of the battle. If it went one more day she'd actually fight alongside us.
"I got your maps!" interrupted Owner. "They are great. And I didn't just get the ones of the Old world either?"
I looked over dubiously.
"I also bought maps based on what the situation might be if, say, there'd been a few decades of decay and urban war. It didn't cost me anything to try, and my gift came through!"
I still figured the maps of the old world, or at least of Owner's version of it, would be more useful, but there might be something of worth in these. Worth a look, anyway.
"I'll check them over," I said, "Now get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day."
*************************************************************************************
Walter Note: The battle will be more than one update long. You are deciding on your initial approach in this week's response.
The Plan:
– We attack on the 28th. The only person who finds out about this early is Prevailer, who gets to discover this on the 25th. On the 26th, those members of our Posse that we can trust not to blab find out.
-On the 28th, Smasher and the warband find out. Preferably while being herded into the trucks.
– Merlin's invisible troops are, of course, invisible. They are also carrying Knight equipment. Picker's assassins carried Knight equipment. Hmmm. But what the Knights are asking for in exchange for the use of their equipment is morally completely reprehensible. I can't countenance that, and would lose my Resistance contact if I did. (I would deserve to lose my Resistance contact if I did that. I would be truly a monster.)
– I need to bear in mind that Merlin and Arthur might have empowered the same people. That is to say, some of Merlin's invisible assassins might have Ultra Strength, or Speed, or Toughness. They're already hitting above their weight – on top of that, they may actually have some weight to hit on top of.
– Another option for dealing with Merlin is to take advantage of KEM. I know where she lives, what she can do and who she cares for; leaving that report on Merlin in the right place should be enough to get her killed outright. However, I shouldn't use KEM on more than one person. Merlin is a greater threat than Guinevere.
– Third option – use Owner to demolish Merlin's house in the middle of the night (buying and demolishing the property).
– Fourth option – take advantage of Builder's stuff-stretching ability to ensure that our confrontation happens in an ankle-deep flood. Even invisible people can be seen walking through ankle-deep water – if nothing else, by the foot-shaped hollows in the water.
– We hope the KEM managed to take out Merlin, and we further hope that doing so reversed her Power's effects. However, if not, we have a multipronged strategy against those invisible troops. Firstly, Merlin herself is killed quickly – sniper bullet, if necessary (no showboating here). Second, a smoke machine may make invisible people visible, and a laser can blind their spotters, effectively making them ineffective on the field.
– Guinevere is easily handled. I need merely imbue my Posse with fireproof; after that, Smasher can take her out easily. (Ankle-deep water should mess with her, too, by extinguishing a lot of fires).
– Lancelot and Arthur are unlikely to be trouble in the final confrontation.
– That giant Union tank, on the other hand, is a problem (and not a small one). But Builder should be able to deal with it; her power works at any range. She can close off any gun barrels by extending the barrel material _inwards_, she can mess up the engine by making the internals just grow crazy spikes everywhere, and so on. Once she can see it, she can ruin it utterly – and probably without even leaving any external sign of her sabotage, so it can all be blamed on the Union being idiots.
– Builder is our go-to person for ranged anti-Union-tech operations. No machine can long survive her vengeful gaze, once she's decided to smash it. And if the Union gets wise to the point of limiting our visibility (say, with smoke), the Smasher can just smash the smoke…
– If the Ar Harbour team don't want to come out and fight, we can draw them out by taking hostages. from the people they care for. This strategy is unpleasant and distasteful, but it will work, and will draw them away from buildings. Moreover, I don't actually need to permanently harm the hostages, not if I'm threatening enough.
-Talking of Smasher, if she can smash *fire*, then Guinevere doesn't stand a hope.
*************************************************************************************
Day 28:
Days remaining: 0- Go time!
AP available: Not tracked in crisis situation
Prestige: 3
Timeslots available: Not tracked due to crisis, you will be assumed following the plan unless votes contradict
Posse: 3 or 3 out of 3 slots filled
Force size: 45
Condition: Healthy
(Ultra format: Role, Ultra Strength/Speed/Toughness, other gift description)
Posse:
Builder — 0/0/0, a woman who can alter objects for miles around into other things, blessed with a 'Bulletproof' blend
Owner – housemate, 0/0/1 operates an imaginary firm, with real effects on the world,
Smasher — 3/0/1, a woman who is billed as the strongest Ultra fighter of all time
Ultra Allies:
Maker- Friend, and protégé of Snitcher, 0/0/1, can summon the spirit of things
Clawer – Ultra fighter 2/0/1, melee combatant, deadly hooks for hands
Stopper – partner of Clawer, 0/0/0, steals form's velocity by looking at them
Sticker – Did dentistry for her brother, 0/0/2, Creates slime, can choose its stickiness
Grower – 0/*0/1, an outside Ultra I sponsored into the Lair, has a bullet blend from me, can rapidly increase the size and mass of objects
Joker — 0/2/0, a woman who can change what other people/herself look like
Replayer — 1/2/0, she can 'step back in time' to undo damage that she takes
Ultra Enemies:
Masher- Enemy, and fellow protégé of Subtracter, 3*/0/3*, trades off strength and durability as she moves or stays still
Picker – First Fist protégé, 0/1/0, 'selects the outcome of things'
Ultra Acquaintances:
Tracker – Running buddy, 1/0/1, Creates tracks, and can move things on them
Shower – Adder's protégé, 1*/0/1*, gains strength and durability from witnesses
Echoer – Singer I am a fan of, 1/1/1, can duplicate any action that she sees
Bubbler – Operates Ultra clinic 0/0/?, traps things in bubbles that heal and move them
Sucker — Ultra entertainer, ?/?/?, pulls objects/people towards her at incredible rate
Gunner — 0/0/1, she shoots tracking Ultra Blasts at roughly Ultra Strength One
Chiller — 1/0/1, can freeze any object she touches, leaving them brittle and easily broken
Cutter — 1/1/1, she is a brutal front line combatant
Swimmer — 1/0/1, she can 'swim' through solid surfaces
Burner — 0/0/1, she can summon Ultra fire from anywhere that she can see
Maxxer — 0/0/0, she can augment the gifts of other Ultras, pushing their gifts
Puncher — 1/0/1, her strength and speed both go up when she repeats her movements
Posse:
Builder — 0/0/0, a woman who can alter objects for miles around into other things, blessed with a 'Bulletproof' blend
Owner – housemate, 0/0/1 operates an imaginary firm, with real effects on the world,
Smasher — 3/0/1, a woman who is billed as the strongest Ultra fighter of all time
Ultra Allies:
Maker- Friend, and protégé of Snitcher, 0/0/1, can summon the spirit of things
Clawer – Ultra fighter 2/0/1, melee combatant, deadly hooks for hands
Stopper – partner of Clawer, 0/0/0, steals form's velocity by looking at them
Sticker – Did dentistry for her brother, 0/0/2, Creates slime, can choose its stickiness
Grower – 0/*0/1, an outside Ultra I sponsored into the Lair, has a bullet blend from me, can rapidly increase the size and mass of objects
Joker — 0/2/0, a woman who can change what other people/herself look like
Replayer — 1/2/0, she can 'step back in time' to undo damage that she takes
Ultra Enemies:
Masher- Enemy, and fellow protégé of Subtracter, 3*/0/3*, trades off strength and durability as she moves or stays still
Ultra Acquaintances:
Tracker – Running buddy, 1/0/1, Creates tracks, and can move things on them
Shower – Adder's protégé, 1*/0/1*, gains strength and durability from witnesses
Echoer – Singer I am a fan of, 1/1/1, can duplicate any action that she sees
Bubbler – Operates Ultra clinic 0/0/?, traps things in bubbles that heal and move them
Sucker — Ultra entertainer, ?/?/?, pulls objects/people towards her at incredible rate
Gunner — 0/0/1, she shoots tracking Ultra Blasts at roughly Ultra Strength One
Chiller — 1/0/1, can freeze any object she touches, leaving them brittle and easily broken
Cutter — 1/1/1, she is a brutal front line combatant
Swimmer — 1/0/1, she can 'swim' through solid surfaces
Burner — 0/0/1, she can summon Ultra fire from anywhere that she can see
Maxxer — 0/0/0, she can augment the gifts of other Ultras, pushing their gifts
Puncher — 1/0/1, her strength and speed both go up when she repeats her movements
Travel Arrangements: We are traveling to Ar Harbour by truck/buses. How many trucks has Builder crafted for us? The minimum is 2, in order to fit the whole Warband. The maximum is 6, just based on how many people we have who can drive. Please indicate in your Travel Arrangements vote how many trucks you want to take, the order they will travel in, and where each member of the Posse (including Blender) will be riding. Owner and Blender are 2 of the six drivers, along with 4 Warband members.
Travel Route:
Blender has worked out 3 routes to get to Ar Harbour. The Direct route is the fastest, and will see you reach the area at the very end of afternoon. She used it when she was a troubleshooter, and isn't a hundred percent sure it will easily accommodate the buses, and it is also what anyone who works out that you are driving here on this day will take. The Indirect Route is the safest, sticking to main roads that will definitely take the trucks, but it will take a little longer, seeing you arrive at dusk, which She might not love. The Circuitous Route is better for the vehicles than the Direct Route, but not so good as the indirect, and you'll arrive solidly in the night. Its saving grace is that it sticks to back roads, and renders it incredibly unlikely that the Union will be able to launch a strike on you before you arrive in Ar Harbour.
For 'Travel Route', vote for one of those 3 choices, please. Your secrecy screens you off from leaving earlier, since the Warband won't assemble until dawn.
Attack Distance:
You've worked out a few possible places to start the attack. Outside Town sees you stop the buses from beyond where you hope the people of Ar Harbour will see them, then launch an attack on foot, charging into the city and taking out the enemy as they come. Inside Town sees you drive the buses into Ar Harbour and pull them to a stop immediately outside of the downtown storefront area you are supposed to preserve, whereupon you will launch the aforementioned infantry attack. DownTown will see you drive the buses right into the center of town before you disembark, delivering your Ultras to the center of Ar Harbour's population.
If you'd like to propose an option other than those 3, please comment on this post or in the SV thread, and I'll give it a yay or nay as a vote choice.
Ultra Equipment:
Specify how many (if any) warband members you would like do anything other than fight using their Ultra gifts (remember the patterns that you've had Builder memorize during the quest . Note that if you set them to use the truck's smoke machines, lasers, or large guns they will have to stay with the trucks for as long as they do so.
Warband/Posse Tactics:
Your warband is split into 4 squads, and can't be commanded at any smaller levels than that. Broadly speaking, its basic behavior is to engage and defeat any enemy forces it can. But the details can be quite important.
First squad is the largest, and has the best close range fighters. Second squad is another close range squad, just less good than first. Third squad is about as good at fighting as second squad, but did the best on all of the 'oddball' drills, the smoke stuff, laser stuff, etc. They are also a close range unit, but Smasher thinks they would be best for anything strange that comes up. Fourth Squad are the Ultras with ranged gifts.
You believe, at this point, that Arthur has Ultras, Knights (that is, beneficiaries of her gift), humans with guns, and Ghosts (that is, beneficiaries of Merlin's gift), their Union tank and the Round Table members themselves. You can assign any squad or Posse member any particular target priority you'd like. This can't be incredibly detailed for a squad, but Posse members/Blender can manage strategies of arbitrary complexity.
Note that due to setting KEM to action and not getting their report you aren't sure that Merlin/Ghosts are still going to be factors in this battle. It is also possible that there will be other forces you didn't manage to discover. Future votes will allow you to react to developments on the field, but anticipating them now will be more effective.
Another note to keep in mind is that your command and control technology is yelling. If you send a squad away from Blender it will follow orders/its own judgement until and unless you link back up with it.
As a last note, and the most important, consider that She will be watching through Blender's eyes.
Please give a response for each category, votes will be tallied as a whole. (Given our quest's particular participation pattern, it is likely that any vote slate which is seconded will carry the day. I encourage you to question one another before you place your support, work together to come up with something you believe in. You've put months of effort into this, don't falter at the finish.)
Travel Route:
Blender has worked out 3 routes to get to Ar Harbour. The Direct route is the fastest, and will see you reach the area at the very end of afternoon. She used it when she was a troubleshooter, and isn't a hundred percent sure it will easily accommodate the buses, and it is also what anyone who works out that you are driving here on this day will take. The Indirect Route is the safest, sticking to main roads that will definitely take the trucks, but it will take a little longer, seeing you arrive at dusk, which She might not love. The Circuitous Route is better for the vehicles than the Direct Route, but not so good as the indirect, and you'll arrive solidly in the night. Its saving grace is that it sticks to back roads, and renders it incredibly unlikely that the Union will be able to launch a strike on you before you arrive in Ar Harbour.
For 'Travel Route', vote for one of those 3 choices, please. Your secrecy screens you off from leaving earlier, since the Warband won't assemble until dawn.
Attack Distance:
You've worked out a few possible places to start the attack. Outside Town sees you stop the buses from beyond where you hope the people of Ar Harbour will see them, then launch an attack on foot, charging into the city and taking out the enemy as they come. Inside Town sees you drive the buses into Ar Harbour and pull them to a stop immediately outside of the downtown storefront area you are supposed to preserve, whereupon you will launch the aforementioned infantry attack. DownTown will see you drive the buses right into the center of town before you disembark, delivering your Ultras to the center of Ar Harbour's population.
If you'd like to propose an option other than those 3, please comment on this post or in the SV thread, and I'll give it a yay or nay as a vote choice.
Ultra Equipment:
Specify how many (if any) warband members you would like do anything other than fight using their Ultra gifts (remember the patterns that you've had Builder memorize during the quest . Note that if you set them to use the truck's smoke machines, lasers, or large guns they will have to stay with the trucks for as long as they do so.
Warband/Posse Tactics:
Your warband is split into 4 squads, and can't be commanded at any smaller levels than that. Broadly speaking, its basic behavior is to engage and defeat any enemy forces it can. But the details can be quite important.
First squad is the largest, and has the best close range fighters. Second squad is another close range squad, just less good than first. Third squad is about as good at fighting as second squad, but did the best on all of the 'oddball' drills, the smoke stuff, laser stuff, etc. They are also a close range unit, but Smasher thinks they would be best for anything strange that comes up. Fourth Squad are the Ultras with ranged gifts.
You believe, at this point, that Arthur has Ultras, Knights (that is, beneficiaries of her gift), humans with guns, and Ghosts (that is, beneficiaries of Merlin's gift), their Union tank and the Round Table members themselves. You can assign any squad or Posse member any particular target priority you'd like. This can't be incredibly detailed for a squad, but Posse members/Blender can manage strategies of arbitrary complexity.
Note that due to setting KEM to action and not getting their report you aren't sure that Merlin/Ghosts are still going to be factors in this battle. It is also possible that there will be other forces you didn't manage to discover. Future votes will allow you to react to developments on the field, but anticipating them now will be more effective.
Another note to keep in mind is that your command and control technology is yelling. If you send a squad away from Blender it will follow orders/its own judgement until and unless you link back up with it.
As a last note, and the most important, consider that She will be watching through Blender's eyes.
Please give a response for each category, votes will be tallied as a whole. (Given our quest's particular participation pattern, it is likely that any vote slate which is seconded will carry the day. I encourage you to question one another before you place your support, work together to come up with something you believe in. You've put months of effort into this, don't falter at the finish.)
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Well. I was hoping that the plan would materialize by itself by the weekend somehow. No such luck it seems.
Alright, so our equipment, which is necessary to reveal invisibility of enemy assets, requires a clear line of sight. Which means urban combat is not our forte, but we have to do it anyway. We could probably make some open spaces, but that'd better be done where we could afford it, i.e. the Downtown is out.
We will need to post a group of people to work the equipment, both the truck guns, and the smoke show. We also need there to be guards, just because the buses make a very convenient target.
I don't see a reason to take less trucks than we have drivers. They are throwaway tools. If we take the city, we can find other transport, and if the enemy blows up a couple, it's good to have something in reserve.
I don't know where anyone should ride, and if it even makes a difference. I don't even know whether it'd be safer for Builder to ride with us or in the back... at least if she is with us we can keep an eye on her. She definitely is going to stay back with the support crew, so does it even matter where she rides? It stops being important the moment we arrive, and only matters if they spring an ambush on us.
An ambush would be undesireable, so a Direct route is out, but I am yet to decide between the Indirect and the Circuitous one. Why would the Prevailer be alright with a nighttime assault, but annoyed if we do it at dusk? Anyway, we have the entire laser show with us, we could probably make enough lighting if we need it?
The tentative force arrangement is to throw First squad at the threats they can see, hold the Third squad in reserve as our fast response team to deal with bullshit (read: Ghosts), have the Fourth support the First from their position near the buses (have Builder raise some emplacements to create cover if buses prove too squishy?), and split the Second between guard/support duty, and assisting the First as we see fit.
Builder and the enemy tank are the OTP, but this is self-evident. Since she isn't combat-oriented, it makes her and Owner prime candidates for directing the support crew.
...I am not sure what specific instructions we could give about Builder's patterns, they seem self-explanatory?
Edit:
Anyone wants to weigh in?
[x] Number of buses: six
[x] Route: Indirect
[x] Battlefield: Inside Town
[x] Ultra Equipment: Up to ten people including the guards from 2th and 4th squad, Owner and Builder (Me)
[x] Deployment: As per the mix of above and CCC; our plans designate First, Third and Fourth squads mostly the same way.
Alright, so our equipment, which is necessary to reveal invisibility of enemy assets, requires a clear line of sight. Which means urban combat is not our forte, but we have to do it anyway. We could probably make some open spaces, but that'd better be done where we could afford it, i.e. the Downtown is out.
We will need to post a group of people to work the equipment, both the truck guns, and the smoke show. We also need there to be guards, just because the buses make a very convenient target.
I don't see a reason to take less trucks than we have drivers. They are throwaway tools. If we take the city, we can find other transport, and if the enemy blows up a couple, it's good to have something in reserve.
I don't know where anyone should ride, and if it even makes a difference. I don't even know whether it'd be safer for Builder to ride with us or in the back... at least if she is with us we can keep an eye on her. She definitely is going to stay back with the support crew, so does it even matter where she rides? It stops being important the moment we arrive, and only matters if they spring an ambush on us.
An ambush would be undesireable, so a Direct route is out, but I am yet to decide between the Indirect and the Circuitous one. Why would the Prevailer be alright with a nighttime assault, but annoyed if we do it at dusk? Anyway, we have the entire laser show with us, we could probably make enough lighting if we need it?
The tentative force arrangement is to throw First squad at the threats they can see, hold the Third squad in reserve as our fast response team to deal with bullshit (read: Ghosts), have the Fourth support the First from their position near the buses (have Builder raise some emplacements to create cover if buses prove too squishy?), and split the Second between guard/support duty, and assisting the First as we see fit.
Builder and the enemy tank are the OTP, but this is self-evident. Since she isn't combat-oriented, it makes her and Owner prime candidates for directing the support crew.
...I am not sure what specific instructions we could give about Builder's patterns, they seem self-explanatory?
Edit:
CCC said:
Anyone wants to weigh in?
[x] Number of buses: six
[x] Route: Indirect
[x] Battlefield: Inside Town
[x] Ultra Equipment: Up to ten people including the guards from 2th and 4th squad, Owner and Builder (Me)
[x] Deployment: As per the mix of above and CCC; our plans designate First, Third and Fourth squads mostly the same way.
Last edited:
- Location
- USA
Union Regional HQ, mid morning
"Say again?" asked the Captain.
"Intercept shows the attack on Builder as a no-go, same as Owner. Asset could not find target."
The Captain pursed his lips, furrowed his brow. He'd been prepared for success, expected it. He'd been dreading a possible failure, scaring himself by imagining ways that their preparations might have been insufficient.
But this…
"Any elaboration on that?" he asks the SPARTACUS system. "Did the insurgents' command network ask for any further details?"
"Negative," comes the smooth, electronic voice. "All information has been conveyed."
He chewed his lip for a moment.
There could be a hundred innocent explanations, a thousand. The bungling of their local partners was a constant thorn in his side, and the Lair was probably the most hostile operating theatre in the world.
But still…
"System, get me authorization on an immediate ping on our intel networks, get the spooks to cooperate if possible. I want to know why those two didn't get hit, and what's going on today."
"Processing…" said the computer.
The Captain sat in silence, resigned to the time required. He'd spent influence making that call, resources and collateral that a man in his station accumulated over time. The intelligence branch would want their own favors in return, and he would have to grant them.
But he hadn't made his rank by ignoring his hunches, and something about this stunk. Blender was a creature of habit. Her minions should have been in place this morning for the attack. One might have deviated, but both was a stretch too far. Something was going on.
He just had to find out what.
Ar Harbour, late afternoon
"You couldn't stop them?" asked King Arthur.
The Union soldier shook her head, unshed tears shading her eyes.
"By the time we realized they were on the move it was too late. They could get here any second."
The sound of flesh striking flesh echoed in the room like a gunshot.
Arthur regretted the slap the instant she carried it out, but she'd never been able to fully control her temper.
"Damn it!" she hissed, "You promised me an intercept! I wanted to evacuate weeks ago, but you swore that we'd be good through one more cycle."
The operative slowly turned her head back to face her assailant straight on.
"I have relayed the instructions of my superiors. If you'd like to continue wasting time with me I don't have any objections, but I think we both know that there's something else you could be doing."
Arthur gave a muffled curse and bolted out of the room, already calling for her guards.
"Get her up!" she shouted back over her shoulder, "I don't care what you have to pump into her. Get her up and in this fight or we are fucked!"
Ar Harbour, Dusk
"That's it, that's all, you are the last," she said, slumping down upon the bench.
The Retinue didn't cheer or chant, simply stood before their leader, every soul raising a hand in salute.
She barely acknowledged it, weariness bone deep showing in every gesture.
"There comes a time," she said, her voice diminished by the afternoon's expenditures, "For every nation, every country, every city. There comes a time when fascists try and take over and kill everyone. That's today for us. If we don't win, our children will become slaves, and we will become cold bodies."
They rushed off, brave men and women, their forms swollen with power to match the greatness of their spirit by her own gift, now utterly exhausted.
"It looks like you'll have the numerical edge," said the outsider, who had stood idly by during her efforts.
"No thanks to your masters," said Arthur, bitterness curdling her tone. "But I suppose I shouldn't blame you for that. Thanks for everything you've done up till now."
The girl from the Union shook her head, mask swaying back and forth. "Up till now? We aren't going anywhere."
"Your bosses aren't cutting us lose?" asked Arthur. "We didn't get either of those Ultras that they care about, and they made it plain that…"
A raised hand shushed her.
"They are here. Ten to one, more. My boss activated some of our own assets, and they can't be found back in the city. The targets will be on the field, and we'll be sweeping them up."
Arthur didn't think anyone could possibly be dumb enough to deploy those 2 to a hot zone, but didn't bother to argue the point. Arguing the Union out of lending her aid in her time of need would be just about the worst blunder imaginable.
"Just thank your lucky stars," the squad leader said. "You've got a Union team backing you up. You just might win this."
Dusk, Front Truck
Blender peered through the windshield, glaring at the makeshift barricades ahead.
Would Prevailer mind that the downtown had been hastily walled off? She shouldn't right? Fuck.
No one moved inside any of the windows, no one breathed in the streets they'd crashed through. Give King Arthur this. Given the choice, the woman had cleared the civilians out of the way.
Blender was profoundly grateful. Their fate if caught in the midst of an Ultra conflict would have been grisly in the extreme. It had been a narrow contest between the thought of reenacting the massacre of her home village, this time in the heavy's role, and the thought of perishing in a Union drone strike which had been the more terrifying.
But neither had occurred. Maybe her worries had been overblown. Maybe they'd caught their enemies napping. Either way, she'd delivered her whole force to the enemies door. It only remained to kick it in.
She looked back at the In Your Face squad, at Smasher. This was the time when a war movie would have a big speech or something.
Mia doubted She would tolerate that.
"Force rules the world!" she said. "Let's kill them."
The Situation:
Blender is in Truck #1 along with Second Squad.
Smasher is in Truck #2 along with First Squad.
Fourth Squad are in Truck #3.
Third Squad, Blender and Owner are in Truck #4.
The trucks are currently idling in a column, 1 2 3 4. In front of Truck #1 is a section of road that has been hastily blocked off, telephone poles and piles of rubble thrown across it.
In her opinion the Trucks could drive right through.
No one is visible in the road behind the barrier, but there are large intact commercial buildings on either side of the road, which are very likely to hold enemies.
The section of Ar Harbour that Prevailer is concerned with are the 3 blocks immediately behind this barrier, conspicuous and easily discernable by their basically repaired nature.
The area behind/around the trucks is urban wilderness, decayed buildings and such. Blender is pretty sure she saw someone ducking back into a window just a second ago, so it is possible that there are enemy immediately around you, lurking inside of ruined structures.
Night is just falling, and the only lights currently on are the 4 truck's headlights. Vision isn't a huge problem now, but as time goes on it might start to be.
The Plan
For this week's contribution please indicate any changes that you want to make to the plan, or vote for letting it continue unaltered. Please note that changes to Blender's actions are free, but if you want any other party to act in a different way from the plan you have to include how Blender tells them their new orders.
I can follow plans of a pretty arbitrary complexity, and I'll use the character's established personality to fill in any gaps, so feel free to use as many forks and branches as you like in telling me what she'll do. I'll ask you if anything is unclear.
"Say again?" asked the Captain.
"Intercept shows the attack on Builder as a no-go, same as Owner. Asset could not find target."
The Captain pursed his lips, furrowed his brow. He'd been prepared for success, expected it. He'd been dreading a possible failure, scaring himself by imagining ways that their preparations might have been insufficient.
But this…
"Any elaboration on that?" he asks the SPARTACUS system. "Did the insurgents' command network ask for any further details?"
"Negative," comes the smooth, electronic voice. "All information has been conveyed."
He chewed his lip for a moment.
There could be a hundred innocent explanations, a thousand. The bungling of their local partners was a constant thorn in his side, and the Lair was probably the most hostile operating theatre in the world.
But still…
"System, get me authorization on an immediate ping on our intel networks, get the spooks to cooperate if possible. I want to know why those two didn't get hit, and what's going on today."
"Processing…" said the computer.
The Captain sat in silence, resigned to the time required. He'd spent influence making that call, resources and collateral that a man in his station accumulated over time. The intelligence branch would want their own favors in return, and he would have to grant them.
But he hadn't made his rank by ignoring his hunches, and something about this stunk. Blender was a creature of habit. Her minions should have been in place this morning for the attack. One might have deviated, but both was a stretch too far. Something was going on.
He just had to find out what.
Ar Harbour, late afternoon
"You couldn't stop them?" asked King Arthur.
The Union soldier shook her head, unshed tears shading her eyes.
"By the time we realized they were on the move it was too late. They could get here any second."
The sound of flesh striking flesh echoed in the room like a gunshot.
Arthur regretted the slap the instant she carried it out, but she'd never been able to fully control her temper.
"Damn it!" she hissed, "You promised me an intercept! I wanted to evacuate weeks ago, but you swore that we'd be good through one more cycle."
The operative slowly turned her head back to face her assailant straight on.
"I have relayed the instructions of my superiors. If you'd like to continue wasting time with me I don't have any objections, but I think we both know that there's something else you could be doing."
Arthur gave a muffled curse and bolted out of the room, already calling for her guards.
"Get her up!" she shouted back over her shoulder, "I don't care what you have to pump into her. Get her up and in this fight or we are fucked!"
Ar Harbour, Dusk
"That's it, that's all, you are the last," she said, slumping down upon the bench.
The Retinue didn't cheer or chant, simply stood before their leader, every soul raising a hand in salute.
She barely acknowledged it, weariness bone deep showing in every gesture.
"There comes a time," she said, her voice diminished by the afternoon's expenditures, "For every nation, every country, every city. There comes a time when fascists try and take over and kill everyone. That's today for us. If we don't win, our children will become slaves, and we will become cold bodies."
They rushed off, brave men and women, their forms swollen with power to match the greatness of their spirit by her own gift, now utterly exhausted.
"It looks like you'll have the numerical edge," said the outsider, who had stood idly by during her efforts.
"No thanks to your masters," said Arthur, bitterness curdling her tone. "But I suppose I shouldn't blame you for that. Thanks for everything you've done up till now."
The girl from the Union shook her head, mask swaying back and forth. "Up till now? We aren't going anywhere."
"Your bosses aren't cutting us lose?" asked Arthur. "We didn't get either of those Ultras that they care about, and they made it plain that…"
A raised hand shushed her.
"They are here. Ten to one, more. My boss activated some of our own assets, and they can't be found back in the city. The targets will be on the field, and we'll be sweeping them up."
Arthur didn't think anyone could possibly be dumb enough to deploy those 2 to a hot zone, but didn't bother to argue the point. Arguing the Union out of lending her aid in her time of need would be just about the worst blunder imaginable.
"Just thank your lucky stars," the squad leader said. "You've got a Union team backing you up. You just might win this."
Dusk, Front Truck
Blender peered through the windshield, glaring at the makeshift barricades ahead.
Would Prevailer mind that the downtown had been hastily walled off? She shouldn't right? Fuck.
No one moved inside any of the windows, no one breathed in the streets they'd crashed through. Give King Arthur this. Given the choice, the woman had cleared the civilians out of the way.
Blender was profoundly grateful. Their fate if caught in the midst of an Ultra conflict would have been grisly in the extreme. It had been a narrow contest between the thought of reenacting the massacre of her home village, this time in the heavy's role, and the thought of perishing in a Union drone strike which had been the more terrifying.
But neither had occurred. Maybe her worries had been overblown. Maybe they'd caught their enemies napping. Either way, she'd delivered her whole force to the enemies door. It only remained to kick it in.
She looked back at the In Your Face squad, at Smasher. This was the time when a war movie would have a big speech or something.
Mia doubted She would tolerate that.
"Force rules the world!" she said. "Let's kill them."
The Situation:
Blender is in Truck #1 along with Second Squad.
Smasher is in Truck #2 along with First Squad.
Fourth Squad are in Truck #3.
Third Squad, Blender and Owner are in Truck #4.
The trucks are currently idling in a column, 1 2 3 4. In front of Truck #1 is a section of road that has been hastily blocked off, telephone poles and piles of rubble thrown across it.
In her opinion the Trucks could drive right through.
No one is visible in the road behind the barrier, but there are large intact commercial buildings on either side of the road, which are very likely to hold enemies.
The section of Ar Harbour that Prevailer is concerned with are the 3 blocks immediately behind this barrier, conspicuous and easily discernable by their basically repaired nature.
The area behind/around the trucks is urban wilderness, decayed buildings and such. Blender is pretty sure she saw someone ducking back into a window just a second ago, so it is possible that there are enemy immediately around you, lurking inside of ruined structures.
Night is just falling, and the only lights currently on are the 4 truck's headlights. Vision isn't a huge problem now, but as time goes on it might start to be.
The Plan
- All 4 squads will turn on their truck's smoke machine and then disembark.
- Third squad will spread out to all 4 trucks and man the giant rifles and lasers, firing at anyone who comes into line of sight and isn't in one of the protected buildings.
- Smasher disembarks along side squads 1,2 and 4. Owner and Builder hang out in Truck Four, with Builder peering out the front window in the hopes of seeing the enemy's rumored Union Tank and using her gift on it.
- When the enemy sends troops at us we will fight them, with Smasher & Blender taking on enemy champions, Third squad going after any ghosts and fourth squad staying at range.
- Line of sight from the back 3 trucks isn't great, will get a bit worse once we start spraying haze around. Most important (and worst of all) is the line of sight from the back truck, where Builder is.
- Prevailer is probably anxious to get the fighting started. I don't know if I can afford to wait for them to approach.
- Don't know where enemy's main concentration is. Almost certainly some in target buildings ahead, some in ruined buildings around, but hard to know which side has the most.
- Still don't know if invisible enemies are a thing in this fight. Nerve wracking.
- The darkness could be more of a concern as we go along.
For this week's contribution please indicate any changes that you want to make to the plan, or vote for letting it continue unaltered. Please note that changes to Blender's actions are free, but if you want any other party to act in a different way from the plan you have to include how Blender tells them their new orders.
I can follow plans of a pretty arbitrary complexity, and I'll use the character's established personality to fill in any gaps, so feel free to use as many forks and branches as you like in telling me what she'll do. I'll ask you if anything is unclear.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Not sure what she is referring to, here.
Do we have assets or gifts that could make the ruins around us more literal? I don't know whether the enemy has tacticians, but engaging their forces that are supposed to stab us in the back might just provoke them into action, and solve one of our problems for us.
Why is the line of sight a problem for Builder's truck? Can't she just arbitrarily change its height? It's just a body of a car, it doesn't require complex schematics.
Last edited:
- Location
- USA
The Union soldier is asserting, based on the fact that they weren't found in Shington, that their targets will be here on the battlefield. Arthur thinks that's unlikely, given what she knows of their gifts, but doesn't argue because she wants the Union helping.
Some of Fourth Squad's gifts are pretty destructive, and you have double sized rifles. Blender could yell for people to start knocking down the non target buildings and they'd do some pretty serious damage. Some downsides that jump to her mind is that that would make a lot of noise, so it would be the last order she gave for a while, and that first through third squads might try to get in on it and charge off after them if she wasn't very careful about how she phrased the order.
Builder can add matter to her truck, it should be easy for her to make what amounts to a pillar under it and raise it up to an arbitrary height. She hasn't done that yet, though you've just stopped. Blender's read on her is that this is her first big fight and she isn't likely to come up with much on her own, she expects her to mostly do what she is ordered.
Some of Fourth Squad's gifts are pretty destructive, and you have double sized rifles. Blender could yell for people to start knocking down the non target buildings and they'd do some pretty serious damage. Some downsides that jump to her mind is that that would make a lot of noise, so it would be the last order she gave for a while, and that first through third squads might try to get in on it and charge off after them if she wasn't very careful about how she phrased the order.
Builder can add matter to her truck, it should be easy for her to make what amounts to a pillar under it and raise it up to an arbitrary height. She hasn't done that yet, though you've just stopped. Blender's read on her is that this is her first big fight and she isn't likely to come up with much on her own, she expects her to mostly do what she is ordered.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
This looks like something we can mitigate by taking the [Loud] quality of the bus horn upon ourselves?
Given that we are in a target-rich environment, getting rid of the blend won't be a problem either...
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Well then.
[x] If Blender can solve her issues with commanding over the noise of battle around her (either by making Builder create a megaphone, or by taking a blend from the truck horn, or both), get to work on the ruins. Or soon-to-be-ruins. If they aren't coming at you, make them. Provoke them, start by attacking the people waiting in ambush, and try drawing other forces in.
[x] Builder should resolve her problems with the line of sight with her skill.
[x] Let her make a defensive emplacement for the trucks while she is at it. Sort of a redoubt, perhaps?
[x] If Blender can solve her issues with commanding over the noise of battle around her (either by making Builder create a megaphone, or by taking a blend from the truck horn, or both), get to work on the ruins. Or soon-to-be-ruins. If they aren't coming at you, make them. Provoke them, start by attacking the people waiting in ambush, and try drawing other forces in.
[x] Builder should resolve her problems with the line of sight with her skill.
[x] Let her make a defensive emplacement for the trucks while she is at it. Sort of a redoubt, perhaps?
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Big oops on circling the wagons. I guess they shot us first. Builder's roll against chariot is making me worry too. Hopefully the bodyguards do their jobs and keep her alive.
Arthur's Knights roll 12 dice for combat. Half of them come up as ones. Yep, they aren't having a good day.
His Ultras pick up the slack, though. Ouch.
...what's the deal with different dice? I see d6, d9, d10, d12 and d20 in there. I understand that they seem to roughly correlate with the strength of the unit, but I am not sure why they are rolled so many times.
Who is Sarge, and what is his mission?
Arthur's Knights roll 12 dice for combat. Half of them come up as ones. Yep, they aren't having a good day.
His Ultras pick up the slack, though. Ouch.
...what's the deal with different dice? I see d6, d9, d10, d12 and d20 in there. I understand that they seem to roughly correlate with the strength of the unit, but I am not sure why they are rolled so many times.
Who is Sarge, and what is his mission?
- Location
- USA
Basic rule, everybody gets a dice, you compare it to who they are fighting, with the sides going back and forth picking matchups. Important people get duels with their chosen opponents, and slightly more complicated setups (ultra str or offensive powers give higher dice, ultra speed gives rerolls, ultra tough screens others who lack equiv power out from having a chance at all.
Sarge is the Union unit commander, they are like one of the Posse/Round Table in being cool enough to get individual checks. Their mission is to terminate certain Regime elements.
Sarge is the Union unit commander, they are like one of the Posse/Round Table in being cool enough to get individual checks. Their mission is to terminate certain Regime elements.
Battle of Ar Harbour 1
- Location
- USA
It was a simple plan. It should have worked.
The failure came, like all failures, from a disconnect between my expectations and the reality which actually developed.
I was familiar, like virtually everyone else from my time, with the concept of 'circling the wagons'. I'd seen it in ancient movies that I'd streamed when I was small, heard references to it in other media, and generally marinated in the concept. It was a simple one, once learned it would be hard to imagine forgetting it.
Once learned.
My followers, of course, were creatures of the new world. They'd grown up in an entirely different context, with its own patterns and memes to get used to. The one they were applying was something like "Obey your leader or you will be immediately murdered."
So when I turned my truck in the beginning of a U-turn, they didn't follow directly behind me, hen & chick style, they made the same turn that I did, blindly mimicking my movements.
When I got to the next part of my maneuver, where I was to turn back the other way and form up with them, I collided violently with the truck behind me, who was attempting to execute a ninety degree turn.
There was no time even to curse before a violent shudder signaled the truck's collisions, and an inevitable followup shudder the rest of the ridiculous pileup.
I clenched my teeth, eyes bulging with rage for which I could find no outlet. Should I disembark? Get out and yell at people, get the drivers to back up and do the right thing?
Useless. We'd be here ten minutes.
I passed a hand over the steering wheel, right where the press for the horn was. I used my gift, diving into the metadata, questing for 'Loud', or something similar. If I could just steal a communications attribute I might still salvage this idiocy.
"Big, Vehicle, Cargo" came back. My gift was applying to the truck as a whole.
Just perfect. I'd need to open the hood, get at the actual horn itself, tear it out in order to get my gift to scan it right.
"Boss, should we get out?" asked a warband member, nervously.
I looked back over my shoulder, pushed my features into a pleasant smile.
She blanched.
Ok, it might not have been that pleasant.
"Yes," I said. "Let's all get out."
We disembarked pretty rapidly after that, as did the rest of the squads. The third truck had managed to jam one of its doors in the slow speed collision, but they just tore a whole in the side and stalked through.
For a moment chaos ruled, a mob of fifty Ultras milling around, squad members looking to their leaders, leaders looking around in the confusion.
"Get the fucking smoke machines on!" I roared, "And get on those lasers! 4th Squad, you need to be doing what you fucking trained for! Other squads, get ready to fight!"
I might not have had any special blends for my voice, but I could still make myself heard when I wanted to. They leaped to obey, swarming back onboard the mass of trucks and jumping to their positions.
"All right, now…" I yelled, then paused.
Ideally, I'd like for the enemy to come to us at this point, but they hadn't shown any signs of that so far. If I sent the infantry forward into the precious zone then it would get ruined, but if I didn't do anything then She might get antsy. I paused for a moment to consider what to do.
It was a fateful pause, as the enemy chose that moment to launch their attack.
From the ruins around us they poured out, dirty figures in rags and ill matching uniform segments, essentially identical to my own Posse members. They surged into us from where they'd been lying in wait within the basements and crevices of the wrecked buildings.
They'd chosen the wrong crew to try this on, though.
Lesser Ultras might have been thrown into disarray or panic by a sudden onslaught, but these were the girls of the Yard. Unpredictable Ultra fights were their bread and butter, the thread from which their lives were woven. They fought back instantly and without hesitation or mercy.
In the first few seconds of the battles joining I saw a woman slap another one's head off and launch it across the fight street, someone torn literally in half and another one exploded from the crotch upwards. I was pretty sure that my team had been on the good side of at least most of that.
The corpses, at least those that I thought were enemies, had weird streamers of energy coming out of them, drifting towards the intact target buildings. Like souls leaving the body or something, visible tendrils of energy.
That was all the time I had to observe, as the fighting spread to engulf my own position. The Ultra who'd been standing in front of me was born to the ground by a pair of foes, their desperate faces distended with bloodlust and fear, and another leaped for me.
I ducked her grabbing arms, stiff armed her across the face and called upon my gift. I didn't waste time reading her metadata at any great length, just stole 'living', and let her topple to the ground as a corpse, another trailer of weird glowy misty stuff pouring out.
I stepped smoothly aside from the falling body as stolen life poured through me, every sense alight with doubled furor. The battle seemed to slow around me.
I took a step towards my pinned soldier, but the enemy had already rammed some kind of bladed implement through one of her eyes, so I just turned my stoop into a brutal knee across one of the killer's faces, sending her reeling into her partner.
Someone punched me in the back, but it wasn't hard enough to be a focused strike, probably just an ally bumping into me. I didn't lash out, stayed focused on the two before me, kicked again, nailing the inside of one of their thighs.
A gust of smoke washed across our crew, far stronger than the haze machines should have created, I dropped to the ground as I misplaced a foot in the sudden violence, but I turned my fall into a desperate grab at someone's shin.
My gift beckoned, but I couldn't take another concept so soon, and I wasn't about to give 'living', to what might very well be an enemy. I just wrenched at their knee, toppling them down upon me and the dead girl from a moment before.
She came down across me, coughing and gagging, kicking and squirming. I recognized her as one of my own a heartbeat before I'd been about to grab her throat, so I rolled aside instead, passing from smoke into actual goddamn flame.
I screeched in animal fury as the fire engulfed me. No wonder there had been so much goddamn smoke! My enhanced senses relayed the searing heat from every bit of exposed skin, worst of all, for some reason, from my fuckling hands.
I rolled through onto the other side, kicking and bucking in a frenzied bid to put myself out. It hadn't been Ultra strong fire, or not very much so, as I was still alive, but I was blind and mewling around, and She wouldn't tolerate that from her point of view on a battle for very long.
At that chilling thought I shot back to my feet, fire momentarily put aside, just in time for some asshole to closeline me back into the goddamn fire! I roared in pain as the flames washed over me again, ashes filling my mouth.
But I was 'Living' for two right now, and Ultra tough to boot, so I shot up out of the fire again, bouncing back out like a cork from a raging sea, eyes straining to get some point of view, SOMETHING for Her to see. My hands swiped mindlessly before me as I pushed my way free.
A scene of bedlam met my eyes, Ultras brawling and blasting all across the trucks, or at least their wreckage. Dusty figures in tattered rags cursed punched one another amid the smoke and flame, while striving always to avoid the esoteric energies which crackled and blasted across the battlefield whenever anyone found time to focus a gift. Toppling figures streamed those strange patterns, always heading towards the same building.
Flames and smoke rose and died without pattern or reason all across the battlefield, scorching one fighter and leaving the next intact. It was a picture out of an ancient painting, like some bygone monk's depiction of the deepest hell.
She'd love it.
I glared furiously around, swiping at my body to try and put the fires out, even as I sought their source. This was more than a smoke machine, more than just the after effects of some blasting gift, this was one of my enemy's trump cards. It was Guinevere's gift.
It should have been impossible to pick anyone out amid that insane battle, but I was doubly alive right now. It let my senses do things I couldn't reasonably explain, and I found my gaze instantly arrested by a slight figure crouched on the edge of one of the ruined buildings upper floors. She wasn't hurling flames or doing anything obvious, but within a few seconds I saw her head tilt, and then a flaming Ultra crash sideways into another one of my minions, which was enough for me to go on.
I shot forward like a cannonball, shoving and pushing my way through the mess, but almost instantly had to fall back as some asshole tried to take my head off with a giant sword.
My backstep bumped me into someone else, who toppled over, but I was able to jump over their body as the sword came around again, narrowly missing me. The woman singing it was using both hands, screaming something I didn't bother to understand.
As soon as my back foot hit the ground I reversed myself, throwing myself inside her arc before she could come around for a third strike, driving my shoulder into her neck and upper chest and sending her reeling, sword flying from her hand. I staggered a few steps after her and someone shot me.
It was a hell of a blow, just a massive impact to the side of my head out of nowhere, probably a high caliber rifle or something similar. It rocked me on my heels, and I slid/dove forward into a tackle on the woman that I'd just staggered, closing in to deny whoever was firing on me anymore shots.
Her arms draped pointlessly over my back, and she actually did some hammer punches onto me, as though that might do any good. My estimation of the quality of King Arthur's soldiers dipped even lower.
She'd needed a sword, which meant she wasn't Ultra strong, which meant she could punch away on me all day. She ought to be covering my face with a hand, or grabbing for a tool on her belt, or doing anything which might matter, but she squandered the last instants of her life on meaningless rage.
I pushed her a few steps, eyes wide and staring, looking for the densest clump of boots and legs, then launched her off of me and into it.
I threw myself to the ground immediately after, dropping into a sort of crawl or dive, keeping my forward momentum without rising up for any distant sharpshooters to target.
Was I being insanely overcautious? It was hard to imagine that anyone could have picked me out of all that nonsense to shoot for my head, but the impact had been real. Most likely it had been some gift, or a thrown stone from someone off to my side, but I couldn't take the chance.
I pressed ahead, slipping around the tackle of someone I was like nine tenths sure worked for me, and arrived at a solid press of bodies.
These assholes were shoulder to shoulder, and the instant I got close to them a pair tackled down on me, pressing me down into the dirt.
One of them had Ultra strength, and she immediately started wrenching at my head like she was going to tear it off. The other had hold of my arm and was doing something similar, and also seemed to be jamming a knife or something into me.
I grabbed frantically for the blade, choking from the strong one's grip, and grabbed 'Sharp' away from it. Their hands loosened instantly, blood gushing from severed fingers.
I didn't give my blend time to stabilize, immediately forcing 'sharp' onto the strong one, hoping it would be an unstable result. Taking two blends at once was horribly risky, something I'd very rarely done.
I didn't have time to see the result in detail, but she toppled off to one side. Hopefully it had replaced 'breathing' or 'thinking' or something similar.
I got a hand under me and tossed myself forward again, passing through the gap in the line where those two had been and into the shade of a ruin.
The smoke and dust was just about as bad here as it was out in the scrum, but at least I wasn't on fire for the moment. I looked furiously about and spotted a ladder leaning against a wall, its top vanishing into the room above.
I didn't spend another second in there, racing to the ladder instead, hearing someone at my heels and trying desperately to convince myself it wasn't another Ultra Strong foe.
Heck, maybe it was an ally, following me to glory. It wasn't impossible.
I shot up the ladder onto the second floor, kicking away the hands that scrabbled for my feet, then the ladder itself, and turned to face Guinevere.
She was still crouched at the edge of the window, still doing her thing, gazing out over the scrum and directing the flames. She'd heard me come up, however, and she spun around to face me before I could reach her.
Of all the possible things she could do I never imagined she would try and talk.
But, impossibly to believe, she thought we had something to say to each other. She opened her mouth and held out her hand, like a total fucking idiot.
I tackled her off of the edge, sent us hurtling back down into the chaos, before she could get a syllable out.
Sorry for the fucking interruption, you bitch.
I landed on top, jumped back up for what felt like the tenth time today. The instant I was on my feet I was stomping, aiming at her face and mostly connecting, I lost myself in a transport of violence.
I snapped back to alertness a few seconds later when I lifted a boot up and saw the intact spit curl underneath. Right. Ultra tough, I wasn't hurting her at all.
The realization, and the instant's paralysis that accompanied it, cost me dearly, as she twitched a finger and covered me in flame.
Her fire didn't seem to have any 'force' behind it, it didn't damage me through my Ultra toughness, but it did let her get her telekinetic grip on me, and a second later I was hurtling sideways, slamming back through a wall into the building she'd originally been lurking in.
I forced myself back to the edge, the flames dissipating as soon as I was outside her sight. I took a quick second to look the battle over. My team was winning, but it was a lot closer than it ought to be. I needed to get moving.
Actions (choose 1 or write in):
The failure came, like all failures, from a disconnect between my expectations and the reality which actually developed.
I was familiar, like virtually everyone else from my time, with the concept of 'circling the wagons'. I'd seen it in ancient movies that I'd streamed when I was small, heard references to it in other media, and generally marinated in the concept. It was a simple one, once learned it would be hard to imagine forgetting it.
Once learned.
My followers, of course, were creatures of the new world. They'd grown up in an entirely different context, with its own patterns and memes to get used to. The one they were applying was something like "Obey your leader or you will be immediately murdered."
So when I turned my truck in the beginning of a U-turn, they didn't follow directly behind me, hen & chick style, they made the same turn that I did, blindly mimicking my movements.
When I got to the next part of my maneuver, where I was to turn back the other way and form up with them, I collided violently with the truck behind me, who was attempting to execute a ninety degree turn.
There was no time even to curse before a violent shudder signaled the truck's collisions, and an inevitable followup shudder the rest of the ridiculous pileup.
I clenched my teeth, eyes bulging with rage for which I could find no outlet. Should I disembark? Get out and yell at people, get the drivers to back up and do the right thing?
Useless. We'd be here ten minutes.
I passed a hand over the steering wheel, right where the press for the horn was. I used my gift, diving into the metadata, questing for 'Loud', or something similar. If I could just steal a communications attribute I might still salvage this idiocy.
"Big, Vehicle, Cargo" came back. My gift was applying to the truck as a whole.
Just perfect. I'd need to open the hood, get at the actual horn itself, tear it out in order to get my gift to scan it right.
"Boss, should we get out?" asked a warband member, nervously.
I looked back over my shoulder, pushed my features into a pleasant smile.
She blanched.
Ok, it might not have been that pleasant.
"Yes," I said. "Let's all get out."
We disembarked pretty rapidly after that, as did the rest of the squads. The third truck had managed to jam one of its doors in the slow speed collision, but they just tore a whole in the side and stalked through.
For a moment chaos ruled, a mob of fifty Ultras milling around, squad members looking to their leaders, leaders looking around in the confusion.
"Get the fucking smoke machines on!" I roared, "And get on those lasers! 4th Squad, you need to be doing what you fucking trained for! Other squads, get ready to fight!"
I might not have had any special blends for my voice, but I could still make myself heard when I wanted to. They leaped to obey, swarming back onboard the mass of trucks and jumping to their positions.
"All right, now…" I yelled, then paused.
Ideally, I'd like for the enemy to come to us at this point, but they hadn't shown any signs of that so far. If I sent the infantry forward into the precious zone then it would get ruined, but if I didn't do anything then She might get antsy. I paused for a moment to consider what to do.
It was a fateful pause, as the enemy chose that moment to launch their attack.
From the ruins around us they poured out, dirty figures in rags and ill matching uniform segments, essentially identical to my own Posse members. They surged into us from where they'd been lying in wait within the basements and crevices of the wrecked buildings.
They'd chosen the wrong crew to try this on, though.
Lesser Ultras might have been thrown into disarray or panic by a sudden onslaught, but these were the girls of the Yard. Unpredictable Ultra fights were their bread and butter, the thread from which their lives were woven. They fought back instantly and without hesitation or mercy.
In the first few seconds of the battles joining I saw a woman slap another one's head off and launch it across the fight street, someone torn literally in half and another one exploded from the crotch upwards. I was pretty sure that my team had been on the good side of at least most of that.
The corpses, at least those that I thought were enemies, had weird streamers of energy coming out of them, drifting towards the intact target buildings. Like souls leaving the body or something, visible tendrils of energy.
That was all the time I had to observe, as the fighting spread to engulf my own position. The Ultra who'd been standing in front of me was born to the ground by a pair of foes, their desperate faces distended with bloodlust and fear, and another leaped for me.
I ducked her grabbing arms, stiff armed her across the face and called upon my gift. I didn't waste time reading her metadata at any great length, just stole 'living', and let her topple to the ground as a corpse, another trailer of weird glowy misty stuff pouring out.
I stepped smoothly aside from the falling body as stolen life poured through me, every sense alight with doubled furor. The battle seemed to slow around me.
I took a step towards my pinned soldier, but the enemy had already rammed some kind of bladed implement through one of her eyes, so I just turned my stoop into a brutal knee across one of the killer's faces, sending her reeling into her partner.
Someone punched me in the back, but it wasn't hard enough to be a focused strike, probably just an ally bumping into me. I didn't lash out, stayed focused on the two before me, kicked again, nailing the inside of one of their thighs.
A gust of smoke washed across our crew, far stronger than the haze machines should have created, I dropped to the ground as I misplaced a foot in the sudden violence, but I turned my fall into a desperate grab at someone's shin.
My gift beckoned, but I couldn't take another concept so soon, and I wasn't about to give 'living', to what might very well be an enemy. I just wrenched at their knee, toppling them down upon me and the dead girl from a moment before.
She came down across me, coughing and gagging, kicking and squirming. I recognized her as one of my own a heartbeat before I'd been about to grab her throat, so I rolled aside instead, passing from smoke into actual goddamn flame.
I screeched in animal fury as the fire engulfed me. No wonder there had been so much goddamn smoke! My enhanced senses relayed the searing heat from every bit of exposed skin, worst of all, for some reason, from my fuckling hands.
I rolled through onto the other side, kicking and bucking in a frenzied bid to put myself out. It hadn't been Ultra strong fire, or not very much so, as I was still alive, but I was blind and mewling around, and She wouldn't tolerate that from her point of view on a battle for very long.
At that chilling thought I shot back to my feet, fire momentarily put aside, just in time for some asshole to closeline me back into the goddamn fire! I roared in pain as the flames washed over me again, ashes filling my mouth.
But I was 'Living' for two right now, and Ultra tough to boot, so I shot up out of the fire again, bouncing back out like a cork from a raging sea, eyes straining to get some point of view, SOMETHING for Her to see. My hands swiped mindlessly before me as I pushed my way free.
A scene of bedlam met my eyes, Ultras brawling and blasting all across the trucks, or at least their wreckage. Dusty figures in tattered rags cursed punched one another amid the smoke and flame, while striving always to avoid the esoteric energies which crackled and blasted across the battlefield whenever anyone found time to focus a gift. Toppling figures streamed those strange patterns, always heading towards the same building.
Flames and smoke rose and died without pattern or reason all across the battlefield, scorching one fighter and leaving the next intact. It was a picture out of an ancient painting, like some bygone monk's depiction of the deepest hell.
She'd love it.
I glared furiously around, swiping at my body to try and put the fires out, even as I sought their source. This was more than a smoke machine, more than just the after effects of some blasting gift, this was one of my enemy's trump cards. It was Guinevere's gift.
It should have been impossible to pick anyone out amid that insane battle, but I was doubly alive right now. It let my senses do things I couldn't reasonably explain, and I found my gaze instantly arrested by a slight figure crouched on the edge of one of the ruined buildings upper floors. She wasn't hurling flames or doing anything obvious, but within a few seconds I saw her head tilt, and then a flaming Ultra crash sideways into another one of my minions, which was enough for me to go on.
I shot forward like a cannonball, shoving and pushing my way through the mess, but almost instantly had to fall back as some asshole tried to take my head off with a giant sword.
My backstep bumped me into someone else, who toppled over, but I was able to jump over their body as the sword came around again, narrowly missing me. The woman singing it was using both hands, screaming something I didn't bother to understand.
As soon as my back foot hit the ground I reversed myself, throwing myself inside her arc before she could come around for a third strike, driving my shoulder into her neck and upper chest and sending her reeling, sword flying from her hand. I staggered a few steps after her and someone shot me.
It was a hell of a blow, just a massive impact to the side of my head out of nowhere, probably a high caliber rifle or something similar. It rocked me on my heels, and I slid/dove forward into a tackle on the woman that I'd just staggered, closing in to deny whoever was firing on me anymore shots.
Her arms draped pointlessly over my back, and she actually did some hammer punches onto me, as though that might do any good. My estimation of the quality of King Arthur's soldiers dipped even lower.
She'd needed a sword, which meant she wasn't Ultra strong, which meant she could punch away on me all day. She ought to be covering my face with a hand, or grabbing for a tool on her belt, or doing anything which might matter, but she squandered the last instants of her life on meaningless rage.
I pushed her a few steps, eyes wide and staring, looking for the densest clump of boots and legs, then launched her off of me and into it.
I threw myself to the ground immediately after, dropping into a sort of crawl or dive, keeping my forward momentum without rising up for any distant sharpshooters to target.
Was I being insanely overcautious? It was hard to imagine that anyone could have picked me out of all that nonsense to shoot for my head, but the impact had been real. Most likely it had been some gift, or a thrown stone from someone off to my side, but I couldn't take the chance.
I pressed ahead, slipping around the tackle of someone I was like nine tenths sure worked for me, and arrived at a solid press of bodies.
These assholes were shoulder to shoulder, and the instant I got close to them a pair tackled down on me, pressing me down into the dirt.
One of them had Ultra strength, and she immediately started wrenching at my head like she was going to tear it off. The other had hold of my arm and was doing something similar, and also seemed to be jamming a knife or something into me.
I grabbed frantically for the blade, choking from the strong one's grip, and grabbed 'Sharp' away from it. Their hands loosened instantly, blood gushing from severed fingers.
I didn't give my blend time to stabilize, immediately forcing 'sharp' onto the strong one, hoping it would be an unstable result. Taking two blends at once was horribly risky, something I'd very rarely done.
I didn't have time to see the result in detail, but she toppled off to one side. Hopefully it had replaced 'breathing' or 'thinking' or something similar.
I got a hand under me and tossed myself forward again, passing through the gap in the line where those two had been and into the shade of a ruin.
The smoke and dust was just about as bad here as it was out in the scrum, but at least I wasn't on fire for the moment. I looked furiously about and spotted a ladder leaning against a wall, its top vanishing into the room above.
I didn't spend another second in there, racing to the ladder instead, hearing someone at my heels and trying desperately to convince myself it wasn't another Ultra Strong foe.
Heck, maybe it was an ally, following me to glory. It wasn't impossible.
I shot up the ladder onto the second floor, kicking away the hands that scrabbled for my feet, then the ladder itself, and turned to face Guinevere.
She was still crouched at the edge of the window, still doing her thing, gazing out over the scrum and directing the flames. She'd heard me come up, however, and she spun around to face me before I could reach her.
Of all the possible things she could do I never imagined she would try and talk.
But, impossibly to believe, she thought we had something to say to each other. She opened her mouth and held out her hand, like a total fucking idiot.
I tackled her off of the edge, sent us hurtling back down into the chaos, before she could get a syllable out.
Sorry for the fucking interruption, you bitch.
I landed on top, jumped back up for what felt like the tenth time today. The instant I was on my feet I was stomping, aiming at her face and mostly connecting, I lost myself in a transport of violence.
I snapped back to alertness a few seconds later when I lifted a boot up and saw the intact spit curl underneath. Right. Ultra tough, I wasn't hurting her at all.
The realization, and the instant's paralysis that accompanied it, cost me dearly, as she twitched a finger and covered me in flame.
Her fire didn't seem to have any 'force' behind it, it didn't damage me through my Ultra toughness, but it did let her get her telekinetic grip on me, and a second later I was hurtling sideways, slamming back through a wall into the building she'd originally been lurking in.
I forced myself back to the edge, the flames dissipating as soon as I was outside her sight. I took a quick second to look the battle over. My team was winning, but it was a lot closer than it ought to be. I needed to get moving.
Actions (choose 1 or write in):
- Fight through the scrum in the direction the 'streamers' are headed. They are likely pointing to King Arthur, and if she empowers another army the size of the first it will be very bad.
- Fight through the scrum to get back to Guinevere, her fire is the only thing keeping their inferior troops from getting utterly owned by my Utlras.
- Fight through the scrum to Smasher, she looks to be losing to Lancelot, and that would be a big hit to morale.
- Go check on Builder/Owner. They might be in trouble, and Builder's gift could be doing a lot more than it fucking is.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Need to finish off Gwen. She's the kind of force multiplier that can't remain standing.
We really should have offloaded the borrowed blend before the engagement. Even though it affords us the clarity of senses and improved survivability, it also prevents us from one-touch-killing enemy hero units.
If it's possible to do safely, get rid of it (gift "living", take "thinking" or something equally important; then gift "thinking" to some weaker scrub before killing them for good) and make a second go.
Even better, find yourself a weaker hostage to discharge an unwanted blend into; take the "speed" blend; rush Gwen; discharge the "speed" into a hostage; kill the hostage so they couldn't capitalize on the gift, kill off Gwen by taking something essential to her.
[x] Fight through the scrum to get back to Guinevere, her fire is the only thing keeping their inferior troops from getting utterly owned by my Utlras.
Once our troops can successfully stand their ground, we can afford taking the second look at the battlefield as a whole.
We really should have offloaded the borrowed blend before the engagement. Even though it affords us the clarity of senses and improved survivability, it also prevents us from one-touch-killing enemy hero units.
If it's possible to do safely, get rid of it (gift "living", take "thinking" or something equally important; then gift "thinking" to some weaker scrub before killing them for good) and make a second go.
Even better, find yourself a weaker hostage to discharge an unwanted blend into; take the "speed" blend; rush Gwen; discharge the "speed" into a hostage; kill the hostage so they couldn't capitalize on the gift, kill off Gwen by taking something essential to her.
[x] Fight through the scrum to get back to Guinevere, her fire is the only thing keeping their inferior troops from getting utterly owned by my Utlras.
Once our troops can successfully stand their ground, we can afford taking the second look at the battlefield as a whole.
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- Location
- St. Petersburg
Well, just in case you forgot... now's your chance!
Battle of Ar Harbour 2
- Location
- USA
I shook my head, doubts and idle thoughts banished.
Guinevere. She was what was keeping their bargain Ultras and enhanced mortals fighting with my killers, keeping them in this fight at all. She was what was prolonging this madness. Even if King Arthur managed to make another wave, without her gift they'd be lambs to the slaughter. My Posse could fend for itself, or die if it came to that. My focus had to be on Guinevere.
I suited action to words, storming back into the melee, shoving aside a few of my own troops to get at the enemy.
The first thing to do was get rid of 'living'. The enhanced senses were nice, but I needed my death touch back. Guin had Ultra Tough 2, which meant the only thing I had that might touch her was my blending. I needed to get my hands on her, take something from her that she could not live without.
I had my chance immediately, as an enormous brute with pushed his way through a pair of combatants and smashed his fists down at me.
I took a step back in spite of myself, nearly tripping for the dozenth time today as his punch shot past. There was no reason, in an Ultra fight, to assume that a big guy's punch was any stronger than the smallest waif's, and in fact it was often best to assume the opposite, but I'd dodged anyway.
I powered forward to compensate, stepping into his reach and launching an open handed slap. If people were too stupid to cover their faces in an Ultra fight then I wouldn't turn down the opportunity to use my touch based gift.
He turned his head to take the blow, raising a shoulder slightly, but I still made contact, and I let 'living' go the instant I could.
He staggered back, eyes wide and staring. He didn't collapse or anything, but he was plainly not in a good way. I darted past him before he could get used to the doubled senses, hoping one of my followers would take him down.
Immediately behind him, naturally, were more of the Ar Harbour assholes, a trio of whom decided to tackle me all at once. I couldn't get my legs down in time to jump aside, and they caught me good, knocking me into the back of the big guy and sending us all down to the ground in a squirming heap.
I was extraordinarily sensitive to the peril I was in. Close quarters with three foes, no idea about their gifts. I didn't have Ultra Strength, couldn't just rise up and toss them off.
Instead I squirmed and writhed, hands reaching frantically about, searching for exposed skin. I caught an ungloved hand, stole 'moves' from a form that suddenly stiffened, and used my suddenly greater celerity to contort that hand onto an unguarded face.
It was my foe's turn to go into a frenzy then, as the new 'moves' clashed with whatever they'd previously had, it disrupted things enough that I could heave myself to my knees, then up to my feet, only an arm hooked around my knee impeding me.
My survival was most likely due to the nature of my enemy. These weren't Ultras, not really, just vessels for King Arthur's gift. They had a little strength, but not enough to hurt me. They had no touch based gifts. I hadn't been in quite as much danger as I'd thought.
Wasting time with that thought earned me another trip to Ground City, as the arm around my knee wrapped my other and turned my attempt to leave the tangle into a headlong tumble.
I curled my stomach, bringing my arms back to wrestle with the person who'd grabbed onto me, when my head was rocked to the side by a thunderous kick from someone standing above us.
My ears rang and my vision flashed white for a second as I shot through the air, torn free of the hands that gripped me by the enormous impact.
My flight was interrupted by at least one other person, and I tumbled down once again to the ground atop them, then immediately caught fire.
Guin could see me again, which meant that I should be able to see her, which I could try to do as soon as I was not on fire. I groped around, dragging the person I'd slammed into atop me, trying to use her to block my enemy's line of sight.
That didn't seem to help at all, as I found us both lifted into the air, her screams and thrashing a jarring, distracting cherry on top of the world of pain that was being burned.
I tried to use my gift on the fire itself, got nowhere, it didn't give me any meta tags that I could distinguish, or maybe I was in too much pain to notice. I writhed about, got a hand onto the side where the grip seemed slightly less strong, touched my hand to the bit of asbestos I'd tucked away for such opportunities.
I took 'fireproof' instantly, and could see for the first time in at least ten seconds as the halo of flames around me fell away. By sheerest coincidence I was facing in the direction of Guinevere, and I marked her location among the throng even as I started falling.
She'd lifted me about ten feet up, and only my sudden drop saved me from an incoming Ultra gift of some kind, blue energy that shot by overhead with a crackling power that made me very grateful it hadn't hit me.
I landed on my feet this time, finally, and immediately headed towards Guinevere, who had only seemed to be about twenty feet off. I had pushed through a pair of my allies, and wonder of wonders they didn't attack me.
I caught sight of her up ahead, she'd been tripped up by a brawl between one of theirs and one of mine, and she was using her flames to sort things out. It had slowed her for a moment, and I got to within a few steps of her before being balked once again.
Flames surged around me, despite my gift's defenses. They did not burn, but jerked me back, shoving me away from Guinevere just when my hand was about to fall upon her.
It took me a second, and a strange difference in the way that I was being tugged, to realize what she was doing. She'd set afire my clothing, rather than my unburnable flesh, and she was using it as handles on me, hauling me back by my pants and shirt. The bitch!
My first, immediate instinct was to strip down, but I'd be utterly vulnerable as I tried it, and I had no particular reason to believe that my strength was greater than her gift's anyway, she might well be able to hold things on me until they were completely consumed. Instead, I lashed out with a gift that I'd hitherto disregarded.
"Kill her!" I shrieked, pointing as well as I could with a hand blessedly flee of any confining clothing. "NOW!"
There was a lot of shouting going on, enough that I'd given up on doing squad level stuff, but I'd put a lot of time into basic obedience drills, and those few who were close enough to hear my voice and recognize it obeyed instantly. Blessedly, one of them had a blasting gift.
Guinevere stopped hauling on me for a moment as the beam closed in, setting herself afire instead, presumably trying to drag herself out of the way, but the timing didn't work out. It took her in the upper chest, spent her sprawling down into the ranks of her allies.
I shot towards the spot where she'd fallen, weaving around a furious enemy with a chainsaw, of all things. If I could get her before she…
She was ash and char from the waste to shoulder, eyes wide and staring. The flames which consumed her now were entirely natural.
I made a note to look back over our ranks, see who the fuck we had who could take out someone that Ultra Tough in one shot and make sure never to turn my back on them again.
Naturally, the instant I made this resolution I got shot in the back, but good. A silver-red line ran through me and through the next girl ahead of me, coated instantly in a gusher of blood.
I tried to fall and twist away, but the line clung, searing and penetrating. Only a desperate kick and thrash combination broke the line of effect, letting me away into a frantic roll.
I came to my feet with a shudder and a howl of pain, eyes already tracking my assailant.
It wasn't hard to find her. The overall scrum was ending, in my favor, but there was a knot of enemies still fighting hard, back around where Builder and Owner were supposed to have been. Ar Harbour's actual Ultras and some Union assholes were at the heart of it. It was one of them who had tagged me, judging by the silver wires lashing out from her outstretched hand into the Ultras pressing in on her little group.
I took a step towards her, stopped as a shudder of agony ran up my side. This was not a light or incidental wound. I needed to take stock a second, figure out my next move.
Actions, choose one or write in.
Guinevere. She was what was keeping their bargain Ultras and enhanced mortals fighting with my killers, keeping them in this fight at all. She was what was prolonging this madness. Even if King Arthur managed to make another wave, without her gift they'd be lambs to the slaughter. My Posse could fend for itself, or die if it came to that. My focus had to be on Guinevere.
I suited action to words, storming back into the melee, shoving aside a few of my own troops to get at the enemy.
The first thing to do was get rid of 'living'. The enhanced senses were nice, but I needed my death touch back. Guin had Ultra Tough 2, which meant the only thing I had that might touch her was my blending. I needed to get my hands on her, take something from her that she could not live without.
I had my chance immediately, as an enormous brute with pushed his way through a pair of combatants and smashed his fists down at me.
I took a step back in spite of myself, nearly tripping for the dozenth time today as his punch shot past. There was no reason, in an Ultra fight, to assume that a big guy's punch was any stronger than the smallest waif's, and in fact it was often best to assume the opposite, but I'd dodged anyway.
I powered forward to compensate, stepping into his reach and launching an open handed slap. If people were too stupid to cover their faces in an Ultra fight then I wouldn't turn down the opportunity to use my touch based gift.
He turned his head to take the blow, raising a shoulder slightly, but I still made contact, and I let 'living' go the instant I could.
He staggered back, eyes wide and staring. He didn't collapse or anything, but he was plainly not in a good way. I darted past him before he could get used to the doubled senses, hoping one of my followers would take him down.
Immediately behind him, naturally, were more of the Ar Harbour assholes, a trio of whom decided to tackle me all at once. I couldn't get my legs down in time to jump aside, and they caught me good, knocking me into the back of the big guy and sending us all down to the ground in a squirming heap.
I was extraordinarily sensitive to the peril I was in. Close quarters with three foes, no idea about their gifts. I didn't have Ultra Strength, couldn't just rise up and toss them off.
Instead I squirmed and writhed, hands reaching frantically about, searching for exposed skin. I caught an ungloved hand, stole 'moves' from a form that suddenly stiffened, and used my suddenly greater celerity to contort that hand onto an unguarded face.
It was my foe's turn to go into a frenzy then, as the new 'moves' clashed with whatever they'd previously had, it disrupted things enough that I could heave myself to my knees, then up to my feet, only an arm hooked around my knee impeding me.
My survival was most likely due to the nature of my enemy. These weren't Ultras, not really, just vessels for King Arthur's gift. They had a little strength, but not enough to hurt me. They had no touch based gifts. I hadn't been in quite as much danger as I'd thought.
Wasting time with that thought earned me another trip to Ground City, as the arm around my knee wrapped my other and turned my attempt to leave the tangle into a headlong tumble.
I curled my stomach, bringing my arms back to wrestle with the person who'd grabbed onto me, when my head was rocked to the side by a thunderous kick from someone standing above us.
My ears rang and my vision flashed white for a second as I shot through the air, torn free of the hands that gripped me by the enormous impact.
My flight was interrupted by at least one other person, and I tumbled down once again to the ground atop them, then immediately caught fire.
Guin could see me again, which meant that I should be able to see her, which I could try to do as soon as I was not on fire. I groped around, dragging the person I'd slammed into atop me, trying to use her to block my enemy's line of sight.
That didn't seem to help at all, as I found us both lifted into the air, her screams and thrashing a jarring, distracting cherry on top of the world of pain that was being burned.
I tried to use my gift on the fire itself, got nowhere, it didn't give me any meta tags that I could distinguish, or maybe I was in too much pain to notice. I writhed about, got a hand onto the side where the grip seemed slightly less strong, touched my hand to the bit of asbestos I'd tucked away for such opportunities.
I took 'fireproof' instantly, and could see for the first time in at least ten seconds as the halo of flames around me fell away. By sheerest coincidence I was facing in the direction of Guinevere, and I marked her location among the throng even as I started falling.
She'd lifted me about ten feet up, and only my sudden drop saved me from an incoming Ultra gift of some kind, blue energy that shot by overhead with a crackling power that made me very grateful it hadn't hit me.
I landed on my feet this time, finally, and immediately headed towards Guinevere, who had only seemed to be about twenty feet off. I had pushed through a pair of my allies, and wonder of wonders they didn't attack me.
I caught sight of her up ahead, she'd been tripped up by a brawl between one of theirs and one of mine, and she was using her flames to sort things out. It had slowed her for a moment, and I got to within a few steps of her before being balked once again.
Flames surged around me, despite my gift's defenses. They did not burn, but jerked me back, shoving me away from Guinevere just when my hand was about to fall upon her.
It took me a second, and a strange difference in the way that I was being tugged, to realize what she was doing. She'd set afire my clothing, rather than my unburnable flesh, and she was using it as handles on me, hauling me back by my pants and shirt. The bitch!
My first, immediate instinct was to strip down, but I'd be utterly vulnerable as I tried it, and I had no particular reason to believe that my strength was greater than her gift's anyway, she might well be able to hold things on me until they were completely consumed. Instead, I lashed out with a gift that I'd hitherto disregarded.
"Kill her!" I shrieked, pointing as well as I could with a hand blessedly flee of any confining clothing. "NOW!"
There was a lot of shouting going on, enough that I'd given up on doing squad level stuff, but I'd put a lot of time into basic obedience drills, and those few who were close enough to hear my voice and recognize it obeyed instantly. Blessedly, one of them had a blasting gift.
Guinevere stopped hauling on me for a moment as the beam closed in, setting herself afire instead, presumably trying to drag herself out of the way, but the timing didn't work out. It took her in the upper chest, spent her sprawling down into the ranks of her allies.
I shot towards the spot where she'd fallen, weaving around a furious enemy with a chainsaw, of all things. If I could get her before she…
She was ash and char from the waste to shoulder, eyes wide and staring. The flames which consumed her now were entirely natural.
I made a note to look back over our ranks, see who the fuck we had who could take out someone that Ultra Tough in one shot and make sure never to turn my back on them again.
Naturally, the instant I made this resolution I got shot in the back, but good. A silver-red line ran through me and through the next girl ahead of me, coated instantly in a gusher of blood.
I tried to fall and twist away, but the line clung, searing and penetrating. Only a desperate kick and thrash combination broke the line of effect, letting me away into a frantic roll.
I came to my feet with a shudder and a howl of pain, eyes already tracking my assailant.
It wasn't hard to find her. The overall scrum was ending, in my favor, but there was a knot of enemies still fighting hard, back around where Builder and Owner were supposed to have been. Ar Harbour's actual Ultras and some Union assholes were at the heart of it. It was one of them who had tagged me, judging by the silver wires lashing out from her outstretched hand into the Ultras pressing in on her little group.
I took a step towards her, stopped as a shudder of agony ran up my side. This was not a light or incidental wound. I needed to take stock a second, figure out my next move.
Actions, choose one or write in.
- Go after the Union Leader who just impaled me. Will probably be one on one, I'm confident I can take her despite my injury, I am VERY good at murder.
- Go intervene in the Lancelot/Smasher fight, if that's still raging (HOW is that still raging??). Will probably result in a 2 on 2 as the Union leader follows.
- Go after King Arthur, leaving Smasher to fight 1 v 2 if the Union Leader doesn't pursue me. May be in time to stop whatever she is up to, likely the creation of another fucking army.
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