The Light After the Dusk

All conflicts between Client's must be registered with the Nexus Conflict Board, and should follow the rules of conflicts as stated.

Moderator: Roleplay Master

Forum rules
RRP Forum: RRP Rules
User avatar
Xah
Councillor
Councillor
Posts: 644
Joined: Mon Jan 25, 2016 11:04 pm
NS Nation (Prefix): The Morthanveld Polity of
Client Tech Level: A2
Client Leader: Ancient One
Client Councillor: Speaker
Client Species: Morthanveld
Location: --
Contact:

Re: The Light After the Dusk

Post by Xah » Tue Jul 16, 2019 9:01 am

Sierra Six, Cindering Peaks

The initial entry wasn't the cleanest the Xahians had ever done, and the language across the comms reflected that. Tomas watched in a professional detached view as the unfortunate first person to enter was taken down and dragged away by the things that were clearly waiting for them inside. First Squad took that loss with more personal affront that Tomas liked to see from Xahian Warriors; with various battlecries, the squad peppered the room with hundreds of flechette rounds, with mixed success against their foe. Clearly, to establish a beachhead, a more forceful beginning was required.

"Pull back," Tomas ordered and gestured to the two Umka armoured Warriors with the Arktos cannons. As the squads cleared themselves from the entrance, the two rotary cannons cycled up and opened fire on the building before them.

Whereas the basic rifle fired a depleted uranium flechette at a reasonable rate, the Arktos cannons turned that dial up to 11, firing around 10,000 DU rounds per minute. Less than 20 seconds later and the two cannons ceased, followed by four quick rounds from the autocannons, just in case.

Tomas wasn't sure if that'd be enough to clear the initial rooms, but he signalled the first squad to re-enter, although perhaps being a bit more cautious.

User avatar
Pie
Level 6.1
Level 6.1
Posts: 41
Joined: Mon Feb 04, 2019 1:56 am
NS Nation (Prefix): Dominion
Nexus Client: Piethrixia
Client Tech Level: A3
Client Leader: Admiral Jacob Daniels
Client Councillor: Admiral Jacob Daniels
Client Species: Piethrixian
Location: Canada
Been thanked: 2 times
Contact:

Re: The Light After the Dusk

Post by Pie » Wed Jul 17, 2019 12:26 am

Sierra Six | Cindering Peaks

The Team runs out of their last building assigned, and they hear a large amount of gunfire from where the Xahians were dropping, the entire team turns to face the Xahians. Corporal Johnson stares at the Xahians as they use two rotary cannons and an autocannon to clear a room, he looks back to the group and says "they are obviously compensating for something." And walks back to where the dropship was, along with the rest of the Section. As they are approaching the gunship the Corporal looks down at his grenade holders, noticing one is missing he says "Oh shoot, I'm missing the one set for 10 minutes" Almost just as he says "minutes" The Building they just finished clearing explodes in a massive explosion. "I may have set it to full power also." he, and the rest of the section board the Dropship, and prepare to leave.

User avatar
Ella2 6
Level 8.1
Level 8.1
Posts: 60
Joined: Mon Dec 03, 2018 1:43 pm
NS Nation (Prefix): The Spring Kawaii of
Nexus Client: The Constellation of Richia
Client Tech Level: A3
Client Species: Ellian
Location: Australia
Contact:

Re: The Light After the Dusk

Post by Ella2 6 » Thu Aug 08, 2019 5:43 am

Sierra Six, Cindering Peaks

The ghoul packs in the south were confound by the towering forms that confronted them. The huge, octopedal chittering masses were so far removed from anything that was humanoid that for the moment the undead considered them vehicles. With that understanding came all the intuitive implications of fighting vehicles - which, in the case of the Oizys , was not necessarily, wrong either. Indeed, their radial symmetry provided detection capabilities similar to omnidirectional sensors, their speed and strength matched that of mechanical war machines and their strange hydrostatic nervous system made ghoul control chip incompatible. So far as the ghouls were concerned, the ozyis were just unmanned ground vehicles.

Kinetic slugs ripped into the Ellian structures, holing the solid slabs of plasteel like bullets impacting glass. The ghouls go to ground, fattening themselves against the floor to avoid the heavy weapons fire. The shots do produce valuable material though, exposing the electronics embedded within the walls of Ellian buildings - these will surely come in handy for replenishing nanite reserves after the battle.

The Oizys smashed their way through the comparatively narrow doorways, battering down the walls and dislodging the door frames. The ghouls inside, were they able bodied, fled as the Phonotaxis clansmen spilled into the single storey building, having witnessed how easily they put down their packmates. Those too damaged to move quickly were assigned the unenviable task of delaying the tentacled monstrosities and found themselves quickly torn apart by blade and claw.

A ghoul who had been cut in half at the hip and reduced to crawling manage to strike one of the attendants with his claws, tearing a long gash in the environment suit, but unable to penerate the thick Oizys exoskeleton from his disadvantageous position on the ground. The Oizys brought a powerful limb down on his head in retaliation and smashed his skull open. 9503026-Combat-Engineer and 4933073-Reconitor faired even better as the only occupants of their building were two damaged ghouls that simply melted away under the heat of the micro-fission beams. The lasers had also melted some parts of the walls and the ceiling sagged slightly to the far side as the plasttel resolidified.

6206614's situation was more dire. Whether by choice or by chance, the Barracks Mastery ended up facing the strongest opposition of the three groups. Five ghouls awaited him in a dual storey building and they all pounced on him simultaneously as he breached the room. One of them, a formerly indigo-haired Ellian woman, had managed to climb atop of him while the other four attacked from all sides. She wrapped herself around the base of his ninth limb and drove her claws into it. If her control chip could express emotion, she would almost be surprised by what her talons had dug into.

- This one is flesh. -

The other ghouls quickly responded to this news by coating their claws in sedatives. If their drugs had any effect on these creatures at all, they might have a decent chance to bring it down.
Last edited by Ella2 6 on Thu Aug 08, 2019 5:44 am, edited 1 time in total.
The Fifth Quadrant,
a science fiction
group/setting/region
founded by yours truly.
All players are welcome!
The Crossroads Discord,
an OOC chat/chill channel
to facilitate communication
between NS role players.
All tech tiers are welcome!
A writer of magic, fantasy & science fiction.

User avatar
Ella2 6
Level 8.1
Level 8.1
Posts: 60
Joined: Mon Dec 03, 2018 1:43 pm
NS Nation (Prefix): The Spring Kawaii of
Nexus Client: The Constellation of Richia
Client Tech Level: A3
Client Species: Ellian
Location: Australia
Contact:

Re: The Light After the Dusk

Post by Ella2 6 » Thu Aug 08, 2019 5:44 am

Sierra Seven, The Diamond Mountains
The Gunsmith, Floor -3


Charles took the weapon back from the Qorsikan and leant back in his chair to stow it away on the weapons rack. “Okay, I'll prepare the short rifles for you,” Charles nodded, relieved by the simple fact that the they could actually agree anything something at all, “Though depending on which avenue you want to pursue for obtaining them, you would have to fill out different paperwork. I'll have someone send you all the details later - your people won't be living on base will they?” Adrekka shook her head. “We'll send it to your ship then.”

He took out a sheet of paper from his desk drawer, folded it in half and penned down seven random sets of Standard numbers and characters on one half. After transcribing the same list of glyphs to the other half of the paged he ripped the paper in half and handed one of the two copies to the Qorsikan.

“Because you don't have Ellian communications keys, we can't set up encrypted channels with you without sending you a set of keys in an unencrypted channel first,” he explained, “and needless to say, sending you a set of keys over a public network defeats the purpose of encryption.” He handed her one of the halves and placed the other one in his drawer. “Go see John Camila, our cryptographer, to get these keys set up. Now let's take a look at those schematics.”
The Fifth Quadrant,
a science fiction
group/setting/region
founded by yours truly.
All players are welcome!
The Crossroads Discord,
an OOC chat/chill channel
to facilitate communication
between NS role players.
All tech tiers are welcome!
A writer of magic, fantasy & science fiction.

User avatar
Qora
Level 6.1
Level 6.1
Posts: 36
Joined: Sun Dec 02, 2018 10:23 pm
NS Nation (Prefix): Qora
Nexus Client: Qora
Client Tech Level: A2
Client Leader: Kleo Neferanzus Azu
Client Councillor: Kleo Neferanzus Azu
Client Species: Qorsikan
Location: United States
Contact:

Re: The Light After the Dusk

Post by Qora » Wed Aug 21, 2019 4:20 am

Sierra Seven, The Diamond Mountains
The Gunsmith, B3


Adrekka nods when Charles told her to go see their Cryptographer about the communication keys. "Very well. I'll acquire the schematics for you now. Unfortunately I only have it in a digital format. I hope this wouldn't be problematic for you." She produces a tablet from her robes and brings up the files for the Heavy Weapon Platforms schematics in all of its glory.

The schematics shown, in great detail, the many mechanisms that allow for movement, the armour for the legs and chassis, and modularity of all of its parts. However the schematics do not show the more important information such as the location of the AI, the Fusion Reactor, and the fuel tanks for the reactor. In that regard it only detailed enough information to show the connections required to allow the HWP to use the weapon and how the reactor may power it if it's required to as well as betraying that the weapons require an optical sensor for more precise aiming. Overall it seems to have a mimicry of arachnid life to it with the placement of its electrical works, internal systems, and armouring.

"This details as much information that I may freely give. Unfortunately I may not show the more critical information due to Imperial Law."

User avatar
Phorcys
Level 6.2
Level 6.2
Posts: 47
Joined: Mon Jan 07, 2019 6:53 pm
Nexus Client: The Confederation of Swarms
Client Tech Level: A1
Client Leader: Confederal Consensus
Client Councillor: 0992904-Interlocutor
Client Species: Oizys
Location: United Kingdom
Been thanked: 1 time
Contact:

Re: The Light After the Dusk

Post by Phorcys » Mon Sep 09, 2019 7:35 pm

Those ghouls not already crippled by their covering fire flee before the Westerners' onslaught. But five able-bodied ghouls lie in wait for 6206614. They hurl themselves at the lone Meridian even as he forces his way through the buckling plasteel.

The Barracks-Master faces the strongest opposition of the Taskgroup. The Phonotaxis remnants the lightest. Yet - at least immediately - their fortunes are reversed.

The Meridian is a veteran of the Contact War. The Meridian fought cuticle to cuticle with his brood-kin in the corpse-choked blackness of the Western tunnel-fronts. All dead now save for him - found buried under a cave-in and a pile of enemy dead he had gorged on for grim cycles to survive. Close combat methodology is ingrained so deeply into his circuitry that in battle the majority of his nerve clusters run dark - only the most primitive, oldest, fastest rudiments of the motor system flaring with hyperactivity.

The Meridian all but literally fights in his sleep.

Whereas the Phonotaxis Attendants - 0191997 and 0111795 - are hungry, hormonal, near-mutinous exiles herded into the breach on their Kin-Master's uncaring orders. Untrained, unspecialised - least essential of all their desperate kin-group - they are fodder and they know it. Passed over for use of their dwindling mating-stock. Fed on the scraps of what little can be kept from grasping Meridian pereiopods. They have no more will to fight for it. And even if they did - a lifetime of idle decadence has not made them into soldiers. They have only one tactic. Flail their limbs blindly and hope to make it out the other side. Against most softworlders this flurry would suffice. But not ghouls.



Within a half-second 6206614-Barracks-Master's limbs have weaved an intricate dance of destruction, pereiopods decapitating and crushing skulls, impaling bodies, barbed suit-segments goring flesh as they pull back from each darting stroke and coil instantly into another.

Four of the ghouls never touch him. The last clings onto his suit as if for dear life, already mangled and crippled by deep wounds.

In the instant before its spine is ripped out the survivor manages to dig its talons between the armour padding and pierce the suit-skin - exposing the base of his irreplaceable ninth limb. Another wheels around in response to eviscerate this threat to the ovipositor - but the ghoul's face is already melted half off, a high pressure jet of chlorine gas and hydrochloric acid spewing from the breach. The control chip is fried even before its body is torn open and cast away like a broken toy.

The last Ellian husk - a ragged upper body feebly attempting to crawl away on one broken arm - is dispatched the same way, spinal column wrenched out of its back. The Meridian inspects the grisly trophy for a moment, cloaca clicking in contempt at so dysgenic a structural vulnerability. He discards it. Moving on, cloacae scanning for more prey. Pressure and temperature alarms blare as auto-sealant clots over the suit breach but 6206614 is not concerned. All threats eliminated he clenches his cuticle shut and airtight. Deafening him. But protecting his soft tissues for the seconds until equilibrium is restored.



The Phonotaxis oizys burst into their building to face no threat at all - any able-bodied ghouls scattering from the moment the airlock gave way. But at the Taskgroup-Commander's urging the Attendants give chase. Surging rapidly ahead. Aggression inflamed by the long longed-for rush of power. Their will to fight is minimal. Their will to pursue and kill unresisting prey has never been higher. 111795 scarcely notices when a downed ghoul manages to rake his side, scoring cuticle. A pereiopod unconsciously lashes out to retaliate but the Attendant does not even break his stride. They bound deeper into the facility - overextending. And leaving their Master vulnerable.

Not that 0119859-Taskgroup-Commander is afraid. He fears nothing encased in full carboplatinum power armour - save for the Meridians - and even their threat recedes with a Kinguard at his side wearing the same.

But perhaps he should.

For he is least experienced of the oizys in battle - and in operating the armour, jealously hoarded from the Meridians for that exact reason. They could doubtless put it to more efficacious and threatening use. The Taskgroup-Commander employs it merely to dispatch already crippled ghouls, crushing them to pulp underneath its heavy gauntlets. Not even deigning to fire his weapon, or bloody his knife.

But his Kinguard has no such luxury. Rapidly convulsing his cloacae 0117771 echoscans every direction for enemy activity. He is all that protects his sibling-charge now, and he holds his coilgun primed and poised in two rippling limbs, flashing monoblades drawn in two more. He bears little respect for the craven command of his master, but so his impulses demand. Oizys are hard-wired, instinct-bound creatures, and loyalty to brood-kin is an instinct as deep as lust itself - insurmountable by either reason or logic.

Ordinarily.

But 0117771-Kinguard is no ordinary oizys. Once a scion of the greatest Kin-League of the West, his curated genome has been bred away from the oizys baseline for generations, attuned to subtler kinds of predation - manipulation, deception, even ambition. The necessities of Western rank. And so a competing drive flickers on the peripheries of his thought processes - one beyond the metacognitive capabilities of almost any oizys. One every cycle of conditioning was meant to guard against. But one arisen under situational strains the warren-masters could never have foreseen.

Is it not also 0117771-Kinguard's duty, the oizys considers, to insure the continuation of the geneline? Logically, must not this duty come above even his primary directive of protecting his immediate brood-kin?

Does not the weak leadership of 0119859-Taskgroup-Commander ultimately threaten the survival of all their band - all that remains of the Kin-League Phonotaxis? Would their genome's future not be maximally assured under 0117771-Kinguard's own estimable command?

Cold calculation races between the logic gates of the oizys' uncephalised neural architecture. An unavoidable resolution burns painstaking new pathways against the resistance of three million years of evolution.

Such hard-coded instinct cannot be truly overcome. But just for an instant 0117771-Kinguard's protective conditioning falters. And just in that instant 0117771-Kinguard elects not to warn his sibling-master. Omits to inform him of what he has just echoperceived.

9503026-Combat-Engineer and 4933073-Reconitor bounding deeper into the facility.

Just a glimpse. Then they vanish from echolocational range. But their stalking gait was clear indication of oizys on the slaughter-path, emboldened by fresh kills. Their last known trajectory has them moving rapidly towards the Xahians' position. Their intent clear. None other conceivable - but a retaliatory strike.

The fate of 7133707-Combatant has made clear what the consequences of further aggression against their alien allies will be...

"Advance-lead, honoured-sibling" 0119859-Taskgroup-Commander clicks - and briefly 0117771 wonders if his Master has noticed after all, and similarly wishes to lure his suspect servant into the inevitable cross-fire. But the moment passes in a tracheal-contraction and instinct overrides. He dismisses the heinous, unthinkable notion. Stamps out his own anomalous thought patterns with a bristle of his setae and a rattle of his limbs. 0117771 protects. This is his nature.

Yet still 0117771 does not alert the Master.

The Kinguard could not say why, even if oizys were capable of introspection. For deeper than his shallow semi-sapient awareness can percieve, conflicting subroutines still run. Under-connected, scarcely co-ordinated cortices war with one another over a neuronal battleground. Contradictory signals racing for the most efficient pathways. Battling for control of motor function. The perceptual system. Hormonal secretion. The requisites of action.

"This one obeys. Advancing" 0117771-Kinguard clicks with only the slightest quiver in his limbs. The slightest flutter of his setae all that betrays internal chaos.

And whether one oizys deceives the other, or both, or neither - whether either are aware of what they are doing at all - the result is the same. 0119859 and 0117771 are isolated and heading into danger.



His suit is repaired, the wound beneath the clotted breach deep but superficial. A gouge of exoskeleton at the base of the ninth limb. Unconcernedly the Barracks-Master springs onwards to rejoin the other Meridians - 9503026 and 4933073, echosensed ahead -

-and somehow the veteran urban fighter trips -

-and his powerfully-built thick-cuticled bulk sent smashing into the ground.

6206614 has never made such an inexplicable blunder. If such a proprioceptive lapse was even possible he should have been dead a long time ago.

The bewildered Meridian realises - as he lashes out four pereiopods to right himself - that he cannot move the ninth at all. It has no sensation. The entire limb hangs off him somehow both limp and yet hydrostatically taut. Paralysed. Some toxin coating the alien claws - it must be - for he can feel the numbness spreading deeper into the surrounding tissue.

At the realisation an unfamiliar hormonal response floods the Barracks-Master's system - a cold shot of fear. For if the slightest scratch can cripple a limb, is he capable of surviving another attack, his mobility hampered, his combat effectiveness critically reduced?

He convulses his cloacae, ranging clicks high and low. Ominous signatures close in beyond the walls.
The Oizys of the Confederation of Swarms
A dysfunctional kratocracy of lethally reproducing hermaphrodites
Post-Humanity and the Church of Autology
A transhumanist cult of precursor worshipping evangelists
The Great Ones of the Cryojovian Volume
An advanced post-civilisational race of solitary space nomads
The Ecdysites of the Heterarchy
A post-apocalyptic bronze-age tribe plagued by the resurrected monsters that haunt their DNA
The Iridescence
A symbiotic race enthralled to the superorganism that sustains their biology - and devours them

User avatar
Kyoki Chudoku
Level 5.1
Level 5.1
Posts: 27
Joined: Fri Mar 22, 2019 10:29 pm
NS Nation (Prefix): Conflicting Clusters of
Nexus Client: Tariat
Client Tech Level: I3
Client Leader: Ilzkat
Client Councillor: Ro
Client Species: Volzhkerix
Location: Australia
Contact:

Re: The Light After the Dusk

Post by Kyoki Chudoku » Tue Oct 01, 2019 11:13 am

Cascade Taxon
Gleam
Sierra Seven
Vordekai Landing Site

“This salvaging expedition better be advantageous.”

Decimatrix K-#5562’s mouth does not move as the rapid sequence of static bursts departs her implanted multivocaliser. A member of the Kannah Phylum, only her head and the stomatopeds lining her underbelly betray her Vordekai heritage. The rest of her body is made of stolen flesh, stitched together by the masterful artistry of a meat-harrow, held in place by the plates of metal that dot her carapace. Eight legs sprawl out from her form, one of them a replacement carved purely from bone. One of her grasping limbs ends in four slender fingers that squirm like tendrils, curved to take hold of a boredrill- a massive bone-cutting drill the length of a lance. The other hand is replaced by a bulb, intricate tubes strung like intestines connecting it to an internal sac within the thing that most resembles a shoulder, an apparatus designed to spray corrosive acid at her victims. To most of her phylumites, she would be a monstrous presence.

But next to her towers Metamutilator K-#9112.

His form resembles a giant centipede, each of his sharpened legs glistening in the flickering lights that dangle above. Four enormous limbs reach near his mouth, every one of them equipped with a serrated edge, resembling axes of bone, flesh and steel. Steel indeed tips every one of his limbs, some even coating the rows of grinding, churning teeth within his gaping maw. K-#9112 rises, his bulk four times the length of baseline Vordekai, the movement displaying the pride of his body. They shine in the light like droplets of water, but their are far from liquid. His underbelly is covered in a sequence of metallic spines, muscular contractions causing them to grind like saws. The fleshwreaker array, a fatal harrow built into flesh. And unlike Decimatrix, this monstrosity proclaims the title of metamorph- the highest status of Kannahite society.

“There will be no greater opportunity!” As the static leaves his mouth, he unleashes a roar, four throats releasing their air in nightmarish shriek. Intimidation. His legs stab into the ground with each movement, those in the air left twitching on instinct, awaiting a target. A terrifying presence, but his sheer ungainly bulk requires an entire team to maintain. Even as he speaks, #5526 runs the mental simulations. If she can strike at the right moment, plunge her drill into the cerebrum of her phylumite... “Our contractors will reward us well. New technology! New species! New improvements to harvest from our enemies!” Each burst is punctuated by a flair of his greater limbs, flourished like blades, able to eviscerating prey like living guillotines. “Purge your doubts. Countless possibilities will be unobscured.” He clambers against the wall, aiming each striking limb at his ostensible ally. “Your malignancy among them, should you continue your masochistic avarice.”

“I am cooperative. Our allegiance is united. Our purpose is parallel.” These where are enough to make him back down for now, but it will not last long. Their situation grows desperate. The supply of fresh parts has been reduced to failmade Zevudhites and the final pair of tunnelcreepers in the vivarium. The former is useful only to those who are still limited by their original forms, still haunted by the necrotic wasting of the Rot. The latter exists solely to supply Metamutilator K-#5526 with replacement parts from the creatures that his current form is inspired by.

All of them are wastes of flesh.

She can scarcely comprehend the Zevudhites on principle. Of all Vordekai they alone enforce altered spawning conditions, predetermining sycophantic husks and specialised cognisers and warriors and leaders. They are masochists, denying their own Phylum valuable resources, expending embryonic flesh to produce failborn weaklings. The Zevudhites on board have already cannibalised two of their weakest living meat-stock supplies to support one of their more valued vendiri. These wasteful nigh-malignants owe their very survival to the intervention of the Cascade Taxon- this tenuous union between various Vordekai now trapped by their supposed leaders on a remote iceball of a world. She is no stranger to the frozen cold- Voshkaduid’s dark side is forever in such a state, and it was there than much of her valued prey was harvested. But to spend their time and energy, risk their lives for foreign contractors...such is a ridiculous prospect. Surely Metamutilator intends to survey the other mercenaries, assess their worth, examine their organs. Surely he seeks to await a weakness and launch a strike to salvage what remains. It is the only explanation- but it is impossible, for such an act would result in nothing more than the total extermination of the Cascade Taxon.

They are newcomers to the great slaughter that these Ellians wish to bring upon the so-called Ghouls. The other groups now undertake a combined training exercise- the Vordekai, arriving later than their collaborators, must do without. But it does not matter. They have spent their lives hunting, killing, harvesting. Their very survival is a testament to their strength. They are not soldiers, but predators, assimilating useful components from their kills and ascending the echelons of society through brutal destruction of all opposition. Such is the Kannahite way. The Aozokhradites on board seek control, dominance, supremacy. The Zevudhites, bound by their imbecilic hierarchy, are the weaklings here. Even the Tokrikhite amalgamind, its connected brains encased with a cage of metal, is a machine of battle and improvement. But it, too, is a target.

Decimatrix K-#5562 clambers out of the Cascade itself, into the chilling yet irrelevant cold of the world beyond. Both she and her phylumite have spent long hours hunting the monstrous extremophiles that lurk within the Everblack back on Voshkaduid. To fight on a frozen world such as this without preparing their bodies for it would be nothing less than moronic. Even a Gorkchraite, half-crazed by the self-implanted drugs running from its veins, is not so insensible as to fight upon a planet it is has not designed itself for.

“You emerge, singular.” A distorted voice blares, multiple multivocalisers sounding in staggered bursts, forming an ominous echo of static. K-#5562 turns her drill towards the source of the sound, clambering to face it. It is the Tokrikhite. The amalgamind. AC-98 T-#7767. The machine- she does not hesitate to call it such- is formed like a tank, treads digging into the ground beneath it. Its turret twitches as its differing minds reach their consensus, formulate their strategy. It is the newest member of the Taxon, and yet it watches on, a passive observer, yet untested in battle. Decimatrix does not know what form the brains within its metallic chassis once took, but if there is anything she may come to fear more than her ostensible superior, it is the amalgamind. “Disunion is imminent?”

“Our goals remain parallel,” she answers, hoping the response is satisfactory. The machine is yet to open fire on any of them, an entirely voluntary contributor- rather unlike the reluctant force-allegied Zevudhites, ‘rescued’ from their pitiful raiding operation. If not for this very assignment it is likely they would now be little more than components of the Cascade, their rotting flesh devoured to fuel more worthy combatants like herself.

“Parallel. Yet distinct. We only await testing.” Testing, testing...all the machine has buzzed about is testing. As if to punctuate its point, one of its biodrones emerges from a hatch, hovering above the ground, mounted fleshstripper whirring to life. “We anticipate our unique opponents. We thirst for the opportunity.” She cannot help but emit a rapid burst of agreement. Their enemies are the fascination here. Not the bipedal forms they inhabit, a byproduct of their circumstances. Rather, the machines that bring life and strength and power to such bodies. She can imagine it, her own strength increased threefold by the mere virtue of their presence. It is an exponential improvement over her current power should she achieve it. As she considers it, perhaps K-#9112 is not entirely delusional. Perhaps he hungers for it too, for the improvement, for the next step towards flawlessness. But Decimatrix has made up her mind. If it comes to that, she will gladly eliminate him to take the spoils for herself. He would be proud to decimate the remains of his victims rather than allow a ‘weaker’ taxonite to claim any reward from his kills. And he has the audacity to accuse her of masochism. Has he so marked himself as a target by deliberate choice?

The sound of clanging footsteps draws her attention to a nearby male- Chiyukh A-#0856. His size and the stretches of cyan that grow on his shell betray his relative old age, but he has few remaining improvements, save a pair of additional cybernetic limbs. He has claimed the title of Harrowmaster, and he lives up to it. No other Vordekai has operated the meat-harrow with the precision he has, strung those vibrowires through flesh with such delicate artistry. It must shame him that his fellow Aozokhradites now tend mainly to Metamutilator, necessary to keep his tremendous segments and glistening limbs fully operational. The Harrowmaster does not speak with her, presumably present to tend to his Phylum’s engineer. She cannot help but wonder if he has truly survived this long with so few improvements because of his harrowing skills. Indeed, he is necessary purely because of them, as the onboard configuration has been modified so excessively that it is inoperable for anyone else.

She cannot wait to thrust the body of a Ghoul upon those wires, to see an artist of torment so elegantly butcher her next victim. Though he is not her phylumite, she cannot help but feel an accord with him- she too values precision. That is why she wields a boredrill rather than a fleshstripper, as so many Vordekai do. To rip meat apart is a valuable ability, but it is much easier to preserve organs with more delicate mutilations. She targets whatever is most vulnerable, drilling through metal and meat and bone until it turns hollow, thus retaining a whole body to scavenge and pick apart.

Such is the Vordekai way. That which dies has failed, and its parts are recycled to be used by those who killed it. She wonders whether any of her fellow contract groups will allow her to dissect their battle-slain, but there seems little chance of it. Most of them, from what knowledge she has put together from what bouts of research she could manage, mourn death. They waste entire bodies by preserving them tombs, placing in the ground, or turning them to ash. Even the oizys, sensible enough to at very least consume their fallen to her understanding, are supposedly notorious for their refusal to give away the secrets of their anatomy, and she does not have the time or resources to adapt to their chlorinated biochemistry. It will be far easier to claim parts of the enemy or her own downed allies.

“Attention all taxonites!” The arrogant tone of the Zevudhite Commander sounds. “Designated combatants will report for hunting preparations.” Sure enough, he steps forward on four legs, one their ‘Alpha’ strains. He has been pre-selected as a leader, regardless of his competence, of his command ability, of his own desire. That is the Zevudhite way. The way of deliberately cultivating weakness in their lesser strains, as though their insistence on enforcing alterations upon untested and unproven individuals were not self-detrimental enough. She regards his body, pitiful as it is, barely having escaped the worst of the Rot. He considers himself the leader of the expedition, but this presumption fools no-one. Is his body even worth the effort of dismantling?

For now, she will comply with his ‘command’. There is much to discuss. As the combatants assemble, it is clear that the Zevudhites outnumber the others thrice over. Six of their “Echo” weaklings gather around in a protective formation, holding their puncture rifles. She does not need her heightened sensors to detect the putrid odour of necrotic muscle, a common stench in the spawning zones. These Echos are vendiri, to match their supposed Subcommander- a ‘Bravo’ by designation, a soldier by design. He towers taller than the average baseline, but his shell is flaking, his stomatopeds shrunken, his eyes bulging and his flesh discoloured. Another weakling, no matter the weapon he wields. Beside him is shorter but more dangerous Zevudhite, a so-called ‘Delta’, engineered for technical expertise. He wields not only an electrifying netspitter, but a device of his own creation- a mechanical echolocator. To a baseline Vordekai it is silent, but Decimatrix K-#5526 has superior senses- she hears these pings, wonders how much of her body he can sense.

Metamutilator strides forward, unopposed, twitching metal dissuading any attempt to interfere with his coming words. “All combatants appear ready for the harvest. We await only instruction from our Ellian contractors.”

“Before we agree,” says Alpha-333 Z-#3544, “we must determine the distribution of salvage.” Distribution of salvage? What is this failborn parasite on about this time? “I propose an even distribution of the collected bodies, with specifics determined after the hunt is over.”

“You must be delusional.” K-#9112 retracts his primary limbs, readying a strike. A wheeze comes from his mouth, his iron-tipped teeth shining as his throats convulse. “The salvage belongs to whoever claims it. Do you seek to restrict our strength to alleviate your own weakness?”

“Our primary goal is attaining financial resources, not harvesting biped bodies.”

“Incorrect assumption, failborn.” Metamutilator towers into the air, raising his bulk as high as he can manage, limbs failing with every step. When he finally places each sword-like limb upon the ground, Decimatrix is surprised and disappointed to see no carnage, no Zevudhites splattered across the surface. “Harvest is our primary goal! You do not command us. I will inform our contractors that we are ready to begin and await the return of our collaborators.” Before anyone can argue, he scurries away, nobody brave or foolish enough to dare interrupt. “Cascade Taxon reporting for Ghoul slaughter. We await your command, Ellians. We await the reaping of flesh!”

—————————————————————
Current Combatants

Basic Infantry
1x Zevudhite Alpha
1x Zevudhite Bravo
1x Zevudhite Delta
4x Zevudhite Echo

Heavy Infantry
2x Kannahite combatant

Combat Vehicles
1x Tokrikhite amalgamind
4x hunter-harvester biodrone
Volzhkerix | Supercommunity of Tariat | The eusocial jellyfish-bugs stuck in an industrial-tech cold war
Eriaroon | Eriaroon Eugenic Republic | The abyssal cephalopods who believe that reality is the afterlife
Vordekai | Vordekai Continuum | The withering organ-harvesters who seek perfection
Hekkathi | The symbiotic misotheistic pacifists at the end of a rogue world’s lifespan
Enyo | The medieval blood-suckers that march against the dawn

User avatar
Ella2 6
Level 8.1
Level 8.1
Posts: 60
Joined: Mon Dec 03, 2018 1:43 pm
NS Nation (Prefix): The Spring Kawaii of
Nexus Client: The Constellation of Richia
Client Tech Level: A3
Client Species: Ellian
Location: Australia
Contact:

Re: The Light After the Dusk

Post by Ella2 6 » Fri Oct 04, 2019 4:48 pm

Not Roleplay
@Morth
Sierra Six, Cindering Peaks

The ghouls throughout the building quickly went to ground as a general warning was relayed across the network, but not before some of them were struck down by the heavy munitions. G42-94 suffered a hit to his torso that broke his spine in half and lay scrabbling on the floor. G42-28, who was in the next room, was decomissioned with a burst of shrapnel to the head as the depleted uranium rounds crashed through the plasteel walls and fragmented.

- Firepower intense. Cannot maintain position. Must withdraw. -

- Acknowledged. -

The ghouls throughout the building quickly made their escape via the windows and slunk away into the night. G42-156 grabbed the unconscious Xahian whilst another ghoul helped the damaged G42-94 out the window. A cry rose up behind them as the Xahians entered again and the ghouls were forced to evacuate by a hail of gunfire, leaving their hard-earned prize behind.

G42-156 and G42-72 dropped to the ground on all fours, landing on either side of the window. Together, they grabbed either of G42-94's legs while the damaged ghoul propped himself up with his arms to reduce the drag as they pulled him along. Another shower of depleted uranium flechettes peppered them as they loped away, less intense this time as the Xahians were restricted by the windows. Nonetheless, the accurate rifle fire took its told on the retreating ghouls. G42-72 took several punctures of his body, but the damage they caused to vital organs was negligible.

His companion was not so lucky, however, as a round pierced his skull and destroyed the motor functions of the brain housed therein. G42-156 grabbed his pack member's limp body. The even with the brain destroyed, the control chip and the nanites were still intact. The Ellian iteration of the ghoul was an exceptionally resilient model and even incapacitation was temporary. So long as the control chip worked, the ghouls will climb back up after a day or two.
Last edited by Ella2 6 on Fri Nov 08, 2019 10:51 am, edited 1 time in total.
The Fifth Quadrant,
a science fiction
group/setting/region
founded by yours truly.
All players are welcome!
The Crossroads Discord,
an OOC chat/chill channel
to facilitate communication
between NS role players.
All tech tiers are welcome!
A writer of magic, fantasy & science fiction.

User avatar
Ella2 6
Level 8.1
Level 8.1
Posts: 60
Joined: Mon Dec 03, 2018 1:43 pm
NS Nation (Prefix): The Spring Kawaii of
Nexus Client: The Constellation of Richia
Client Tech Level: A3
Client Species: Ellian
Location: Australia
Contact:

Re: The Light After the Dusk

Post by Ella2 6 » Fri Nov 08, 2019 10:48 am

Sierra Seven, The Diamond Mountains
The Gunsmith, Floor -3


Charles considered the schematics for some time, familiarising himself with the drone's overall layout. "Hum... I might have underestimated its size... I can probably fit a hundred-and-ten millimetre cannon onto this thing." He stopped, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as he noticed the inlet for the hydrogen tanks on the schematic. They can miniaturise fusion reactors to this size? Surely not. The must be for petrol or something.

"Do you want the gun's ammunition to be fed in from your fuel tank or from an external tank?" He asked, "I am assuming your heavy weapons platform is powered by a fusion reactor?" He tapped a finger on the hydrogen intake valve. "Those look like hydrogen pipes, but they could just as easily be petroleum."
The Fifth Quadrant,
a science fiction
group/setting/region
founded by yours truly.
All players are welcome!
The Crossroads Discord,
an OOC chat/chill channel
to facilitate communication
between NS role players.
All tech tiers are welcome!
A writer of magic, fantasy & science fiction.

User avatar
Ella2 6
Level 8.1
Level 8.1
Posts: 60
Joined: Mon Dec 03, 2018 1:43 pm
NS Nation (Prefix): The Spring Kawaii of
Nexus Client: The Constellation of Richia
Client Tech Level: A3
Client Species: Ellian
Location: Australia
Contact:

Re: The Light After the Dusk

Post by Ella2 6 » Sun Dec 01, 2019 7:10 am

Not Roleplay
@Hub
Sierra Six, Cindering Peaks

A loud blast melted through the reinforced blast door and the first team entered, shouldering aside the smouldering remains. "Clear!" They reported as the rest of the squad followed.

A pair of the troopers headed left immediately, moving down to the corridor, checking every room as they went. "Clear!" They called, then echoed the cry again after a few seconds of advance.

Twinkle waved two extended fingers forward. The pink-haired girl standing opposite her nodded and stepped back a pace, unslinging the heavy sledgehammer from across her back. Her teammate took up position in front of the door, keeping a respectful distance to avoid being caught by the battering ram. The breacher drew her weapon back and brought it down expertly on the plasteel door.

Normally, the sturdy material would have been able to stand up to two or three such strikes, but the soldier's powered exoskeleton overcame that with ease. The door buckled inward, the heavy bolt bending out of shape and failing almost instantaneously, and swung open awkwardly. The deafening cracks of supersonic plasma being unloaded filled the hallways as Twinkle entered with her support unit. "Got one!" She yelled.

One was a bit generous. It was far more like half of one. The ghoul in question had been broken in half by the weight of the dynamic hammer landing on it when it was standing behind the door. Stuffy headed right, his companion falling into step behind him. The heavy weapons specialist bludgeoned another door open with a well-placed kick and the commandoes swarmed in. "Clear!"

Twinkle nodded and brought two extended fingers up to her temple. "Circus, this is Iron Girl Scout. The last building has been cleared. Over."

Lax's reply was swift. "Iron Girl Scout, this is Circus," she replied, "We copy." There was a brief pause. "Before you head back, Tamer has picked up ghoul signatures amassing near your position. Go and investigate. Use caution. Over."

"Understood. We're moving out." The corporal looked around quickly, assessing the condition of her section members. "Ammo check!" She called.

"Ammo check!" Her number two echoed. The soldiers quickly reloaded before going through their munitions supplies and reporting positive.

"Building east of us. Lurker, Guardian, take point. Pilot, Watchman, cover the northern street. Passenger, Lancer, take the southern street. Dragonfly, Walker, enter from the roof. Let's move out." The commandoes nodded affirmative and split off to go their separate ways. Double, the breaching specialist, hammered the door in and the four commandoes poured into the room, just as the medical team entered the second floor from the roof.

They found no ghouls inside the structure, though the building was not entirely vacant either; a large boulder lay in the middle of the room with nine limbs extending from its body, the uppermost one dangling from its perch as if a strip of elastic. "It's an Oizys," Captain observed flatly.

Twinkle tilted her head and leant forward, examining it closely. "It looks dead," she concluded at length.

Suddenly the Oizys reared up on its high legs, crashing into the ceiling with a resounding thud. "This one not dead, softworlder," he clicked indignantly, "Task-parameters completed." He tilted his body on his pereiopods, causing his ninth limb to flop this way and that. "This one kills all enemies."
Last edited by Ella2 6 on Sun Dec 01, 2019 9:14 am, edited 1 time in total.
The Fifth Quadrant,
a science fiction
group/setting/region
founded by yours truly.
All players are welcome!
The Crossroads Discord,
an OOC chat/chill channel
to facilitate communication
between NS role players.
All tech tiers are welcome!
A writer of magic, fantasy & science fiction.

Post Reply

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest