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Nevets posted:They should just have physical attacks resolve before shooting, then you could house rule that any punches that connected also give a free hit on that location with the arm's weapons. Explosive ammo / ppcs / etc. deal their damage to your arm as well.
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Jul 12, 2012 00:13
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Nevets posted:They should just have physical attacks resolve before shooting, then you could house rule that any punches that connected also give a free hit on that location with the arm's weapons. Explosive ammo / ppcs / etc. deal their damage to your arm as well. As a counter-example? King Crab. Also, it'd make any punch to the head guaranteed instant death. GreyjoyBastard posted:Speaking of which, I'm a bit clueless even after two matches, why didn't I get a physical attack there? Your orders have never included a melee contingency. 
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Jul 12, 2012 01:02
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Actually there is an advanced rule for doing exactly that, a punch then firing as you connect.
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Jul 12, 2012 01:05
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That has to be just amazing with a Nova.
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Jul 12, 2012 01:07
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Mary Annette posted:Hug the Hermes. You'll be his new legs, he'll be your new gun, and you'll be battle bros forever after. And we shall know them as "Freak, the Mighty."
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Jul 12, 2012 01:07
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Mary Annette posted:Hug the Hermes. You'll be his new legs, he'll be your new gun, and you'll be battle bros forever after. I so wish there were rules for this. I want to see it happen SO BAD now.
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Jul 12, 2012 01:14
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Mary Annette posted:Hug the Hermes. You'll be his new legs, he'll be your new gun, and you'll be battle bros forever after. He ain't heavy, he's my
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Jul 12, 2012 01:20
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DivineCoffeeBinge posted:I so wish there were rules for this. I think there are (just enough) rules to let it slide, but it wouldn't work because of the weight limits.
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Jul 12, 2012 01:35
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Arquinsiel posted:Alternatively run past and fire behind you.... like the Balius. Then you'd want shorter range weapons, or at least weapons without a minimum range (unlike the AC2/LRMs mentioned), since even at speed 12, it'd be difficult to get past the target and past your minimum range without getting shotup horribly. MadScientistWorking posted:It depends on who the hell you are facing. Clan mechs will in fact get behind regardless of whether or not you want them too and even if you blow them up its too loving late as your mech is probably going to go down. And, as mentioned in the original TR3050, that tended to screw over the Firemoths that would try to do that to (IIRC) FRR lances... since those tend to travel in column formation, which means they'd bypass the leader to shoot them in the back and get mowed down by the next in line.
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Jul 12, 2012 02:04
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Mary Annette posted:Hug the Hermes. You'll be his new legs, he'll be your new gun, and you'll be battle bros forever after. 
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Jul 12, 2012 06:27
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PoptartsNinja posted:
I think I got confused by the arena match, where it was taken as understood (because simultaneous movement). Okay, noted. Also, I may be a bit slow this next turn - need to see what the other people are thinking before I decide whence to trundle, but I'm also traveling to Pennsylvania, so since I'm not getting my orders in tonight it might not be for a day or two.
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Jul 12, 2012 06:33
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PoptartsNinja posted:As a counter-example? King crab, nothing. Dire Wolf Prime boxing, with each single punch landing an extra 44 damage? Ouch.
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Jul 12, 2012 11:08
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AJ_Impy posted:King crab, nothing. Dire Wolf Prime boxing, with each single punch landing an extra 44 damage? Ouch. See, this is why the Fist Fire SPA only allows one weapon fired during a punch. Then again, this gives the advantage to the Big Crustaceo. VVVVV--- Besides, you didn't address how combined arms support was a better investment than backloading all of a 'Mech's armor, there's no reason to be smug. EDIT Again: Oh, you edited out the smugness. Alright then. Runa fucked around with this message at 12:48 on Jul 12, 2012 |
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Jul 12, 2012 12:05
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Judicator65 posted:And, as mentioned in the original TR3050, that tended to screw over the Firemoths that would try to do that to (IIRC) FRR lances... since those tend to travel in column formation, which means they'd bypass the leader to shoot them in the back and get mowed down by the next in line. quote:Besides, you didn't address how combined arms support was a better investment than backloading all of a 'Mech's armor, there's no reason to be smug. quote:EDIT: You mean, for all that the Clans care. We, as players, honestly shouldn't be able to care less since we're not, you know, actually Clanners. MadScientistWorking fucked around with this message at 12:57 on Jul 12, 2012 |
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Jul 12, 2012 12:40
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MadScientistWorking posted:Because its extremely easy to get behind a mech's back with the clans and at that point your kind of screwed. Then again that really is more of an argument to armor everything equally. By the current BV2 balancing system, I hear that IS forces have such a serious number advantage that Clan players have to play a dangerous game on the edge of a knife to win, and that means worrying more about range brackets and minimizing the enemy's local firepower advantage than rushing in for easy backshots. And this means that combined arms and numbers are still worth something, even against the Clans. Who, to a certain degree, also respect combined arms. Even if only with battle-armored infantry. EDIT: This goes, without saying, that realistic and practically-apportioned armor, rather than armor thinned out to protect everything equally, is still the wiser decision. This requires the enemy to expend effort and devise tactics to strike a more difficult target, the rear, rather than simply allowing them an easy kill from the front. Runa fucked around with this message at 14:08 on Jul 12, 2012 |
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Jul 12, 2012 13:03
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And then you have the Awesome and its inexplicable 19 points protecting the CTR. Why 19?
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Jul 12, 2012 16:38
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Taerkar posted:And then you have the Awesome and its inexplicable 19 points protecting the CTR.  Xarbala it depends on the map, if it is moderately sized to the number of mechs then the is number advantage does force clanners to play well or perish, if the map is too big then the clans can act as ghosts on the wind. A heavily urbanized map makes painfully obvious the IS number advantage though. Limited mobility, limited visibility forces the fight to be up close and personal in generally and a clanner at short range tends to get gutted fighting the same bv of IS mechs.
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Jul 12, 2012 16:50
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Taerkar posted:And then you have the Awesome and its inexplicable 19 points protecting the CTR. Gauss rifle and two srm hits. Makes perfect sense. 
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Jul 12, 2012 16:57
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AtomikKrab posted:Xarbala it depends on the map, if it is moderately sized to the number of mechs then the is number advantage does force clanners to play well or perish, if the map is too big then the clans can act as ghosts on the wind. A heavily urbanized map makes painfully obvious the IS number advantage though. Limited mobility, limited visibility forces the fight to be up close and personal in generally and a clanner at short range tends to get gutted fighting the same bv of IS mechs. This is why I rely almost exclusively on mediums and cavalry heavies against the Clans. Negate their speed advantage and good things tend to happen. The biggest risk is that mediums have a bad habit of dying to only a couple volleys from Clan weapons. Still, a couple HGR Barghests backed by a liberal amount of lb/10x autocannons makes magic happen, especially against the Clans.
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Jul 12, 2012 17:15
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Tarquinn posted:Gauss rifle and two srm hits. Makes perfect sense. Or maybe a bad run in with an Orion? I mean I understand the Rifleman's loadout and armor distribution. It's a terrible Mech against other Mechs or even ground vehicles but it works just fine in the AA role.
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Jul 12, 2012 19:58
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RENDEZVOUS A 1st Marathon Irregulars Story June 3rd, 3034 On board the Star Lord-class JumpShip Knight of the Fetterlock, orbiting Mauripur, the Irregulars prepared for an emergency deployment. In a darkened briefing room, an unseen projector produced an image of the planet Al Jubaylah onto a screen. Markers tinted with the colors of the New Rim Worlds Republic covered the planetary map, in secure control of the planet's main population centers, with artillery in prime position to besiege them. Other markers, friendlies, were less in number and scattered. One set had the colors of the planetary forces, the other, the 1st Atrean Dragoons. By all rights, the Dragoons had half the number on the map than with what their garrison had begun. This was an old report so the truth on the ground was probably less optimistic. Al Jubaylah was overrun by Amaris troops. Beside the strategic map, a facsimile of a short missive glowed against the dark. "Facility under attack, city in ruins. Confirmed at least 2 Regiments on world, NRWR. Forces include large number of Mojaves, assume enemy is elite. Escape route secured, relocating cargo to safehouse Golf. HPG transmissions still down. Ceasing communication. Requesting exfil ASAP." Force Commander Edgar Halas was a young man for his rank, dark-haired and with a quiet nobility in his eyes, almost concealed by the bushiness of his brow. As the commanding officer of the Irregulars, it was his duty to give the briefing. This was because the XO was the less-appropriate candidate for the job. He spoke with the deep, calm assuredness of a man twenty years his elder. "Three days ago, this message was sent out from Base Herakleion through the HPG interdiction via wide-broadcast before they were overrun. Good news, our own Shoalbreaker was online during testing and we got the message before the Pony Express even had a chance to start their first Jump." A click of a button brought a picture of the cargo--one of a mere handful of Shoalbreaker prototypes--on the screen. "Bad news, 'wide-broadcast' means the Rimworlders probably got it too and we're pretty drat sure they can break SAFE's encryption protocols. Especially if they've got ROM working with them, which shouldn't surprise anyone at this point." A female voice perked up from the opposite side of the screen. "Except SAFE." The acting executive officer, Dr. Fatima Sequord, stepped out from the shadows and into the glow from the projector. Her cafe-latte complexion was a bit deeper than Edgar's and her hair a much lighter brown, which together built a healthy contrast with that damnable white lab coat she insisted on wearing all the time. And judging by her painstakingly prepared hair, she didn't even bother adhering to military grooming standards nonstandardized though the FWLM's regulations may be. She was certainly a logistical and technological prodigy, not to mention an ace MechWarrior just like the rest, but she was entirely too young and undisciplined. This setting aside her personality, which could be described as a gigantic kerosene-doused watermelon lit on fire and sent careening down towards Parliament Hall in Atreus. That is to say she was (and is) the sort of person to get a lot of very important people very hurt, very angry, and very covered in a foul-smelling fruit pulp, very likely for no good reason. But she was here, she got the job done, and she figured out how to overcharge a Pulse Laser's effective range without burning it out. So there was that. The Force Commander glanced at the young doctor, then continued on, flatly. "Our first and most important mission is to recover the cargo and ensure it's delivered to Marathon base on New Olympia. From there someone can bring it back to the capital and pretend this fiasco never happened. We know where their safehouse is, though we can't guarantee they've actually made it. Secondly, we're to recover what data and samples we can from Base Herakleion, assuming the Rimmers haven't found and destroyed everything by the time we get there." "Sir." The elder Sequord sibling raised his hand. He was darker than his sister on all counts, though had a similarly smooth nose. Edgar nodded, and Capt. Matthew Sequord asked his question. "What the hell is Base Herakleion? Is it anything like our own HQ? And why the hell haven't we heard about it?" Fatima answered before Edgar could, a habit that he learned to stop getting annoyed by months ago. "Firstly, you're right. Base Herakleion was, like Marathon, a top-secret R&D facility. In their case, they were hidden in plain sight underneath the second largest city on the planet, with the bleeding edge of League R&D going on right under everyone's noses. Unlike our own Base Marathon, however, it was outside of the LCCC's immediate purview. Their research was mostly dedicated to intelligence, counterintelligence, and communications. SAFE was guarding it." A young man just a few years older than the Doctor spoke up. "Wait. If Herakleion base was a top-secret facility, then how did the Rimmers find it so quickly?" That was Lieutenant Krispin Romanov, he was (and is) a good kid. "SAFE was guarding it." Fatima replied, and waited for some laughter. When she realized her wait would be a long one, she continued on, "More realistically, we can imagine they had similar samples of Star League tech at their disposal and were more experienced than we are in dealing with these matters." She then clicked a button on the console, bringing up images of what they've recently dubbed the "Mojave" series of BattleMechs. "Based on the info from that BattleROM our boys on the ground barely managed to salvage from the only Badger whose cockpit killswitch actually managed to fail, we can assume that House Amaris has had access to Star League technology for much longer than the rest of us. Obviously, they've managed to improve on it." Moving onwards to other pieces of Rimworlder tech, Fatima's ad hoc slideshow continued. "Maybe not to the degree the Clans have, but let's face it, while we might be enjoying the bleeding edge of the LC3's weapons research we haven't got our advanced tech in full production. They do. Everything we're learning about our little prototypes they've probably known for decades." She paused to let the implications sit in. "Or more. Every time we've tested our little 'secret weapon', they've known about it. Based on the NRWR's movements and targets in their invasion, they've probably intercepted every transmission we've made within a 100 light years of wherever spy station they happened to have. And yes, they've probably figured out that we don't actually have secret bases on Marathon or Jardine, despite what our friendly neighborhood intelligence agency would like our enemies to believe." Lt. Andrei de Souzza didn't bother raising his hand. He had a strong jaw and a chiseled face, one carved deeper by a look of distinct skepticism. "We already have a few of these things off-world and we've figured out how to build more, why should we send out two reinforced battalions of experimental 'Mechs down to some podunk planet just to recover one measly prototype from a bunch of chucklefuck spies who screwed up? If we're trying to keep this tech out of Rimmer hands, well, you just explained why that's pointless!" He paused for effect, then added, "Doc." Edgar stepped in for this one. He actually had something resembling a voice of authority and was not, in fact, an insufferable teenaged girl genius. "We are deploying, Lieutenant, because we can't afford not to." His calm and complete control brooked no dissension. "Two regiments of Amaris troops are rampaging across a planet looking for the cargo. They know those idiots at SAFE hid their main facility using a civilian city as a shield. Now they have no reason not to assume the same of other facilities." A simple turn of the head towards the screen was all the emphasis he needed. "When this map was current, they were already burning these cities to the ground. They're not occupying the planet. They're razing it. All because of a single prototype they don't want us to have. And we're going to do something about that." Edgar looked at every person in attendance, even sparing a glance to Dr. Sequord, who was obviously itching to add something to the discussion. Something that would probably send the mood of impending justice crashing right back down to the ground. So he thought to finish it on an honest note. "We will be deploying to Al Jubaylah via pirate point and we should reach planetside a day after the Jump. We are going to move the hot potato off the ground and make sure it leaves safely. We will drive the Rimmers off that planet and we will stay, for as long as the LC3 will let us, providing humanitarian assistance as best we can. But before we can do that, we have to win." "Also try to salvage as much of their Mojaves as you can." Fatima chimed. The entire room focused its attention on her. Dryly. "What? Don't tell me I'm the only one who wants to install those close-combat PPC-shotguns on our 'Mechs. And we're really short on pulse lasers. I think we have, what, five? That's literally half of all the pulse lasers in the entire Free Worlds League! We could also use more extralight engines, we don't have those in full production either. So try to hit them in the heads. But not the faces! Those are extended-range lasers and should be salvaged, too. Also, don't get too close, most of these are real nasty face-breaking infighters. Especially those Badgers. So put those ER blankety-blanks to good use!" She winked and gave them all a thumbs up. Also, possibly, a clicking noise may have emerged from behind her gums. It all happened very quickly. Before Edgar Halas moved on to the nitty-gritty details of the operation, he let slip a silent sigh. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- June 8th, 3034 Corporal Margaret Donovan opened the front hatch of her neurohelmet to take a smoke. It was little comfort, but helped ease her nerves. She had soft features sharpened by a life that quickly took a turn for the hard, and unlike some people her hair wasn't long enough to stick out of her helmet. A bounce of her Guillotine's footstep caused an involuntary twitch in her eye when she lit the cigarette. A reminder of an ammo blowout from the first year of her tour, one she barely survived. While she was the comm officer for her company, the guerillas wanted to be patched in to Dingo Actual. So she had a chance to take a short break. "Alright. Eyes on the ground just painted two lances, mostly mediums, no Mojaves." That was Capt. Gavin Latousakis. His Quickdraw bore the patchwork markings of field repair, and one of it's lasers was still on the blink--it probably wouldn't last for a handful more firings. "Gator Company will draw them away towards the north, we'll continue onwards to the LZ." We. Dingo Company was tasked with bringing the cargo out of the safehouse and towards the exfiltration point. The LC3 observer and his SAFE liaisons had managed to scrape out an unharmed DropShip and passage with a civilian JumpShip the day before. This was the last chance they had to get the Shoalbreaker off-planet and, hopefully, lure the Rimworlders away. There was less than a battalion of the 1st Atrean remaining, and the planetary militia only had a single functioning cavalry company, of which two lances of Harassers were running pickets for the Dingoes. Nobody expected them to survive the mission, least of all the militiamen themselves. A barely-operational Gallant urban combat vehicle, literally pulled out of a museum was accompanied by a Quikscell Kalidasa Hetzer with a janky left front wheel and a completely replaced autocannon. These two tanks brought up the rear of the convoy. At the front was Sam (or, rather, Sgt. Chakravarti), with her and Capt. Latousakis as the command lance. They lost Lt. Ivan Mendoza in the attack on the base. A bunch of rookies rounded out the rest of the company, and Maggie hadn't even had time to learn all of their names when they sortied. Nearly two whole companies of 'Mechs and vehicles were on the move, covered from the twin full-moonlight by sparse woods below and heavy clouds above. In ordinary circumstances, this would be ample protection for a single convoy. But now the weight of two Amaris regiments, one the elite of their elite, would be upon them any minute. A few minutes and some distant flashes of light later, Capt. Latousakis spoke again. "It looks like Gator drove off the Rimmers. They'll be back with reinforcements, though. Get a move on. The LZ won't stay secure for long." Cpl. Donovan finished her cigarette and closed her faceplate. For now, though, things were going smoothly. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Union-class DropShip, Coolspur, rested in a cove between two ridges, each covered in thick woods. A pair of fighters waited on standby in case they were required. Inside, Orlando Company began to fire up their 'Mechs. Led by Captain Rachel Virren, Orlando was held in reserve, not a single BattleMech among them ran slower than 80 km/h. Fatima commanded the strike lance. Hers was one of the fastest experimental prototypes in the entire battalion, second only to that souped-up Helm-salvaged Hussar Lt. de Souzza called his ride. But this one wasn't a Star League design. This one was all new, designed by Dr. Curtiss and Dr. Sequord themselves as competition for the Lyrans' Griffin, though getting main weapons equal in range or better than a PPC would be difficult. The experimental pulse laser was all hers, though. This made it a Bobcat-hunter. The other companies in the First Battalion Reinforced had their own missions. Locksley Company, led by Capt. Kamps Stattun, would proceed towards safehouse Golf and try to contact the SAFE agents supposedly in hiding. Fierabras Company, led by Capt. Matthew Sequord, had the task of harassing and hunting down the less-elite half of the Rimworlder troops in the operational area. Hector Company, the Force Commander's own, would investigate the DropShip they found on the initial scans; briefings and reports didn't say anything about it. Second Battalion Reinforced was busy on a goodwill mission with the locals. Survivors of the 1st Atrean Dragoons and the local guerillas were still fighting out there and by all rights they probably didn't expect any help for half a month or more. People could use a pleasant surprise. Lt. Romanov's Falcon Hawk came online, just as Capt. Virren opened up the comm channels. Her smoky Terran-American drawl filled his ears. "Listen up, kids. The Force Commander's updated our intel. Looks like that DropShip we saw on the way in was guarded by vehicles flying milita colors, but was surrounded by at least one full 'Mech company lurking outside radar range. Visual confirmation on some of those 'Mechs, positive ID on at least two Mojaves: one Mountain Lion, one Coyote. No way in hell they're friendly." Fatima spoke up while her prototype began walking. Its control flaps--jump guides--were flexing as part of the startup process. "So, we're going in to clean out the DropShip landing?" "Negative," Capt. Virren replied. "Force Commander got word from Fierabras that two companies, 1st Atrean and locals, are bringing a convoy straight to it." That was all they needed to know. "Then that's our mission," said Dr. Sequord. Lt. Romanov was already off the ramp and on the move when she said this. Just as well, he had the slowest light in the company. "Kids." Capt. Virren grumbled. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fire and explosions lit up the night in the distance. The forest began to clear out into rolling hills and plains. Most of the Rimworlders' elites were infighters, this seemed to be a good sign. Capt. Latousakis walked his 'Mech just a few dozen meters behind the Thug THG-10E taking point. Sam's machine. Sgt. Chakravarti's machine. A few harrying parties tried poking at the convoy but they were fought back every time. Larger groups were driven back thanks to Gator Company's shadowing, and a few well-placed shots from that old Hetzer back there. Whoever those local boys were, they done good. The LZ was just a kilometer away to the west, they'd be home free in no time. Or so Cpl. Donovan thought, when she recieved a communication. "1st Atrean Dragoons, do you read? This is Dr. Fatima Sequord of Orlando Company, 1st Marathon Irregulars, LCCC-DIA Joint Special Operations Force. Do not proceed to the LZ, the DropShip's a trap. Head north. Sending IFF the instant we get into visible range." The voice was calm and collected, but entirely too young. Like some academy student pretending to captain a skyliner. "Captain? We've got a transmission." Cpl. Donovan sounded mildly annoyed. "Some girl claims that the LZ's an ambush. Said they're from the LC3. 1st Marathon Irregulars. Some kind Joint Spec Ops Force?" Capt. Latousakis, "Never heard of 'em." A moment passed while the Captain was speaking to someone on the other line. "And the SAFE liaison down with the cargo hasn't heard of 'em either. We shouldn't be getting any reinforcements for at least a week or more, there's no way the Pony Express moves that fast. Also says that Marathon hasn't even been on any map since the 3rd Succession War. Rimmers are probably getting desperate to set up a new trap out of the way. Let Gator take care of 'em." "Roger." Cpl. Donovan flipped on the channel that the suspicious interloper contacted her on. "'Doctor Sequord,' this is Corporal Margaret Donovan of Dingo Company, 3rd Battalion, 1st Atrean Dragoons. Could you give us coordinates? We'll RV when we have visual confirmation from our scouts." She had a line patched in with Gator's comm officer to overhear their conversation. Her comms picked up a barely audible sigh from the other end. "Alright. We're from a separate op, we don't share the same tactical intel, local coordinates are pointless and global coordinates are imprecise. There's a sharp, tall ridge to the north, northeast of your current position. We'll have someone there, and when you get visual confirmation we can share microwave IFF. Once we get this cleared up, we won't have any confusion or--" She paused. "I'm reading from the map that you're still leading the convoy to the DropShip. That's a bad idea, Corporal." "Negative on the reroute, 'Doc.' The LZ is safe. It was secured by SAFE. Just hang tight and we'll have someone confirm if you're friendly." "To hell with SAFE." Dr. Sequord's tone of voice was still level and calm, despite her choice of words. "Stay away from that LZ, get out of the clearing, get to cover. Now." "Say, 'Doc,' are you an MD or a PhD?" Gator's comm officer couldn't help but chuckle at Donovan's teasing. "Inquiring minds want to know." Dr. Sequord was growing impatient, but kept her tone as calm and as level as possible. "Look, kid, I'm trying to be professional here so could you please just shut up for a second and lis--" "No YOU shut up!" Cpl. Donovan shouted. That got a laugh out of Gator's comm guy, for some reason. What was his name again? Gator comm guy, that was good enough for Maggie. Yessiree. "I don't know how desperate you Rimmers are that you're sending kids to do your dirty work, but you can go home and lick Stephanie Amaris' big brown sandhole!" Gator Company was heading downrange to take care of those Rimworlders and that was that. She lit another cigarette, in celebration for successfully managing to bully some random Rim Worlds child soldier. The DropShip began to loom above them as they approached the big, honking eggcraft. What cloud cover they'd enjoyed for the past few hours began to fade, and the twin full moons began to shine with surprising brightness from horizon to horizon. "Dingo?" The hovercraft pickets were calling something in. "This is Rover one, we're, uh, seeing movement up on the ridges now. Requesting orders." Before Cpl. Donovan's cigarette even had a chance to hit the floor, a hundred flying plumes of tiny flames rained down from above. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Move it, people! Clear a path for the cargo!" Lt. de Souzza shouted, as he dashed past the nearest lance of Amaris 'Mechs, taking potshots at their backs as he went. "Calm down, Lt. Let's keep this clean and professional." Capt. Verrin said, as her Ostroc OSR-3Mx poured red-hot flashes of light down into an enemy Jackrabbit that got too close. She then turned on the channel for their guests. "Capt. Graber, get the rest of Gator Company to intercept those heavies heading in from the southwest; you won't be alone, Fierabras Company is just beyond the next ridge. We'll take care of the lights and mediums closing in from the east and south, and keep 'em off your back." "Much obliged, Orlando Actual. On the move." He had a slightly Hindi accent, Captain Paolo Graber. The Atrean Dragoons hit hard. While the Rimworlders were more skilled and better-equipped than the Atreans, Gator Company were still a full company of heavy 'Mechs facing a battle-weary lance. It would only be a few moments before these Rimmers would be overwhelmed, well before the rest of the Rimmer heavies moved in. "Strike Lance, secure the convoy, pronto. And try to give Dingo Company a hand." Capt. Verrin's drawl seemed to lengthen every time she had to talk and pull the trigger at the same time. A half-faded, half-cloudy stream of particle fire struck her 'Mech square in the chest. It barely scored a dent. Her own fire proved more true; her Ostroc's Star League lasers reached over half a kilometer, easily. "Roger that." Fatima replied, flatly. "Strike Lance, move out." Feathering her 'Mechs jump jets, she took off, taking a few potshots at a Catapult that tried, and failed, to lock onto her while she left. "You don't sound very chipper, Fatty." Lt. Romanov stated, matter-of-factly. A clean pair of shots from his ER PPC cleaned out nearly a ton and a half of armor from that same Catapult. Fatima didn't respond, which was a rare thing. Lt. de Souzza and Cpl. Rodriguez Fujisawa moved onward without similar comment, their Hussar and Hercules prototypes making good speed. They, too, took a few shots at the enemy heavy on their way. Fujisawa was not as good a shot as his lancemates, but his 'Mech had nearly as many guns as the three of them put together. And when they were gone, the Catapult was unlucky enough to fall into Gator Company's range. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Assault lance, cold start! 200 meters!" Sgt. Chakravarti shouted. More reds popped up on Donovan's radar. Shockwaves rocked her Guillotine as missiles and lightning poured down. Chakravarti's PPCs set an Amaris Stalker alight and found twice as many thunderbolts in return. A fresh lance of Rimworlder 'Mechs arose from behind another ridge. The lightest was a heavy, but a dangerous one. A Badger, Donovan knew. Only from the BattleROM briefings, never in person. The Dingoes were all within its kill range. And there were the assaults. A Bobcat, several Griffins, and at least one Spider, and many more harassers were barely being held back from the convoy, and a few of the trucks were already damaged or destroyed from the initial ambush. The Spider was unlucky. In the middle of its first jump towards the convoy, it found three beams of light piercing the center of its chest, one brighter than the rest. It was cored instantly. God, the ambush. One of the Griffins found a crack in its left leg opened with two lasers, lancing it apart, followed by one of six missiles. The others flew wild or hit only armor. The sixth missile, though. That one took out an actuator, and when the Griffin fell something must've misfired in the cockpit killswitch. The pilot was dust mixed with thermite smoke in an instant. It would have been more humiliating if it weren't so terrifying. A full battalion, waiting, spread out across ridges, in woods, and in gullies. Half the convoy and its escort lie dead and burning. A few precious, wasted seconds later they decided to run north. An Atlas unloaded everything at Capt. Latousakis except its long-ranged missles, while the Quickdraw's four lasers scored pockmarks in the Rimmer's armor in its death throes. The Atlas had a big head, though, and moved slowly. Two mismatched laser beams found the cockpit, bright as day. He was gone. We're going to die here. They're going to get the cargo, we're going to die, and this will all be for nothing. The Bobcat drew a bead on another of the trucks. With surprising agility, the Guillotine slid sideways into the path, just in time to catch the lightning bolt in the chest. Then the Bobcat changed targets. That's when Margaret realized she had killed three men in less than a minute. And that their friends were starting to focus on her. "Sam, take the rest of the convoy and go on without me!" Her voice was strained by panic masquerading as valor. "I can hold their attention for a minute longer!" "Let the greenhorns take the convoy up," Sgt. Chakravarti replied, "You'll only last thirty seconds with two lances still on you, even with your deadeye." He moved his badly-battered Thug to shield her, taking a full twenty-missle salvo from a distant enemy while still others let lasers fly. The survivors from the Dingoes' scout lance fought northwards, covering what remained of the convoy to meet with Gator and those so-called Marathoners. The cargo was still safe. "I'll buy you the other half." His 'Mech began to buckle at the knee; an actuator had been hit. Yet Samwise Chakravarti still stood. "Thanks, Sam." Donovan replied, and another shot from her main gun, another salvo from her 'Mech's missles saw another light turned into a metal cripple. And the pilot, dead, from a collapsed cockpit. She turned her Guillotine to face the others, closing in, while driving forward with Sam's Thug hobbling at her side, covering her left flank. A Jackrabbit fell to a solid strike from four of her medium lasers, and one of the remaining Griffins ducked away behind another ridge to escape the Thug's one good arm. The Badger maneuvered back into their sights. Or, rather, they had moved into its. The first shot from its autocannon tore a hole straight through what remained of the Thug's central glacis plate. The second, just a few seconds later, would send 'Mechshot hurtling through whatever holes in the armor they could find, if they didn't just splatter Sam in the cockpit. Time seemed to slow down for Maggie, every shot she fired hit. Every single one. But the Badger was still coming, still loading its next and undoubtedly lethal shot. She couldn't stop it. She didn't want Sam to die. She couldn't do a thing about it. Her weapons were still cycling through their refire phase. "Stand clear, Dingoes. Taking the shot." The Badger's autocannon exploded in an eruption of blue and white sparks. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In the distance, a lance came into view, all pinging friendly on radar. The visual-range IFF confirmed it, two lights, a medium, and a heavy. All darkest grey, nearly black. All 'Mechs Donovan had never seen before. A quick glance through a zoomed-in view showed their emblem to be a sword wreathed in flames and framed by laurels. Just a quick glance, though, and Maggie was brought back to the crisis around her by a particle cloud scoring another hit on her Guillotine's leg. Fatima's tone was as dry and matter-of-fact as she could muster, in the circumstances. "Nice shot, Crisp." Her prototype swerved, leapt, and juked between copses, rocks and wreckages. Not a single shot hit her, but her flashing laser cannon caught that hiding Griffin clear in a missle bin. The cook-off tore it apart quite dramatically. The prototype looked a bit like a beetle, or perhaps a hooded monk. It moved like a Spider but hit like a Wolfhound. And it was very obviously much heavier than either. "Thanks." Krispin replied. He directed his next words towards the two Dragoons limping out there in the middle of the clearing. "You two get to safety, we'll cover you." His was the bubble-faced Panther knockoff. Except it was drat quicker and had a handful of lasers to boot. "This time you'd better listen, Corporal." That was the girl that called herself Dr. Sequord, and her heavy smugness finally broke through her fragile veneer of vocal professionalism. A grudging embarassment was near about to flush Maggie's cheeks if she weren't already flush with adrenaline and sweat. "Wouldn't want to turn a pair of would-be heroes into martyrs, now." "Roger." Maggie replied, with a not entirely grateful tone. "Rodriguez, keep the conventionals off the convoy. De Souzza, keep your distance and give the big guys something to worry about. Crisp, rolling fire, after me. I'm moving up to the dance floor." Fatima had the Bobcat in her sights and began closing in. The Mojave pilot knew drat well she had a narrow margin of error with her pulse laser. Just thirty yards separated her narrow killzone and his very, very wide area of threat. Pulse lasers had horrible reach, even a snub-nose PPC could outrange one. And when she scoured off half a ton of his armor from the very edges of his 'Mech's effective range, he immediately knew something was very, very wrong. The Bobcat was moving fast enough, and with enough agility, that Maggie decided she was better off sending fire down towards the assault closing in on Sam beside her. The Rimmer Rampage was already badly damaged by the time Maggie's lasers gave it a healthy glow, but Sam had a dozen close combat missiles with its name on them and he wasn't going to let that one get away. As the two Atreans plowed through the heavy woods amidst the gunfire and the shattering, exploding trees, Maggie saw the two mediums duelling from cover to cover above. Few 'Mechs taught the Atreans fear this past week the way those damnable Bobcats did. But the beetlemonk, that thing gave the Bobcat pilot something to be scared of. It faded in and out of sight like a ghost. It moved faster, with greater precision, than many 'Mechs half its weight. A lot of it was the pilot, sure, but there was no getting around the fact that this machine was an aerial speed demon. Chaotic patterns were carved through shattered wood and dust, burned and cauterized through jets of plasma, lightning, and lasers. And with every exchange of fire Fatima's ghost came out with the advantage. One of the Bobcat's legs began to show myomer and skeleton beneath what remained of its armor plating. "Take out its leg!" Maggie shouted. "If it gets crippled the--" "The killswitch will engage and the pilot will be killed. We know, they're not allowed to be captured. These are supposed to be covert ops but once they realize we've figured out who they are they'll probably knock that nonsense off." Fatima explained with an infurating calm. Her 'Mech closed in from the air, barely evading a blast from the Bobcat's main gun. As her lasers cut a gash in another Rimmer's 'Mech across the field, Fatima's 'Mech landed violently. One leg struck ground to pivot, the other was brought around by the momentum from the jump and the sudden turn. The Bobcat's left leg flew clean off from where the armor was weakest, and as it fell the telltale snap of a cockpit implosion rang clear in their ears. Maggie had to admit, the kid knew how to fight. A glance at her radar showed that, while she was busy watching the doctor perform surgery, the rest of her lance had been cleaning house. The big brick of a heavy moved like a Dragon but hit like an Atlas, the convoy's path was clear and the cargo was well on its way to safety. And the cavalry-brick was hurtling towards the rest of his lance, who were dancing around the remaining conventional Rim Worlds 'Mechs and picking them apart at their leisure. So. They call themselves the 1st Marathon Irregulars? Maggie thought to herself. That's too drat suspicious. What idiot gave them that name? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- June 9th, 3034 The DropShip Coolspur was well on its way to meet up with a merchant JumpShip by the time the sun rose, and on board was a convoy of trucks carrying food and water, as well as a Gallant urban combat vehicle that didn't fire a single shot and whose entire ammo capacity was gutted to make room for some very special cargo. While their transport was on mission elsewhere, Orlando Company was stuck on the ground. Reports began trickling in that the New Rim Worlds Republic troops were starting to fall back, though the 1st Marathon, second battalion continued to be very, very persistent in the pursuit of salvage. "So... you're actually just a bunch of test pilots based in some lab?" Samwise asked, taking a bite out of the nearly-solid chowder in his bowl. The blanket draped over him made him look a bit like a wiry boxer, though battle-weariness couldn't hide the fact that he was too drat pretty for his job. This bothered Maggie a lot over the past year. "Yup. We were just running some field tests when the attacks started, so we decided to get some live combat results and the LC3 sort of just cut us loose! Though I guess the CO being the son of a Duke might have factored into things." Fatima replied. She was very careful to groom out her neurohelmet-hair into something properly coiffed before coming out for breakfast. "We were fighting off raids on Wisconsin and Mauripur for the past couple of weeks before we got the word that you guys needed help." She had a toyish smile and an expression that playfully managed to somehow be both proud and demure. And it could only be managed through a sufficient display of "play." "Sounds like a pretty sweet gig. You guys are pretty lucky, running around with the best gear in the entire League." Sam had a smirk halfway to a smile. "I think I'm gonna take you guys up on your offer. Maggie?" Cpl. Donovan gave a noncommital grunt in reply. Sam took another bite of his chowderchunk. ""Anyway, you guys seem to have all the best toys, right on the cutting edge like those Capellans and the Rimmers. Like the hoodie with the jumpjets? What's that 'Mech called, anyway?" "Dr. Curtiss wants to call it the Wraith." Fatima giggled. Giggled! "Honestly, I just call her Ladybug when nobody's around." She tilted her head coyly and paid for the other half of Sam's smile. Annoyed, Margaret glanced between the two of them and decided to break this nonsense up before it got out of hand. "You say you got word, but we haven't been able to send or recieve orders except by JumpShip courier for months now! How the hell'd you guys get here so fast?" Fatima gave her a knowing look, accompanied by much blanker stares from Fujiyama and de Souzza, who sat on the other side of the table. Krispin was more considerate, and actually bothered answering her question. "You can thank your SAFE liaison, and the cargo, for that. And we can thank them, in return, for giving us intel on the enemy." "And that's supposed to mean what?" Maggie asked, skeptical. "If you take us up on our very generous offer, you'll be cleared to know everything ~we do~!" Fatima replied, glancing at Sam like a kitten excited about a new toy. "And that's including Project Shoalbreaker, by the by." Was Sam honestly the only person here not bothered by her faux kitty-cat smugness? Really? She's also a good half-decade younger than him, judging by the looks of it. Maggie was at a loss. Maggie glared at her, which Fatima took as an amusing sort of challenge. "Is the kid always this way?" Maggie asked. "She's okay in small doses, I guess." Krispin shrugged. The rest of Orlando Company in earshot replied with a resounding "Meh." Maggie sipped her coffee, sighed, and shrugged as well. "Sure, I guess I'll join too. What's the worst that could happen?" (Fin) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Krispin's Falcon Hawk, Fatima's Wraith, and Maggie's Guillotine. I painted the pic before I wrote the fluff, otherwise there'd be a Thug on there, too. Runa fucked around with this message at 04:08 on Jul 13, 2012 |
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Jul 12, 2012 20:05
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Oh my loving God that is a beautiful picture.
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Jul 12, 2012 20:46
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Xarbala, that was excellent.
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Jul 12, 2012 21:08
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Geez Xarbala, way to make the rest of us look like poo poo.
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Jul 12, 2012 21:39
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Great work as always Xarbala. All that effort to make a story just to set up one very well done painting of mechs.  Keep up the good work.
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Jul 12, 2012 21:57
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Holy gently caress. Xarbala for MVP of this thread!
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Jul 12, 2012 21:58
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I take credit for the Wraith. I told him I would and now I am. I AM A MAN OF MY WORD XARBS.
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Jul 12, 2012 22:58
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But how could you possibly, Defiance Industries? The Wraith is manufactured by Curtis Militech! In all seriousness, awesome work T.G. I can't guarantee that all of that beautiful fluff will make it into the universe, but I certainly mean to take a stab at it. Also, I needed a new desktop background!
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Jul 13, 2012 01:27
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Never underestimate Defiance Industries and it's ability to pull off backroom deals.
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Jul 13, 2012 01:34
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Goonlance can't fail now, not after Xarbala did another wicked FWL mech picture! (I hope  )
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Jul 13, 2012 01:36
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PoptartsNinja posted:But how could you possibly, Defiance Industries? The Wraith is manufactured by Curtis Militech! Thanks mate, glad ya enjoyed it. And thanks to all y'all, too! And yes, DI most certainly is a man who stands by his words. You can tell my decision of 'Mech for the contest was inspired by how much Goonlance rear end has been getting kicked, recently. So, uh, try not to die, guys!
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Jul 13, 2012 02:34
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All of my backgrounds on my new computer have been of T.G. Xarbala's work. They're just too awesome to not use!
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Jul 13, 2012 04:02
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The Wraith is an abominable mech and I don't ever want to see one spoil this thread. Unless it is an OpFor mech. Preferably an ace. With jumping jack.
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Jul 13, 2012 04:42
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MadScientistWorking posted:That comes with the obvious implications that they are carrying Elementals. Not really, since I don't think there were rules for 'Mechs carrying elementals back when TR3050 first came out. It has been a long time though, so I'm not completely sure. Actually, I think all the 'Mech swarming and carriage rules came later, when Rules of Warfare came out.
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Jul 13, 2012 06:23
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Judicator65 posted:Not really, since I don't think there were rules for 'Mechs carrying elementals back when TR3050 first came out. It has been a long time though, so I'm not completely sure. Actually, I think all the 'Mech swarming and carriage rules came later, when Rules of Warfare came out. Firemoths have weird arms because they were designed to carry giant duffel bags full of Elementals in the fluff. More or less.
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Jul 13, 2012 06:33
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I think omnis come with hooks or something that BA with claws can grasp. Or maybe it was manipulators, I dunno. I only have experience with FWL so far, and half my BA has magnetic clamps. Which is awesome. My 'mechs and vees go into battle covered in Longinus squads. They are good at wrecking 'mechs, and as a bonus, work as ablative armor!
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Jul 13, 2012 06:39
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Xarbala, you are the best poster and I love you. No homo. (Ok maybe a little bit, that is a sexy looking wraith for my desktop.) Seriously though, that is awesome. Felime fucked around with this message at 07:26 on Jul 13, 2012 |
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Jul 13, 2012 07:24
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Plek posted:I think omnis come with hooks or something that BA with claws can grasp. Or maybe it was manipulators, I dunno. I only have experience with FWL so far, and half my BA has magnetic clamps. Which is awesome. My 'mechs and vees go into battle covered in Longinus squads. They are good at wrecking 'mechs, and as a bonus, work as ablative armor! The best part about the ablative armor thing is that it works both ways. I had anti-mech infantry(not elementals but just the normal kind) of an opponent's that latched onto me. I got shot, the opponent's infantry took the hit, and I alpha'd to deliberately try to overheat and shut down so I could fall over(it worked), which conveniently crushed the infantry that didn't get lasered.
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Jul 13, 2012 07:33
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Holy poo poo that painting 
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Jul 13, 2012 12:19
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T.G. Xarbala posted:Incidentally, this is why tanks never enter urban areas without heavy infantry support. Unless their commanders are absolute idiots (I'm pretty sure this happened to Russian tanks in Chechnya once, but I forget the source of the anecdote.) Grozny, New Year's Eve 1994/95. The Russians went full  , trying to just roll a bunch of tank columns right into the city center in a coup de main and got their poo poo ruined by chechnyan RPG teams firing from the buildings, scoring loads of side and top hits. End result was them losing more than 200 tanks and IFVs and suffering hundreds of casualties. They rolled in expecting something like Budapest in 1956. What they got was more like Budapest in 1944.The Russians did learn from it, though. They had infantry clear the city block by block and used shitloads of artillery and air support to systematically level any major obstacles. The whole thing became pretty ugly and there wasn't much of an intact city left by the end of it, with civilian deaths being estimated as high as 30,000. Also, with the  out of the way, that's an awesome painting.
Magni fucked around with this message at 17:12 on Jul 13, 2012 |
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Jul 13, 2012 16:52
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