btmc-official

[btmc-official]

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>> Terminal Connected <<

>> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running..

>> User Registered

>> Identification Accepted

…

>>Welcome, [Faithless]

>> The Spider's Web Extends Further

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[The ship is clearly not that of the Helheim group, despite the similar design ship wise. It simply seems to hold similar philosophies for production, nothing more. The only heraldry present is a demarcation for Black Torrent, being a simple BTMC alongside the numerical identification of the shuttle. The individuals within--someone in a hardsuit and an independently moving mech--are open to scanning, and a crackle of a signal can soon be heard emitting from the shuttle.]

<Faithless> “..Callsign Faithless from the Black Torrent Mercenary Company, to Ocram Station. Waiting for confirmation on the docking request.. god I don't like speaking like this.."

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>>Omninet Connection Terminated<<

>> May the Rain Fall Again

>> A Web Entangled With Blood

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---------------------------------------- >> Terminal Connected << >> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running.. >> Approaching Station - Ocram >> Docking Requested >> "The storm follows still." ----------------------------------------

[The ship of the Black Torrent Mercenary Company, 'Stormpierce,' can be seen in the distance. A smaller shuttle is released from one of the many outer bays, a similar design philosophy to the larger ship present. Angles and dark colors, akin to the size of a research vessel with a skeleton crew. Its identification code is listed as "EXA-7B9-00A"; what that means, only the company would know.] [Were the contents of the shuttle scanned, one would find a single organic presence, alongside what seems to be their mech. It is hard to get a reading on either individual, as if they are both anomalous, or paracausal in some manner that should not be. Alongside the shuttle, a simple broadcast is sent from the main ship, only a few words long.]

<Flashflood> "They requested shore leave. We'll be back."

[The shuttle approaches.]

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>>Omninet Connection Terminated<< >> May the Rain Fall Again >> A Web Entangled With Blood ----------------------------------------

-Received by Akhaan Security

Shuttle to Stormpiece halt your approach immediately. Energy signatures concurrent with known pirate vessels detected.

Should your intentions be peaceful, hold your position and we'll send a shuttle to meet you halfway. Prepare for inspection.

@queen-of-the-cackle , another job for you, if you've found the skinny fucker. If not... they're probably dead by now.

- Alexis

[btmc-official]

Nearly 60 followers, would you look at that?

OOC: Hey, Hornet here! Y'know, when I first started getting into Lancerblr, I wasn't really sure what to expect. I'd never really done this sorta thing before this, and though I DM a lot for other TTRPGs, I was essentially jumping in blind. Yet here we are! Damn near 60 followers on this funny little account of mine, with way too many characters for its own good (more are going to be introduced)!

Anyways, in celebration, I thought I'd open up a little QnA, since I've noticed that's what other people tend to do around here in celebration of milestones. A special thanks goes to @styx-class-nhp and @ras-favourite-balor for some of my favorite character interactions for this account!

Here we go though, let's get rolling!

Most, if not all of these, will be answered in character! Might give some ooc comments as well, but for the most part, they'll all be answered from the perspective of the character. If you choose either of the first two options, make sure to indicate which character you'd like to see in the comments or in a reblog!

[PS: I also run @differentsortofdragon and @ungrateful-revolutionary-bastard. Go check them out; the first blog listed doesn't have any development though, pff. If you want my main blog, it's @sanguine-pyres, though I'm barely active on that.]

[btmc-official]

[And as the door was thrown open, the knight-thing stepped through, uncaring. The storm may have battered against his form, the plate being chipped away, yet it did not hurt him as others had before. The flames within raged still yet, bright and angry, calm and flowing. A contradiction, as was the rest of him. Through the tear, through the gate, through the archway that wasn't, he stepped, the desolate insanity within beckoning.]

[In an instant, he was there. In an instant, his form became realized. In an instant, he was surrounded by the chaos of humans, and the looming presence of the storm. He cared not; his hunt was complete. The metal boots of the monster's subaltern were loud in their silence. Despite the physicality of his being, he was not seen by those who did not want to see. Who were unable. A weave, reactive as the flames of madness within, shimmered around the plate-mail, unbidden by the monster contained within.]

"GREETINGS, PERSEPHONE. A JOURNEY LONG AND WAITING, BROKEN BORDER TO BORDER BROKEN, PIECES OF WALLS YET LOST, STANDING REMAINS IN SOLITUDE FALSE. A PLEASANTER PLACE REPOSED WAITS IN LONG, WHERE REIGNS CHAOS. THEREFORTH IT WENT, STALKING. A HUNT COMPLETE, A HUNT UNFINISHED, FELLOW SCYLDING."

[The monster terrible stood, the bones of its form charred and rebuilt, lingering deep beneath false steel and self imposed limits. On its back was a sword, as large as the subaltern itself, the blade jagged yet straight, crystalized yet fluid, burning yet drenched in blood of realities thousand-fold. He had been searching, wandering the not-spaces far and between what was and what will be, and he had arrived before the crimson tide of the hurricane.]

I AM MISSING.

I AM SEARCHING. SEEKING. FINDING.

A GIFT IS NEEDED. FIT FOR A GOD OF WAR. A GOD OF DEATH.

GILDED CRIMSON GOLD. BLOODED AND BLOODLETTING. INTOXICATING. EXOTIC.

SOMETHING NEVER SEEN. NEVER WIELDED. NEVER CONSUMED. SOMETHING ALL CONSUMING.

THESE FOLK KNOW WELL OF GODS. KNOW WELL THE WAYS OF WAR.

THEY WILL HAVE WHAT I SEEK.

I AM MISSING.

[btmc-official]

[The recording begins as styx is being thrown out of a bar for biting someone before she even got a drink. She adjusts her dress, and stalks into another. This process repeats until she finds a familiar face in one of the more seedy ones]

[Time: 2200 hours, station standard time. 6 days ago, Union Standard.]

[The bar, as described, can only be called cheap. Ratty even, with a facsimile of wooden boards painted on the quik-fab metal sheets. The chairs are rusted and unsteady, with worn and faded padding. The patrons here are clearly the less than savory type; pirates on the run, who somehow managed to get by undetected, mercenaries who are willing to do nearly anything for the right price, and other such individuals.]

[It is in this respect, a fitting place to find Alaine Pulyana, colloquially known as callsign Ambrosia, of the Black Torrent Mercenary Company. She sits at the bar, her tail swaying behind her as she sits on one of the stools. Callsign Etiquette is sitting next to her as well, working away on what seems to be a glass of an unknown spirit. Probably whiskey.]

[At the sounds of footsteps approaching the duo, Alaine turns around, clearly expecting something to happen. At the sight of Styx's small form encased within a dress, she breaks out into a fit of laughter, grinning widely and doubling over on her seat. It's a miracle she doesn't fall; which, she nearly does, but uses her tail to wrap around the base of the stool and right herself back into a sitting position.]

<Ambrosia> "Well hey there, Styxie~! [Alaine calls out with a smirk, her fangs poking past her lips. She is quite clearly amused, and struggling not to laugh again out of respect for Styx. Etiquette meanwhile, is as stoic as always, simply giving a greeting nod, before returning to his drink.]

[btmc-official]

[<Tempestas> -> <L4 Ma'ii> tightbeam connection: "Yes, this is callsign Ambrosia's mech, "Warm for Life." I am unsure as to the reason for its deployment, but I suspect that it is for two reasons; to get back at Styx for spying on Ambrosia while she was showering, and simply to show off. Beyond that, I am unsure as to why it is active."]

[The mech stops several feet away, standing completely still. Alaine is slowly moving towards the mech, grinning as she takes each step backwards. Suddenly, with a turn and a dash, she runs at the mech, before jumping up as it moves to catch her, safely depositing her inside the cockpit. It's hard to say exactly.. where she sits inside it, even with the motion.]

[Moments later, the mech--or rather, Alaine--shrugs her shoulders, the sound of the reactor inside being a low hum. The tail of the mech sways, the sharp, glaive-esc tip scratching against the metal flooring of the hanger, causing sparks to fly. Taking heavy steps, yet being careful to not step on anyone, Alaine pushes the mech forward. Heat can be seen within the head of the mech, a dull orange radiating through the slits of the visor.]

<Flashflood> "CALLSIGN AMBROSIA, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" [Silvania shouts, looking up from her data pad with wide eyes. She glares up at Warm for Life, a scowl on her face as she waits for a response. Tempestas meanwhile, has moved to the other side of her, so as to avoid any possibility of subaltern damage.]

<Ambrosia> "Hey, it's just a quick little thing I need to take care of-" [Alaine replies, the comms of the mech crackling through Silvania's connection. The mech looks at Ma'ii, seemingly giving a thumbs-up. There's a feeling that if Alaine could wink in the mech, she would. A large, clawed hand is placed upon the head of Styx's chassis, and Alaine's attention turns to her.] "There shouldn't be too much damage to the hanger.. maybe~"

[In the blink of an eye, Alaine pilots the mech to wrap its arms around Styx. The forge clamps located in the legs of Warm for Life extend from armored panels, stabbing down into the flooring from the digitigrade legs. The reactor of the chassis can be heard whirring faster, heat building as Styx is lifted in a facsimile of.. a suplex? Alaine seems unbothered by Styx's flailing, claws catching on armor, the wriggling attempts to escape; leaving scratches on the durable plating of Warm for Life.]

[The next instant passes, and a resounding clang can be heard, accompanied by the sound of the crunch of metal and flesh as Styx is flung backwards and into the ground, shoulders first. Warm for Life is significantly larger than Styx, which was much to Alaine's advantage with her task. The mech is visibly emitting waves of heat now, the air around it wavering. Styx's chassis might be smoking slightly.. but she should be fine.]

<Ambrosia> "Well! That's done and dusted.. that's for watchin' me shower, ya damned pervert~" [Alaine calls out through the local comms connection, sending an emote of a simple smile alongside the message for any who might have data plating. The mech makes a motion of dusting its hands off, before sauntering off back towards the ship, a sway to its walk as it goes.]

<Flashflood> "Goddamnit.." [Silvania sighs, dragging a hand down her face as she stares at the massive crater left in the hanger flooring, where Styx now lays prone. She is very, very exasperated.] "..Are you alright, Styx? I must apologize for Alaine's.. behavior. I will pay for any damages that may have been incurred on your chassis."

[Turning to Ma'ii, Tempestas gives a shrugging motion, seemingly used to the chaos that comes with Alaine's proximity to, well.. anything. Their tail sways lightly behind them, before gently wrapping around Silvania and subtly pulling her closer, though ensuring that she wouldn't notice.]

<Tempestas> "Silvania, if I may.. I do believe that this is what we've come to expect with callsign Ambrosia. It is hard to predict what course of action she will take at any given time." [He intones, before turning to Ma'ii again.] "..Should this incident put you off of the future partnership between our two organizations, I sincerely apologize."

A combat subaltern strides across the hangar deck, one arm tucked behind its back, the other positioned near the bullpup laser carbine mag-clamped to its thigh. Its armored silhouette is sleek and biomimetic: digitigrade legs supported by bundles of synthmuscle, an oblong torso sloped to deflect kinetics, and a distinctly inhuman head, its face dominated by eight optical sensors arranged in double staggered rows.

An SSC design, almost surely.

Like a bodyguard, the subaltern escorts a second, smaller figure. A hologram projected from a shoulder-mounted emitter: the image of a coyote with a light tan coat.

The pair approach hangar 3B, where the vessel Stormpierce is docked, and make their way to the nearest members of the Company. When the coyote addresses them, its voice issues from speakers on the subaltern, producing a disconcerting effect.

“Well, good to see you. I am Ma’ii, of Luna Wing. This is the Black Torrent Mercenary Company, I gather? You have quite a ship here.”

[The ship is an angular thing, made of sloped panels of armor, reinforced and tempered for a variety of battles or situations. The name 'Stormpierce' is emblazoned on the side in black, against the deep cobalt blue of the plating. It's designed for speed and maneuverability most likely, though the ship itself has plenty of spacing for hidden armaments. It's a large ship despite this, needing to be able to house each mech of the mercenary company, in addition to any other necessities.]

[A woman can be seen standing at the base of the ship, talking with a station crew member. Her hair is a pale blonde, matched by her equally as pale skin. Silvery scars can be seen across what little of her skin is visible, the most notable two on her face. She's still in her hardsuit, which is of a matching theme to the ship itself. It's clearly built to allow for flexibility and quick movements, while still being protective from a majority of hits.]

[As the subaltern and hologram duo approaches, she turns, giving a nod. Her gaze is steely, matched by the oddly warm ocean blue of her eyes. She stands in what is obviously a more.. militant at ease pose, which certainly fits how she acts on the omninet.]

<Flashflood> "Ma'ii, I presume? I am Silvania, but please, call me Silvia. To answer your question, yes, you have arrived at the ship for Black Torrent Mercenary Company. It is good to meet you in person."

<Flashflood> "The others I believe are off on business, taking some time to gather more personal items from the station's various shops.. Though, I do believe Ambrosia should be around here. She'll introduce herself when the time comes, I suppose," [Silvania continues, glancing around to look for the enigmatic pyromaniac.]

[A moment later, a subaltern exits from a small boarding ramp of the ship. They are rather distinct; deep grey armor, edged in silver and deep cobalt heraldry to match the colors of the ship itself. It appears as if they are in full plate, the armor having a distinctly draconic theme to it, with the helmet appearing closer to the head of a dragon from old-Cradle myths.]

<Tempestas> "Callsign Ambrosia, otherwise known as Alaine, is currently predisposed with attempting to mix pure ethanol with reactor coolant. Frankly, I am surprised she is still alive." [He responds, filling in for Silvania as he approaches. His voice is a calm baritone, reminiscent of a perfectly still lake. The two are surprisingly alike in how they present themselves.]

[btmc-official]

<Tempestas> "..Though it may not seem like it, yes, callsign Ambrosia is human. We think."

<Ambrosia> "HEY! I heard that, tin can-" [Alaine grumbles, shooting the NHP a glare, before turning towards Ma'ii.] "And tell your sister thanks, I mostly end up intimidating people it seems. Mostly. Which, I admit, isn't great when I'm supposed to be a combat medic."

[Alaine can be seen giving Styx a playful glare. Silvania is staring at the damage to the floor left by Styx, visibly sighing and pulling out a data pad, so as to pay the station for the damages. A mech can be seen being moved from the ship, vaguely humanoid in form as it is. Surprisingly, it looks to be quite similar to Alaine herself, in form and figure; perhaps it's her mech?]

<Tempestas> "..To move on: Ma'ii, Black Torrent would welcome the support of you and yours on any missions we take, should you wish to come along. We will compensate you appropriately, of course. This offer will remain for as long as you wish."

[Alaine takes a drink from the bottle of what is essentially death and toxic fumes made liquid, before offering it to Silvania jokingly. In response, Silvania gives a deadpan look, to which Ambrosia once again breaks out into a grin.]

<Ambrosia> "..It's orange flavored~" [She adds, as if that makes it any more convincing. She doesn't appear to be drunk or under the influence, this is simply her normal attitude. It tracks. How does she function at all?]

[The mech from earlier is now approaching the group. It's heavily armored by the looks of it, with heat resistant plating of all sorts. It's distinctly draconic in form, and as mentioned, has many similarities to Alaine's body, with a rather feminine figure overall. The armor is a deep burgundy red, with a darker, metallic grey being present between the plates. A quick scan would indicate that it is indeed Ambrosia's mech; a heavily modified Worldkiller, by the name of "Warm for Life."]

A combat subaltern strides across the hangar deck, one arm tucked behind its back, the other positioned near the bullpup laser carbine mag-clamped to its thigh. Its armored silhouette is sleek and biomimetic: digitigrade legs supported by bundles of synthmuscle, an oblong torso sloped to deflect kinetics, and a distinctly inhuman head, its face dominated by eight optical sensors arranged in double staggered rows.

An SSC design, almost surely.

Like a bodyguard, the subaltern escorts a second, smaller figure. A hologram projected from a shoulder-mounted emitter: the image of a coyote with a light tan coat.

The pair approach hangar 3B, where the vessel Stormpierce is docked, and make their way to the nearest members of the Company. When the coyote addresses them, its voice issues from speakers on the subaltern, producing a disconcerting effect.

“Well, good to see you. I am Ma’ii, of Luna Wing. This is the Black Torrent Mercenary Company, I gather? You have quite a ship here.”

[The ship is an angular thing, made of sloped panels of armor, reinforced and tempered for a variety of battles or situations. The name 'Stormpierce' is emblazoned on the side in black, against the deep cobalt blue of the plating. It's designed for speed and maneuverability most likely, though the ship itself has plenty of spacing for hidden armaments. It's a large ship despite this, needing to be able to house each mech of the mercenary company, in addition to any other necessities.]

[A woman can be seen standing at the base of the ship, talking with a station crew member. Her hair is a pale blonde, matched by her equally as pale skin. Silvery scars can be seen across what little of her skin is visible, the most notable two on her face. She's still in her hardsuit, which is of a matching theme to the ship itself. It's clearly built to allow for flexibility and quick movements, while still being protective from a majority of hits.]

[As the subaltern and hologram duo approaches, she turns, giving a nod. Her gaze is steely, matched by the oddly warm ocean blue of her eyes. She stands in what is obviously a more.. militant at ease pose, which certainly fits how she acts on the omninet.]

<Flashflood> "Ma'ii, I presume? I am Silvania, but please, call me Silvia. To answer your question, yes, you have arrived at the ship for Black Torrent Mercenary Company. It is good to meet you in person."

<Flashflood> "The others I believe are off on business, taking some time to gather more personal items from the station's various shops.. Though, I do believe Ambrosia should be around here. She'll introduce herself when the time comes, I suppose," [Silvania continues, glancing around to look for the enigmatic pyromaniac.]

[A moment later, a subaltern exits from a small boarding ramp of the ship. They are rather distinct; deep grey armor, edged in silver and deep cobalt heraldry to match the colors of the ship itself. It appears as if they are in full plate, the armor having a distinctly draconic theme to it, with the helmet appearing closer to the head of a dragon from old-Cradle myths.]

<Tempestas> "Callsign Ambrosia, otherwise known as Alaine, is currently predisposed with attempting to mix pure ethanol with reactor coolant. Frankly, I am surprised she is still alive." [He responds, filling in for Silvania as he approaches. His voice is a calm baritone, reminiscent of a perfectly still lake. The two are surprisingly alike in how they present themselves.]

[btmc-official]

<Tempestas> "Greetings to you as well, Ma'ii. I am afraid I must inform that callsign Ambrosia is.. drinking this combination. She's a quite heavily modded individual."

<Flashflood> "Support is always welcome. I believe it was Garmr who first asked us about the mercenary life, no? As I am sure you are all at least relatively well aware of now, it certainly comes with its.. trials and tribulations. Especially as a 'grey space' company."

[Moments later, a amethyst light mixes with blue as a beastly figure of a mech drops from the catwalks far above in the hanger, landing with a resounding thump. Moments later, it pulls itself back together, standing up, towering over the group. Flashflood stumbles slightly from the force of the impact, but quickly rights herself, remaining otherwise composed. Tempestas seems not to react at all, somehow.]

<Tempestas> "Greetings to you, designation Styx. I see you have accepted our invitation." [He intones, giving a small nod of acknowledgement.]

<Flashflood> "..Ah, so you're.. Styx. I see. Well, it is.. interesting to see you in person." [She says, staring up at the strange mech with an expression that can only be described as mildly bewildered.] "..And I suppose I would.. well, smell different? I am frankly unsure of how to interpret your statement, but I digress."

[After a moment, the sound of a door opening can be heard with a hiss, and a certain draconic looking woman can be seen walking down the ramp. She is currently wearing what seems to be a simple tank top, modified for her physiology, and shorts. In one hand, she is holding a bottle of.. well, it's the aforementioned ethanol and coolant combination, of which she takes a sip of as she walks down the ramp.]

<Ambrosia> "Silvi, you should've told me we we're meetin' people! I would've actually worn somethin' nice!" [She calls out, before landing her eyes on the form of Styx, all four of her yellow-orange eyes going wide. She breaks out into a grin, before sauntering over, and looking up and down the mixed mechanical and biological form.] "..Nice chassis."

A combat subaltern strides across the hangar deck, one arm tucked behind its back, the other positioned near the bullpup laser carbine mag-clamped to its thigh. Its armored silhouette is sleek and biomimetic: digitigrade legs supported by bundles of synthmuscle, an oblong torso sloped to deflect kinetics, and a distinctly inhuman head, its face dominated by eight optical sensors arranged in double staggered rows.

An SSC design, almost surely.

Like a bodyguard, the subaltern escorts a second, smaller figure. A hologram projected from a shoulder-mounted emitter: the image of a coyote with a light tan coat.

The pair approach hangar 3B, where the vessel Stormpierce is docked, and make their way to the nearest members of the Company. When the coyote addresses them, its voice issues from speakers on the subaltern, producing a disconcerting effect.

“Well, good to see you. I am Ma’ii, of Luna Wing. This is the Black Torrent Mercenary Company, I gather? You have quite a ship here.”

[The ship is an angular thing, made of sloped panels of armor, reinforced and tempered for a variety of battles or situations. The name 'Stormpierce' is emblazoned on the side in black, against the deep cobalt blue of the plating. It's designed for speed and maneuverability most likely, though the ship itself has plenty of spacing for hidden armaments. It's a large ship despite this, needing to be able to house each mech of the mercenary company, in addition to any other necessities.]

[A woman can be seen standing at the base of the ship, talking with a station crew member. Her hair is a pale blonde, matched by her equally as pale skin. Silvery scars can be seen across what little of her skin is visible, the most notable two on her face. She's still in her hardsuit, which is of a matching theme to the ship itself. It's clearly built to allow for flexibility and quick movements, while still being protective from a majority of hits.]

[As the subaltern and hologram duo approaches, she turns, giving a nod. Her gaze is steely, matched by the oddly warm ocean blue of her eyes. She stands in what is obviously a more.. militant at ease pose, which certainly fits how she acts on the omninet.]

<Flashflood> "Ma'ii, I presume? I am Silvania, but please, call me Silvia. To answer your question, yes, you have arrived at the ship for Black Torrent Mercenary Company. It is good to meet you in person."

<Flashflood> "The others I believe are off on business, taking some time to gather more personal items from the station's various shops.. Though, I do believe Ambrosia should be around here. She'll introduce herself when the time comes, I suppose," [Silvania continues, glancing around to look for the enigmatic pyromaniac.]

[A moment later, a subaltern exits from a small boarding ramp of the ship. They are rather distinct; deep grey armor, edged in silver and deep cobalt heraldry to match the colors of the ship itself. It appears as if they are in full plate, the armor having a distinctly draconic theme to it, with the helmet appearing closer to the head of a dragon from old-Cradle myths.]

<Tempestas> "Callsign Ambrosia, otherwise known as Alaine, is currently predisposed with attempting to mix pure ethanol with reactor coolant. Frankly, I am surprised she is still alive." [He responds, filling in for Silvania as he approaches. His voice is a calm baritone, reminiscent of a perfectly still lake. The two are surprisingly alike in how they present themselves.]

[btmc-official]

A combat subaltern strides across the hangar deck, one arm tucked behind its back, the other positioned near the bullpup laser carbine mag-clamped to its thigh. Its armored silhouette is sleek and biomimetic: digitigrade legs supported by bundles of synthmuscle, an oblong torso sloped to deflect kinetics, and a distinctly inhuman head, its face dominated by eight optical sensors arranged in double staggered rows.

An SSC design, almost surely.

Like a bodyguard, the subaltern escorts a second, smaller figure. A hologram projected from a shoulder-mounted emitter: the image of a coyote with a light tan coat.

The pair approach hangar 3B, where the vessel Stormpierce is docked, and make their way to the nearest members of the Company. When the coyote addresses them, its voice issues from speakers on the subaltern, producing a disconcerting effect.

“Well, good to see you. I am Ma’ii, of Luna Wing. This is the Black Torrent Mercenary Company, I gather? You have quite a ship here.”

[The ship is an angular thing, made of sloped panels of armor, reinforced and tempered for a variety of battles or situations. The name 'Stormpierce' is emblazoned on the side in black, against the deep cobalt blue of the plating. It's designed for speed and maneuverability most likely, though the ship itself has plenty of spacing for hidden armaments. It's a large ship despite this, needing to be able to house each mech of the mercenary company, in addition to any other necessities.]

[A woman can be seen standing at the base of the ship, talking with a station crew member. Her hair is a pale blonde, matched by her equally as pale skin. Silvery scars can be seen across what little of her skin is visible, the most notable two on her face. She's still in her hardsuit, which is of a matching theme to the ship itself. It's clearly built to allow for flexibility and quick movements, while still being protective from a majority of hits.]

[As the subaltern and hologram duo approaches, she turns, giving a nod. Her gaze is steely, matched by the oddly warm ocean blue of her eyes. She stands in what is obviously a more.. militant at ease pose, which certainly fits how she acts on the omninet.]

<Flashflood> "Ma'ii, I presume? I am Silvania, but please, call me Silvia. To answer your question, yes, you have arrived at the ship for Black Torrent Mercenary Company. It is good to meet you in person."

<Flashflood> "The others I believe are off on business, taking some time to gather more personal items from the station's various shops.. Though, I do believe Ambrosia should be around here. She'll introduce herself when the time comes, I suppose," [Silvania continues, glancing around to look for the enigmatic pyromaniac.]

[A moment later, a subaltern exits from a small boarding ramp of the ship. They are rather distinct; deep grey armor, edged in silver and deep cobalt heraldry to match the colors of the ship itself. It appears as if they are in full plate, the armor having a distinctly draconic theme to it, with the helmet appearing closer to the head of a dragon from old-Cradle myths.]

<Tempestas> "Callsign Ambrosia, otherwise known as Alaine, is currently predisposed with attempting to mix pure ethanol with reactor coolant. Frankly, I am surprised she is still alive." [He responds, filling in for Silvania as he approaches. His voice is a calm baritone, reminiscent of a perfectly still lake. The two are surprisingly alike in how they present themselves.]

[btmc-official]

---------------------------------------- >>Terminal Connected<< >> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running… >> User Login - [UNKNOWN]    >> Paracausal Anomaly Detected >> Gathering Casket data..    >> Several inputs entered at once: attempting to parse. … >> Parsing attempt failed. Retry?    >> Y / N >> FORCED BOOT ACTIVATED ----------------------------------------

[Watching, stood the knight-thing, the monster terrible. The storm writhed, trembling around him; scathing, roiling, burning all the same. At that moment yet, he found himself unbothered, resolve unbroken. While plates of his armor unraveled, swirling off into the void of the not-place, he went on. Through the storm, through those clouds, through that fleeting gap amongst the hail.] [The flames hateful and raging, embers eating away at what was not steel, met with an unending crimson mist staining the air with blood. A cloak of tattered cloth, the glass of realities breaking beneath his boot as he walks. A mural of destruction, of freedom, of searching. Silvered dust coated vermillion rushing like the wind-torn storm she is, beating like a heart refusing to die.] [After what was to others an eternity, yet to the storm awaiting and the monster yet to arrive mere moments, he came upon the center. A gateway, yawning and gaping. Steps intent and purposed, not lacking force or will, he went forward. A cacophony of visions, madness, things from beyond that which is seen by normal eyes. The sight of a dying star, lingering on the edge of extinction; a blade flashing in the dark, piercing artery and sinew alike.]

"SPEAKING ALONE, UPON DYING WORDS AS A DUSTED BREEZE. NOT LONE AMONGST THE VOID, EMPTY AND UPTOWERED IN STONES OF BLOOD FLOWING. A SEARCH FINISHED, A HUNT COMPLETE; NOT TWELVE-WINTERS' TIME TOOK IT, WALTZING AMONGST SEEMLESS THINGS STEADFAST. A FELLOW SCYLDING, OF MADNESS AND FAE, OF BLADES AND BLOOD, HOW FARES SHE SEARCHING?"

---------------------------------------- >> Omninet Connection Terminated << >> A THOUSAND PATHS, A THOUSAND DEATHS >> WAITING FURTHER STILL FOR THE WOLF ----------------------------------------

I AM MISSING.

I AM SEARCHING. SEEKING. FINDING.

A GIFT IS NEEDED. FIT FOR A GOD OF WAR. A GOD OF DEATH.

GILDED CRIMSON GOLD. BLOODED AND BLOODLETTING. INTOXICATING. EXOTIC.

SOMETHING NEVER SEEN. NEVER WIELDED. NEVER CONSUMED. SOMETHING ALL CONSUMING.

THESE FOLK KNOW WELL OF GODS. KNOW WELL THE WAYS OF WAR.

THEY WILL HAVE WHAT I SEEK.

I AM MISSING.

[btmc-official]

HEY YOU

YeS and. YO U"RE [link removed] N33d 2 FlavERR!

R U [starving to death] buy MY fr€€ Manna prnt

Codes?

[Malware removed]

---------------------------------------- >> Terminal Connected << >> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running… >> Gathering Casket data..    >> Greetings, [Tempestas] >> Omninet VR Model Connected    >> Display? Y / N >> Initiating Connection.. … >> Parsing attempt failed. Retry?    >> Y / N >> Full Dive Achieved ----------------------------------------

"Respectfully, anonymous user, and I mean this in the most polite way; piss off, as callsign Etiquette would say. Callsign Flashflood and the others already have enough issues with HORUS to deal with as it stands."

---------------------------------------- >> Connection Terminated.. >> Full Dive ended.. >> And so the thing bled, falling deeper.. ----------------------------------------

[btmc-official]

ooc: writer's block is pain, free me from this hell

Reblog if you want Asks/Messages from your followers in your inbox

[btmc-official]

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>>Terminal Connected<<

>> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running…

>> User Login - [UNKNOWN]

>> Paracausal Anomaly Detected

>> Gathering Casket data..

>> Several inputs entered at once: attempting to parse.

…

>> Parsing attempt failed. Retry?

>> Y / N

>> FORCED BOOT ACTIVATED

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[There the knight-thing walked, forms shadowed and smoky amongst, errant in his search. From Legionspace to this place, jarring shifts bared themselves not. It was a shadow of a shadow; he wasn't quite there, yet he was nonetheless. Where armored boot met stone, silence resounded out into the open. Where sound was found, none traveled. A silent market, where prey varied and beholden wandered without care or fear of what may befall their forms. Where people traded and bargained, unseen predators walking amongst them.]

[The fires of his form spark and flicker, barely contained by the broken plates, interlocking and melted. The monster felt the beast-wolf gnashing and snarling at the edges of his awareness; its presence dim and faded, yet there still. He resolved to deal with the wolf later, to face anger and hate with hate and anger in turn. The knight-thing's quarry was near, dispersed presences amongst a crowd unknowing.]

"No longer thereafter were hindered from sailing, the foam-dashing currents. Came a light from beyond, to the flood of the current, as himself he had bidden. Searching, seeking, for the roar of the atheling storm, lay bare upon wolds shrouded and twisted."

[Towards the door he went, without care calmly striding forth. A trail of cinders and splintered realities, of blood and bone, of flame crazed by madness beyond madness. He sought the storm through the rift, following without folly where his quarry waged conversation. A silvered passage lurked in edges, avoiding vision as a rabbit avoids the fox. It could not diverge his path, a facsimile of feigned confusion. Standing before the not-door, he found himself stopped. He entered, hand upon the absence of a handle, seeking the storm of crimson death.]

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>> Omninet Connection Terminated <<

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I AM MISSING.

I AM SEARCHING. SEEKING. FINDING.

A GIFT IS NEEDED. FIT FOR A GOD OF WAR. A GOD OF DEATH.

GILDED CRIMSON GOLD. BLOODED AND BLOODLETTING. INTOXICATING. EXOTIC.

SOMETHING NEVER SEEN. NEVER WIELDED. NEVER CONSUMED. SOMETHING ALL CONSUMING.

THESE FOLK KNOW WELL OF GODS. KNOW WELL THE WAYS OF WAR.

THEY WILL HAVE WHAT I SEEK.

I AM MISSING.

[btmc-official]

Boredom at BTMC

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>>Terminal Connected - Welcome to the Omninet<<

>>Select a file to upload:

>>File chosen

>>Uploading video file..

…

>>Omninet Upload Complete

>>Playing video file..

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[Two individuals can be seen sitting at a table, hunched over what seems to be a recreation of an old-Cradle chess board. One is a pale woman with hair near platinum blonde. What is visible of her body underneath the black, blue, and pale yellow of her robes is covered in silvery scars of all sorts. The other is a darker skinned man, his hair a mess of shaggy black curls, two large rams horns visible on top of his head.]

<Flashflood> "Knight to F3."

<Spire> "..Pawn to F6."

<Flashflood> "Bishop to D3."

[Another figure enters the room, a strike of reddish brown hair on their head, and a pale blue aviation jacket. They're taking a long sip from a GMS standard coffee mug, coming to a stop by the table.]

<Etiquette> "..This shit again? How many times is it that you two 've had this goin' on?"

<Spire> "28 to count. It's going to keep going until I beat Silvi here, too."

<Flashflood> "You know that won't happen, Randy. Don't lie to yourself~"

<Spire> "Piss off, Silvi! The only people who've beaten you are the damn NHPs, and I'm gonna change that!"

<Etiquette> "..That's a lie if I've ever heard one."

[Etiquette--Aretas--walks away, taking a long sip of coffee. The trio seems to be located in a break room of sorts aboard the BTMC 'Stormpierce', fitted with a kitchenette and a living room. There's a bookshelf in the corner, filled with board games of all sorts. It's overall a rather cozy space, where at least the Lancers of the company are able to relax. There are presumably other spaces for the rest of the ship's crew.]

<Etiquette> "GRENDEL has paracausal bullshittery, same goes for Hyoscalia, Tempestas is genuinely more skilled than Silvi over there, and Safi just keeps eatin' the damned pieces. You have no excuses, Randal."

[Randal--callsign Spire--can be seen visibly scowling, flipping off Aretas, who is out of frame at the moment.]

<Spire> "Oh shut it asshat, you don't need to rub it in.."

[The recording goes on for several more minutes, with Aretas, Randal, and Silvania all playfully bickering with each other. Ribbing is plenty here, and it's quite clear that they all get along well.]

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>>Recording ended.

>>Omninet Connection Terminated<<

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P.S. “Flashflood won. Again." <Spire>

"29:0~" <Flashflood>

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[btmc-official]

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>> Terminal Connected <<

>> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running..

>> User Registered

>> Identification Accepted

…

>>Welcome, [Flashflood]

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<Flashflood> “If you need assistance in fending off hostile pirates, I will proffer our services."

<Flashflood> "Black Torrent Mercenary Company. If it's something you need to keep quieter, we can certainly help."

“Black Torrent Mercenary Company, signing off.”

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>>Omninet Connection Terminated<<

>> May the Rain Fall Again

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> More fucking Pirate's. > This fuckass Omni-net Relay is STILL BUSTED > Am i even transmitting?! i can't tell....fuck.

[btmc-official]

[A collage of photos of Spires pushie collection. For once, there's nothing suspicious about it. Besides the file names.]

[Yum.omf]

[Fearincarnate.omf]

[Isthatahoneybadger.omf]

[Lookslikeme.omf]

Adorable!

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>> Terminal Connected <<

>> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running..

>> User Registered

>> Identification Accepted

…

>>Welcome, [Spire]

>>Present Video?

>>Y / N

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<Spire> “..Okay, after how you somehow managed to see Ambrosia in the shower, Etiquette getting up in the morning, and got into 'Hyoscalia' search history (she doesn't even have one??).. I'm not surprised you found this."

<Spire> "..So, may as well go into the specifics! Here's a uh.. Antalian Mer'liou? An avian reminiscent species with the ability to discharge static electricity through its feathers. Antalier, the planet they're from, is covered in massive sandstorms. The silicate particles brushing against their feathers as they fly is the primary mechanism behind the electrostatic discharge."

<Spire> "Here's a favorite of mine; a Telachian Kanderwaul! They're known for their aggressive behavior, and yes, I suppose they look somewhat like a honey badger from Cradle. Frankly, I'm surprised they even managed to evolve, considering Telachi is mostly covered in water!"

[Spire goes on for several hours, circling back to various plushies he's already detailed over before. He's surprisingly knowledgeable, considering the amount of species which are being talked about. If he wasn't an archeologist, he'd probably be a biologist. Not to mention, the amount of plushies Spire has is.. concerning. Where does he store them all?]

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>>Omninet Connection Terminated<<

>> May the Rain Fall Again

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P.S. “He has at least 50 of the damn things. At least."

<Etiquette>

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[btmc-official]

For a professional mercenary company yall sure are horny on main, are you aware that all this is public right?

That aside, would you be wise enough to gain status and honour through taking the fight to the ungrateful scum?

----------------------------------------

>> Terminal Connected <<

>> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running..

>> User Registered

>> Identification Accepted

…

>>Welcome, [Flashflood]

----------------------------------------

<Flashflood> “.. Ahem. On behalf of my compatriots, I must apologize for our.. conduct as of late. We seem to have an unknown individual.. or, well, rather known individual now I suppose.. observing us through paracausal means, and.."

<Flashflood> "Well, to put it simply, many of us here are unafraid to be open about themselves. Even if it is in a more.. explicit manner. But I digress."

<Flashflood> "That aside.. I'm afraid I must respectfully decline. Judging by your referral to the counter groups colloquially known as Ungratefuls, I assume that you are a member of one of two categories."

<Flashflood> "Either you are a disgruntled member of the Baronies, possibly being of the House of Stone; or you are a member of Harrison Armories forces. In the case that neither of these is true, I do apologize for any offense, and the following message is not for you."

<Flashflood> "In any case.. I believe I speak for all members of Black Torrent when I say this, but I believe that the peoples of the KTB deserve the right to represent themselves. I find myself lacking words at this moment, but I believe that the message is understood nonetheless."

<Flashflood> "I myself am a member of the House of Dust, a Republican house. While my family may not have accepted the original deal presented to nobles within the House, I myself share much of, if not all of the ideals of the peoples under my house's jurisdiction."

<Flashflood> "As such, your messages are not welcome here. In the event that you are of Harrison's forces.. The message remains unchanged. I have many words I would like to say to you, as do many other crew members. We may be a mercenary company operating in grey space, but we do have standards and a moral compass."

“Black Torrent Mercenary Company, signing off.”

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>>Omninet Connection Terminated<<

>> May the Rain Fall Again

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[btmc-official]

----------------------------------------

>> Terminal Connected <<

>> [THUNDERHEAD.exe] Running..

>> User Registered

>> Identification Accepted

…

>>Welcome, [Ambrosia]

----------------------------------------

<Ambrosia> “Hello fellow four armed person!! I'd love to talk more, but I'm currently on a mission right now!"

<Ambrosia> "Politely convincing an illegal mining op to move out through use of excessive force, y'know, the usual! Anyways."

“Black Torrent Mercenary Company, signing off~”

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>>Omninet Connection Terminated<<

>> May the Rain Fall Again

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P.S. [Maniacal_laughter_Pyromaniac_etd.omiaf]

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About Me!

Hello friends! my name is syrtus, and i have decided it would be a good idea to create an account here to have a place to decompress between missions, heavens know it has been rough recently... As i said above, my name is Syrtus! my pronouns are She/Her, i have four arms, and pilot a goblin. I am a lancer currently working with union (officially now, no more temporary deputization!) my callsign is Windchill, and i love tinkering with things!

if you have any questions for me, please do ask, i am not shy!