All the king's mecha and all the lords' men

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Vay, May 30, 2015.

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  1. [​IMG]

    Camelot, the latest advanced space carrier, less of a warship and more a city in space with a foundry, construction bay, fully equipped hospital, spacious living, and even a full-sized mall and it is here that the champions of every lord in the kingdom will rally to fight for the crown.

    "Please surrender control to docking authority." The voice came for the tenth time.

    "Kiss my ass..." Sachie replied as her large bulky mech, covered in scorch marks, insignia, and kill marking rocketed towards the hanger bay, collision warning and alarms all over the holographic display.

    "Please surrender control to docking authority."

    With an irritated glare she muted the coms system.

    "Collision imminent. Warning... warning... warning..."

    "After all the times I've use you as a ram... yer gonna give me this?"

    It was true... Sachie did not fight for what you would call a typical lord. A warlord as a stretch, but a pirate who had bought their title was probably the most accurate, and Sachie was one of their infamous raid leaders. Striking convoys without warning, grabbing their loot, and running before help arrived. Her specialty was ramming cargo barges, ripping their holds free, literally, and then running. The also found that a hold full of cargo made a great improvised weapon.

    "Now...!" She spun her rig and fired all thrusters in reverse, leaving scorch marks on the hull if Camelot as she shot into the hanger bay, grabbing hold of the lip and cringing herself to a stop as gravity took hold and with a loud boom she landed.

    "Fuck yeah." she she giggles as she reached over to flip on the loudspeaker on the outside of her mech. "Whose bad... that's right. ME! And now that I'm here the resta ya can go home."

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    The large robot's hips thrust as she per its arms behind its head, then moon walked back to the edge of the hanger, pretended for a spit second she was going to overbalance and fall back onto the void and then pointed at a group of watched on the gantry and started dancing forwards, hands of crotch, and spinning on the ball of one foot before twerking as her cockpit opened and she grinned, turning again to move her rig to one of the bays.
     
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  2. “Sir! Sir! Captain Adalbert, Sir! There's a mech and it's dancing! A frantic young voice came over the ear piece and Drake stopped shaving for a moment, wiping the antique blade with a clean cloth. He tapped the ear piece. “Come again?” He queried, looking at himself in the mirror and then wiping the rest of the cream off with a damp cloth.

    “It left scorch marks on the ship, Sir! And it is dancing in some weird … I don't know what! Ahh! It was rude, Sir! Rude! And it wouldn't do as told!” The young man sounded absolutely beside himself and Drake fought for a second to put a face to that voice. “Lt. Brite. Calm down, I'm heading over there now. That's probably our envoy from that jumped up pirate, whatstheirface.” He grumbled. Now every Tom, Dick, and Harry could buy their way into the Elites.

    The Captain of the Camelot was Drake Adalbert, a no-nonsense sort of man with jet black hair pulled back in a ponytail and streaked with silver over the center part. Tall, broad shouldered, and at nearly forty-five, he was definitely in the prime of his life. And now? Now he was annoyed. He went straight away to the mech hanger where row after row of suits stood as mechanics tended to their every need.

    The usual bay crew for Sachie's bay didn't immediately come over, no. They hung back and waited, looking nervous and mildly annoyed. The platform didn't move to let the girl out of her mech and there was a pregnant pause as everyone waited on some sort of command.

    A young man looked like he'd be more at home behind a desk in some antiquarian library was agitatedly shifting foot to foot, holding onto a tablet and frowning angrily at the mecha. He spotted the Captain as the doors opened and gave a little hop before scurrying over. “Sir! I don't know what to do! Should we let her out? She scorched the ship! She's obnoxious!”

    “Are you planning to just leave her in there, Lt. Brite?”

    “Er...Uhm. Uh.”

    “Do be a good lad and let the little . . . woman out.”

    “Yes sir, Captain Adalbert!” Lt. Brite touched his ear comm unite and quickly issued an order to get the bay crew doing their jobs and sending up the elevator to release the woman from her mecha. “Sir? Should I issue a disciplinary warning?”

    “I don't think she gives much of a care about disciplinary warnings, Lt. Brite. She's a pirate, remember? Besides. The other envoys will be here soon. Go and welcome her on board and help her to her quarters.”

    Perhaps a pirate will shake things up a bit, yeah? They haven't realized how serious this is for us to be calling in people like her… But she seems cocky and happy. We could use some of that.

    The look on Lt. Brite's rounded face was glorious and he stared up at Drake for a good moment before stammering a 'Yes Sir!' and then jogging around the large catwalk towards the head of the mech though it didn't take much for the boy to run out of breath and soon enough he was peering down at Sachie's mech, looking nervous and paranoid as was his wont.
     
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  3. [APPROACHING SUIT. SPEED: ONE-HUNDRED-THOUSAND KLICKS. ASSAULT CLASS. CAPTAIN ADALBERT, IT'S THE BUSHIDO.]

    The warning siren sounded and the platform they all stood on started to shift, making room for another mech. This one's approach was less haphazard than Sachie's had been but in no way any less flamboyant as it rocketed into the opening and came to a screeching halt about a foot away from the inner bay doors. There it waited until the outer doors had closed and the atmosphere in the chamber had stabilized.

    "Oi." It was rather sudden, interrupting the instructions being relayed over the channel. "Just open the damn door. I have to take a leak." The voice was neutral, riding the fine line of androgyny, slipping out from between smirking lips.

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    There was an awkward pause over the channel and then the inner bay doors hissed open. Red and two shades of gray, the massive mecha strolled into the docking bay and so very casually sheathed the two swords it'd been holding. After all, it'd run into some riff-raff on the way here. And as it turned slowly and settled into the refueling station, the pilot hatch sprung open and a sturdy little redhead dropped down with feline attitude, boots clunking on the metal floor.

    Slowly, Hiko Tachibana stood back up, hands slipping out of the pockets of the loose jumpsuit she wore, unzipping it, tying the top half around her waist. She was wearing a black muscle shirt underneath and a set of dog tags on a chain. And if her voice was a gender mystery, so was her appearance. In fact, she played a convincing pretty boy, going so far as to bind her already small chest and lie about her gender from the moment she'd enlisted. As far as anyone knew, she was a man and that's how she liked it.

    "So~" she voiced with a ton of sass and even more amusement. "Which idiot is responsible for that sha~meful mark on the ship?" Golden-brown eyes swept the faces of those already assembled and the corners of her mouth curled subtly.
     
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