Primordial -
Baldr Besatt
The commander crossed her arms and lifted her eyes upward, contemplating briefly. "Well, I can imagine they're utilizing some scouting automatons moreso than by foot. They're not a particularly brave lot, so their machines can do the job while they hide away in some puny ship on the other side of the planet," she chuckled. Taking a step to the side she prepared to take her leave before finishing with the God Shell pilot.
"Aye, you'll be given a drop ship for your machine. Take the time you
need," she stressed, "but don't lolly-gag. When you're ready let the traffic control know. Code is 14d. They'll let you know where to go with your machine." She paused for a moment, practically glaring at Baldr, expecting a salute of some sort. She forgot who he was for a moment.
"Good luck Mr. Besatt." She left, an assistant following in tow. The woman who had initially led Baldr to the deck remained at his side, and spoke up.
"My name is Kinel. I've been instructed to keep tabs on you during your stay here. I can lead you back to your mecha's landing bay if need be. If you need anything else, do not hesitate to let me know," she bowed her head lightly.
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What's Justice
High into the atmosphere of Jhovus, practically teetering on the void of space, War Howl was given a clear line of sight to the arctic hemisphere in the north, a hazy, white-covered region marked by undulating and rugged tendrils. It was as if a moon-sized kraken had frozen over and its limbs just barely peeked out over the incessant blizzard that entombed it. They were the "frozen clouds" that the officer had spoken of earlier. Indeed, beyond their immaculate color, WarHowl could not see much else. The cover it created was thick and expansive, hiding some untold number of Skith supposedly.
As the rest of the group patrolled on, the air became colder, the air more dead, and the ground less firm. Barren Skith cities made way for tundra wilderness, and sparse intact villages made themselves apparent, curious Skith citizens occasionally peeking their heads out to witness the God Shells marching on. A mere look in their direction, however, spurred them on back into hiding within their luckily still-standing abodes, too terrified to meet the machines' gazes.
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A Back Door -
Vahan Darbinian
The woman smiled and shook her head lightly as if surprised by the question. "I would think so," she replied, "I see you take your God Shell everywhere you go? Feel unsafe or something?" She immediately opened up with a prod at his methods, though her tone conveyed familiarity more than anything. She sipped some of her drink and gazed out the window to her right.
"I would think as a hero or some-such you'd have ride, at the very least,
given to you. Can't imagine that walking around in that behemoth makes civilian strolls easy in town." She chuckled, her body jolting slightly. "In any case, I can see why they consigned you to remain here for planetary defense. That thing is
fat," she said under her breath before sipping again.
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The Hunt is On! -
Zaas Namazura
Traveler's Outpost - Planet Blue-3
Azure System
The winds carried with them a humid torrent of mist the likes of which Zaas had never experienced. It was incessant and practically deadly. His only solace was within the concrete outpost that had been established on the planet long ago, serving to offer space-faring travelers a moment of respite in their journey. Still, it seemed like one of the worst locations to make such a thing. The planet, Blue-3, was tidally locked to its host star, and as such was made of two hemispheres, one of which always faced the blazing sun beyond. It was battered by the hot light for an eternity, whilst the opposite end of the planet suffered from vacuum-like cold. The atmospheric system created an eternal storm, with hurricanes rising from the heated end and dropping its moisture along the way towards the airless cold end.
This thin band between the zones, the only 'habitable' area, was where the outpost was situated amidst a throng of jungle-like trees barely holding up in the winds. Zaas, fortunately, was warm inside and supplied with a vast reserve of (albeit tasteless) foodstuffs. He was waiting for several others. Mercenaries, in fact, much like himself, all of whom were itching to join in on the prospective 'hunt'.
Blue-3 was the hiding spot of a particular war criminal by the enigmatic name "Chroma". Zaas and the soon-to-arrive mercenaries were sent there by the ODD and offered a hefty reward...
if they could catch the culprit, that is.
