RP: OIF Atuan III [OIF Atuan III] Episode 1: On the Edge

"That'll make ya think twice," Lucien grinned with a wicked as he watched his target float into space, incapacitated and destroyed. It was a just revenge because his team, his crew, one of the few things he could call another family in this world were being attacked too. Just to add fuel to that fire, they were filthy pirates too, using a design he'd bested on a far flung planet.

A call for help from Nora, the newest member of the family, and Lucien was thrusting sword first right at one of the Satyrs, the one that'd moved to assist their other foul companion. Channelling the thirst for vicotry of a monster hunter of ancient yore with naught but his blade and conviction against greater foes in scale and power, he wanted to make his blade hit the Satyr true and cleave it and drive a wedge between them.

Rather than Taela's roaring of rage over the communications, Lucien just let low purr of rage vibrate in his throat and into his mouth as he made contact.

Viktoria's Chain straight sung home, and luckily Victoria was partially right; while not as obtrusive as the original's powerplant, the Aries' generator was still much more exposed than the Gekido's was, and while a harder target than it could have been, it proved easy enough for Blitzkrieg to sever, rendering the enemy frame entirely immobile and helpless. While this gave Viktoria plenty of time to react, there was still quite a distance between her and Nora, and there were still two more Satyr units to deal with.

One of them was, however, already in combat with Taela and the White-suited pilot. The white pilot managed to parry his enemy's attack with ease, however he hadn't counted on his teammates' anger- and found his and his enemy's shields peppered with wild fire as Taela took out years of held back rage on her enemy, whom was very close to her ally.
"Holy shit, this lady can't aim for dicks!" the Satyr pilot commented, as he boosted in an opposite direction to try and get away from the ridiculous spray of fire from the neko-piloted Gekido.

Mark, on the other hand, was rewarded for his patience, in stark contrast to that of his pilot. His missile went uncermoniously and muchly unwanted up the rear of his target, causing a chain reaction of explosions which in turn caused some of the machine's thrusters to start belching black clouds of dense smoke instead of the thrust giving propellant that they were supposed to, causing it to spin wildly out of control.

Nora waited for the sickly sounds of crunching, scraping alloy that would surely come from the collision of her frame with the enemy Satyr's blade, but it never came, instead she got a collision warning; but not from the enemy, rather, from Lucien's frame coming incredibly close and interposing itself between her and the one trying to kill her. In a stroke of luck Lucien managed to catch the Satyr off-guard, parrying its blow before the speedy, maneuverable mcha blasted off in another direction to avoid backlash from the valiant Nepleslian.

"Th-Thanks, Lucien!" Nora called to the bearded scotsman, blushing a little bit in embarrassment as well as a little bit of sudden fondness for her fellow pilot.

Viktoria watched her cockpit as more and more systems were slowly getting back up. Her shields were still down, or rather preparing to reacharge, but that would take too long. Still there was no need for her to charge blindly at the enemy as the abwehran still had a big gun. With a grin on her face, Viki kicked of the enemy she just finished off away from her. She wanted it to not be in the way as she put her chain-straight back to her side and grabbed her 300mm railgun shotgun that waited patiently on her back.

With that she set herself so she was as much stable as possible. There was a bit of distance, but this should not be a too much trouble for her gun. Still Nora and Lucien were outnumbered and Viki aimed at the enemy. She waited for the right moment to not risk hitting an ally and to possible catch one of the Satyrs off guard. She aimed well and when the time was right she pulled the trigger.

"Alright you son of a bitch, you're using the worst possible model out of the earliest line and you think you have the GALL to take me on? I'm gonna shish-kebab you and present your head to your buddies!" Taela venomously spat, hunting down the fleeing Satyr. No shot was spared in the attempt to slay her foe, and that longsword looked awfully pointy. . .

Taela couldn't recall a time where she was calm, really. The Panick might have kicked in, but her focus was fueled mostly by rage and boosted by fury, with a dash of "fuck you" thrown in for good measure. The Satyr might have been faster, but at some point they would take a chance. Rats always did when they couldn't run anymore.

Sparks of superheated metal flew as the man that was not machine washable brought his frame about and parried the enemy's strike.

Just as he turned with the blow, bringing his autocannon to bear as the enemy hurtled on by, he almost grunted as the Angry-Neko's gauss shells began pelting his shields. 'Too close!' The show's contract stated he had to remain absolutely silent while in-character, and this was too high-tritium for him to reach for the recorder's mute button! His heart racing, the White Suited Pilot backed off, but the moment he realized the enemy frame was trying to dodge Taela's fire as well, he pursued. Accurate bursts of heavy autocannon fire chased after his target as the Fury's thrusters lit off. He had to keep the pressure on, keep the enemy off balance, push it closer to that Catgirl, but avoid getting too close himself!

"Up yo ass, beeeeeyitch!" Mark shouted in celebration, oblivious to Taela's fury-- or rather, they were co-pilots and the Neko was always mad about something. Part of the girl's charm, he would've said. If he weren't busy sucking in his lip piercing and sending another missile out, right for his spinning target's center-mass. Taela would handle the Satyr, and if she wouldn't there were always more missiles. In the meantime, it was time to apply an addage Mark's mentor had given him long ago: 'Never start something without finishing it.'

Of course, that was in reference to researching a story for broadcast journalism, but there was another addage often touted by Nepleslians when their advice doesn't quite fit with the current situation: 'Fuck it.'

Lucien wasn't going to let the Satyr get away, but something was telling him that pursuing the Satyr was going to be a lure away, to draw him away from his defensive position. Instead, he knew that pursuing via sword would be impractical, and pulled out his Frame-sized carbine and went for it, firing at the retreating Satyr.

"Ye'll die tired if ye run, ya goatlegged, wine chuggin' womaniser!" Lucien knew the old symbolism of the Satyr, apparently offspring of a forgotten god renowned for wine, women and song. The knightly swoon from Nora was reminding Lucien of the images from the books that used to be passed down by his parents of knights fighting the unknown and monstrous, sometimes for coin, for love, for country...

And mirroring Lucien's beliefs, because they liked to fight.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

Doran's gloved finger was audibly tapping against the helmet on his head as he stared up at the ensuing fight. The pilot was multitasking keeping an eye on his sensors and doing a few algorithms in his head to keep busy. Continuing his path that he started on shortly after take off, he was coasting on momentum and firing his engines just enough to correct his trajectory with hopes of remaining under the enemy radar. The plan worked, as the enemy was firmly focused elsewhere and seemingly ignorant to his position that was roughly ninety degrees perpendicular below the plane of engagement.

"Well't's just about time, eh?" Doran chimed to the two drones that were drifting alongside him. Consigned to wait until either reaching a good position, or until such time that his help was needed. "Haven't quite reached the point that Ah wanted, but Ah'm getting bored out here. Ah'd say tha' Ah've gleaned enough sensor data on these mechs, and we don't need this situation gettin' too hairy."

Giving himself just enough thrust to point his nose straight up, Doran figured that he would need to burn for at least a few seconds to close the distance with the enemy. Readying his Scimitar and dual LUCK drones for combat, he finished his prep work by double checking that his sensor data had been secured just in case. Now properly psyched up he gripped the controls of his fighter and kicked up his thrust; he was going to hit hard and fast while sending his drones in to heckle a separate target. While lacking the mass and firepower of the mechs his fellow pilots were using, Doran was confident that his highly maneuverable custom fighter would knock the opposition off balance enough for the Origin pilots to firmly take the advantage.

To the observant enemy that may be watching their own sensors, or one looking in just the right patch of space beneath their feet, they might have been able to notice the speck of light streaking towards them in the few seconds before it intercepted their position. Doran's Rover was making a bee line towards the Satyr that was being targeted by Lucien, and once he was within the spacer's equivalent of a stone's throw he opened fire on the retreating mech's undercarriage. Meanwhile his drones, HAL being set to beam while Arnold was set to pulse, were streaking in to help Taela and Whitey.