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systemcritical2015-06-19 02:34 am
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[OPEN] mod plot | sacking of olympus: harbinger descends
CHARACTERS ▶ All characters opting in
LOCATION ▶ Olympus
SUMMARY ▶ The Zion Defense Grid with civilian relief corps arrive at 1100 6/18, and Commander Gwisin gives the orders for rescue, assault, and investigation. This log is player-run and includes The REAPER simulation option (1 of 3) in the Matrix, as well as rescue activity in the Real. Kill some zombies, save some abducted babies.
WARNINGS ▶ Violence and reference to human experimentation, possibly R.
NOTES ▶ This is Part II of the Sacking of Olympus plot. Questions/investigation here, for example, what happens when you shoot compartment x of the centipede
LOCATION ▶ Olympus
SUMMARY ▶ The Zion Defense Grid with civilian relief corps arrive at 1100 6/18, and Commander Gwisin gives the orders for rescue, assault, and investigation. This log is player-run and includes The REAPER simulation option (1 of 3) in the Matrix, as well as rescue activity in the Real. Kill some zombies, save some abducted babies.
WARNINGS ▶ Violence and reference to human experimentation, possibly R.
NOTES ▶ This is Part II of the Sacking of Olympus plot. Questions/investigation here, for example, what happens when you shoot compartment x of the centipede

▶ Sacking of Olympus Part IIREAL: THE ZIONITE RESCUE OPERATION ◀Gwisin's orders are terse over the comms, two hours before the fleet makes Olympus. Make contact and communication to the best of your ability, restore comms if possible. Provide emergency care, fire control, and evacuation, before the unidentified bogey arrives at city center.
Pandemonium reigns over the populace of Olympus, civilians trapped by fires, drones, and debris. Olympus’ forces have rallied but remain thin on the ground, and the Zionite reinforcements are direly needed. Electronic communications remain down except for the Matrix pirate signal, darkening the panic and despair that have descended over the city; REAPER drones harry every human or ship that tries the ground or air.
Organizing this wide-scale rescue in the face of explosions and still-unexplained abductions comes down to ingenuity and manpower.REAL: HARBINGER DESCENDS ◀Thirteen hours after the Zion rescuers arrive in Olympus, the Harbinger does too. The cavern ceiling, dead center, cracks, crumbles, boulders the size of hovercrafts hammering down on the city center. By now, thankfully, the heart of the city is empty of civilians, but as the Machine breaks through, it's instantly clear that isn't going to be enough.Harbinger is massive. Digging mandibles up front could eat a squid whole, and have room left over to total a hovercraft; its name emblazoned on red on each segment. Scarlet optics glow against its black chassis, and drones flush out of the gasping ports in its sides the same way insects give birth in dozens. Ponderous but unmistakably powerful, the centipede-shaped robot crawls out into a dangle into empty air. Keeps dropping its head toward the city in neat, clockwork degrees, almost elegantly, to let itself down onto the rubbled cavern floor. Erratic gasps and comments sound off across the disrupted networks: the oldest of the humans, civilian or otherwise, have never seen a Machine like this in the Real.
But maybe you remember dreaming a monster like this, from another lifetime.
Pilots throughout the city gun their engines, preparing for a feat of comms-blind synchronization. The battle truly begins.MATRIX: REAPER COMBAT FREE-FOR-ALL ◀When the Harbinger arrives, the Matrix pirate signal augmentation doubles in strength. Triples. The operator reports start to come in, distorted from the REAPER signal jamming, but unmistakable. There's a simulation out there, like a bridge to-- what? The Matrix? The programming language carries unmistakable similarities to the Dowager's feed from Kitty Jones' call to the Atalanta, but there's nothing specifically like that strange, consuming pattern in the girl's neuro-output. At least, not on this level of the sim. Not yet.
Jack in, and the first thing you see is the cold belly of a spaceship. What you hear are the screams, bouncing echoes off catwalks and cold corridors. Next, figures coming in a wave of seemingly unstructured attack. In the vanguard, the Husks, screaming zombies-- sinewy, discolored flesh mingled with useless tech components and bioluminescence. Not far behind, the bulbous Scions with their single energy weapons. Bringing up the rear, the Banshees float in deceptively slow at first, only to accelerate into a dazing flash of teleportation, skeletal-faced, real death waiting in their razor hands.
One thing is certain: they're guarding something, though where in the recesses of this ship, the operator must largely guess.
idk i'm makin things up
The woman with the lightning rifle is soot-smeared, some of it intentionally dragged around her eyes by the look of it, sinking them deep into their sockets. It makes it difficult to tell how old she is. She's dirty and torn up and bleeding like everyone else, but her expression is an impassive contrast to Horse's shouts, fixed in concentration as she waits for a recharge and then blasts the next drone the second the gun is ready.
The third comes before she can muster up another bolt, and she puts down the rifle and draws an actual sword off her back, jabbing the blade up into sensors, hacking at twitching, spidering legs. It's completely insane, but she looks more comfortable with that hilt in her hand than the rifle, still recharging. ]
no subject
zero robots for Horse, who's squatting behind some brick and breathing dust and growing annoyed, in the intervening seconds, that all these robot sounds are happening but there is no telltale skitter of red optic-lights to guide her shot. A brief moment later, the top of the Zionite's head pops up from behind the broken wall, her brows furrowed, dust gathered in pale relief atop the round roof of her scalp. She's been tired for hours, but she's only started to feel it now, an intrusive burn and tingle behind her eyes, in her arms.]
Bee--eetch, what is this, nap time? [she mutters to herself, partly, but mostly to the tardy robots. And then she sees Lexa. Finds the woman standing out amid the smoke, backlit, past the sparking chassis of one fallen bot. In a moment, Horse hauls herself up into standing, lightning rifle braced on her ribs. The next arc of searing light rockets twenty feet over Lexa's head, catching the grasping machine that swoops down for the swordswoman, clearly to exploit her preoccupation with its equally grabby fellow on the ground. The overhead bot loses power. Starts to fall.
And Horse doesn't know that Lexa is a pirate, so she yells,] FALL BACK.