Mr_Grey

Can we get a waypoint on Redside to indicate where in Port Oakes for the Group Registrar?

In fact... Can there be a Registrar assigned to Grandville, too?

Happy birthday, Taal.

Looks fun!

Behold! Notorious Nack!

I did try to start TFs or have more interaction on JS. If I saw things in Vigilance that were getting too adult for that channel, I would point them JS's way. I made my attempts to revitalize things.

For me, though, it's like pulling teeth trying to get anything going on my end. My name doesn't have the same kind of pull as others do. I don't know if it's my approach or what, but people were unresponsive to my efforts.

Perhaps I asked too rarely. I used to ask for help a lot, but met with a lot of the same silence, even in "peak hours." And I've tried to have conversation, but apparently the little quips aren't entertaining anymore, or maybe I'm not the requisite amount of vulgar to get a rise out of the players and wake them from whatever has been keeping them so damn quiet. Maybe I was just asking ALWAYS at the wrong time.

I DID try, though. I DID make my attempts. I wouldn't be talking about how I felt if I believed I hadn't done something to shake things up. But, hey, I guess you guys just didn't see it, even though I would be talking at times you could. I guess I wasn't clever enough or persistent enough or skilled enough or whatever it is that folks are looking for that makes them clamor for other names.

I got depressed and was feeling sick to my stomach about it. It was seeming as if conversation would dry up simply because I started talking, so frankly, I took the hint and left. That's why I say it's not a friendly environment anymore. I used to feel privileged that I was asked to join. At the end, I just felt ignored, so I left.

It didn't help when I would offer my assistance and be treated to silence for nearly ten minutes before finally getting a message where whatever Task Force had been filled. Or whoever was filling the Task Force wouldn't say anything until after I had changed my character, my hopes raised that maybe I could do something with Jello Shooters folks again then dashed when I would announce my readiness and be met with renewed silence or a quiet apology that "Oops, I didn't see you." Maybe once or twice, I could have been more understanding, but it got to a point where I was altering my behavior to account for it. I would wait for a response and get nothing.

So, there it is. This is what led to my reaction and what I've posted thus far. I'm sorry if you feel offended by it. I kept from saying names because I wanted to keep it generalized, even when I mentioned the specific situation. I saw it as part of a disturbing trend among people I respected and admired, and still do in many ways.

In the end, though, I was exasperated and felt no choice but to throw up my hands and walk away.

You're right, that was all I saw, Sooner. I even scrolled back a ways to see what had warranted such a harsh reaction. However, I've got a few channels on the same tab, and had probably either recently logged in or had switched characters, so I missed it.

So, out of context, you came off as rude and harsh, and I misunderstood it.

So did the other, though. She thought you came out of nowhere and bit her head off. She didn't know that you remembered her or had dealt with her before. She showed up in Protector Vigilance a couple weeks ago, timidly asking for help and expecting the folks there to harp on her, too (even saying as much after being surprised when the players there started reacting rather warmly).

My biggest problem with Jello Shooters was the fact that everything suddenly went all Ghost Town in there. Aside from a few people, the conversations that could be anything from vulgar and entertaining to serious and thought provoking suddenly dried up.

I stated this in another thread, it's like we all of a sudden don't want to meet each other's metaphorical gaze anymore. Is it really so hard to just say "Hello?"

Our conversations have dried up and we only seem to look to each other for a few minutes of quiet teaming. Those teams aren't as cathartic as I would hope, either. We gather together, we engage in a strategy that has been rehearsed to the point of nauseum, but we're not doing this for any kind of conversation, oh no. Anytime you're typing is time away from focusing buffs, debuffs or damage. You're standing still if you're trying to carry on a conversation and you're hurting the bottom line!

Granted, I'm lamenting only a select few TF teams I've been on, but those were the types I could expect to get out of Jello Shooters more often than not before I left (if I was getting any help from there at all anymore). I'm sick and tired of Speed TFs. They're not social, they're not friendly, and I wonder why I even bothered showing up for a lot of them. Oftentimes, I find myself faceplanting more often than not due to the "team cohesion" that's so "prevalent" in a Speed TF.

I once saw a player get berated for asking for help in jello Shooters. She was told that maybe she should "drop by when she has more to say than just to ask for help." There wasn't really much of anything else being said in the channel at the time, and plenty of other channels with a conversational tone tend not to snap at a player when they ask for help. Heck, I met most of the people in Jello Shooters BECAUSE I was asking for help! Now, it doesn't seem so easy a place to do that anymore.

I can understand having a cadre of friends you regularly turn to for help. I can understand wanting to be a soloist. What I don't understand is cutting yourself off completely from everybody. What I don't understand is the inferred echo as I call out to what was once a friendly, welcoming and supportive channel my own "Hello." It got to a point where I half-expected somebody to go "Shut up! We're enjoying the quiet!"

If I'm online, I am down for this!

I've got a 50 Warshade or a 50 Peacebringer I could provide.

Just the last mission to that brown tunnel as opposed to the blue cave ending with the "Layer Cake" room.

From what I'm seeing of the Incarnate abilities, it looks as if it's the Developers' way to implement the mythical "classless" concept to a game that already had classes. There are summons, buffs, blasts... And none of it is archetype restricted.

I have only one character I intend to unlock everything with, but the rest looks like I can pick and choose what my characters do and do not utilize. It looks downright nifty.

*hugs Kult*

You're one of the reasons I love this server.

Brother Mauthe’s troops knew they had to hold the line at the bottleneck between the harbor and the beach. Rock formations and temple ruins made for a natural barricade to keep the ground troops from swarming over their position, and they had the position rigged to wipe out just about anybody who came through.

Unfortunately, the Arachnos Raid Leader was a ruthless operative by the name of Kaplan. The towering, cybernetic man knew there would be all sorts of nastiness on the other side of the wall, and he did what any other sadist would have done. He ordered a wave of Wolf Spiders to breach the gap.

The Wolf Spiders should have known better, but in the cult of personality that is Arachnos, all the lower-tier soldiers wanted to prove they had what it took to be the upper-tier types. Whether they were tough enough, strong enough, ruthless enough, or just simply cruel enough. Most of Arachnos’s elite shock troops would have been considered homicidal socipaths.

It didn’t help that they were led by one, the nefarious Captain Mako. The half-man, half-shark mutant casually watched the progress of the battle on the screens of his various televisions. Each screen showed him a different angle as presented by a team leader, Kaplan, or one of the various Fliers that were still hovering about and strafing the ground. Bored, he dug a claw into his teeth and started picking at the tiny bits of his last meal stuck there. He hoped this whole thing would be over soon. He wanted to go out and get some exercise, maybe hunt down his next meal, but Recluse told him he had to watch these things…

What Wolf Spiders weren’t killed by the hail of gunfire pouring through the gap were swiftly cut down by a wave of explosions from carefully-placed claymore mines. There was an unsettling silence that hovered over the defenders of the harbor as they wondered what the next assault would be.

The submersibles emerged from the water again and the hatches opened. Janus’s troops stepped out and ushered the next batch of civilians into the vessels. A man with a scar lancing down the side of his face across his eye socket made his way out of one of the submarines and stalked toward the trench coat-clad leader of the Brotherhood.

“Mister Janus,” Mauthe said without turning.

“How did you know who I was?” the leader of the smugglers asked.

“The only other kind of person who would approach me with such purpose would be an assassin,” Mauthe replied as he finally turned, “And my people would have stopped you if that were the case.”

“I just may find myself playing that role…”

Janus looked around at the situation and growled. He didn’t like charity work, but he couldn’t sit by and let these people get slaughtered.

“You’re going to owe me for this, Mauthe,” he explained, “I don’t take payments in cabbage and I’ve got plenty enough hard work in my life.”

“I figured you’d want compensation,” the other sighed, “I’m afraid that money will be a problem, and whatever resources I have are in the process of being depleted.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Janus replied as he swiftly drew his scoped pistol and blasted a shot into the foliage overhanging a rock outcropping.

The armored form of a dead Bane Spider Commando tumbled out of the cover and fell to the water below. Janus brought the scope of the gun down from his scarred eye and holstered it before turning and heading for his submersible.

“If Arachnos knew I was helping you, they would gut my organization. We’ll talk on my ship about how you’ll be repaying me.”

Mauthe nodded as the other departed and returned to his defenses. War and the two former Arachnos operatives arrived with the last wave of soldiers and civilians. That meant all other access to the region was open.

He brought his wrist up to his mouth and muttered something into the communicator there. He still had an ace in the hole, but it would take time to get going.

“We deployed countermeasures all along the route,” War explained, his breath coming out in haggard gasps, “We should have plenty of warning when they come to swarm us.”

One of Mauthe’s personal guard, the former Longbow Guardian, Brother Hand, approached from the docks. He had a worried look on his face.

“The subs are full,” he explained, “And we’ve got too many people to load into the next pair... And I don’t know if we’ll be able to survive much longer past their next push.”

“We will do what we can,” Mauthe rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “It is alright, Brother. We will see these people to safety.”

The next wave through the breach was composed entirely of Bane Spider Commandos. The machine guns belted out heavy rounds that tore them asunder, but many still got through. Shotguns and heavy pistols were utilized next and a few commandos got through to clobber the defending Brothers. The broken bodies of the deceased defenders tumbled to the dockside, their faces twisted into pained masks of futility.

Seeing the situation, Candace and Daniel left the docks to join the fray. Brother War crushed a few green crystals in his hand, releasing a green aura that wrapped about him and closed his wounds before he followed them.

Already, more commandos were scrambling to the breach. Behind them, a Flier rose into view and flew overhead, spitting energy beams at the clustered defenders and sending missiles into the ruin wall. A few of the Brothers armed with rocket launchers fired on the offending vehicle. Most of the rockets went wide, a couple struck the vehicle’s armored hull, but one struck home on one of the hover pods. The giant, armored “wasp” was able to stay aloft, but it was flying much slower now, with less maneuverability. Because of this, it wasn’t able to avoid getting blasted by the missiles fired by the Captured Dream as its engines revved up.

“Ringo!” Mauthe shouted into his wrist, “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking those Fliers out of the air!” the arsonist shouted back, “I’ve got Brick on deck and Hood on the Vulcan!”

The modified trawler pulled away from the dock, the Teflon-coated hull allowing it to glide smoothly through the water. Static arced around the vessel as its energy field was activated and the large motorized gatling gun bolted to the front swiveled as its handler refamiliarized himself with the controls.

As the ship was swinging around the coast, the gatling gun revved up and started spewing streams of heavy metal into the Bane Spiders on the beach. Brother Brick watched the devastation with grim resolution as he gripped the rail on the starboard.

One of the Fliers turned and fired a volley of energy beams at the ship. They scored against the force field protecting it and did no damage. This only prompted the Flier to launch a volley of missiles, some of which tore through the field but didn’t strike the hull. Instead, they exploded near it and shook it about.

Brother Hood turned the Vulcan to the Flier and started blazing away. The heavy rounds dented the armored hull of the vehicle and played havoc with the pilot’s targeting. A volley of missiles from one of the Dream’s rear turrets shook it to the side, but still didn’t take it down.

At this point, in desperation, the pilot made a crucial mistake. He tried to launch one of his cruise missiles, but the drone was struck repeatedly by the bullets impacting the Flier. It detonated, causing the large vessel to plummet into the water.

It didn’t sink. Brother Brick cursed as he realized it was stuck in the sand. As Hood started firing into the forces on the beach again, scattering them, he dove into the water and started swimming for the wreck.

The pilot of the fallen Flier opened a side hatch and pushed out of the vessel. He checked his mace and his pistol and tried to figure out what he would have to do to take out the assaulting boat.

The fish-like head of a green Coralax Hybrid emerged from the roiling water and the pilot blasted it in the face with his pistol. As the body fell back, a heavy, long-barrel revolver came around from behind it and fired at the dark-armored man.

Brick rolled the body of the fish man aside and fired another round at the pilot, striking his staff with the large caliber bullet and knocking it out of his hand. The pilot brought his pistol back around and they wrestled, firing rounds about them until their guns ran dry. Brick, however, didn’t need his gun to finish the pilot. Bunching the Arachnos minion’s arms up with his own, he twisted around and vaulted his opponent to the hull of the Flier. When the pilot started coughing and sputtering to catch his breath, Brick freed himself and started pummeling him with his fists.

“This is for my father! This is for my sister! And this!” Brick shouted, punctuating each sentence with a punch, “Is for your boss!”

He continued punching until he felt the pilot’s teeth give. A scaly hand grasped his ankle and he turned briefly to backhand the Coralax Hybrid trying to take advantage of his distraction and delivered one last savage strike to the defeated pilot. As he stood, his foe slumped to the sea and Brick checked the rest of his situation.

Overhead, the two remaining Fliers were firing on the Captured Dream while troops headed for the harbor. The brawler, deciding what he had to do, dove into the crashed vehicle’s open door and made for the cockpit. A few minutes later, another cruise missile erupted from the water’s surface and hurtled into the Flier directly overhead. The vessel fell and crashed into the one stuck in the water.

“Brick!” Hood shouted, then turned the Vulcan toward the remaining Flier and mashed the thumb triggers down, sending a stream of hot metal into the remaining vessel, “You son of a- WHAT YOU GOT!? WHAT! YOU! GAAAAAAAAAAAHT!?”

As the gun chambers started to overheat, the barn on the edge of the cluster of burning buildings at the top of the hill in the middle of the island suddenly exploded. Hood stopped firing and looked up to see what was causing the disturbance. He hadn’t noticed any Bane Spiders heading in that direction.

A hand grasped the edge of the bow and Brick’s soaked head came into view. Gritting his teeth, the athletic young man shook violently as he kicked off another Coralax Hybrid that tried to wrestle him into the drink. His face suddenly contorting in rage, he let go and fell into the water again, where thrashing indicated that some form of violence was being committed just under the surface. Finally, covered in blood, Brick re-emerged, a knife blade gritted between his teeth as he growled unintelligible curses.

“I thought you were dead!” Hand shouted before firing another burst at the Flier.

“I’m a strong swimmer,” Brick growled after spitting the knife out of his mouth, “And I’m tough!”

“What do you think happened at the barn?”

Brick looked across the water and smiled. He knew what was in that barn.

“Looks like Chaingunnz is out.”

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The Freakshow have their tanks. They’re trundling, clunky things, with massive mallets or wicked claws or curved blades for arms. Then there’s Chaingunnz, who was built into an actual tank. His lower half was an old full track from a scrapped M-1 Abrams the Freakshow found near the entrance to the Rikti War Zone (back during the days when the heavy gate between Crey’s Folly and what was then known as the Rikti Crash Site was opened periodically), while the upper body was bigger, thicker and tougher than the typical Freakshow Tank.

His left arm ended in a wicked, three-fingered claw, with long, hooked blades like the Swipers. His right was another Vulcan gatling gun, much like the one mounted on the Captured Dream. Shoulder-mounted rocket launchers and a light machine gun turret mounted on the tank hull, fit in where the driver’s compartment would have been.

When Mauthe had called him, earlier, he had fired up his own fusion core, a process that took a few minutes to finish. Once his engines revved up, he let out a bellow, prompting a Wolf Spider to look into the barn to see who was there. Shouting obscenities through his viewscreen, Chaingunnz locked on and fired a shoulder missile into the offending soldier, obliterating the wall and the door, thus clearing the way for him to tear his way into the open air.

Before the smoke cleared, a volley of bullets was sprayed into the Arachnos troops heading across the beach toward the harbor. A great gray and black monstrosity rolled out of the haze and continued blazing away. Its domed head turned to the remaining Arachnos Flier before blazing away at it with the chaingun and its remaining missiles.

The Flier remained in the air, however, despite the onslaught. Raid Leader Kaplan watched the scene. The boat was heading back to the docks and his troops were divided on the course of action they should take.

“Black Four,” he growled through their communication channel, “Focus fire on the monster. We will engage the target.”

“Yes sir,” the pilot of the Flier replied and closed the distance between him and the giant Freak Tank.

A barrage of energy lances tore into Chaingunnz, blasting off scrap metal armor plating and damaging internal circuits. Inside the torso of the great machine, the wiry, emaciated body of the man that had become the monstrous cyborg dangled from tubes, chains and metal rigging. A beam scored through and punctured the man’s belly, causing the face that rested inside the domed viewport to gasp in pain.

Chaingunnz wished for the hundredth time he still had his Excelsior. He’d have been able to ignore that hit. He’d be able to choke back down the blood welling up his throat without glancing to the monitor to his right telling him he was dying.

“Figures,” he choked before telling the monitor to shut down and returned to unleashing his barrage on the Flier, “Computer! Tell me when the missiles are reloaded!”

“Missiles-” the computer replied before an explosion rocked the machine. Everything went white as two Cruise Missiles collided with the tank, one in the torso and one in the M1 hull.

Raid Leader Kaplan chuckled as he watched the machine split in two. The giant, humanoid torso collapsed to the ground and lied still as the tracked tank hull rolled for a few more feet and stopped. He wondered, briefly, how the machine had been a threat to prior Fliers before ordering pilot of Black Four to turn to strafing the harbor.

The docks defenders were unable to hold the swarm of Arachnos soldiers at bay. With each wave, more defenders fell to maces, assault rifles, energy beams and their own exploding weaponry. One of the machine gunners was blown to pieces as a Bane Spider Scout sighted on him and let loose a blast that not only erupted as a wave, but detonated the weapon’s ammunition.

Brother War, Daniel Taylor and Candace Lawrence could only slow the tide, hammering the worst clusters of Bane Spiders as the defenders fell back, bit by bit. Four Scouts broke through the ranks, hammering and blasting Brotherhood troops who got in their way. As the throng of people struggling to get into the submarines fled in terror, Brother Mauthe stepped out of their midst and drew his pistols.

The Scouts charged unerringly. He was their target, after all. They just didn’t expect him to blow them off their feet with the high-caliber weaponry. With grim determination, Mauthe put rounds into each of them. One stayed standing and was shot in the face for his resilience. The other three were executed as they tried to stand again, the last killed by a blast from the mace of one of his fellows.

Holding the mace, Mauthe looked up to see the Flier heading their way. They were lost, now.

“Regroup!” he shouted, “Fall back! Fall back! We need to focus fire!”

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When his vision cleared, Chaingunnz found he was lying on the ground. He couldn’t see through his right eye and the dome was shattered.

“Computer…” he gurgled, “Computer…”

The computer warbled out garbled nonsense to him. It felt like his entire body was on fire. Chaingunnz gingerly tested to see if he could still move his limbs. The right arm was non-responsive. The main gun, his namesake, was no longer operable; it was also, in fact, destroyed. The left arm, however, was still in operation.

He was able to get the massive torso to push itself up and looked about to see that the Flier was heading for the harbor. It was already firing lasers over the heads of the Bane Spiders, possibly blasting the docks.

With a violent roar, Chaingunnz forced the machine to drag itself across the dirt. He could feel his body being jostled around inside the wrecked torso. His lower half felt wet and slick. He figured he didn’t have much longer to go, he must have been bleeding profusely.

“Jump jets!” he hollered finally, hoping that while it was probably damaged, the computer might still be able to provide functional ability.

Miraculously, he heard the sound of engines igniting and the roar of the thrusters mounted on his back firing. The torso hurtled through the air, and Chaingunnz reached out to catch the side of the Arachnos Flier with the wicked claw of his left arm. There was a metallic crunch followed by a hideous whine and his world spun around before leaving him in darkness and pain.

Mauthe was surprised when he saw the wrecked torso of Chaingunnz crash into the assaulting Flier and drag it to the ground. With renewed vigor, he and his few remaining troops pressed their defense, unloading their weapons into the still-overwhelming force of Bane Spiders that charged them with near single-minded ferocity.

The leader of this Brotherhood figured this was the end. What was left of the civilians fled into the submersibles, leaving him and his troops behind. This was what he was meant to do. He had saved them from a dark fate at the hands of a sadistic overlord. He had helped lost souls find themselves again. As his ammunition dwindled and his fellows died around him, he figured this was how it was supposed to go.

No more delusions about trying to foment a revolution or being the lost son of the violently deposed Marchand. This was a cause far more noble. He had affected people’s lives in a meaningful way. He hoped they would be able to make it in the U.S. He hoped-

A pair of large hands grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him roughly. Before he knew what was happening, Brother War threw Mauthe into the back of the Captured Dream. Other defenders were in the trawler with him, wounded soldiers who could do nothing more in the fight. As he struggled to stand, Candace lightly landed next to him on her feet, followed by her boyfriend collapsing to the deck on the other side of Mauthe.

Brother Skrap and Brother Hand covered the ramp leading onto the boat as the last defenders who could make it crossed. The few remaining to hold the line waved the two off as Brother War hurled his war blade into the midst of the troops one last time and bolted for the shoreline. The battle was over.

“Goodbye,” Mauthe whispered as the brave souls were cut down by the heartless Arachnos troops while the ship pulled away.

Brother War leaped for the side of the Captured Dream and caught a hold of the rail. A few energy beams scored into his back, but he was still able to pull himself onboard. The vessel sailed rapidly away, moving exceptionally fast with its fusion-powered engine and Teflon-coated hull. The force field protecting the vehicle burst into static a few times as it was struck by projectiles from the Arachnos soldiers who still tried to get a few shots in, but it was over.

“Sir?” Brother Skrap asked as he knelt next to Brother Mauthe, “Are you alright?”

“We’re done,” the former leader of the group sighed as he found a more comfortable position to watch the island recede, “Arachnos has finished us.”

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“This island will make for an excellent forward operations post,” Kaplan stated as he and his entourage approached the mangled hulks that were the gigantic Freakshow Tank and the last Flier, “Plus, we’ll be able to finally take the power of these temples…”

“But the damage…” one of the Attack Leaders started to interject.

“It’s not our job to figure the research out,” Kaplan cut him off, “Lord Recluse will get the right people into position. We have succeeded in securing this location. That was the main purpose of our mission.”

“The main purpose of your mission,” a voice hissed across the communication channel, “was to inflict suffering on those insurrectionist whelps. You were to make an example of them. A slow… Painful… Vivid example…”

“I… Apologize, Captain Mako,” Raid Leader Kaplan intoned, fear finally tingeing his voice, “But we slew many… They were equipped far better than we were led to believe…”

“Relax, Kaplan,” the shark man laughed, “You did well enough. Just not well enough for me to get around to requisitioning your pickup anytime soon. See you when I see you…”

With that, the connection cut out and the Bane Spiders were left to laugh to each other. At first, their levity was nervous, their commander had just left them on the island to fend for themselves. On the other hand, he hadn’t stated in uncertain terms that they were to fear for their lives.

The Bane Spiders gathered around to swap stories about their fighting and how they felt about the foolish dregs who dared to stand against the might of Lord Recluse. They were pleased with their victory and exhilarated that the dissidents had put up more of a fight than expected. Eventually, the talk turned to how they were to return home, which led to a few improbable suggestions, such as flying or teleporting.


“I wonder how they’d feel if we swam all the way back to Grandville!” the Attack Leader laughed, which caused more boisterous reactions.

“I’m not in the mood for that,” Kaplan chuckled as he stomped toward the wreckage, “Let’s salvage the wrecks of these Fliers. Maybe we can get a working vessel going…”

He leaned into the wrecked vehicle’s open hatch to call to the pilot. As the young man replied that he was okay, just a little stuck in his crash belt, he heard something else behind him: A chuckling. Turning, Raid Leader Kaplan saw the bald, scarred and sickly head of the man who had to be Chaingunnz.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked.

“Some-something… Funny!” Chaingunnz choked out, “O-on… T.V.!”

With his last breath, he looked to his right and his head slumped. A trickle of blood leaked from his slightly parted lips and Kaplan snorted derisively. Curious, he walked up to the broken canopy and leaned inside. A flicker of light caught his eye and he turned to see that the health monitor had been turned on, indicating a flatline for Chaingunnz’s heartbeat.

“Well, that’s reassure-“ he got out before he saw what it was that the psychotic dying man had been laughing at.

Below the flatline was a warning: “Attention! Fusion Core Breach detected. Self Destruct Imminent!”

He couldn’t get the warning out before an explosion as bright as the sun incinerated him and what remained of his army.

Monday: "I've got D&D."

Wednesday: "I've got Shadowrun."

Weekends: "I'm not going to tell my family 'No, I can't help you. I've got a Hamidon Raid to attend." so I might not be around.

This past Sunday: "I actually was doing something really fun on the 13th. I acted a scene for my mother's Director's Workshop and impressed her teacher with my performance! He called me a bright light in an otherwise gloomy day! "

Jeez, that's true, isn't it... The game now is nowhere NEAR the same as it was six months ago...

There's something very disturbing and exhilerating about that at the same time.

Grey's Army: Back in Action finally continues!

Chapter 11! (Bankruptcy )

Brother Mauthe and his forces make their last stand against the Arachnos troops assaulting their island. It is not a terribly happy ending.

Brother Mauthe’s troops knew they had to hold the line at the bottleneck between the harbor and the beach. Rock formations and temple ruins made for a natural barricade to keep the ground troops from swarming over their position, and they had the position rigged to wipe out just about anybody who came through.

Unfortunately, the Arachnos Raid Leader was a ruthless operative by the name of Kaplan. The towering, cybernetic man knew there would be all sorts of nastiness on the other side of the wall, and he did what any other sadist would have done. He ordered a wave of Wolf Spiders to breach the gap.

The Wolf Spiders should have known better, but in the cult of personality that is Arachnos, all the lower-tier soldiers wanted to prove they had what it took to be the upper-tier types. Whether they were tough enough, strong enough, ruthless enough, or just simply cruel enough. Most of Arachnos’s elite shock troops would have been considered homicidal socipaths.

It didn’t help that they were led by one, the nefarious Captain Mako. The half-man, half-shark mutant casually watched the progress of the battle on the screens of his various televisions. Each screen showed him a different angle as presented by a team leader, Kaplan, or one of the various Fliers that were still hovering about and strafing the ground. Bored, he dug a claw into his teeth and started picking at the tiny bits of his last meal stuck there. He hoped this whole thing would be over soon. He wanted to go out and get some exercise, maybe hunt down his next meal, but Recluse told him he had to watch these things…

What Wolf Spiders weren’t killed by the hail of gunfire pouring through the gap were swiftly cut down by a wave of explosions from carefully-placed claymore mines. There was an unsettling silence that hovered over the defenders of the harbor as they wondered what the next assault would be.

The submersibles emerged from the water again and the hatches opened. Janus’s troops stepped out and ushered the next batch of civilians into the vessels. A man with a scar lancing down the side of his face across his eye socket made his way out of one of the submarines and stalked toward the trench coat-clad leader of the Brotherhood.

“Mister Janus,” Mauthe said without turning.

“How did you know who I was?” the leader of the smugglers asked.

“The only other kind of person who would approach me with such purpose would be an assassin,” Mauthe replied as he finally turned, “And my people would have stopped you if that were the case.”

“I just may find myself playing that role…”

Janus looked around at the situation and growled. He didn’t like charity work, but he couldn’t sit by and let these people get slaughtered.

“You’re going to owe me for this, Mauthe,” he explained, “I don’t take payments in cabbage and I’ve got plenty enough hard work in my life.”

“I figured you’d want compensation,” the other sighed, “I’m afraid that money will be a problem, and whatever resources I have are in the process of being depleted.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Janus replied as he swiftly drew his scoped pistol and blasted a shot into the foliage overhanging a rock outcropping.

The armored form of a dead Bane Spider Commando tumbled out of the cover and fell to the water below. Janus brought the scope of the gun down from his scarred eye and holstered it before turning and heading for his submersible.

“If Arachnos knew I was helping you, they would gut my organization. We’ll talk on my ship about how you’ll be repaying me.”

Mauthe nodded as the other departed and returned to his defenses. War and the two former Arachnos operatives arrived with the last wave of soldiers and civilians. That meant all other access to the region was open.

He brought his wrist up to his mouth and muttered something into the communicator there. He still had an ace in the hole, but it would take time to get going.

“We deployed countermeasures all along the route,” War explained, his breath coming out in haggard gasps, “We should have plenty of warning when they come to swarm us.”

One of Mauthe’s personal guard, the former Longbow Guardian, Brother Hand, approached from the docks. He had a worried look on his face.

“The subs are full,” he explained, “And we’ve got too many people to load into the next pair... And I don’t know if we’ll be able to survive much longer past their next push.”

“We will do what we can,” Mauthe rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “It is alright, Brother. We will see these people to safety.”

The next wave through the breach was composed entirely of Bane Spider Commandos. The machine guns belted out heavy rounds that tore them asunder, but many still got through. Shotguns and heavy pistols were utilized next and a few commandos got through to clobber the defending Brothers. The broken bodies of the deceased defenders tumbled to the dockside, their faces twisted into pained masks of futility.

Seeing the situation, Candace and Daniel left the docks to join the fray. Brother War crushed a few green crystals in his hand, releasing a green aura that wrapped about him and closed his wounds before he followed them.

Already, more commandos were scrambling to the breach. Behind them, a Flier rose into view and flew overhead, spitting energy beams at the clustered defenders and sending missiles into the ruin wall. A few of the Brothers armed with rocket launchers fired on the offending vehicle. Most of the rockets went wide, a couple struck the vehicle’s armored hull, but one struck home on one of the hover pods. The giant, armored “wasp” was able to stay aloft, but it was flying much slower now, with less maneuverability. Because of this, it wasn’t able to avoid getting blasted by the missiles fired by the Captured Dream as its engines revved up.

“Ringo!” Mauthe shouted into his wrist, “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking those Fliers out of the air!” the arsonist shouted back, “I’ve got Brick on deck and Hood on the Vulcan!”

The modified trawler pulled away from the dock, the Teflon-coated hull allowing it to glide smoothly through the water. Static arced around the vessel as its energy field was activated and the large motorized gatling gun bolted to the front swiveled as its handler refamiliarized himself with the controls.

As the ship was swinging around the coast, the gatling gun revved up and started spewing streams of heavy metal into the Bane Spiders on the beach. Brother Brick watched the devastation with grim resolution as he gripped the rail on the starboard.

One of the Fliers turned and fired a volley of energy beams at the ship. They scored against the force field protecting it and did no damage. This only prompted the Flier to launch a volley of missiles, some of which tore through the field but didn’t strike the hull. Instead, they exploded near it and shook it about.

Brother Hood turned the Vulcan to the Flier and started blazing away. The heavy rounds dented the armored hull of the vehicle and played havoc with the pilot’s targeting. A volley of missiles from one of the Dream’s rear turrets shook it to the side, but still didn’t take it down.

At this point, in desperation, the pilot made a crucial mistake. He tried to launch one of his cruise missiles, but the drone was struck repeatedly by the bullets impacting the Flier. It detonated, causing the large vessel to plummet into the water.

It didn’t sink. Brother Brick cursed as he realized it was stuck in the sand. As Hood started firing into the forces on the beach again, scattering them, he dove into the water and started swimming for the wreck.

The pilot of the fallen Flier opened a side hatch and pushed out of the vessel. He checked his mace and his pistol and tried to figure out what he would have to do to take out the assaulting boat.

The fish-like head of a green Coralax Hybrid emerged from the roiling water and the pilot blasted it in the face with his pistol. As the body fell back, a heavy, long-barrel revolver came around from behind it and fired at the dark-armored man.

Brick rolled the body of the fish man aside and fired another round at the pilot, striking his staff with the large caliber bullet and knocking it out of his hand. The pilot brought his pistol back around and they wrestled, firing rounds about them until their guns ran dry. Brick, however, didn’t need his gun to finish the pilot. Bunching the Arachnos minion’s arms up with his own, he twisted around and vaulted his opponent to the hull of the Flier. When the pilot started coughing and sputtering to catch his breath, Brick freed himself and started pummeling him with his fists.

“This is for my father! This is for my sister! And this!” Brick shouted, punctuating each sentence with a punch, “Is for your boss!”

He continued punching until he felt the pilot’s teeth give. A scaly hand grasped his ankle and he turned briefly to backhand the Coralax Hybrid trying to take advantage of his distraction and delivered one last savage strike to the defeated pilot. As he stood, his foe slumped to the sea and Brick checked the rest of his situation.

Overhead, the two remaining Fliers were firing on the Captured Dream while troops headed for the harbor. The brawler, deciding what he had to do, dove into the crashed vehicle’s open door and made for the cockpit. A few minutes later, another cruise missile erupted from the water’s surface and hurtled into the Flier directly overhead. The vessel fell and crashed into the one stuck in the water.

“Brick!” Hood shouted, then turned the Vulcan toward the remaining Flier and mashed the thumb triggers down, sending a stream of hot metal into the remaining vessel, “You son of a- WHAT YOU GOT!? WHAT! YOU! GAAAAAAAAAAAHT!?”

As the gun chambers started to overheat, the barn on the edge of the cluster of burning buildings at the top of the hill in the middle of the island suddenly exploded. Hood stopped firing and looked up to see what was causing the disturbance. He hadn’t noticed any Bane Spiders heading in that direction.

A hand grasped the edge of the bow and Brick’s soaked head came into view. Gritting his teeth, the athletic young man shook violently as he kicked off another Coralax Hybrid that tried to wrestle him into the drink. His face suddenly contorting in rage, he let go and fell into the water again, where thrashing indicated that some form of violence was being committed just under the surface. Finally, covered in blood, Brick re-emerged, a knife blade gritted between his teeth as he growled unintelligible curses.

“I thought you were dead!” Hand shouted before firing another burst at the Flier.

“I’m a strong swimmer,” Brick growled after spitting the knife out of his mouth, “And I’m tough!”

“What do you think happened at the barn?”

Brick looked across the water and smiled. He knew what was in that barn.

“Looks like Chaingunnz is out.”

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The Freakshow have their tanks. They’re trundling, clunky things, with massive mallets or wicked claws or curved blades for arms. Then there’s Chaingunnz, who was built into an actual tank. His lower half was an old full track from a scrapped M-1 Abrams the Freakshow found near the entrance to the Rikti War Zone (back during the days when the heavy gate between Crey’s Folly and what was then known as the Rikti Crash Site was opened periodically), while the upper body was bigger, thicker and tougher than the typical Freakshow Tank.

His left arm ended in a wicked, three-fingered claw, with long, hooked blades like the Swipers. His right was another Vulcan gatling gun, much like the one mounted on the Captured Dream. Shoulder-mounted rocket launchers and a light machine gun turret mounted on the tank hull, fit in where the driver’s compartment would have been.

When Mauthe had called him, earlier, he had fired up his own fusion core, a process that took a few minutes to finish. Once his engines revved up, he let out a bellow, prompting a Wolf Spider to look into the barn to see who was there. Shouting obscenities through his viewscreen, Chaingunnz locked on and fired a shoulder missile into the offending soldier, obliterating the wall and the door, thus clearing the way for him to tear his way into the open air.

Before the smoke cleared, a volley of bullets was sprayed into the Arachnos troops heading across the beach toward the harbor. A great gray and black monstrosity rolled out of the haze and continued blazing away. Its domed head turned to the remaining Arachnos Flier before blazing away at it with the chaingun and its remaining missiles.

The Flier remained in the air, however, despite the onslaught. Raid Leader Kaplan watched the scene. The boat was heading back to the docks and his troops were divided on the course of action they should take.

“Black Four,” he growled through their communication channel, “Focus fire on the monster. We will engage the target.”

“Yes sir,” the pilot of the Flier replied and closed the distance between him and the giant Freak Tank.

A barrage of energy lances tore into Chaingunnz, blasting off scrap metal armor plating and damaging internal circuits. Inside the torso of the great machine, the wiry, emaciated body of the man that had become the monstrous cyborg dangled from tubes, chains and metal rigging. A beam scored through and punctured the man’s belly, causing the face that rested inside the domed viewport to gasp in pain.

Chaingunnz wished for the hundredth time he still had his Excelsior. He’d have been able to ignore that hit. He’d be able to choke back down the blood welling up his throat without glancing to the monitor to his right telling him he was dying.

“Figures,” he choked before telling the monitor to shut down and returned to unleashing his barrage on the Flier, “Computer! Tell me when the missiles are reloaded!”

“Missiles-” the computer replied before an explosion rocked the machine. Everything went white as two Cruise Missiles collided with the tank, one in the torso and one in the M1 hull.

Raid Leader Kaplan chuckled as he watched the machine split in two. The giant, humanoid torso collapsed to the ground and lied still as the tracked tank hull rolled for a few more feet and stopped. He wondered, briefly, how the machine had been a threat to prior Fliers before ordering pilot of Black Four to turn to strafing the harbor.

The docks defenders were unable to hold the swarm of Arachnos soldiers at bay. With each wave, more defenders fell to maces, assault rifles, energy beams and their own exploding weaponry. One of the machine gunners was blown to pieces as a Bane Spider Scout sighted on him and let loose a blast that not only erupted as a wave, but detonated the weapon’s ammunition.

Brother War, Daniel Taylor and Candace Lawrence could only slow the tide, hammering the worst clusters of Bane Spiders as the defenders fell back, bit by bit. Four Scouts broke through the ranks, hammering and blasting Brotherhood troops who got in their way. As the throng of people struggling to get into the submarines fled in terror, Brother Mauthe stepped out of their midst and drew his pistols.

The Scouts charged unerringly. He was their target, after all. They just didn’t expect him to blow them off their feet with the high-caliber weaponry. With grim determination, Mauthe put rounds into each of them. One stayed standing and was shot in the face for his resilience. The other three were executed as they tried to stand again, the last killed by a blast from the mace of one of his fellows.

Holding the mace, Mauthe looked up to see the Flier heading their way. They were lost, now.

“Regroup!” he shouted, “Fall back! Fall back! We need to focus fire!”

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When his vision cleared, Chaingunnz found he was lying on the ground. He couldn’t see through his right eye and the dome was shattered.

“Computer…” he gurgled, “Computer…”

The computer warbled out garbled nonsense to him. It felt like his entire body was on fire. Chaingunnz gingerly tested to see if he could still move his limbs. The right arm was non-responsive. The main gun, his namesake, was no longer operable; it was also, in fact, destroyed. The left arm, however, was still in operation.

He was able to get the massive torso to push itself up and looked about to see that the Flier was heading for the harbor. It was already firing lasers over the heads of the Bane Spiders, possibly blasting the docks.

With a violent roar, Chaingunnz forced the machine to drag itself across the dirt. He could feel his body being jostled around inside the wrecked torso. His lower half felt wet and slick. He figured he didn’t have much longer to go, he must have been bleeding profusely.

“Jump jets!” he hollered finally, hoping that while it was probably damaged, the computer might still be able to provide functional ability.

Miraculously, he heard the sound of engines igniting and the roar of the thrusters mounted on his back firing. The torso hurtled through the air, and Chaingunnz reached out to catch the side of the Arachnos Flier with the wicked claw of his left arm. There was a metallic crunch followed by a hideous whine and his world spun around before leaving him in darkness and pain.

Mauthe was surprised when he saw the wrecked torso of Chaingunnz crash into the assaulting Flier and drag it to the ground. With renewed vigor, he and his few remaining troops pressed their defense, unloading their weapons into the still-overwhelming force of Bane Spiders that charged them with near single-minded ferocity.

The leader of this Brotherhood figured this was the end. What was left of the civilians fled into the submersibles, leaving him and his troops behind. This was what he was meant to do. He had saved them from a dark fate at the hands of a sadistic overlord. He had helped lost souls find themselves again. As his ammunition dwindled and his fellows died around him, he figured this was how it was supposed to go.

No more delusions about trying to foment a revolution or being the lost son of the violently deposed Marchand. This was a cause far more noble. He had affected people’s lives in a meaningful way. He hoped they would be able to make it in the U.S. He hoped-

A pair of large hands grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him roughly. Before he knew what was happening, Brother War threw Mauthe into the back of the Captured Dream. Other defenders were in the trawler with him, wounded soldiers who could do nothing more in the fight. As he struggled to stand, Candace lightly landed next to him on her feet, followed by her boyfriend collapsing to the deck on the other side of Mauthe.

Brother Skrap and Brother Hand covered the ramp leading onto the boat as the last defenders who could make it crossed. The few remaining to hold the line waved the two off as Brother War hurled his war blade into the midst of the troops one last time and bolted for the shoreline. The battle was over.

“Goodbye,” Mauthe whispered as the brave souls were cut down by the heartless Arachnos troops while the ship pulled away.

Brother War leaped for the side of the Captured Dream and caught a hold of the rail. A few energy beams scored into his back, but he was still able to pull himself onboard. The vessel sailed rapidly away, moving exceptionally fast with its fusion-powered engine and Teflon-coated hull. The force field protecting the vehicle burst into static a few times as it was struck by projectiles from the Arachnos soldiers who still tried to get a few shots in, but it was over.

“Sir?” Brother Skrap asked as he knelt next to Brother Mauthe, “Are you alright?”

“We’re done,” the former leader of the group sighed as he found a more comfortable position to watch the island recede, “Arachnos has finished us.”

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“This island will make for an excellent forward operations post,” Kaplan stated as he and his entourage approached the mangled hulks that were the gigantic Freakshow Tank and the last Flier, “Plus, we’ll be able to finally take the power of these temples…”

“But the damage…” one of the Attack Leaders started to interject.

“It’s not our job to figure the research out,” Kaplan cut him off, “Lord Recluse will get the right people into position. We have succeeded in securing this location. That was the main purpose of our mission.”

“The main purpose of your mission,” a voice hissed across the communication channel, “was to inflict suffering on those insurrectionist whelps. You were to make an example of them. A slow… Painful… Vivid example…”

“I… Apologize, Captain Mako,” Raid Leader Kaplan intoned, fear finally tingeing his voice, “But we slew many… They were equipped far better than we were led to believe…”

“Relax, Kaplan,” the shark man laughed, “You did well enough. Just not well enough for me to get around to requisitioning your pickup anytime soon. See you when I see you…”

With that, the connection cut out and the Bane Spiders were left to laugh to each other. At first, their levity was nervous, their commander had just left them on the island to fend for themselves. On the other hand, he hadn’t stated in uncertain terms that they were to fear for their lives.

The Bane Spiders gathered around to swap stories about their fighting and how they felt about the foolish dregs who dared to stand against the might of Lord Recluse. They were pleased with their victory and exhilarated that the dissidents had put up more of a fight than expected. Eventually, the talk turned to how they were to return home, which led to a few improbable suggestions, such as flying or teleporting.


“I wonder how they’d feel if we swam all the way back to Grandville!” the Attack Leader laughed, which caused more boisterous reactions.

“I’m not in the mood for that,” Kaplan chuckled as he stomped toward the wreckage, “Let’s salvage the wrecks of these Fliers. Maybe we can get a working vessel going…”

He leaned into the wrecked vehicle’s open hatch to call to the pilot. As the young man replied that he was okay, just a little stuck in his crash belt, he heard something else behind him: A chuckling. Turning, Raid Leader Kaplan saw the bald, scarred and sickly head of the man who had to be Chaingunnz.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked.

“Some-something… Funny!” Chaingunnz choked out, “O-on… T.V.!”

With his last breath, he looked to his right and his head slumped. A trickle of blood leaked from his slightly parted lips and Kaplan snorted derisively. Curious, he walked up to the broken canopy and leaned inside. A flicker of light caught his eye and he turned to see that the health monitor had been turned on, indicating a flatline for Chaingunnz’s heartbeat.

“Well, that’s reassure-“ he got out before he saw what it was that the psychotic dying man had been laughing at.

Below the flatline was a warning: “Attention! Fusion Core Breach detected. Self Destruct Imminent!”

He couldn’t get the warning out before an explosion as bright as the sun incinerated him and what remained of his army.

Yay!

*hugs all around*

It'll be good to know we're all finally a big family!

Hamidon in the underground...

Underground Praetoria? Something's odd about that...

It's like there's a shift from "Stay the Hell away from us!" to "Oh crap! What's that crawling under your city? Do you need help? We'll help! Seriously! Hold on, we'll get you out of this mess!"

Now, if it's Hamidon underneath Paragon and the Rogue Isles, that would make for more basic story. It would also further explain why there's one in the Hive and one in the Abyss.

Just finished reading.

Nicely done, Golden Girl.

My critique? Do this more often. It's nice to see the character of your character.

Nuking Galaxy City shouldn't be an option because of a population difference. It should be an option based on some kind of storyline scenario.

Arguing that it should be done is on par with arguing that Servers should be merged because some of them have lower populations. Thus far, that hasn't worked.

Now, when it comes to wrecking (or irrevocably altering) a zone, Atlas Park remains the chief choice simply because of its iconic nature in the face of storyline (so much official stuff is cycled through there) and the playerbase (as evidenced by screenshots provided by Warden de dios). If something were to happen to Atlas Park, I daresay it would tug more than a few heartstrings.

Galaxy City doesn't have as much happening in it, though, to cause much of a reaction. No costume contests, no market, no Architect. Galaxy City is almost as forgotten as Skyway City with all that occurs as far as player events and concern go.

I'm at the point now where all I really have are high-level characters. I don't have enough space on my server to start any new characters (which sucks, since new powersets keep coming out that I'd like to try).