lucetilogs | you're in the jungle, baby / you gonna die

Entry tags:

you're in the jungle, baby / you gonna die

Who: All draftees
What: Fighting the Third Party... and perhaps the wildlife.
When: June 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th. (Characters will be pulled out at 11:59 of the 6th.)
Where: An as-yet unmapped by the Malnosso tropical rainforest.
Summary: Here are your details. Try to stay alive, won't you?
Rating: Anywhere from PG to R.

No cut for you. Most of you will know how this works by now; if you don't, follow the lead of the others, or perhaps look to the last draft's fighting post for ideas. Don't forget to use your handy dandy character tags. Go forth and conquer thine enemies!

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[SPARTAN-023's immediate thoughts upon watching the horde from the forest is to prime a grenade, shoot at the nearest enemies, and find another route, but Marica moves before she does.

Then the rain of high-pressure liquid arrows pierces through the battlefield. The Spartan turns her tip immediately to the front and calmly shoots the stragglers. Both the ones that were still standing, and the ones laying injured.]

Nice work.

[The Chief Petty Officer may have strength and training, but a Spartan is quick to feel envy when faced with more power.

She continues to trail behind her, resuming her duty to cover her flank. As the territory turned more uneven and higher, and the steps of works of old masonry hidden beneath vines and dirt appeared beneath the pair's feet, the load began to weight a little more over the Spartan's body, but she continues. They could not stop.]

Agh!

[In a split-second decision, SPARTAN-023 turns and shoots away the units that charge against Marica, crumbling the Shift Hunters caught by her reticule into heaps rolling down the ceremonial steps.

A snarl and a bark. One of the canines reach the Spartan.

The sudden shift of weight pushes her back, and she attempts to counteract it. Her metallic boots hold all of the weight they can, tearing down stone steps behind her as if they had been made of sand before she stops.

On front of her, an abomination of a wolf whose teeth held on to the side of her weapon, fighting with the Spartan.]

[The monster's head is cut. But before the Spartan can thank her, her visor rises, and she hurls the beast aside.]

Behind you!

[She leans forward, drawing her pistol, and fires away.]

Let's go!

[SPARTAN-023 recovers, and follows the caster.

Once at a higher ground, she turns, grabs a blue sphere from the sides of her suit. She primes it, blue smoke comes out of it, and hurls the object towards a winged fanatic in the center of his chest. It sticks to him.

There is a beep whose pitch increases, before it vanishes in a blue explosion, and turns slope and soldiers into a crater of glass. The rest of the cultists would have to dodge that section.

As for Daisy and Marica, they continue to run. Once they got off uneven ground and reached the rest of the group, they would be able to fight well.]

Why are these guys so stubborn?!

They're zealots! They're not my first!

[Really, everything going on right now? It's old hat to her. The difference is that Third Party Cultists are bigger and slower targets than buggers. One Daisy wasn't that unhappy to use.

She attaches her rifle to her back, and brings out the biggest weapon behind her. A machinegun.]

They're not inside the foliage anymore. Can shower them?

I don't see why not! Go nuts!

[The ground below her emits light. Her current thoughts resemble those of Marica concerning her machinegun. After her experience as an air elemental, Daisy would not be averse to trading to try new powers.

She rises the weapon. The cannon whirrs with a few dozen rounds fired at first, until it rotates rapidly as it angrily spews the skies with lead, biting flesh and wings on their path - sometimes tearing limbs needed to fly.

Just like Covenant Drones.

Her gun moves in a zig-zag pattern to contain them. Daisy joyfully imagines that between her machinegun and another volley of arrows, not much would be left of the group of this area.]

[Her machinegun fires a few last shots against the survivors before it stops spinning, their enemies ripped apart by both lead and water. In unison to the caster, and sensing no threats within the vicinity nor red spots on her radar, Daisy collects her breath, and leaves her weapon to rest.

Daisy turns to Marica, and does not fail to notice her exhaustion. The Spartan berates herself for not having given herself the time to learn from Nala's magic to heal her companion.]

Marica, are you alright?

[This took the caster's toll on her. She would need to rest before she was back into the field.

Depsite it all, they had won. That's enough of a reason to smile.]

Phew. It's just been a while since I've gone all-out.

Shall we?

... Same for me.

[Five months with only simulated combat was too much for a Spartan. Daisy has not reached her limit just yet, but for all it matters... She missed the time to stretch.

The feeling of being pushed to her limits. Of a challenge. Of meaning.]

Yeah.

[She packs the machinegun into her back once again. Daisy-023 nonetheless raises her rifle again to stand ready against other possible threats, because sometimes the most dangerous part of an operation where the last seconds, when one feels the most safe. But even then, no threats appear on her radar.

And after a while, they reach the camp set amidst the ruins. Columns and walls of stone used as part of the fortifications, and cannons being set up as they walked.

Daisy turns to Marica, and gives a soft bump to her shoulder. Among Spartans, it is a gesture of companionship.]

You did a great job out there.

I'm pretty sure you did most of the work, but thanks. You weren't too bad out there yourself!

Edited 2011-06-06 16:29 (UTC)

[She de-attaches the box from her armor, and with a loud thud, it hits the ground.]

Ma'am. With everything I carried? Your arrows saved us.

[Beside the fact Spartans live on teamwork. The expansion of a team's field of abilities is always welcome. Moreso if it can destroy enemies en masse.

She grabs a bottle of water from the box, and gives one to Marica. Spartans did not drink alcohol, but for them? Pure water is a privilege.]

Oh, thank you.

If that load was in your way at all, then I'd love to see you in action without it.

[She puts a pair of hands on the back of her helmet. The air hisses around her, and reveals her blonde hair and blue eyes.

Water can be easily recycled with her suit, so dehydrating is not a problem for a Spartan. It is the absence of taste and the cool that they cherished. It was purifying.

A smile, that could have turned into a chuckle.]

You should see my unit. Some of them? They'd barely know they were carrying this thing.

[Out of the reach of the barrier, and on the battlefield, it is where a Spartan shines.

If the Shift Hunters stop being a problem, she would put Valvalis and Kipinn's teaching to the test.]

A whole unit of you guys... To be honest, it's hard for me to imagine.

[There are pretty Spartans. It's just that they're a very shy bunch.]

They're all amazing. [She'd spend hours praising their abilities. Daisy does not have many hopes for that to ever happen. Otherwise, she knew of someone who would have been the first to show up. But... It is daydreaming.]

Judging by what you did, you group must be similar. [Marica can make lethal water arrows. Daisy really wants to know what else could her team do.]

In some ways, maybe. I was part of a tiny defense corps a while back, but most of us aren't trained at all. Our real fighting ability comes from powers like the ones you saw me use.

No training? [That is the foundation of every defense force. Maybe it was a candidate-limited pool with little time?] Powers aside, why not?

The powers are part of the reason, actually. It's a long story, but basically, there's a small group of people in my world who see visions and receive powers when they touch artifacts called "Chronicles". All of these people formed an army with us to fight this crazy cult...

The only thing is that not all of these people had formal training. If it weren't for our powers, I don't think our company wouldn't be nearly as effective.

A limited pool. [And limited time, by the looks of it... Not to mention Marica has fought cultists before.] I hoped fanatics would've been exclusive to my world. And to this one.

[Alas, technology does not equal social advancement.]

[Action]

realityanchor.livejournal.com - 2011-06-10 03:45 (UTC) - Expand

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you're in the jungle, baby / you gonna die

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