>>3536539
>‘Imagine how he’d react if it was Delta and Iona …’ (Counterpoint)

>>3536539
>>‘Imagine how he’d react if it was Delta and Iona …’ (Counterpoint)

>>3536539
>>‘Imagine how he’d react if it was Delta and Iona …’ (Counterpoint)

>>3536539
>>‘Imagine how he’d react if it was Delta and Iona …’ (Counterpoint)

File: Iona2.jpg (114 KB, 850x849)

114 KB JPG

‘Imagine how he’d react if it was Delta and Iona,’ you counter pointedly.

Fisher retreats slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘You’ve given it some thought, haven’t you?’

>‘Not really, no. Just …’ (Deny)
>‘Don’t tell Delta. Don’t tell Iona, for that matter.’ (Groan)
>‘On practical terms, it’d probably set all three of you for life.’ (Direct)
>Shrug
>Write-In

>>3536732
>>‘Don’t tell Delta. Don’t tell Iona, for that matter.’ (Groan)

>>3536732
>'Is it wrong that I like all three of you?'

>>3536732
>More than I should have, far less than what'd take for me to act on it. Look at how hard it was for me to be willing to try with you.

>>3536732
>>‘Don’t tell Delta. Don’t tell Iona, for that matter.’ (Groan)

>>3536732
>‘Don’t tell Delta. Don’t tell Iona, for that matter.’ (Groan)

They’re at the door anyways~

>>3536776
This

>>3536734
...

>>3536732
>>3536741
this

>>3536732
>>‘Not really, no. Just …’ (Deny)

>>3536732
>‘Don’t tell Delta. Don’t tell Iona, for that matter.’ (Groan)

>>3536734
Anon... Never say that to someone.. Just, no.

File: Instructor.jpg (63 KB, 640x639)

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Of course you’d given it thought.

With Delta pressing herself against you at every feasible opportunity for the last few years, it was almost impossible not to draw up a possible future that consisted of the former stroking a pronounced belly, proceeding to bathe in the hills of riches that would inevitably come her way. Neither was it (at least as of recent times) a hard sell to imagine Iona being anywhere against the prospect, despite the warning klaxons that sounded every time you paused to consider her in a more … mature shape and stage of development. Delta wasn’t hard on the eyes at all … and Iona had a demeanour about her that measured up with those of a richer upbringing, even if she didn’t explicitly showcased it. You have no doubt that she could at least nod, bow and engage with a Governor just fine.

Still, that the woman that you’d just confessed your affections towards in the last ten minutes had practically outed your designs on her younger siblings with a coy smirk and a pair of dancing eyes caused your own considerations to implode somewhat … and now you find yourself apprehensive, hesitant and embarrassed, defeat roiling in your nostrils as the back of your head hits the wall with a dull thud, closing your eyes. Fisher’s snickering assails your ears as you feel her skin upon your nose, blue locks tickling the tip as her smug look prompts you into a more defensive response, cheeks pink as you feel her gaze pushing you over an edge you didn’t even know existed. It’s maddening; that’s what it is.

‘Don’t tell Delta,’ you groan, running your hand over your face as she pulls away. ‘For that matter, please don’t tell Iona.’

‘Iona?’

Your groan only grows more pronounced as you bury your face in your hands, trying as hard as you can to keep the jingling bells of her laughter out of your ears.

‘Why … am I not surprised as I probably should be?’

Your cheeks are so red that you wonder if you could substitute the crimson of your mother’s dresses on their shade alone. Your thoughts, however, are very much in the present of the situation, and you hurry to throw out a competent response to the naughty nymph’s less-than-stealthy insinuations.

‘It’s not as if I’ve had a progress journal on,’ you counter, your voice with more in common with a bovine grunt than it does its usual elegant—if dirtily informal—tenure. ‘I can’t just … not consider it.’

Fisher snorts. ‘No, I suppose you can’t.’

You’re actually hurt by that.

Fisher, just as well, does at least to look a little apologetic by her rebuke.

‘I’m sorry,’ she sighs, her own cheeks pink, ‘but you’ll forgive me for imagining being at an orgy in your honour with my sisters filled up with …’

Oh.

[i[Oh.

>>3539255
>'Just because I've given it thought doesn't mean that I'm going to act on it just like that ... or at all.' (Reassure)
>'No, I suppose I can't fault you for still having pre-conceived notions, no.' (Understanding)
>'Well, they'd be set for life. My grandfather would probably be relieved ...' (Idiot)
>'No.' (Disgust)
>'Can we move on?' (Dismissive)
>Write-In

>>3539263
>'No, I suppose I can't fault you for still having preconceived notions, no.' (Understanding)

>>3539263
>>'No, I suppose I can't fault you for still having pre-conceived notions, no.' (Understanding)

>I mean Iona thought something similar and that shocked me.

>>3539263
>Given how much trouble it was for me to even consider trying with you, how much I do NOT want to be my grandfather, and the fact my father would likely kick my ass despite it being "traditional," it's the least of your concerns. I mean how many times have I shot Delta down harder than a girl shoots down Ryosuke?

>>3539263
>>'Just because I've given it thought doesn't mean that I'm going to act on it just like that ... or at all.' (Reassure)

>>3539263
>>'No, I suppose I can't fault you for still having pre-conceived notions, no.' (Understanding)

>>3539263
>>'No, I suppose I can't fault you for still having pre-conceived notions, no.' (Understanding)

>>3539263
>'No, I suppose I can't fault you for still having pre-conceived notions, no.' (Understanding)

File: Instructor Fisher.jpg (41 KB, 480x679)

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Despite the titillation that came with that train of thought, you don’t allow yourself to be distracted by it. Not that it wasn’t worth a distraction, of course, but … it just wasn’t something that you thought that you could or would move forward with, regardless of the laws or notions that allowed the leeway for such an execution, such an act. That you’d followed it that—this—far, however, tells you that there were still quite a few tendencies that remained in your vectors of approach … and that you couldn’t blame the woman before you nor the girls downstairs for having their own suspicions regarding your behaviour.

‘No,’ you concede, sighing as Fisher draws herself back, cocking an eyebrow at your diminished resistance, ‘I suppose I can’t fault you for still having pre-conceived notions of my family and I, no … not at all.’

She tenderly cups your cheek, to which you shoot a guilty smile with the meeting of your eyes.

‘You lasted this long,’ Fisher quips, amused but not at all malicious, ‘I guess there’re some habits that are hard to wholly exorcise …’

‘I believe that’s more on the virtue of being male than it is anything regarding my background,’ you offer, clutching her wrist and gazing into her eyes. ‘You’re very beautiful, after all.’

She mewls, wincing slightly. You note that she handles a direct hit as well as you do on your worse day. Unwilling to wait any longer, you decide to make a move, closing the distance between your lips and hers in an agonizing instant. Fisher’s breath tickles your face as you awkwardly lower your jaw to accommodate for her tongue, pushing off the wall to meet her ravenous motions. She takes the lead and pushes right back, a move that has you relenting as you feel the tip of her nose poking into your cheek, her hand trailing over the fabric of your tunic and gently pushing against your abdomen. You can tell that she’s experienced; the desperation and the awkwardness of the positions does little to hide the motions of well-versed intimacy, and the dominance is all the more ensuring than it is ever intimidating. A slight tug of jealousy pulls at your thoughts, wondering what lucky man had—

‘It’s my first time, too.’

Or you could just be wrong.

‘Oh.’

You could kick yourself for that response.

‘You mean you never—’

‘Not … this far, no,’ she reveals, if a little clumsily. You find your hands around her naked waste, her legs parted and her knees on the ground, touching your shin; finger and thumb press into her torso, prompting the gears and gyros of her artificial limbs to move in reaction to your own touch.

‘Huh.’

She steadies herself on your shoulders, the tell-tale drip of her arousal only serving to make your pants tighter.

‘Not even—’

‘I had a few close calls,’ she recalls … wistfully, much to your chagrin, ‘but, well … you try getting anything long-term with an eight year-old on-call or a thirteen year-old that snuck out and got lost …’

>Write-In

>>3539400
>>Write-In
"Oh well. First time for everything. Nows what matters anyways."

Move back in for the kiss.

>>3539400
>>3539408
support

>>3539400
Will support >>3539408

>>3539400
I was going to make a teach me teacher joke but ....also adding this>>3539408

>>3539408
This

File: Ehhhh.jpg (26 KB, 288x450)

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‘First time for everything,’ you joke, pressing your forehead against hers, your hands travelling up her sides and hooking against the underside of her breasts. You then proceed to draw slightly away, before moving in for another kiss, hoping that your approach isn’t as passive or as awkward as you believe it to be … and it isn’t, if the mewl of delight and the hook around your head is any indication. It’s a good thirty seconds—or thirty hours—before you part for a breath of air.

You want more.

‘Fisher …’

You push her to the floor, to which she lets out a bout of amused laughter, gazing playfully up at you, fingers intertwined at the back of your head. You frown at her sudden amusement, a surprising amount of willpower preventing you from taking her there and then. A sudden motion of her arms warns you via gears and artificial strand adjustments, pulling you closer to her visage and causing you to develop a slight panic. Had you done something wrong? Had you moved too quickly? Too slowly?

‘Morrigan.’

You stare at her, confused.

‘My name … is Morrigan.’

You allow the thought to digest.

‘Morrigan.’

Her cheeks turn pink.

‘Morrigan.’

You grope her breasts with your hands, feeling her own hands travel down your—

‘Morrigan.’

She moans as you suckle and drag your teeth against her neck, one of her hands palmed against your stomach and travelling down your pants. Your hand gropes and grabs her left breast, rolling the tip of her nipple between two digits; she arches her back in pleasure, in delight. You’re rough, inexperienced and raw; she is the same but more. You can feel her fingers rubbing the tip of your erect—

‘Morrigan?’

You freeze.

That wasn’t you.

‘Morrigan? Sis? Everything okay?’

A curse escapes your lips … and hers. You roll off her with a thud and a groan, feeling her very strong fingers rake against tight space between the fabric of your pants and your very frustrated—and impatient—manhood as she scrambles for the bed and you straighten yourself out as well as you can manage. Morrigan is fast enough to be between the sheets of her bed in a series of quick motions, leaving you lying on the floor with your knees bent and your face flushed.

Iona and Delta peek into the room not a moment later, the door hissing open and introducing the curious features of two teenagers. You raise a casual hand upward in greeting, throwing up your most diplomatic smile.

‘We heard some noise …’ Iona starts, eyeing you curiously … as Delta throws Morrigan a scrutinizing look.

‘I fell,’ you clarify, adjusting yourself and getting to your feet. ‘Bumped my foot against the dresser …’

‘Oh,’ Iona replies, as if satisfied. ‘Forgive us for our intrusion, then. Would you like something to drink? Sis?’

Morrigan narrows her eyes. ‘No food or drinks upstairs.’

‘I know, I know,’ Iona grumbles, rolling her eyes and mumbling under her breath, disappearing behind the doorway. Delta, however, remains; her eyes linger upon you for a time, before throwing her sister an accusatory, silent glance … before thinning her lips and disappearing behind the hiss of a shutting door, having not said a word.

Alone once again, the both of you share a look of guilt.

‘See what I mean?’

>‘I do.’ (Frustrated)
>‘You know, if I get them both in bed then they can’t catch us going at it.’ (FLAWLESS LOGIC)
>‘I should get going, then …’ (Insist on leaving)
>Stay Silent
>Write-In

>>3539547
>>‘I do.’ (Frustrated)

>>3539547
>>‘You know, if I get them both in bed then they can’t catch us going at it.’ (FLAWLESS LOGIC)

>>3539547
>>‘You know, if I get them both in bed then they can’t catch us going at it.’ (FLAWLESS LOGIC)
snark time

>>3539547
>‘You know, if I get them both in bed then they can’t catch us going at it.’ (FLAWLESS LOGIC)
>How long do you think they were at the door?

>>3539547
>>3539556
This

>>3539547
>>3539556
This. Perfect.

>>3539547
>>3539548
Changing my vote to this>>3539556

>>3539563
Typically this QM doesn't allow vote changes. Just so you know from now on.

>>3539547
>>3539556
Been catching up on this qst over the past few days. Not a bad thing you've got going here Mech.

>>3539547
>‘I do.’ (Frustrated)

File: SIXTEEN.png (372 KB, 706x1000)

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Sometimes the most obvious solution was the simplest one.

‘You know, if I get them into my bed, then they can’t catch us going at it.’

It was clear logic on your part. If you bedded all three of them at the same time, you (and Fisher) didn’t have to worry about Iona or Delta walking in and interrupting on any displays of affection that they’d otherwise walk on in without being a party to. Sharing in your bed would be practical for all parties involved, and while you doubted the limits of your vitality (especially in comparison with your grandfather’s) you believed that you could hit several important marks with the arrangement: securing Morrigan’s future, as well as her family’s; your own passive reputation in the eyes of the Imperial public … and to put your grandfather’s worries about your preferences and tendencies to rest, above all. It’d at least tide you over until they deemed a bride worthy of your station; a practical solution all around.

Even in the dim light, however, you’re able to make out Morrigan’s incredulity at the suggestion.

‘I’m just trying to be practical,’ you clarify, raising your hands defensively.

‘Which part of seducing a trio of sisters and impregnating them is practical?’

‘In case you didn’t read my label the first time around,’ you drawl, pointing at yourself, ‘Scion.’

Fisher groans, rubbing her temples. ‘Maybe I underestimated that chasm somewhat,’ she grumbles. ‘That you can suggest that so casually.’

As your neurons fire again, you throw her a guilty smile.

‘I don’t mean it like that at all.’

Morrigan bites her bottom lip. ‘I know.’

Silence reigns for at least two seconds as you gather your thoughts … and she, her own.

During times like these, you’re reminded of the disconnect between your perceptions. Maybe you were just that debauched; just as your grandfather was. He was probably on a tour of broads and choice rump at this very moment, howling and pursuing the next skirt that suited his fancy. You knew the monogamous inclinations of the common Imperial; not that there weren’t polyamorous relationships here and there, but the commonality dictated one spouse to one. The structures were different; the behaviours and attitudes, as Fisher had stated … a chasm. What was acceptable or dismissive for you operated on a different level of awareness for her … for everyone else.

Sansa, Emilio and Gerard were right. Are right.

‘Forget about it,’ you let out, sleeving your voice with an apologetic tune. ‘I … overstepped. I didn’t mean to … suggest anything inappropriate or improper.’

‘Oh, really? I was actually about to give the okay.’

You shoot her an unamused glare. So much for being considerate.

‘Morrigan …’

‘Besides, Iona could do worse and Delta could—’

‘Really?’

Her eyes dance mischievously.

File: NINETEEN.jpg (129 KB, 850x881)

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‘What? I thought this was you being practical? Is it so hard to consider now?’

You don’t rise to it.

‘Three sisters in your bed, begging for cock, breasts dripping milk with bellies bloated, expecting any day … for our Lord to make us full again …’

You mumble under your breath.

>‘Can we move on?’
>Don’t respond
>‘I’m leaving.’
>Write-In

>>3541146
>'Here.' (Return Jotun model that was in your room)

>"We'll see who's laughing by the time I'm done with you."
>Lock the door.

>>3541146
>Facepalm
>So how long do you think they were listening.

>>3541146
>>Don’t respond

>>3541146
>>‘Can we move on?’
>>3541161
unfortunately anon, we have people waiting on us outside and things to do. leave the banging to night time

>>3541146
>>Don’t respond

>>3541146
>>‘Can we move on?’

>>3541146
Don’t respond

>>3541146
>Don’t respond
>start sweating

Internet has been shitty since Thursday. I'll be resuming in a bit. About 3 hours.

File: Appropriate, Yeah.jpg (52 KB, 800x436)

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‘Can we please move on?’ you sound, trying to channel as much of your father as you could possibly muster. You realize, however (somewhat pathetically), that you probably had more in common with an embarrassed teenager than you did a voice of authority; you couldn’t have possibly intimidated a District Supervisor with that tone, never mind a Governor … and certainly not Morrigan Fisher.

To your relief, however, you realize that she has enough mercy to abide by your request, nodding as she pulls her quilt up her breasts. Morrigan proceeds to prompt you to continue, to which you’re only glad to do by now.

>‘Have you see Maldante?’
>‘You said that you were staying up late … for me, right?’ (Curious, Personal)
>‘So what did they do to … have your parts working again?’ (Curious, Personal)
>‘Are you going to the graduation party tonight?’ (Inquire)
>‘I still have the Jotun you gave me.’ (Hobby, Casual)
>‘I saw the new Mechs today.’ (Interests, Professional)
>‘I should go.’ (I’m Commander Mishima, and this is my favourite building on Rhysode)
>Write-In

>>3547911
Quick question, besides Fisher who is the other girl that we have a interest in but we’re nervious due to noblilty?

>>3547911
>‘Have you see Maldante?’
>‘You said that you were staying up late … for me, right?’ (Curious, Personal)
>‘So what did they do to … have your parts working again?’ (Curious, Personal)
>‘I still have the Jotun you gave me.’ (Hobby, Casual)

>>3547919
Sansa. Your interest in either, however, is something akin to a Schrodinger Box situation. If you profess your attraction, the circumstances around that attraction in the past will change. The only thing consistent is that you are unsure of your own feelings up to THIS day, and how you interact with them sheds different lights of how past interactions are seen in the "current" hindsight.

>>3547940
Eh, I like fisher but that’s past bias. I kind of want to talk to Sansa but it seems we clicked with fisher for now

>>3547911
>‘Have you see Maldante?’
>‘You said that you were staying up late … for me, right?’ (Curious, Personal)
>‘So what did they do to … have your parts working again?’ (Curious, Personal)
>‘I still have the Jotun you gave me.’ (Hobby, Casual)

>>3547911
>‘I still have the Jotun you gave me.’ (Hobby, Casual)

>>3547911
>>‘You said that you were staying up late … for me, right?’ (Curious, Personal)

>>3548012
>>3548078
I'm flipping a coin between your two options because you're the only ones that abide my "one at a time, please" rule in this prompt.

File: Jotun [Frost Giant].jpg (334 KB, 645x1170)

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‘I still have that Jotun you gave me.’

Fisher raises an eyebrow.

‘Oh?’

There’s enough disbelief in her voice for you to make move in proving that you weren’t, in fact, lying. You proceed to sift through your belongings, eventually producing the aforementioned object, as pristine as it was not an hour ago. You run a thumb over the prominent command cavity, turning the figure slightly to reassure yourself of its condition. You’d spent close to four standard years making sure that there wasn’t so much as the ghost of a scratch on its panels.

A pale beast, simple in design, to the untrained eye it would have looked an incomplete, unpainted and forgotten model. The weight and texture of the model is almost nostalgic in your hands, despite its relatively recent introduction into your life. Guns strapped to its back, its pale shield fixed on its arm, there was little deviation from the humanoid form in regards to its design. In fact, more than the Piranhas’ and the Hellions’ thicker, bulkier … and ultimately more practical builds, the Jotun’s design aesthetic resonated with the Trade House preference for elegance and grace. In possession of a Mutsu Four-Point Joint System, the Jotun was one of the few combat units in production that shadowed human movement and reaction systems. Advanced protection systems and materials to go with a thick shield meant all-round defence; although, you suspect that a well-placed shot could penetrate the Jotun’s joints more effectively than they could manage to slice through a Hellion’s leg armour. Which was probably why they were so sparsely used. The Jotun was Trade House Wiglaf’s, and considering the sheer cost of manufacturing the beasts, you don’t think the House appreciated having one of the Empire’s more advanced units being shredded on a consistent basis … especially not with all that tech.

Perhaps that was why the Piranhas had seen production in the first place.

‘Oof!’

A pair of arms drape over your shoulders as a light giggle sounds next to your ear, followed by a thoughtful hum. Your peer out of the corner of your eye, raising an eyebrow at the intruder of your personal space, her blue tresses tickling your cheek. Her hands travel up your arms and past your wrists, eventually intertwining around your digits, her thumbs running over the back of your hands and her fingers lightly lifting the Jotun from underneath your cupped hold.

‘So you didn’t throw it away,’ Morrigan comments, resting her jaw upon your shoulder. ‘It’s an old configuration, you know. I think they decided to put in a safer response assistance last year.’

You frown. ‘How does that change the aesthetic?’ you question, half-curious.

‘I think it makes the red lines blue.’

You roll your eyes.

Fisher nuzzles her cheek against yours.

>>3548330
>'I still don't get why they call it a Frost Giant. It's not like it's as big as a Bartholomew. Looks more like a horse.' [KNOWLEDGE]
>'Did they at least stress test the joint system's compatibility?' [TECHNICAL]
>'Do you remember when you gave this to me?' (Nostalgic)
>'Is there a reason you're all over me like one of my mother's coats?' (Confused)
>'You have anything new?' (Casual)
>Leave
>Write-In

>>3548341
>>'Did they at least stress test the joint system's compatibility?' [TECHNICAL]

>>3548341
>>'I still don't get why they call it a Frost Giant. It's not like it's as big as a Bartholomew. Looks more like a horse.' [KNOWLEDGE]

>>3548341
>>'I still don't get why they call it a Frost Giant. It's not like it's as big as a Bartholomew. Looks more like a horse.' [KNOWLEDGE]

>>3548341
>>'Did they at least stress test the joint system's compatibility?' [TECHNICAL]

>>3548341
>'I still don't get why they call it a Frost Giant. It's not like it's as big as a Bartholomew. Looks more like a horse.' [KNOWLEDGE]

>>3548341
>'Did they at least stress test the joint system's compatibility?' [TECHNICAL]

Hey, so, just to make sure- this is a mech quest, right? Like, we're gonna get into mech fights eventually, right?

>>3548670
Yes...

>>3548341
>'I still don't get why they call it a Frost Giant. It's not like it's as big as a Bartholomew. Looks more like a horse.' [KNOWLEDGE]

>>3548670
yes, just gotta get the prologue out of the way
we did this last time round too
such is the curiosity of anons
we must know everything

>>3548670
It only feels that way because the op doesn't update frequently, nor regularly and becomes banned for the things they do on this website.

>>3548670
This is a reboot of a mech quest... So probably?
It sort of started like this in the preboot- though there definitely more people introduced in that one before we reached *this* scene.
I still think anons want to romance Fisher because of our relationship with her in our previous run. Biased opinion but I'm sticking to it.

>>3551462
something on this site just does not like Mech's connection to here

>>3551462
Man, I don't fucking understand the mods. What the fuck

>>3551466
>>3551717
I don't, either.

>>3551855
>>3551462
What a twist.
Can't say I'm surprised considering how often you get banned.

>>3551855
This might be a dumb question since I'm unfamiliar with how things work but, is there no way to reach out to the mods to see what the problem is?

>>3548341
>'Did they at least stress test the joint system's compatibility?' [TECHNICAL]

>>3548341
>'I still don't get why they call it a Frost Giant. It's not like it's as big as a Bartholomew. Looks more like a horse.' [KNOWLEDGE]

Let's face it, we're never going to be a tech nerd like the last MC.

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‘I still don’t get why they call it The Frost Giant,’ you observe, running your thumbs around the model’s shoulder pads. ‘It’s not as big as a Bartholomew or a Cyclops … and it looks more like a horse. A unicorn.’

‘Considering your rather expansive travel history,’ Fisher starts again, pressing herself against your back and almost singing into your ear, ‘I think you know why.’

‘I know that it was laid down on Helgen,’ you point out out, being particularly specific so as to not miss any marks. ‘I just feel like it doesn’t fit the bill of a giant to me … especially when there are at least five Mechs to fit that description better. It’s not even in the three digit classes, is it? There’s the Cyclops, the Shardmaw, the Dynamus …’

‘You really don’t know anything about why it’s called The Frost Giant?’

You sigh.

You did. It just wasn’t something that the Mech enthusiast in you could reconcile. The both of you were probably the only two sentient beings with a foot into the history of the manufacturing and deployment history of Mechs to the point that you could score a trivia high on any quiz pertaining to that of a Mech’s specific history and advancements by the way of arms. You knew why the Hellion had lingered for eighty-one standard years. You knew why a Sahara was simultaneously the worst and best idea in the history of the Alliance Military’s warfare innovations. You could even go toe-to-toe with the best in regards to the history of pilots: that the woman pressing herself against you was one of the few to make a Chapter upon immediate graduation that Darton Wray held more accolades in his thirty-eight year career than any active member of the Aegis that had so much as commandeered a Mech, and was the only man in history to be awarded The Dagger’s Grip despite never achieving an official rank above Lance-Commander. You could even point out the newest recruit of the Celestial Roses: Nikolai Steinsworn, who had graduated four years prior to your own enrolment. You doubt anyone knew anything about the Celestial Roses on-campus beyond the Chapter Designation, its Commissar or its Knight-Commander.

‘Something about Helgen being ruled by hundred-foot tall giants before man came along,’ you grumble, letting out a sigh for good measure. ‘The Frost Giants were the guardians of some ancient secret that the Old Gods gave them to care for in their absence. Monsters and demons from all over the cosmos, raided Helgen for eons … and the Frost Giants slew them all until they too, fell. Helgen’s blizzards aren’t even natural, though. It’s just as close as the Atmospheric Units can get to a liveable atmosphere.’

She hums in amusement. ‘Are you telling me that you don’t like a good story?’

You glance at her, licking your lips. Your father would probably be shaking his head right now.

>‘No.’ (Your Father’s Son)
>‘It is pretty cool.’ (Concede)
>Write-In

>>3561451
>>‘It is pretty cool.’ (Concede)

>>3561451
>>‘It is pretty cool.’ (Concede)

>>3561451
>‘It is pretty cool.’ (Concede)

>>3561451
Saying:
>‘It is pretty cool.’ (Concede)

Thinking:
>‘No, but you say what you gotta say’ (Your Grandfather’s Grandson)

>>3561451
>>‘It is pretty cool.’ (Concede)

>>3561451
>>‘It is pretty cool.’ (Concede)

>>3561494
>‘No, but you say what you gotta say’ (Your Grandfather’s Grandson)
I really like this one. I wish I'd thought about it.

>>3561494
this

>>3561494
This.

>>3561451
>‘It is pretty cool.’ (Concede)

Session in t-minus 30 minutes. The bulk of Eid is over.

You’re on the fence. You really are.

The fact that there were a plethora of names to better suit the model in your hands than Frost Giant rings like a klaxon on a reactor alert. You list off a number of potential names: Horned Raider, Pale Warrior or Gleaming Knight … maybe even White Comet—

No, no. Not White Comet. That name was already taken. Unofficially, but most definitely taken. No one had seen that Mech frame in the last sixty years, but you weren’t about to break an unspoken rule just because it hadn’t seen front-line action in your lifetime. Still, Frost Giant was hardly befitting the aesthetic of the Mech: altogether too elegant, too … proud to be associated with a such a brutish origin.

However (and at times such as these, “howevers” came and went as they pleased), you had to admit that the mythos that the name had been directly lifted out of was—and there was not much else for you to describe it by—cool. Even with the roll of the eyes and the muttering of legend as fact, you can’t quite slide that having a name that was lifted from a time of giants and monsters (That barely even fit the time-frame of humanity’s presence under the stars) was something that you owed some due respect to. It didn’t take much to imagine the sixty-five foot titan smashing through hordes of serpents and monsters as the knights of ancient times had … and you could see the majesty of it, as unfathomably unbelievable as it was at times.

Nicknames, after all, were there to capture one’s imagination.

You could let it slide, this time.

‘I guess it’s … pretty cool,’ you concede, garnering a light giggle from your companion as she pushes her full weight upon your shoulders. You feel her breasts press against the back of your head, her chin sliding up the curve of your scalp and her fingers shifting from the texture of the figure to your wrists.

‘Are you saying that because you actually believe it or because I’m naked?’

‘The second exhibit does argue the point quite convincingly.’

She giggles and shifts her elbows onto your shoulders, crossing her arms above your chest.

‘You really took care of it, huh?’

‘Of course I did,’ you reply. ‘You gave it to me, didn’t you?’

‘I honestly thought it would’ve been thrown on a pile somewhere,’ Morrigan comments, her voice almost a troubled grumble … but not quite. ‘I can’t believe you caught me … playing with them.’

You feel the upturn in the corners of your lips.

You don’t think you could ever forget that. One didn’t catch their Instructor making plasma and missile launch noises behind their desk everyday.

‘For what it’s worth,’ you start again, ‘you make a pretty good plasma overheat warning.’

She pulls on your cheeks, cursing under her breath.

>>3580372
>>3580372
>'Have you seen Maldante?'
>'You said that you were staying up late ... for me?' (Curious, Personal)
>'So what did they do to ... have your parts working again?' (Curious, Personal)
>'Are you going to the graduation party tonight?' (Inquire)
>'I saw the new Mechs today.' (I saw the new Mechs today.' (Interest, Personal)
>'I should go.'
>Write-In

>>3580379
>'Are you going to the graduation party tonight?' (Inquire)

>>3580379
>>'I saw the new Mechs today.' (I saw the new Mechs today.' (Interest, Personal)

>>3580379
>>'I saw the new Mechs today.' (I saw the new Mechs today.' (Interest, Personal)

>>3580379
>>'I saw the new Mechs today.' (I saw the new Mechs today.' (Interest, Personal)

>>3580379
>'I saw the new Mechs today.' (I saw the new Mechs today.' (Interest, Personal)

File: Piranha.jpg (17 KB, 310x310)

17 KB JPG

‘I saw the Piranhas in the hangar this morning.’

‘Oh?’

Her curious tone prompts you to divulge your findings, scarce as they are.

‘The crew weren’t too keen on being elaborate with the details, though,’ you recall, almost grimacing as you remember the crinkles of irritation practically carved into the supervisor’s visage. You suspect that you had been on the doorstep of a toss out the front gate if you so much as pressed your presence anymore than you’d done.

‘The logistics of the phasing are being made too quickly and too severely for the shift to justify any reasonable schedule,’ Morrigan returns, matter-of-factly. ‘The performance matrices of the Piranhas severely outdoes the Hellion’s on almost every discernible battlefront or scenario, but the implementation of the units has many … dissatisfied, if that’s one way to put it. It doesn’t help that the Hellion sports a higher kill ratio against the Piranha within atmospheric conditions.’

You almost smack your forehead into hers, surprised.

‘Wait, if the Hellion’s better, then—’

‘It isn’t better,’ she cuts in, sharply. ‘The Hellion was built for attrition and practicality; the test conditions on a model versus model environment are biased for Mechs that are designed to endure prolonged, direct combat situations. The Hellion’s advantage under basic atmospheric conditions and within the set gravity parameters is just that: biased circumstances. Not without argument or weight, but biased nonetheless. The performance of a Mech isn’t built on the sole criteria of which one leaves the ring when two enter. That’s basic.’

You frown.

You’re not sure whether that analogy fit that well, but you get the gist of it.

However, you also find yourself … in disagreement.

‘Call me old-fashioned, but if I can outfight a new Mech in an old one, I don’t see the practicality in commissioning the new one.’

You hated to scoff, but there were times when one had to stand firm. As a man, as a member of the Aegis … and a Mech enthusiast that read through the history of Chapters as your own personal bed time stories. For you, it was silly to think that anyone would pay for a Mech that’d get its proverbial behind handed to it by the old one. It just didn’t make sense to do so. For you, it was a waste of time, money, effort … everything.

So why would they—

‘Being able to perform multiple roles and be fitted for a larger variety of options with a shorter collective downtime despite increased costs is probably the more practical approach to warfare compared to waiting for a Squadron of Hellions to be externally refitted. Potential operating length being increased; a safer protection protocol for the pilot and crew; unassisted flight ... need I go on?’

>>3580653
>‘Well, if it has all that, how can it lose in a straight up fight?’ (Argue)
>‘Fine, you made your point.’ (Concede)
>‘All that’s nice until you get a Heat Axe to the head.’ [KNOWLEDGE]
>Write-In

>>3580653
>‘All that’s nice until you get a Heat Axe to the head.’ [KNOWLEDGE]

>>3580654
>>‘All that’s nice until you get a Heat Axe to the head.’ [KNOWLEDGE]
NERD RAGE never fails

>>3580654
>>‘All that’s nice until you get a Heat Axe to the head.’ [KNOWLEDGE]

>>3580654
>>‘All that’s nice until you get a Heat Axe to the head.’ [KNOWLEDGE]

>>3580654
>>‘All that’s nice until you get a Heat Axe to the head.’ [KNOWLEDGE]