‘—or otherwise incapacitated or unfit for duty, you are hereby required to report for duty. I won’t go into the details: that’s what the attachment’s for. Should you be unavailable to report in … well, if you can’t even remember protocol, I think I’ll accept that as your withdrawal. Wray out.’

Your brows only furrow further as the message blinks out of existence. Your fingers tap and drag against the data slate, finding, indeed, that which Wray had said was there.

‘Surely you aren’t actually considering it?’

The voice of your father is incredulous, teetering on anger.

>Write-in

>>4539657
>Yes, if only to find out the status of several people important to me.

>>4539657
>Just as I have duties to our family, I also have a duty to fulfill to the Empire as a student of Rhysode

for hobo

>>4539657
>Yes, I am. I am more than well aware of my mortality father. I am also well aware that Wray wouldn’t do this unless it was important. The man is too proud for that, much like you.

I'll be running a session in approximately 45 minutes.

>>4539657
Back to the front baby! Where would the empire be without it's noble protectors?

You close your eyes, exhaling a warm breath of air as you set the slate aside, dusting your thighs in an exaggerated manner before, finally, getting to your feet … and meeting your father’s rigid scowl.

‘Just as I have a duty to this family, so do I have an obligation to the service which I have carved my name by,’ you respond, trying your best to remain as neutral and logical as possible (in both physical expression and tone). ‘Besides … Darton Wray wouldn’t have patched those channels through just to get to me if it wasn’t was of extreme import. If my presence is required by his words, then my presence is required. The last thing I want is a footnote on my profile citing my ineptitude at reporting for duty in a timely manner … which I’m sure that you’d probably hold against me if I ever did by the way of the House.’

Your father snorts, scratching his chin. ‘I see that your physique isn’t the only thing that that world has managed to chisel down,’ he remarks, sounding neither disapproving nor accepting of the situation. ‘Nevertheless, the authority—the permission—that the matter of your discharge ultimately is at my discretion as the head of the House Mishima and your father … and you, my boy—outside of having other obligations—are not nearly of … an acceptable condition for such endeavors.’

Another groan escapes you as you fix a weary gaze upon your father’s almost-robotic lack of expression.

‘Father,’ you start, adopting a warning tone. Your father, however, remains unmoved.

‘I believe that your superior’s qualifiers were in regards to your health,’ he points out, almost nonchalantly. ‘Which I shall point out very clearly has quite recently, been put to the extreme of a cyclonic bombardment. You will be staying here until you’re otherwise recovered … unless you would wish for me to transfer you to a less claustrophobic facility. I think you’re healthy enough to do that.’

‘This is unbelievable,’ you let out, stupefied.

‘This is fact,’ your father retort. ‘You are to stay under our direct custody—at this outpost or otherwise—until I have total confidence that you won’t be vomiting blood from undetected mutations and organ failures walking down the hall.’

‘Now you’re just being paranoid.’

‘My paranoia of your years at the Academy extended to scrapes, bruises and one broken leg; clearly I miscalculated your ability to overachieve in that capacity.’

You glare at your father … noticing that, for the first time, that you were now at least a forehead clear of him in height.

‘Father, I have to report in,’ you sigh, hanging onto your patience by bare threads. ‘I’m not just your son now; I’m an actual member of the service. It’s not something that I can just toss right out one morning just because of a head cold.’

‘Ah, yes, head colds and cyclonic torpedoes; truly of the same class.’

‘You know what I mean.’

The both of you size one another up; you wonder just why your father was so stubborn in allowing you to fulfill your duties. It was as though you were asking for permission to walk into a firestorm.

>‘If you’re so paranoid, then … why don’t you come with me?’
>‘Fine. I’ll … stay.’
>[Try to convince him] (SPEECH, DC: 6, Current: 4)
>Write-In

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>4540772
>[Try to convince him] (SPEECH, DC: 6, Current: 4)

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>4540772
>>[Try to convince him] (SPEECH, DC: 6, Current: 4)

File: Mishima Bodyguard.png (67 KB, 247x223)

67 KB PNG

You straighten your cloak and adjust your collar as you turn the corner, almost embarrassed for yourself … and your entourage.

‘Is everything all right, my Lord?’

You manage a small, tight smile, glancing to your right at a man that made up one third of your escort, nodding in reassurance … before pinching your brow as the one to your left barks a warning to a thin desk jockey and his accompanying drone, causing him to practically slide his abdomen along the walls of the hallway in an attempt to be out of your bodyguard’s direct line of sight. Counting backwards from fifteen for what feels like the sixth time since you stepped out of the shuttle, you power on through to the elevator, stepping inside as the black-clad accompaniment that is your very armed and very rigid (and hopefully temporary) guardian presses the button pertaining to the relevant department on your command before falling back into formation.

The elevator travels downward.

A door opens. It is not your floor.

Two hulking bodies—likely foot soldiers assigned to desk duty—turn their caps up right as they attempt to step in … and are immediately met by two violent shoves from the men either side of you with the crossing of their foot over the threshold.

‘It’s taken,’ your bodyguard growls, his comrade’s shoulders bumping into his in such a way that you are totally obscured from the view of the floor. The doors close without further incident … and you are traveling down again, your bodyguards returning to their original positions, arms at their side and red eyes facing forward.

You fight the urge to groan again, wondering if winning that argument with your father had been worth it.

You will travel with an escort and a personal physician of my choosing. It is non-negotiable.

You’d traversed the administratum’s halls the last forty minutes with a trio of your House’s personal bodyguards. While their presence isn’t something that you’re unfamiliar with, having been within ten paces of one of the armor-clad red-eyed bodies, being seen in public with them in the context of your current circumstances wasn’t something that you would call … practical; especially after having to discuss the terms of their continued presence within the AEGIS administratum: namely that the officers, desk jockeys and workers were not obstacles to be removed just because you happened to step a toe in a particular direction.

Success on that part, had, thus far, escaped you.

‘It’s taken,’ the man on your right growls again, leaving your presence in the elevator to remain undisturbed … and your embarrassment to practically boil. Once upon a time, perhaps you could have appreciated the utter thuggery of your men, but now … now you only hope that no one in the building had you identified and a complaint form ready for submission.

Shaking your head, you make an attempt to divert your attention elsewhere, sliding the data slate from underneath your robes, going over the details on the attachment for what feels like the thousandth time … and wondering just why you’d been called to the AEGIS administratum on Oban V of all places—

‘My Lord?’

‘Yes?’

‘Is there something that concerns you?’

The bell dings, indicating your stop.

>Voice your displeasure with their aggression
>Dismiss the guard’s concerns
>Remain silent and walk out
>Write-In

>>4540839
>I understand that your escort of me was required by my father, i just ask you to keep in mind that your behavior around me does in fact reflect on me, please do not be so aggressive that i get a complaint form filed against me for your zeal. I trust you are able straddle the line and to accomplish that task?

>>4540839
I'll support >>4540841

>>4540841
+1

>>4540841
Supporting

>>4540841
also this

Okay, I just finished sorting out my family's latest attempt at tax evasion. Yay! I'll be running a session in approximately 15 minutes.

You step out of the elevator, taking in a deep breath: you take one step, then another … and another … before finally wheeling around fixing a stare of disapproval towards your three bodyguards.

A biting remark about their presence is immediately bitten back by your second breath: you didn’t want to degrade and devalue them over such a trivial matter; after all, they had only been doing their jobs. You could hardly fault them for being so dedicated to it … but, once again, it’s not as if you could ignore the aspect that their behavior would have you flirting with a barrage of complaint forms by the time your career truly got off the ground (If it even did).

‘I understand that you are bound to your duty, guardsmen,’ you begin, calm as can be, ‘but I would like to state that your behavior around me does reflect on my person. It would, thus, be preferable for you to not exercise your task with such fanaticism that you have my career flirting with grievances before I so much as begin taking stock of a transport’s inventory. Am I clear?’

Your words are met with three bent knees … and half a dozen stares of incredulity from personnel looking to use the elevator for themselves.

‘Our sincere apologies, my Lord,’ comes the hoarse response from the middle of the trio. ‘We will endeavor to be more discrete and less of a burden to your—’

‘Yes, yes,’ you urge, making motions for the three black-clad men to move before your embarrassment brought a relapse about. ‘Apology accepted; come on. I’m flirting with tardiness as we are.’

‘Our apologies, my L—’

‘Come on,’ you groan, your cloak billowing behind you as you march without your escort. Perhaps by some miracle they’d just leave you alone.

No such luck, of course … but they do heed your complaint regarding their behavior and stop growling at people just because they are one lane across from your person, so that’s an improvement. It’s still rather awkward to have an escort through these halls … but you find yourself quite at ease by the time you’re on the connecting atrium between the administratum to the central directorate, where you are met with an influx of bodies boasting their own escorts and bodyguards.

‘My Lord, I hope it is not too impertinent of me to question your wisdom, but why did we not transport ourselves directly to this building and have to walk across?’

‘Your questioning isn’t impertinent at all,’ you remark, chuckling. ‘I’m not here as a representative of my House, guardsman, but as a soldier. We had to pass through administratum because as far as I’m concerned, I’m here by my duty as an AEGIS graduate.’

‘Would it not have been easier to just dock in and allow yourself access through typical means?’

>>4542022
>‘Are you unaware of the Separation of Authorities, guardsmen?’ (Lecture)
>‘You forget your place.’ (Irritated)
>‘Maybe. If I wanted to be here as my House’s representative.’ (Casual)
>Don’t answer
>Write-In

>>4542023
>‘Are you unaware of the Separation of Authorities, guardsmen?’ (Lecture)

>>4542023
>>‘Are you unaware of the Separation of Authorities, guardsmen?’ (Lecture)

>>4542023
>>‘Are you unaware of the Separation of Authorities, guardsmen?’ (Lecture)

‘Are you unaware of the Separation of Authorities, guardsman?’ you ask, cocking your brow and … immediately feeling something tingle within you as you await his answer.

‘I, uh … am not fully aware of such rulings, no.’

‘It’s a broad term on its own,’ you start, easing your voice so as to not seem too enthused in your disclosure. ‘However, if we’re going to discuss it in the current context, you could probably simplify it in that certain branches and arms of the greater Imperium are kept within their own spheres of influence. The overall bureaucracy connects these spheres, but to ensure that there are no unwarranted violations, the edict is set to enforce certain crossovers of these spheres do not disturb one another to the point jurisdiction becomes a point of contention. Certain protocols are to be met, followed through and … so forth, lest we risk stepping on toes that we really shouldn’t be touching in the first place.’

‘Does this fit into the context of us having to travel such an unnecessary length, my Lord?’

You catch the guard on the right smacking the guard’s forearm, clearly irritated at his casual impertinence.

‘If … you would pardon such an inquiry,’ he adds, hurriedly.

‘As … hard as it is to believe, guardsman, it truly is,’ you let out, sighing. ‘My status as both AEGIS personnel and Scion give me a unique … status, if you will. It would have been more convenient for me to land right in and call my visitation documents as usual, but … it would not have answered to the spirit and purpose of my visit. The Houses generally … do not come in unless called or when their seats are required for consideration. As my father has been so kind to allow us to travel under the House’s proverbial umbrella … it would have been quite the distraction to call in my presence within that context. I wish to—and am required to—be here by my rank, duty and responsibilities to the AEGIS; not by that which binds me to my House. Which is why I had to register my arrival through the typical administrative process instead of the allocation afforded to me through my place as a Scion of my House. It’s basically my way of responding that I respect the separation of what I am as soldier and my obligations as Scion.’

There are exceptions, of course, but you could probably leave that spiel for another day.

‘But … did we really have to walk all this way?’

The guard on the left hits his comrade upside the head, the red visors glowing brightly.

You think about it for a moment.

‘Perhaps we could have taken a cruiser down,’ you let out, shrugging. ‘I guess I just felt like stretching my legs.’

You’re met with three simultaneous nods. ‘Understood, my Lo—’

‘BUDDY!’

Your eyes go wide. You have moments to—

File: Spoiler Image (141 KB, 1280x720)

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>Embrace your doom (Literally)
>‘Guards!’ (Protect yourself from the assault)
>Resign yourself to discomfort
>Respond in kind [PHYSICAL] (DC: 7 Current: 4, 1d12)
>Write-In

Rolled 10 (1d12)

>>4543187
>>Respond in kind [PHYSICAL] (DC: 7 Current: 4, 1d12)
SPINE BREAK TIME

Rolled 4 (1d12)

>>4543187
>Respond in kind [PHYSICAL] (DC: 7 Current: 4, 1d12)

>>4543189
>>4543195
My mistake. It should read CURRENT: 0, but you pass anyway.

SUCCESS!
PHYSICAL RESOLUTION +1

Sweep. Grab. Throw. Slam.

You make sure to be extra rough with your blue-haired friend, pinning him to the ground with your elbow and subduing him from any attempt at retaliation with one further knee to press your weight against his upper abdomen so he couldn’t negotiate your form into a release or a dismount. Your lips morph from scowl to smirk as you observe Ryosuke’s disadvantaged position, a small feeling of triumph emanating from your chest as you basked in what you could only describe as payback five years in the mak—

‘Y-You’re alive,’ Ryosuke sniffles, his arms falling to his side as you notice tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. A strange sort of … relief wafts across his features, dark eyes staring up at you as though you were a blessing from the Emperor himself; seeing him overcome with such emotion, you release him from your pin, lifting your knee and elbow before reaching down and offering a hand, a—

You are unprepared for the follow-up.

Ryosuke mimics a predator springing its trap, rushing all the air out of your lungs in an embrace as your guardsmen look on, incredulous at the ritual unfolding before their eyes. Your mouth opens to protest Ryosuke’s lack of restraint, but with the syllable rolling off your tongue, you find yourself almost deafened by the unprecedented wail right next to your ear.

‘You made it! You really made it!’ Ryosuke cries out, crushing your organs in an incredible hug.

>‘Yes, yes. Now let me go.’ (Protest)
>‘Your survival is also of great relief to me.’ (Formal)
>Try to return the hug
>Resign yourself to the embrace
>Hit Ryosuke on the head with a balled fist
>Write-In

>>4543228
>>Try to return the hug

>>4543228
>Try to return the hug

>>4543228
>>Resign yourself to the embrace

>>4543228
>Try to return the hug
Back from the dead, friend.

It takes some effort, but you manage to return the gesture of affection … which is actually quite fortunate for Ryosuke, as your escorts are halfway through removing their weapons to save you from further harm. You make a gesture for them to stand down, before giving Ryosuke several pats on the back, mumbling your own gratitude for his survival. This seems to satisfy Ryosuke, as he releases you soon after, stepping back and wearing a smile so wide that it threatens to split the very planet that you have currently planted your feet upon … until you realize it doesn’t, and you’re in his embrace again. You’re almost embarrassed by all the contact, but your own relief at finding Ryosuke’s relative health to be intact is enough to counter-balance any complaints that you have at having your dignity squashed by his very physical gestures of affections.

It’s about a minute before he steps back again, his hands on your shoulders and … his lips unable to go beyond clumsy blubbering as you feel the thumbs threatening to make a lasting impression upon the texture of your cloak. ‘Breathe, you idiot,’ you half-command, half-implore, your own amusement more audible than you intend for it to be.

‘Hey,’ Ryosuke protests, finally stepping away … but not before giving you a friendly shove. ‘Can’t believe you’re alive.’

>‘What about everyone else?’
>‘I can’t believe I’m alive, either.’
>‘Why? Is there a pool running pertaining my ultimate fate?’
>‘You look healthier than I expected you to be. You were right next to me when they started the bombardment.’
>Write-In

>>4543320
>‘What about everyone else?’

>>4543320
>>‘What about everyone else?’

>>4543320
>>‘What about everyone else?’

‘What about everyone else? Did they make it out all right?’

‘As far as I know, the four of us made it out,’ your friend reveals. The information gives you relief.

‘They’re all right, then?’

‘Well, Maldante’s okay, at least,’ Ryosuke affirms, placing his hands on his sides as he turns his gaze downward. ‘Can’t say that I’ve been able to keep up with Emilio, though … his family dragged him out from Alhambra the day right after your House dragged yours out. From what I was able to check before they whisked him away, nothing had melted and dropped to the floor, though.’

‘House Reinweld hasn’t divulged anything remotely resembling tragedy to the public; it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that they’ve already restored him to a functional state, at least. That idiot’s too stubborn to die on terms that don’t involve his total dictation. That kind of arrogance isn’t so easy to kill.’

‘Well, that’s probably one thing that the both of you have in common, then,’ Ryosuke mentions pointedly, his voice laced with amusement and his eyes twinkling with mischief as he rose his gaze to meet yours. ‘Seeing as you’re here … and looking like you’re about to go five rounds on the mat with a volunteer senior in remedial classes.’

Your left hand rises to rub your shoulder at the mere memory. ‘I … wouldn’t push it that far.’

Your fatter years did not hearken forth any pleasant memory of those instances.

‘I’m just telling you that … you look healthy,’ Ryosuke clarifies, making a dismissive motion with his right hand. ‘EVAC had all sorts of issues keeping you stable en route to Alhambra. I couldn’t get my hands on the reports, but the medics said that your radiation shielding had malfunctioned or something. After a bombardment like that, I … I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t want to keep my hopes up, wondering if a prayer would hold out for once …’

Ryosuke rubs the back of his neck, looking away.

‘Prayer?’

‘Eh, don’t worry about it,’ Ryosuke says, waving it off and plastering that all-too-energetic expression right back where it belonged. ‘Anyway, uh … if you’re wondering about Maldante, I’ve been bunking with him the last few days. The Umbranio Spectorus called us in for questioning and Wray put us up with temporary quarters on the north-west quadrant of Oban Primus. It’s hard to believe that this place used to be an aquatic world. Looks like any other Hive World from up in orbit.’

‘Maldante’s here?’

You look around, as if expecting him to appear out of thin air.

‘Well … hereabouts. We’re in the same temporary quarters, but he spends most of his time between the administratum and the Spectorus offices. I don't think he's too keen about the prospect of a prolonged stay on Oban. Not that I can blame him.'

>>4543399
>…
>‘And the others?’
>‘I’m glad to see that you made it out alive.’
>‘How did the both of you end up on this world, anyway?’
>‘The Umbranio Spectorus?’
>Write-In

>>4543400
>>‘And the others?’
>>‘I’m glad to see that you made it out alive.’
>>‘How did the both of you end up on this world, anyway?’

>>4543400
>‘And the others?’

>>4543400
>>‘And the others?’

>>4543400
>>‘And the others?’

>>4543400
>>‘How did the both of you end up on this world, anyway?’

>>4543400
>>‘And the others?’

Resuming in a bit.

Okay, I have a proper "start" time. It'll be at approximately 2.30 PM my time, so in just over 2 hours. I'm sorry for the delay as I have been busy with writer's block

Session in 10 minutes.

‘What about the others?’

‘Others?’

>‘The Academy. Anyone you know make it out?’
>‘The Rhysode population. Did the EVAC get them out in time?’
>‘I haven’t heard from Gerard in a while. You heard from him since the evacuation?’
>‘Instructor Fisher and her family. Have you heard from her since?’
>‘Sansa should have made it out safely. She must have been with the EVAC units.’
>‘You said you’ve been around Maldante how’s he been doing?’
>‘How was Reinweld last you saw him?’

>>4545629
>>‘Instructor Fisher and her family. Have you heard from her since?’
>>‘Sansa should have made it out safely. She must have been with the EVAC units.’

Find out about our mistresses!

>>4545629
>‘I haven’t heard from Gerard in a while. You heard from him since the evacuation?’
>‘Instructor Fisher and her family. Have you heard from her since?’
>‘Sansa should have made it out safely. She must have been with the EVAC units.’

>>4545629
>‘The Rhysode population. Did the EVAC get them out in time?’
>‘Instructor Fisher and her family. Have you heard from her since?’
>‘Sansa should have made it out safely. She must have been with the EVAC units.’

>>4545629
>>‘Instructor Fisher and her family. Have you heard from her since?’
One vote only lads remember

>>4545629
>>‘I haven’t heard from Gerard in a while. You heard from him since the evacuation?’

I'd like to apologize for the lack of warning: there has been a huge family emergency that's kept me from posting as I would like. I will get back to it within the hour. I'm free today, so ...

File: What Happened To Her.jpg (83 KB, 736x1035)

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One name rings louder and clearer to all the rest.

‘Do you have any news about Instructor Fisher,’ you practically blurt out. ‘She was with me during the attack on Kerensky. Last I saw her, she was being flown out on an EVAC unit.’

Ryosuke scratches the back of his head, looking thoughtful. ‘Can’t say that I have, sorry,’ he answers, to your profound disappointment. ‘I know that she’s alive, though.’

‘You do?’

‘Well, of course,’ he snorts, crossing his arms and looking at you as though you’d grown an extra head. ‘Besides the fact that our esteemed Instructor Fisher is the White Hawk of Arrakis and would certainly be given more than a death notice on the boards in the event of an unexpected and untimely passing … the administratum still has her listed up as an activated member of current personnel. If we draw the requirements that underline that status, with the triple-I being the disqualifier, we can therefore conclude that she’s out of any immediate danger and is either awaiting a full return to active duty, reassignment or in the midst of a recuperative period. I mean … come on; it’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s all just about shuffling about the bureaucratic overlaps on what your status is. It’s as easy as looking into your second year electives.’

You stare at Ryosuke, incredulous.

‘Oh,’ he lets out, lifting a finger. ‘If you want a more recent update, though … you might want to turn around.’

Turn around?

>‘I’m not going to be your suplex dummy again, Ryosuke. At least not without a mat.’
>Turn around
>Write-In

>>4554702
>>Turn around

>>4554702
>Turn around

>>4554702
>Turn around

>>4554702
>>‘I’m not going to be your suplex dummy again, Ryosuke. At least not without a mat.’
Cant fool us.

>>4554702
>>Turn around

File: Morrigan Fisher 2.jpg (105 KB, 577x1024)

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You can pick her out, even from this distance.

Blue hair falling well past the small of her back, sharp nose and eyes of a piercing cobalt, you would be consulting an eye examination if you missed her at all. She stands out from the crowd, her shoulder pointed in your direction and with her gaze upward, busily engaging in conversation with a broad-shouldered gentleman with a chin so large you could swear it could cut through fibrous alloys. Clad in what appears to be a cloak (or a cape; one couldn’t really tell) of white and without her peaked cap, Morrigan Fisher engages with her taller companion with an official air, prompted on by the large-chinned man’s nods and gestures. You step back slightly to get a better look, noticing a metal bar under her cloak and deeming it appropriate to bend over for better angle … and finally noticing that it is, in fact, a primitive set of crutches that she had deemed necessary to balance upon, all as she and her associate chatted away. Fisher occasionally shifts herself (likely in an attempt to keep her footing steady), but otherwise doesn’t appear to notice you … or anyone else for that matter, exchanging words pertaining to whatever topic that occupied their concerns.

Still, you can’t help but—

‘I wonder who she’s talking to.’

Who, indeed?

>Discuss it with Ryosuke here
>Move to find out for yourself
>Drop all inhibition and move in on her as your mistress, all formalities left behind
>Dismiss it
>Write-In

>>4555058
>Move to find out for yourself

>>4555058
>>Move to find out for yourself

>>4555058
>>Move to find out for yourself

>>4555058
>>Move to find out for yourself

>>4555058
>>Drop all inhibition and move in on her as your mistress, all formalities left behind

Session will commence in approximately 15 minutes.

File: Spoiler Image (41 KB, 740x437)

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You’re surprised at the extent of your own curiosity.

So much so that you are totally unaware that it had taken you over to the point you’re just about five paces away by the time you do realize that there was, indeed, something interesting enough in regards to the large-chinned man that had your mind taking a temporary cruise to your whims. Even at this distance, however, it appeared that he and Fisher remained entrenched in their discussion, which was exchanged at such a pace that you’re unable to follow entirely … or at all. Fisher doesn’t appear to notice you, merely shifting her arms on her primitive crutches as she continues to engage the gentleman, who responds in kind.

At this distance, you’re able to get a better look at him.

Outside of the man’s impressive jawline, the most noticeable trait to his person is the very odd seat of hair upon his head, with an emphasis on seat. It lays unnaturally flat in all its dark and muddy quality, strangely absent of something that should have been there but had been ultimately been snatched of its station. His face is thin and his cheekbones are high, an amicable, engaging aura permeating through a stubble-marked face highlighted with a pair of thin, if messy eyebrows, a messy mutton chop that decided to give up halfway down between his ears and jawline and a pair of sunken and bagged eyes, indicating at least some anxiety and fatigue. There is an air of deflated pomp about him, something that your years under the banner of your House could assist in highlighting, behind those broad shoulders and that broad—if slightly lanky—frame, indicating that he was someone of either an ambassadorial role or in a field that dealt in representation and the bridging of the echelons of command and, judging by the slight fatigue in the corners of his lips, showed some years of wear and tear. You’d seen your father’s own representatives and solicitors develop that atypical hitch, but it had been a rare case where one of them possessed a frame that was as upright as the man just feet away from your person.

‘Instructor Fisher,’ you greet, raising your voice slightly as you close the distance … before remembering just where you were and throwing up a salute. ‘Ma’am.’

Fisher wobbles as she turns to face you, her irises shrinking into dots and fair features draining themselves of all what little color remained.

The other side of her face reveals itself, marked with taped bandages and medical patches.

You retain your composure.

‘It’s good to see that you’re alive, ma’am.’

‘Oh? Is this one of your students, Morrigan?’

Morrigan? Were they on such terms?

Still, you maintain your professionalism.

‘Sir,’ you acknowledge, throwing up a salute. ‘Pardon for my interruption.'

‘No need for formalities,’ the man chuckles, lightly smiling … with an emphasis on light, as the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I’m not wearing my hat, after all.’

His … hat?

Fisher’s composure returns as the crutches tap, her attentions shifting towards your person as she takes a hurried tone, ‘This is—’

‘Morrigan, please,’ he laughs—an approach that you notice is merely an attempt at making light of her urgency—as he extends a hand. ‘A pleasure to meet you. You may call me Cain.’

Cain?

Fisher shoots him a tired look. He sighs, his smile turning reluctant.

‘Commissar Cain.’

>‘Sir, I did not mean to be rude, sir!’ (Panic)
>‘What’s a Commissar doing here?’ (Curious)
>‘That explains the hair …’ (Revelation)
>‘Forgive my rudeness, sir. I was merely relieved to see the Instructor in one piece.’ (Neutral)
>‘You look familiar. Have we met before?’
>Write-In

>>4557942
>>‘That explains the hair …’ (Revelation)

>>4557942
>Would you happen to be related to an Administrative Senior Officer Cain?

>>4557946
Oh God, please win. Please win. I want this so much.

>>4557946
>>4557947
Flipping a coin, and ... plot advancement it is.

>>4557942
>>4557947
Supporting this.

File: Spoiler Image (10 KB, 272x122)

10 KB JPG

+1 AWARENESS

You shake his hand … before squinting your eyes and getting a—

‘Cain?’ you almost blurt out, the name ringing a bell. ‘You wouldn’t happen to be related to an Administrative Officer Cain, would you?’

His eyes widen as his smile drops. A sparkle of what you recognize to be raw—yet restrained—emotion heats up from behind the Commissar’s gaze. The grip around your fingers loosens as his jaw slackens slightly, the professional and amicable aura from his person vanishing like a ship folding into a warp-cut. You gaze uncertainly at Fisher, her expression one of urgency as she opens her mouth to say something—

‘You … knew my brother?’

‘Your … brother?’ you let out, finally connecting the two dots.

‘Twin brother,’ Fisher fills right in, her tone oddly hesitant as an artificial chirp nicks her right in the syllables, waking you to an attempt at alleviating the sudden dour note that had begun to permeate at the mention of the man who you’d encountered on Rhysode. You turn back to face the Commissar, feeling his touch leaving your hand as he wears a tight—if melancholic—smile, stepping back.

‘That’s as far as the similarities go, I’m afraid,’ Cain lets out, his chuckle without its previous finesse. ‘He was definitely born with the better hair, though.’

You could see that.

‘Morrigan,’ he starts again, turning an apologetic gaze to your former Instructor. ‘Please send my regards to your sisters.’

He throws you a curious gaze, giving a light nod that you return with a quick salute before turning on his heel, taking a languid pace as he departs from the conversation almost as abruptly as you’d arrived.

>Write-In

>>4558004
>It is real, real good to see you, Morrigan. Please excuse my escorts. They are something my father insisted on or I won't have been able to leave the medical station.

>>4558004
>>4558006
Supporting this.

Also ask her if she is alright and knows if the others are okay as well.

>>4558004
>>4558006
Support

>>4558004
>Knew it would take more than that to kill the White Hawk huh?

>>4558006
>>4558009
Supporting these

File: Mistress Morrigan.jpg (130 KB, 706x1000)

130 KB JPG

As his retreating back fades past the collection of bodies along the floor, however, you’re brought back to the present by a stray reminder to yourself … and turn right back to the crux of your previous curiosity with a vengeance. Morrigan Fisher stares up at you with a look that you’re uncertain is expectant or irritated. You glance around, looking for your bodyguards … only to find them huddled around Ryosuke, hunching over whatever it was that they had deemed more important than a single hair on your head.

‘I’m glad that you’re all right,’ she begins, uncertain and tentative. You blink as your fix your gaze upon her bandaged features, wondering just how the woman that you’d known over the last few years as one of the toughest, hardest pilots on the battlefield could seem so … delicate. Morrigan Fisher shuffles a little bit more, her legs groaning slightly as she winces and closest the distance a little bit more; she looks oddly unbalanced but not quite what you’d call frail.

The brief silence that ensues is the cue of you missing your prompt. You stumble into a response, already seeing your father’s stare of disapproval.

As opposed, of course, to his stare of approval … if that even existed, in any form.

‘It’s good to see you too … Morrigan,’ you finally reply, matching her own hesitant voice. ‘I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to get to you sooner. My father … he wouldn’t even allow me out here without a proper escort.’

‘Escort?’

You let out a sigh, jabbing your head slightly to your right; towards the three gentlemen in masks and specialist response gear all huddled up around a certain fellow alumnus of yours. Morrigan tilts her head in curiosity, making a small, revelatory hum, before turning back to you, her emotions once again masked behind that veneer of mischief and superiority. You can’t help but feel relieved, really, to have that part of her back. It’d been mere weeks at most since you’d last seen it, but to having Morrigan Fisher here, alive and well—even a little worse for wear—was a blessing, by any discernible measure.

It’s a simmering pot of emotion that you’re uncertain how to best express.

However, you’re quite certain that stopping where you just did in merely stating well-wishes was tantamount to a one-way ticket into the nearest star.

Unfairly, your former Instructor turns away, keeping her silence and leaving the space for you to fill by your choice. The soldier and the man inside you tussle for dominance as a barrage of topics and conversational pieces of diversion flood the back of your throat, dictating the proper course on their terms. A part of you yearns to embrace and blubber like the trillions of fools that inhabited the galaxy, while the other, years in the making, holds a hand up with a reminder of your station and hers.

And still, she remains silent.

The minx!

>>4558124
>‘Is this how it is, then, Instructor? You’re just going to make me sweat it all out?’ (Casual)
>‘Damn it, Morrigan.’ (Embrace her)
>[Remember your position]
>‘Have there been any developments on Rhysode?’ (Inquire)
>‘I presume that you’re here for the same reason I am?’ (Divert)
>Write-In

>>4558124
>‘Damn it, Morrigan.’ (Embrace her)

>>4558126
>‘Damn it, Morrigan.’ (Embrace her)

>>4558126
>>‘Damn it, Morrigan.’ (Embrace her)

>>4558126
>>‘Damn it, Morrigan.’ (Embrace her)

>>4558126
>>‘Damn it, Morrigan.’ (Embrace her)

>>4558126
>>‘Damn it, Morrigan.’ (Embrace her)

>>4558126
>>‘Damn it, Morrigan.’ (Embrace her)

[red]Testing.

I've had a myriad of issues (of the technical sort), but now I am free to post proper. Session will be in approximately 30 minutes.

Morrigan wasn’t the type to make you sweat and second guess your next move.

No, that was a lie if there ever was one: she was definitely the type to push your boundaries beyond that which you were comfortable by. It had been a key characteristic of hers string you along just so she could see where your inclinations laid … only to hurry to correct and prod you in a direction much more suited to her liking. It wasn’t anything like how your mother had laid things out for you or how your father had dictated the terms of your progression and operation. Morrigan … was subtle; a lot more subtle than you liked her to be. Your eyes focus on her eyebrows, unwilling to meet her gaze and fall into another dead end. You much preferred being in the simulator and being chastised by Darton Wray to trying to outmaneuver someone so fiendish as the White Hawk of Arrakis.

Still, the both of you must look quite the pair, standing around like a set of forgotten utensils, a teacher and her former student: the latter clueless and the former cruel. Your position—your station—tips and shifts the scales as that evening on Rhysode replays in your head, the words and promises …

‘Playing yourself as an ignorant party is unbecoming for someone of your rank … if I may so, ma’am,’ you start, tentatively. You’re so caught in the part that you almost square your shoulders and fold your hands behind your back.

The right corner of her mouth twitches slightly … but you don’t get much else.

‘At ease, pilot,’ she snickers.

Damn it, Morrigan.

You wrap her in an embrace, whispering words of relief and thanks into her ear, the strands of her hair tickling.

‘I do believe that this is in violation of several rulings …’

>‘This from the woman who slobbered all over my unmentionables like they were luxury rations.’ (Snipe)
>‘Sorry, ma’am. I was overcome, ma’am.’ (Backtrack)
>‘Only until I properly fill out the form.’ (Professional)
>Just keep her in your embrace
>Write-In

>>4561654
>I don't care.
>Just keep her in your embrace

>>4561654
>Just keep her in your embrace

>>4561654
>>‘This from the woman who slobbered all over my unmentionables like they were luxury rations.’ (Snipe)
snark time

>>4561654
>>Just keep her in your embrace

>>4561654
>>‘This from the woman who slobbered all over my unmentionables like they were luxury rations.’ (Snipe)

>>4561654
>>Just keep her in your embrace

File: Spoiler Image (84 KB, 800x990)

84 KB JPG

You don’t respond to her words, content with feeling her in your arms. Battered and not quite whole … but very much there. The thought of coming on too strongly does scratch at your sensibilities, but it is, ultimately, pushed away as you tighten your embrace of her slender form. Several grunts of hesitation rumble to your right, unable to find further response to the arms coiling around her being. Morrigan Fisher’s crutches clatter loudly to your side; you’re lost in a world that you hope is very much a shared one: your palms hold her stiff form, cloaked chest pressing against the rugged material of her top … you can very much see the image of your father, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head in disapproval as you risk the scandal of public affection with your former instructor.

At present, however, it matters little.

Slowly, but certainly, you feel Morrigan’s hesitant arms wrap around your waist, what little resistance that remained prior disappearing as she leans against your being. She keeps her silence, just as you do. You feel the affectionate nudge of her cheek against yours.

‘Aw, we hugging?’

Oh no.

You practically vomit air as you find two very unwanted arms wrap around both you and your instructor, their master howling with unpleasant half-howls and grunts as your very private moment is ruined by an overly-fond blue-haired friend. Ryosuke grins wildly as you try to form a protest to this sort of behavior, before being immediately disarmed by Morrigan’s dopey grin, cocked brow and lack of protest.

‘Hello there, Umikaze.’

Ryosuke’s grin widens.

>[Pry yourself from Ryosuke’s grasp] (PHYSICAL, DC: 5, Current: 1, 1d12)
>Just scowl as Ryosuke and Fisher chat it out
>‘Ryosuke where are the guardsmen?’ (Ask for your guards)
>‘Yes, I believe that that’s enough of … that …’ (Irritated)
>Write-In

Rolled 5 (1d12)

>>4561747
>>[Pry yourself from Ryosuke’s grasp] (PHYSICAL, DC: 5, Current: 1, 1d12)
WE SWOLE

Rolled 3 (1d12)

>>4561747
>[Pry yourself from Ryosuke’s grasp] (PHYSICAL, DC: 5, Current: 1, 1d12)

Rolled 1 (1d12)

>>4561747
>[Pry yourself from Ryosuke’s grasp] (PHYSICAL, DC: 5, Current: 1, 1d12)

Rolled 12 (1d12)

>>4561747
>>[Pry yourself from Ryosuke’s grasp] (PHYSICAL, DC: 5, Current: 1, 1d12)

Let me just finish up with my prayers and we can start t-minus approximately 45 minutes until next prompt.

File: Ryosuke2.png (1.27 MB, 1280x959)

1.27 MB PNG

>PHYSICAL+1

‘Whoa,’ Ryosuke chuckles, giving you a look of amusement as your thumb presses into the fat of his palm. ‘That’s some progress right there.’

You roll your eyes as you pry yourself from his hold … before immediately moving to support Morrigan’s wobbling form. Holding her up, you reach down to pick up her unceremoniously discarded crutch … only for your guards—finally deeming you of more import than whatever it is that they had pried themselves away from—to do it for you. Installing the support under her arms, you shift your hands to her shoulders, holding onto her in concern for her balance. At the raise of a hand and a mumble of reassurance, you finally relinquish your hold on her person, taking a step back so as to give her space.

‘Thank you, guardsman.’

‘It was nothing, my Lord,’ the guardsman replies, clicking his heels and squaring his shoulders.

The mischievous side of you weighs pointing out the trio’s brief relinquishment of their responsibilities, but whatever Ryosuke had managed to distract them by (a feat not easily executed by any measure), you’re thankful that it had bought you enough time for you to catch up with Morrigan. Straightening yourself back to full height and straightening your cloak, you command your guardsmen to settle into a less personal perimeter, dictating the trio to form whatever lines they wished between you and the rest of the populace. While their mannerisms weren’t really anything you weren’t used to—what with your upbringing—after five years of having your elbows in the mud, the idea of having an entourage of such … nature was definitely something you felt a little awkward have to reacquaint by.

‘We’ve talked about it before, but I don’t think that I’ll ever get used to seeing you bunched up behind a pack of death masks like that,’ Ryosuke observes, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘It’s kinda surreal seeing you like that. It’s like you’re forced to stand out or something.’

‘Acute observation,’ you mutter dryly. ‘Just what did you do to hold their attention for so long? It’s practically drilled into their heads to keep me within half an arm’s length even without my say-so.’

‘Distract?’ Ryosuke returns, frowning. ‘Didn’t do nothing like that. Just … talked about gun-mods and stuff. Those guys were carrying the six-kay standard. I was just telling them about the precision trade-off and rapid-fire mods that they can get through the market if they were interested in putting ‘em in at all and it just took off from there. You can keep cool-downs to a minimum between bursts if you’re willing to keep it manual and all that and … you’re just dragging me up, aren’t you?’

You chuckle at the accusatory stare.

‘Still unhealthily obsessed with firearms, Umikaze?’

>‘He was the slowest passing grade in gun assembly.’ (Fisher)
>‘No, Ryosuke. Go on.’ (Ryosuke)
>Can we move on?
>Write-In

>>4567028
>>‘He was the slowest passing grade in gun assembly.’ (Fisher)

>>4567028
>‘He was the slowest passing grade in gun assembly.’ (Fisher)

>>4567028
>>‘He was the slowest passing grade in gun assembly.’ (Fisher)

>>4567037
>>4567062
>>4567128
Missed on a tech point, boys, but moving on. lol

‘You wouldn’t think so: he was the slowest passing grade in the gun assembly remedial,’ you point out with a snort.

‘For two re-takes,’ he corrects, raising a finger and wrinkling up a scowl. ‘Besides, it’s not as if you were much better off for most of the practicals. I recall you forgetting check-three and ready-two with amazing consistency.’

You wear a wry smile, turning your head downward. ‘I don’t think I ever enjoyed practical weapons remedial tutorials either, mind,’ you confess. ‘I know it was an elective you had to pass, but I never thought that it was something that you’d get the most out of.’

‘There are always incidents where you’re going to have to rely on the bare bones of what you can rustle up,’ Morrigan sounds, her tone reminiscent of her typical classroom admonishment. ‘You won’t always have the backing of a fleet or the walls of your offices—never mind the cockpit of your mech—to keep you from getting your hands dirty. Survival training, physical conditioning, rudimentary medical treatment and every practical elective is designed so that no AEGIS officer ends up in the field without a clue of what to do. You’d be surprised at how useful those lessons actually turn out to be; you can’t always rely on protocol and the textbook to go forward. If the only thing that you’ve been able to pick up from your time in the AEGIS is how to act according to what you’ve been thought in the way of formations and general conduct, I’ll probably have to file in a grievance against our general teaching methodology.’

‘Right,’ you return, nodding. ‘Adaptation, awareness, improvisation …’

Morrigan wears a small smirk of satisfaction and acknowledgment.

‘Makes me wonder why there were two different standards for weapon assembly and specialization, though …’

You roll your eyes.

‘Because kinetic weaponry, pulse weaponry and heat weaponry fall under different applications for assembly.’

‘Heat weaponry and pulse weaponry belong in the same category.’

‘Not by application.’

‘That makes them the same by classification.’

‘We’re talking categories of application: that makes them different.’

‘No, they’re not.’

‘They are, too.’

‘They are not.’

‘Heat weaponry and pulse weaponry are differentiated by the mechanism for fire and the modules required for the action,’ you mention pointedly. ‘The differentiation in the weapon class is when it comes to the load-out volume and heat weaponry and pulse weaponry overlap at the medium level, but ultimately separate into two different classes as you go up the tiers. You don’t see the manufactorums putting the same seal of approval on a straight beam and a pulse laser.’

‘The overlap does apply when it comes to discharge and the damage notes,’ Morrigan chimes.

‘I believe that doesn’t apply at the bare-bones of the assembly phase,’ you argue.

‘It uses the same dispersion modules, though: you can interchange a heat dispersion for a pulse support.’

‘The same way you can replace the barrel if it’s of similar size and shape,’ you counter, rolling your eyes. ‘That isn’t grounds for similar classification.’

Ryosuke tilts his head, considering the point. ‘True, but—’

‘With exception, of course,’ you interrupt, raising a hand … before realizing just what you had allowed yourself to get carried away with in the middle of a bureaucratic hall. ‘And this is hardly the place to discuss the classification of hand-held firearms … as correct as I am.’

Ryosuke narrows his eyes at you. You throw your own disdain for his opinions right back at him with a scowl of your own.

‘I suppose I should be glad to find you both in high spirits.’

>‘Where are Delta and Iona? Did they …’ (Concern)
>‘Has anyone heard anything about Rhysode? Most of the chatter’s been of the political fallout.’ (To The Point)
>‘Why are the both of you here? I mean … here, at the … administrarum?’ (Question their presence)
>‘Do you think the Silver Hall is actually going to do something about this or are we locked in talks for the foreseeable future?’ (Irritated)
>‘I’m glad to see you both alive.’
>Write-In

>>4567176
>‘Where are Delta and Iona? Did they …’ (Concern)

>>4567176
>>‘I’m glad to see you both alive.’
>Who else made it?, if you know.

>>4567176
>>‘Where are Delta and Iona? Did they …’ (Concern)

>‘I’m glad to see you both alive.’

>>4567176
>>‘Where are Delta and Iona? Did they …’ (Concern)

>>4567176
>>‘Where are Delta and Iona? Did they …’ (Concern)

Hey lads, this is Mech. Sorry. I ... ran into a rather large snag the last 48 hours. I will be hoping to get back on track and getting a proper schedule up and running so you guys don't have to chase this quest anymore than I have allowed. Again, apologies.

>>4573078
No worries Mech

File: teacher, lover, etc.png (150 KB, 300x450)

150 KB PNG

‘Are Iona and Delta … are they …’

You’re uncertain where you were headed with that line of questioning … but after years getting used to Fisher’s two charges, it didn’t feel quite right to not at least inquire as to their well-being; you’d developed a fondness for the White Hawk of Arrakis’ two younger siblings over the course of your little encounters and the thought of lasting harm coming to their personage leaves you anxious for news … and if needed, some closure. Morrigan’s lips part slightly as her curious gaze returns, before morphing into a defeated (if slightly amused) little smile.

‘They’re doing as well as they can,’ Morrigan answers, much to your relief. ‘I didn’t expect them to hold up as well they did, mind, but I suppose you can’t shirk off all those years being huddled on a planet with a hive-designation out just because you’re displaced by a few folds.’

You tilt your head, uncertain at what she means.

‘Oh yeah, you used to live inside an industrial hive, didn’t you, Instructor?’

Of course. That would be it.

‘It’s comparing hydraulics to circuit mechanisms, but I’d say that they’re used to having to shift to the chair over often enough that I don’t need Delta and Iona to revise emergency protocols and behaviour,’ she lets out, sighing. ‘That being said, maybe that’s just me being presumptuous that my absences have actually managed to amount to something for once.’

Ryosuke nods in agreement, almost comically so. ‘Hard to stay innocent on a hive world, even at the upper layers.’

Your gaze darts back and forth between Morrigan and Ryosuke, your toes tapping in uncertainty. You feel like an … intruder listening in, your familiarity with the situation as significant as a rodent disembarking from a ration delivery into an outpost in some frigid corner of the universe.

‘Again, it’s hydraulics to circuit mechanisms,’ Morrigan repeats, ‘but so far they’ve been holding up a lot better than I thought they would. Delta and Iona still aren’t quite used to current arrangements—predictably—but until I’m given the proper documentation to finalize any transfers, I’m effectively leashed to the temporary housing designations by the AEGIS and the administratum. We’ve tried contacting the financial institutions in regards to my account access, but the trade moderators are still reviewing their own side of the incident on Rhysode, which … while understandable, has left me with little more to do than to sit around and wait for my orders.’

You and Ryosuke glance at each other, wondering whether you were allowed to respond just yet.

‘All that being said,’ she sighs, half-smiling and half-sneering, ‘I guess I should be thankful that the both of them are … familiar enough with emergencies.’

Steadying your stance, you offer her a half-smile of reassurance.

‘Hydraulics to circuit mechanisms?’

‘Hydraulics to circuit mechanisms.’

>>4574195
>‘I could house them somewhere more suitable to their needs, if you’d like.’ (SCION)
>‘It’s good to know they’re doing well.’ (Detached, Relieved)
>‘Do either of you know about what’s on the agenda today? They sent me a letter, but I don’t really have a clue as to what? Debriefing?’ (Push on)
>Write-In

>>4574197
>>‘I could house them somewhere more suitable to their needs, if you’d like.’ (SCION)

>>4574197
>‘I could house them somewhere more suitable to their needs, if you’d like.’ (SCION)

>>4574197
>‘I could house them somewhere more suitable to their needs, if you’d like.’ (SCION)

>>4574197
>‘I could house them somewhere more suitable to their needs, if you’d like.’ (SCION)

>>4574197
>>‘I could house them somewhere more suitable to their needs, if you’d like.’ (SCION)

>>4574197
>>‘I could house them somewhere more suitable to their needs, if you’d like.’ (SCION)