Author Topic: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run  (Read 2650 times)

Online Solarius Scorch

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Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« Reply #30 on: March 27, 2024, 12:23:11 pm »
Holy shit its Scorch. Hi dude. Hopefully this has been an entertaining read!

Hello! Yes, it has. :3

Yeah, I am in agreeance with you here. When I started the run, and realized No Dr. X, that meant {spoilered}, that was rough.

True, but there are still other endings. Besides, X's arc is still unfinished anyway, despite being the most advanced of all non-standard endings.

Its also why for the writings I haven't mentioned her: Its funny she keeps diving bombing us with base defense in the run- but I do agree she really *Should* have no interest in us, except maybe having her car, and we got rid of that.

I don't think she does any bombing. While she's an antagonist, she wants you alive and cares about your ubers.

Its merely how to rectify getting Advanced Medicine- which without, we cannot advance the game. We'll eventually hit a roadblock and cant Graduate/High Studies (I forget which).

Hmm, I don't think that's the case. I can't really prove it without dissecting the tech tree (which I'm not eager to do because spoilers), but her arc is meant to be optional, so there are probably other ways to finish the game. After all, it's possible to
lose the gravball match against her three times
, which would lock you out from the rest of her arc, but should not prevent you from finishing the campaign.

Offline Yugian

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Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« Reply #31 on: March 27, 2024, 08:40:20 pm »
Hello! Yes, it has. :3

Then I am humbled Sir. Hopefully I keep it up.  :D

I don't think she does any bombing. While she's an antagonist, she wants you alive and cares about your ubers.

Yeah no, she doesn't do Literal bombing, but at least 3-4 of my defender medals right now are because academians keep knocking on the door.
I think only Red-Eyes is the only person who sends Bombing attacks. And you have to piss her off first by hitting her space station first, I think.

Hmm, I don't think that's the case. I can't really prove it without dissecting the tech tree (which I'm not eager to do because spoilers), but her arc is meant to be optional, so there are probably other ways to finish the game. After all, it's possible to
lose the gravball match against her three times
, which would lock you out from the rest of her arc, but should not prevent you from finishing the campaign.

Respect to not wanting to go into spoiler town. Keeping it in brackets here - Sadly has the requirement of the Database of Dr.X. (Second on that page, last in the game files right now.) Honestly, it could be avoided, but Arcane Interface is attached to it- and that is needed for higher studies. Everything else though? Actually not necessary to win the game. And that is the Only Dr.X required thing. Honestly, her Arc really 'starts' (Or never starts) with the Grav-Ball thing.

As I now remember, technically I think the Zubrin is outside of Higher studies? But between new Cydonia and how the Zubrin tends to kill who gets off the boat- I've had it nuke Termicators before trying to just get off due to "The universe only respects strength"- I don't really consider it viable as an option... Then again. That's kind of a shallow answer. I made Battle Tanks Intercept viper fighters before.

Edit: Okay. So the Zubrin doesnt explode violently anymore. Huh.
Yeah, giving it a test run on the old 2023 run... Yeah. It works. Kind of thematically ass, but by constraints of the challenge- thats how legal play would have to do.
Double Edit: Okay, I might have some madness in mind. Looking over matters more deeply, I might have options. Means No Nano-Surgery or Sleeping Beauty- but. It can be done actually. It also means twelve for endgame. Ah well.
Triple combo Edit: Or Star God Plasma Guns. And no Assault suits. Which is no Anni's. Which is no Termicator. Mmmfh. I'd have to run Space Guard/trooper armor... Fuck it, we ball.
« Last Edit: March 27, 2024, 09:23:19 pm by Yugian »

Offline Yugian

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Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« Reply #32 on: March 27, 2024, 11:01:07 pm »
Captains Log #5
2nd of January

Personal Reminder to myself, you celebrated the New Year on the 31st. You were Hungover on the 1st. The Date isn't Wrong.

Happy New Year. We've been stuck on this planet for a Year. We've been stuck in this Hole for a year. I think im starting to go Stir Crazy.

Supping on the first 'Yearly' vintage of our Cider, we're... Certainly getting better about this. I certainly feel more refined. Maybe the Brainers were onto something with alcohol and 'cultural refinement'. Empress knows they've shaken me down for everything I'm worth- both for finances and materials. Bothersome, really. But at least we've finally breaking even on finances- Hell. In some months, we're even making a profit again. For once, I feel like I'm running a profitable enterprise.

Much as I have feared though, to continue progress on our own ambitions- I have had to go around Cat of Nine Tails. After much internal debate, I've struck a deal with the local Mutant Polities. They had material that we needed for our Research core to expand, and they need trained killers to be the bane of their foes. The woes of those whom would abuse mutant kind- A fight that we have no personal stake in, but should serve as further opportunities to grow our increasing political influence. If we are careful, we can angle a faction that would suit our preference. Nunity took to us warmly, and the Peregrine cult favors Post-Rapture. Especially if their theory proves true and that we were All once Terrans.

As I've tread upon the grass of earth though- and seen its forests, I will admit I've felt a certain... connection to this all. There is a sense of spirituality about this land. A connection, a... Longing to it all. The wind off rolling hills, the bristle of trees and scent of wildflowers. I've come to understand why The Huntress culture has rapidly spread through the crew like a influzena: It is almost as if it was meant to be. Nekomimi, adorned in beautiful tapestry and woven in furs, hunting for their prey and being one with the land.

One in which they came from.

Or perhaps I am having too much Chateau. Perhaps I am melancholy and listening too much to the Cult- and that they've wormed their way into my mind. That denied the stars for so long, I am trying to rationalize anything that brings me comfort, and I merely the latest in our line that risks succumbing. Yet, I am bound here: I am destined to stay for my crew. ensure their survival. My Claw-Sisters could simply take their pay and leave: find the nearest smuggler ship or wait for one to deliver us material, and go back to the stars. Yet they do not.

Perhaps there is more magic here then I care to admit.

But that is neither here nor there. We have shaken on a deal with the Polities. I can only hope that this is not a mistake, or that they do not grind us to a pulp in their wars. We must remind ourselves we are still in service to our empress, and this serves her needs as much as our own. Besides, if we are lucky, perhaps we can find where our fallen Claw-Sister has been interred. After all, the Spartans prey upon Mutant Kind, and their leadership will be among their numbers.

Surely, one of their number will know where she is.

Stream is Late, but now Live! AAAAAA
Saaaauce. Ew because of it being Reddit, but its the sauce.

Post Mortem
« Last Edit: March 30, 2024, 09:26:04 am by Yugian »

Offline Yugian

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Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« Reply #33 on: March 29, 2024, 11:32:23 pm »
Captains Log #6

7th of Febuary

Melancholy fades away like setting sun when you've got too much to do.

On my desk lies at least twenty five combat reports- and I Know I haven't gone through them all. Im working as fast as I can, but I cant keep my finger on the pulse of every combat action that happens nowadays. I've had to decentralize and trust that my officers know what they're doing- so I can focus on the more important operations. Its been a hell of a reduction in my stress levels to say the least, and the other Claw-Sisters are starting to see the burdens I've been carrying for them in managing field operations (Quite Often from my Hospital bed!) Its been an... Interesting stablizing force here.

Instead, I now face two problems: One, We're not designed for this kind of warfare. Our enemies are starting to counter our tricks with advanced equipment, whilst I struggle to petition Cat Of Nine Tails for even the most basic tactile stealth gear. Hell, I'm not even begging for Unipuma Stealth suits (Though we've managed to scrounge a few up), I'm just looking for the reactor belts. Camouflage only works so well, for so long. But like many things- they deny my requests, citing that a Warrior should be 'Clever enough to adapt' to the changing circumstances.

Right. I can comfort my crew that our fallen Claw-Sisters were simply retarded and that we're better off without them, for the misfortune of being under-equipped for the job. To hell with her.

The only solution I have is to bring in fresh faces- Another Ten join our ranks. Some have had basic training, some are being pressed immediately. There's not enough Veteran sisters, and some are going Stir-Crazy waiting for their chance to get out of the revolving door that is Medical. I need more bodies on the field, and I simply have to accept that not all of them will survive. They'll simply have to trust their Elder-Sisters to lead them out of the fire. Yet such decisions shall influence the crew in another way: That of the ways.

It is no way that  many of us are former combat veterans, even before this piracy business. I have made no secret that I follow the way of the missed strike- Opportunity follows in careless attacks. Many of my Claw-Sisters took to The Way of Shadow when we had to smear ourselves with paint and hide in the bush in the buff. There are a few outliers- and whilst survival was our principle concern, ideas of combat doctrine and philosophy were put to the wayside... But now that we are starting to find our footing, entrench and find ourselves growing in comfort: Matters of philosophy soon follow. And with fresh faces and time to argue over which strategies work and which do not...

There will be a growing diaspora of doctrines. A collection of military polities within our own organization that will argue which of the ways are correct, and which shall no longer suffice. But perhaps there is a way to bring these thoughts into line. For all of these Arts are simply interpretations of the Way of trounce. I will never be able to bring them all to heel: For talent often seeks to define itself and stand out- and to grow its strength. But they see me as Captain, and they will *Obey*. In Curating their growth, I shall have officers whom specialize in their fields, and in turn I shall have strike teams that are of a unified mind. It must be that as we grow wiser, that these scattered ideas once again, form the ways of trounce. Each us of, a piece of the whole.

Hah. I speak of being busy, and yet here I am writing prose. Perhaps I am not so far removed from my Noble blood after all. To think I used to detest reading and writing. That I'd rather go play with the other Claw-Sisters, then to look adminastration. Perhaps my father can be thanked afterall. But thats neither here nor there. The second problem I'm facing, is that my Science Team needs to speak to me, and that's terrifying in its own right.

I end this log with a deep breath and trepidation. Its always an adventure to go in there.

Back to School

"Gwynevere De Tylmerade Bennett, Captain Level Access. Authorization Code- SERAPH."

I am not using their codes. I don't need to be laughed at for being 'Horny' again. But with a flick of my Keycard and the gentle hiss of the door, it slides open with a satisfactory ease and a wave of *heat* blasts me in the face. I thank the Stars that I have desert blood in me, or else this would be unbearable. I simply don't get why the 'Brainers' must have things so bloody HOT. I don't care if its their preference to not wear clothes, I swear half of the salary goes to the Power bill so they can keep warm in the nude!

Stepping inside however, the Laboratory is a wonderous display of colors and not so wonderous odious cadavers. A sterile room defiled, but alive with the discoveries and passions of those whom call this room 'home'. Once only operated by the Brainer-Strain, more have joined their ranks; More of their own Castaway kin that we have rescued and brought into the fold- but also Hacan blooded Claw-Sisters whom share in their pacifistic tendency. The Brainers tend to the needs of Violence, explosives and abstract thought- The Hacanites tend to the needs of worldly, Nekomimi concerns- alongside political machinations. Together, they create union of creativity and intellectual capacity. Harmonious however, we could not be further from. Striding forth, my ears pick up a pained, shrill sound- a tone that could only be produced by one of our kin.

"That's my tail, you fucking bitch!"

My eyes drift as melee starts off to my left. Glass shatters and a table smashes as Claw and Fist intermix into what could best be described as a 'Catfight'. Apparently, the Brainer couldn't help but grasp her tail for some odd reason- A lesson these ubers do not seemingly learn. If anything- they only seem inclined to be... Encouraged by our wild reactions to others touching such fluffy tails. Whilst at first i was prone to stopping such incidents- I've come to learn this is how they bond, or work out grievances. It only makes it harder for our Claw-Scientists to garner the respect of their fellow working companions if they cannot prove that they brawl. The hooting and the howling over the spontaneous fight is their entertainment anyway. I have a more important destination in mind.

At the far end of the lab sits a circular table, staring into a incandescent holographic image of the planet. In a shape before the landmasses were split (We've had to adapt the map). At the far end, sits the FBB (Pretentious that, but she wont accept 'Chief Scientist') and the Elder Claw-Matron. A spread of papers and documents. That they called me down here, rather then sending a runner to deliver their report- Means it is something worth my precious time. So I shall not waste theirs. Striding forth, I clear my voice before speaking.

"FBB. Honored Matron. You've called me down here for a Report?" I flit my eyes between them, but it is the FBB whom speaks here. The Matron seeks to speak at the right opportunity- Preserving words for impact.

"Yes, Ma Capitaine. Our investigation is complete, and whilst I *Could* explain matters to you, I suggest you read those papers. You will find elucidation on our labours, and what this means for our organization as a whole... And why of course, you should keep us around."

I roll my eyes at the incinuation. Yes, I know your needs are ridiculously expensive. But I open the documentation in question- and my eyes glaze over the details at first. It takes a few passes before I understand it all: What is presented before me is theoretical concepts. But beyond those such as 'How to Firearms work' and 'Why does the Bikini look good on us'- I see cracking Hyperwave Technology. I see Plastasteel being molded into bullets, alongside many wonderous things. I see Advancements of our tools, and the ability to bring us beyond just merely Humans.

What I see before me, is the makings of Empire. Apparently, the shock spreads across my face- for my ears catch what my eyes do not.

"Impressed, Cap'n? What I present before you is the keys to the Kingdom. You held up your word with our... Agreement, and thus we shall hold up ours. You speak of returning to the stars, but what if we could do something better? What if going as Paupers, we make you the Queen you are supposed to be? Your Kittens have already adorned you with a crown- We are merely formalizing the title... And a Queen such as yourself should have herself a Fiefdom worthy of her status, should she not?"

I look to her, blinking absentmindedly. "You want to take the earth?"

"Heavens no! Unless that is your ambition that is." The FBB smiles faintly, her hands gently clasping together. "My thoughts are that there is no one else you should *Bow* to- and we know the *Star Gods*-" "Ethereals." I try to correct her as quickly as possible, but she merely brushes me off. "-are taking a keen interest to our operations... Twice we've humbled them. And twice, we've had to run. Do not think they will let us go so easily in the future..."

I look to the Claw-Matron. She simply nods in rare agreeance with the FBB.

"Think about your legacy. It is as much Yours as it will be Mine. And what better way to cement your crown, then to slay the gods themselves..." Her lips curl once more, as my hand traces over the papers again.

Despite the warm air, the papers feel cool to the touch. The Air is charged, and my mind races a mile a minute- As I weather Manipulations from the FBB. There is clearly a direction she would see us go in- despite her insinuations to the contrary... and yet she would give us the tools to claim it for ourselves.

In which way, does the road go from here?.. Is such still truly my choice?

Stream is Over!
The Vod is here!
Saaaauce. Ew because of it being Reddit, but its the sauce.

Post Mortem
Why is the image so big? Im legit sorry about that. Most of the time, its pretty small...

Hired: Kildarienhyton (B-2, K-2), VintageMedic (Newly Hired!), Xika (Newly Hired!)

Survivors: Gwynevere Bennett (Way of Missed Strike, B-54 K-137, Zephyr1124 (B-53, K-148) ,Fleur Vert (B-44, K-106), Gentlefood (Way of Shadow, B-63, K-118), Kiest (B-47, K-69), Xeoposer (B-58, K-170), Isdar (B-50, K-96), Kaminyan The Blender Cat (Way of Death, B-51, K-155), Tarmph (B-67, K-144), Mittens Leadpaw (B-29, K-47), Catvy (Way of Shadow, B-52, K-102), DoctorRex (B-37, K-37), ArdriKrios (B-49, K-124), NinjaZombie0 (B-36, K-85), SquirrelWizard (Way of Sunlight, B-56, K-80), Mjolko (B-41, K-44), Talemgrandmaster (B-61, K-89) Shirajirajin (B-48, K-64), , Slegex (B-47, K-68), Violeta Kellide (Way of Shadow, B-61, K-137), NictisOfTheMafia (B-54 K-72), Wabbon (B-32, K-74), Sayuri (Way of Claw, B-46, K-72),  CGP (B-20, K-23) Krickraken (B-24, K-31) Curechan9 II (B-13, K-9), Rovlemmmhage (B-9, K-15), CaptainOrion (B-7, K-12), Psyentific1 (B-13, K-30), ZebraFinch (B-10, K-13), DJ Grom (B-5, K-12), Scotty297 (B-6, K-3), Atusid (B-10, K-27), GigaShogg (B-10, K-13), Das_Bystander (B-7, K-10)

Died: Jim3798 (B-5 K-8, FAT ZOMBIE WANTS A HUG.), Weed Base Crew x5 (The Government Wants its cut.), Claw Of The North Nyan (B-2 K-27, Half as long, but twice as bright...), BoboBuffalo (B-8, K-10, Murder Mutts Ahoy!)

Deus Ex Machinas: 18 Deus Ex (98 Total)
7 were Spent on The Weed Base. 3 were Spent on The Pogrom. Both were failures.
Sometimes you dont win.

The Good: Catitical Armor has arrived and Not a moment too soon. Having Real Armor protections means that I can actually stand line and Fight. Krazy Hanna is now a thing too, so explosive ordinance is now reliably fieldable. Air Game is Online and with Fausts/Pidgeon combo in a central location, Time for the Cats to prove they are Aces...

The Bad: Well, The government decided my Weed base was going to go- and they hit me right as I was transferring named characters to the main place. Worse, I fought it out. 28/30, so the defense was worth -1000 points. Also I lost everything there. Not the worst situation, but I was writing an Interlude featuring The Claw. That Sucks to resolve that story so soon. I liked her. Everyone else did too. Goverment armor too thick to stab sadly.

Also We had the worst Pogrom spawn today. I really want to pitch the Scorpion at this point- its spawns are weirdly inconsistent, and that's frustrating to deal with.

All and all, a rough series of encounters, and hopefully we'll turn it around soon.

The Funny: The Spartans being the Crews Nemesis is Hilariously in lore for us. Thats two of Two for Pogrom count. Hopefully, the game keeps playing with us on this one. Now we just gotta figure out how the hell to pour water on rocks...
« Last Edit: March 30, 2024, 09:28:48 am by Yugian »

Offline Yugian

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Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« Reply #34 on: April 04, 2024, 12:41:29 am »
Captains Log #7

March 5th, 2602

Another Shipment of warriors called to the front. Purrtina sat her command console, as she sighed softly. Underforce again, but at least she could understand this time. She could be frustrated, and she would make good on her threat sooner rather then later... But she could not say she didn't understand. Besides, the culling of the bandit tribes had made things quiet for the past few months. Perhaps the silence would do her some good.

Her defense of the plantation had made her a Hero. An Icon within the crew: A representation of a warrior to strive and live up to. It made her a teacher for her survival tactics. A teacher of the Way of Pain. To teach how to shape these tourists and disorderly kittens, and shape them into being warriors. How to trade a cut, for a kill.

'Warriors of the North Nyan.' Hah, she had come a long way from being in the army. From being a grunt in the forces, to a mercenary across the stars. From an interstellar traveller... To being a Cadre Instructor in a base full of weed. She still wasn't sure if this was a demotion or not- but the pay was right, and the coffee in her cup was a bold, bitter flavor. In hindsight, that wasn't so bad. A sip of the decadent drink only biased her further, her nerves fraying in a delightful sensation. This should have continued on, much like any other day. But there was one exception to today- a gentle shrill voice to her right.

"Wing Commander, there's an inbound contact. Are we expecting someone?" Purrtina would have her ears shoot up, as she shot a look to her radar operator. Canting her head, Setting her cup down and scrambling to find her files, she'd look for authorized codes and expected dates... Reinforcements weren't due for at least a week. Unless something had changed Drastically, that was definitely not a friendly ship.

"Hail them, and demand they transfer IFF codes." A moment of silence- before something would detonate nearby.

Breaching charges. They weren't waiting. Worse, they Knew how to fool their Radar dish: They were betrayed.

Thrown to the floor from the blast, Purrtina would scramble to pick up her gun- A prize from the previous raid, a Model 879 Koshiki 6.7 Autopistol. She was going to need it. The Radio operator was far less graceful in ascending to her feet- more akin to a tailless cat then a warrior... Bah, this is what she had to defend with? She survived the worst of this world once, she could do so again. But if these kittens were going to die, this one could serve one last purpose before she went.

"Congo, Send out an SOS Signal to Starlight! Tell them we've been betrayed-"

Gunfire would interrupt her. The sounds of foreign screaming in an ungodly tongue not a single sister knew to understand. But it made it clear whom was attacking. The Locals. Those whom they were sworn to fight on behalf of: Now indulging in their greed and striking them when they were weak. Two shrill noises would be silenced within seconds- unaware of what had just happened, and never having the chance to fight back. Merely victims whom had fulfilled fates ambition to make this a tragedy. Aspiring to nothing more, other then currency for another's ambitions.

"...By the Empress... Did you hear me Congo?! Signal, now! Tell them our contractors have invaded the base and we cannot hold- Tell them that we are Betrayed!" The recruit would blink absentmindedly at the request: Dawning realization that her commanding officer had given her an order that they were going to Die. Fear gripped her, as she started clacking away at the keys.

"And... What are We going to do, Wing Commander?" Her tone was desperate, as if trying to find any way out. Congo didn't want to die in a hole in the ground, away from where she could not see the stars. An animal backed into a corner- with a life so young, a coil ready to spring and make her name in this world. Her response would be the racking of the handgun.

"We fight for our right to live. This is insurance." Purrtina would scowl sharply. The firefight picked up once more, and the sounds of men would fall. At least not all was lost, but this was a losing fight. The truth of it, would be that they would be bleeding this enemy before they went to hell. Make this costly. Make them pay. "Is the SOS Signal sent?"

"Y-yes Wing Commander." Congo would reach for her rifle, racking the bolt as she quickly ran though the safeties of her gun. A strange weapon- with a curved magazine and wooden furniture. A perfect weapon for an underground warrior. Heavy, clunky... And powerful. Looking to her Wing Commander, She would pull out her short blade- an elegant weapon marked with the symbiology of the Fusoian warriors. Blinking- she'd speak in a meek voice once more. "What... What are your orders?"

Purrtina would loop around the staircase, trying to get an angle on the attackers... Two. Two downstairs. Easy to ambush. They weren't aware they were up here, but they were securing the floor. Good, an easy ambush. Looking back to Congo, her orders would come as a growl.

"Follow me into hell. We'll go bloody, scarred and with Company." That Growl would then turn into a warcry, as she leapt down the stairs. Blade drawn in that murderers poise- as she descended upon the first man. The stonework was but a cutting board- and the blade sank into his heart, rending him from the mortal coil in but one breath. The second man would tear into her ear with a round of his gun, Tinnitus and pain racking through her skull. But she didn't care: The lesson she had learned was clear- The lesson she had taught.

Trade a Cut, for a kill. Her blade would merely trade its sheath for another one, dragging into the man from gullet to groin. His armor but a mere joke- a Mockery for the blade to cut through. More rounds would discharge from behind her as the voices of men echoed from nearby. The sounds of two bodies would drop- Victims of Congo's uncertain fury... and sharp giggling.

Good. Bloodlust. She would need it.

The walls would become her ally. Tearing, and lacerating through their forces- The Claw of the north would make her name known once more. A survivor, a devastator of these men. Hope lived in her blade, and her gun. Two shots, a man would fall. Three, another would follow. Five men. Ten. Twenty. The forces numbered in dozens- but she was no rookie. She had seen battle. She was bloodied. And she would make her vengeance known. But this was no fairytale. This was no story of destiny- This was battle. This was War. And all it took was one mistake, to end ones life.

That mistake came as her shoulder ruptured. An explosion of pain and blood billeted out- as her firearm fell to the ground- her left arm going limp. Growling as she turned around- there stood a man with a smoking handgun, a High-Caliber weapon that she couldn't identify through the pain. Privateer style not unlike herself, his voice crackled with Artificial tones echoing from his blackened carapace.

"Purrtina Orion. Wanted in Twenty Seven systems for murder, insurrection and larceny. Dead or alive, your coming with me."

Purrtina would growl sharply. Her name was on the lips of first this man. Then her aide. She could recongize from the tones. But the words were not clear. Only a demand for her surrender. Flicking her blade into the ready stance- she'd stare him down.

"Try and take me." A pause, then a silent nod from the man. As if it was respect. "As you wish."

Her legs still worked. She could still run. Ten meters. She could clear that. And so she would bolt forward, arm positioned infront of her face and the blade in a reverse guard. She could only win if she could get his neck- the plate of his Carapace armor was too smooth. Too thick. But the joint, his neck- Gave her a chance at victory. Trade a Cut for a kill.

Several shots rang out as she closed the distance. Her flank. Her Gut. Her breast, though the plate stopped that one. One in the thigh- but adrenaline gave her the last push she needed. Lunging with her blade, she'd thrust with everything she had left- one last desperate push. One last kill- before she went: a worthy kill. The sound of echoing steel would ring out as the blade failed to meet its mark, impacting the collar of her foe.

Then steel pressed against her forehead. One last sound, and the world went dark.

14th of March

"Captain, I am a busy man- even as your representive to the Governments. You did not need to send thirty pings to have your message come across." The voice over the intercom was tired, annoyed. As if it sat on a high perch, and merely 'ordained' itself to speak with the mercenaries these people had hired. I was in no mood for this shit. It had been a week sense they had conducted an attack on My people- The fact it TOOK a week to do so, showed how little they cared. It set the mood for this little meeting, and my temperament.

"Considering it took over a week for you to pick up the phone, I believe I was well within my rights. Especially as you broke contract." My face wrinkled, agitation making the marking upon my face look like agitated whiskers. He could not see such a thing, but my Claw-Sisters could. They were watching with bated breath: This was something that they wanted answers for- and they could not wait for me to merely 'finish up the call'.

"Hm? How have we broken contract? We have paid you on time, and generously at that for the damages you have done-"

"You Murdered Five of my People, and seized control of territory that Belongs to us!" I could not hide my anger at this point. Could I have been more diplomatic? Yes. But my Claw-Sisters wanted blood. I wanted remuneration and an apology. Blood was sadly out of the question... For now. But we had to get something.

"Ah. Yes- Well, we did not sanction that attack. I do believe we have mentioned the Aristocracy will act as it will on occasion. For what it is worth, we offer our condolences-"

My hand would slam down on the table, my temper rising. "To Hell with your condolences and your excuses! You Know that doesn't mean Shit. I'm not here to ask for pity, I'm here to ask for compensation for our losses!"

There was a gentle cackle over the radio, before the man would speak. "Ah yes. Compensation. I agree. Let us discuss terms. After all, as according to your contract- You are obligated to compensate us for any 'Accidental friendly fire'. Compensation for the families that have lost loved ones in your conflict- Citizens now bereft of fathers and mothers..."

"You wouldn't Dare."

"...There was Twenty Eight souls that died in that base. The Central Province is expecting- Captain. Make the payments soon. Then perhaps refocus your efforts. From I hear, the Spartans Seem to be quite the Thorn in your side..."

Another laugh. Then the feed would cut. And then with unpredicdented speed- a Bank Account's routing number would be sent to us. My claws dragged onto the table- My ears falling as the only sound I produced was that of a Lion about to pounce.

Perhaps that was fitting. I looked back to my crew- with hate in my features. My eyes betrayed my intentions:

My Cup had spilled and was once again rendered empty- Something had to fill it once more. Blood would do.

Stream is Over!
There is No Sauce Link this time. This was provided by one of my Viewers- Thanks NebTheSquid!

Post Mortem
Diiiiiner time.
« Last Edit: April 04, 2024, 07:54:03 am by Yugian »

Offline Yugian

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Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« Reply #35 on: April 06, 2024, 12:02:49 am »
Captains Log #8

? of ?
V̸̬̋̾͒͌i̵͍̦̓̈́o̵̼͋͜ļ̶̓̚ë̸̟̣́̀͛͛n̸͔̥̮̍͊̒ç̵͚̈͗̔͑ḙ̵͚͍̀,̵̥͝ ̴̺̤̹͂̒t̴̐̈́̈́͠ͅh̶͍̘̼̾̈́̑͜͠e̵̢͓͘͜ ̷̼̾̏͘s̴̭͚͕̀̔̆u̵͉̜̓̉͝p̸̨̭͎̦̀̿r̴͇͉̗̂́͠é̵̟̺͔̗͛m̴̢͙̱͂͠e̴̤̔̄ ̴̠͐̈́̍͠à̶̬͂ú̷͉̹̂t̴̲̲͉̭̍ĥ̷̢̢͉̗̍̒͠ȍ̵͇̓̚r̴͚̜̪̭̿̆i̷̗͐͛t̴̝̫́͛̈́ý̸̻̿͘ ̷̣͂̊̆̏f̷͓̀̈r̵̩͚̗̋͗́o̷̜͙͇̐̐m̸̙͔͇̟̋́͂ ̵̣̪̯̎͠w̴̞̰̲͛̄̎͝ǐ̶͓̦̓́c̸̭͓̓̌h̶̘̜̍͗̔ ̸̠̂̊̏ȧ̴̘ḻ̷̛͈͍̄l̴̪̻̈́ ̴͍͍̆͝õ̴̢̬͚̯t̷̙̬̪͍̉͐̈ȟ̴̯̣͇͛͋ȩ̸̼̭̍r̵̘͙̍͜ ̸̗̪̠̩̿ä̸͉͎́û̶̩̭͍́͑͆t̵͖͉͔̽h̶̺̤̬̳̀ô̴̠̼͝r̸͎͈͊i̸̝̳͗̕̚t̶̡̙̟͆i̵̹̰̲̮̒̂e̶͜͝s̷͔̋̈́ ̴̰̝̯́́̊̕d̷̦̃ͅe̶͖̔̇̽͘r̶̬̣͕̉̍ī̵͇̐͘v̴̛̤̲̻e̵̜̮͎̿͋̄̆d̴̯̘̈́̀

I awaken in fire. I hear the screaming of a thousand voices. Instinctually, I know they are my foes. Barren soil creases under my feet as I rise, ash falling from my frame like winter snow. Burned into this world- My majesty is made known to all who witness my birth. My soul is that of royalty, My form befitting of such magnificence. No imperfections mar my flesh, No god matches my strength. I am beautiful beyond compare, my shape the envy of any other Lioness whom wishes to be. Whom I shall choose to be my King shall be blessed, not me to He. This legacy, shall be my gift to my Kits, as they become as me.

But such words are meaningless, without the ability to enforce such claims. A thousand souls would steal my birthright- to wash away my legend and my noble line. It is their dreams that they would see bloom, like shining stars. Only the strongest will shall rule as sovereign.

Striding forth, I behold a battlefield: Weapons as far as the eye can perceive- Forged in the Hellfire that surrounds us. Thousands are at my beck and call- all eagerly awaiting a worthy master to claim them, accepting that a warrior of half their skill shall wield them... But my hand goes low, as if by instinct to claim what is mine. A blade made for purpose- ornate as befits a gilded warrior, but forged for the crucible that is war. A blade made for two hands- but not bereft of true swordsmanship. It flicks into my hands with ease, as if filling a void that had existed for so long.

My heart beats like a drum- A fitting accompaniment to these dancing steps of war. It emblazons the soul, as I prepare to face the first of this host. A woman possessed of golden strands for hair. Soft faced, and young- but clutching what was the deadliest weapon of all: Ambition, to see her dreams through. The Will to power to bend the stars and empires to her whims. The strength to take what she pleased. She must be the first to die; for she is the most deadly of this host.

For she is me. To master combat, You must be the first to die. For in defeating yourself, no opponent could dare best you.

We draw our blades with nothing more then a nod and a scowl. There can be no words in this exchange, for there is no avoiding destiny. There is no compromise that would be sufficient to our desires- A crown cannot rest on two heads. Instead, diplomacy is conducted in the most honorable tongue we can muster- The song of steel. We move in sync, as we prod and tease for openings. We are not unlike dancers- putting on a grand performance. A weaving flurry of flesh, bone and sinew- craving release of tension, the impact of force through the body. We seek the ecstasy of victory.

The moment comes. I clutch my sword to my shoulder- she aims from the center. We thrust- and exchange our steel. My breast lacerates as I feel my flesh violated by blades kiss, searing pain coursing though my body as it screams out my mistake. But this is no mistake- this is an exchange, to claim the beast that lies before me. My blade goes high- aimed for the throat, I Feel it tear like paper, severing the warrior from her body. I keep my posture- as the meat before me falls into the soil, a wet thump to echo out in this burning battlefield.

A hand reaches up to feel the blood freely flowing from above where my heart is. I clutch my hand instinctively- as the pain recedes. In this battle, I am made Exalted. This will scar. This will become proof that I am no coward. For what warrior, proven in battle, would be so smooth? So genteel that they could not suffer the tides of battle?

I feel imaginary hands wrap around me. I am called beautiful. I am called wonderous. A sensation tickles my core- as I am teased. But they recede- as blood pours past my feet. The fallen warrior provides me direction and feeds the soil. I am reminded of my duty- for I am the queen of a barren land. I will rule over nothing, until the soil is fed with blood.

A thousand voices scream out once more as they finally descend to battle. Men. Women. The Young with so much to gain. Elders with decades of combat. Beasts who wish to savage the flesh- and the deceitful whom wish to take what I am due by dishonorable conduct. Let them come. They shall feed the river of blood- as we all do. They shall be the crucible in which my land is made the envy of all.

I clutch my sword and bring it high once more- a devils grin upon my features. A thousand today.

A thousand tomorrow. A thousand again- until the first bloom into spring.

The first sensation when I woke up was that I felt my arm scalding- something tautly wrapped around of a heavy and thick weight. My body was slick was sweat and I swear I was running a fever. My Head pounding like a drum and my chest beating as if I was in the clutches of mortal terror. My body simply wasn't Responding to me, as fatigue crept over my body. I wished to scream, but I could not, my voice caught in my throat. Only the burning sensation in my arm kept me grounded to this reality- Grounded to the terror my body was trying to convey to me. My arm shot up, to clutch at what had claimed my arm.

Chains, burning like the hells.

A meek scream of pain echoed out- but I would rip at the chains. A foolish thing that- but I had no give. Instinctually, I reached for my arm- And only fought weight. Pulling my arm as if pulling the sword from the stone, my fingertips traced over something not unlike paper- before I reclaimed my limb. Clutching it close to my chest- As if I had nearly lost my newborn kit, It took me minutes to push myself back up to my knees. My breathing would not calm down- My Body would not calm down. So what in the hell just happened?

Looking to what I had seemingly touched- It was a book of hellfire. A book bound in brass and chains. Its foul stench was overpowering- as if I had taken a piece of the vision I had seen home with me... Wait. A vision? A vision...

Scrambling to my feet and only One Minor incident of crashing against my desk with my shoulder from stumbling- I stumbled to find the Red Codex. It wasn't here anymore. My memory starting to return to me, I remembered trying to read it again... Did I try something with it? Did it... Try to attack me? Did it Test me? Was that why my head pounded like a drum? And why was there a sense of foreboding so strong... I had no strength or heart to lift the new book right now. I had no mind for tactics in such a state. I needed rest. I needed... Something.

My hand would pound on the intercom- my voice raspy and terse. Mustering what strength I had, I'd speak.

"This is your Captain Speaking... I shall be taking a week of rest..."

Stream is over!
The Sauce Boss is BACK BOIZ.
Ian didnt forget the VOD in this.
Oh no he totally didnt.

Post Mortem
"Yes, I'll go back and do 7 too."

Hired: No One!

Survivors: Gwynevere Bennett (Way of Missed Strike, B-67 K-191, Zephyr1124 (B-68, K-189) ,Fleur Vert (B-51, K-116), Gentlefood (Way of Shadow, B-73, K-140), Kiest (B-52, K-83), Xeoposer (B-68, K-187), Isdar (B-55, K-105), Kaminyan The Blender Cat (Way of Death, B-61, K-203), Tarmph (B-78, K-184), Mittens Leadpaw (B-42, K-61), Catvy (Way of Shadow, B-69, K-121), DoctorRex (B-40, K-39), ArdriKrios (B-57, K-153), NinjaZombie0 (B-47, K-112), SquirrelWizard (Way of Sunlight, B-69, K-98), Mjolko (B-50, K-56), Talemgrandmaster (B-68, K-110) Shirajirajin (B-55, K-70), , Slegex (B-56, K-87), Violeta Kellide (Way of Shadow, B-76, K-168), NictisOfTheMafia (B-61 K-83), Wabbon (B-37, K-85), Sayuri (Way of Claw, B-55, K-86),  CGP (B-26, K-31) Krickraken (B-36, K-59) Curechan9 II (B-19, K-19), Rovlemhage (B-18, K-27), CaptainOrion (B-14, K-20), Psyentific1 (B-32, K-54), ZebraFinch (B-22, K-37), DJ Grom (B-14, K-23), Scotty297 (B-24, K-20), Atusid (B-27, K-62), GigaShogg (B-28, K-40), Das_Bystander (B-19, K-23), Kildarienhyton (B-21, K-29), VintageMedic (B-13, K-12), Xika (B-14, K-17)

Died: 17 of The Engineering Crew.

Deus Ex Machinas: 10 Deus Ex Machinas (115 Total)
How I learned to stop fearing the Supply Ship and just let them be.

The Good: The Chaos Saint is finally awake. That means witch quests, and whilst I have no clever solution for Nocturne in Red- I Do have alternative quests to go pilfer. That means beauty virus and plenty of chances to get people boosted. Also, Explosive Muntions are finally finished, so that means Golden Guns are Standard issue Now, once I can acquire more. Golden Pistols we actually have a healthy supply of, and they scale Really good. Its likely they'll never leave the Armory.


The Bad: Im up to 7 Million in Bills now. Cats are Goddamn expensive Broski. I'm happy I have a functional Airgame now, and this is my first month in awhile that I 'Broke even', but I Really need to come up with a better solution other then spiking everything I see. Attrition will get me there sooner, rather then later. And this isn't including the fact that I only have One good interceptor. And it costs 30-150k to refuel, depending on how hard I gotta use it. Its a crutch, a lovely one for the cats but... Yikes, I need some aircraft that isn't the Faust. Or better guns. Better guns probably.

The Funny: I've slept on the Longbow. I thought it wouldn't be efficient for cats to use. That thing *Kills* Cyberdisks, what the shit. I used it as kind of a specialist weapon, but as the hunting bow runs out of its 'Optimal' use, I might just transition into it. Considering if I want Chem Rounds or 'Fire' Arrows to go with it, or just go hard on damage.

Also, our first real rounds of Cats Going... Well. Diving. It goes as well as you expect. Panick Kats.wav

Also my Engineering base keeps getting attacked. Its not governments Thank god but its like... Go home. We don't even make Weed here. We don't make anything here yet. They should be now, because its online and its got defenders and guns but... Like. Go home. We're just a Gas station right now.  :-\
« Last Edit: April 07, 2024, 09:07:35 am by Yugian »

Online Solarius Scorch

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Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« Reply #36 on: April 06, 2024, 11:48:41 am »
Very good! The Destroyer seems pleased.

Offline Yugian

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Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« Reply #37 on: April 06, 2024, 01:07:15 pm »
Very good! The Destroyer seems pleased.

Every Explosion is a Prayer in his name.  ;D

Yeah, The Red Codex finally woke up. I will admit it was a little hard to write 'Megalomania power trip'. Not sure if I landed it 100% right. Then I get to have fun writing Chaos Saint. If it reads right though, glad it was a fun read!

Edit: I had 6 cats lined up with explosives for amusement- but it did it top-bottom instead of left-right. Cut them out so that it wasn't just unnecessary blob.

He also gave us a Puppy. We had to give it away. Because No dogs.
« Last Edit: April 06, 2024, 01:39:05 pm by Yugian »

Offline Psyentific

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Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« Reply #38 on: April 07, 2024, 12:06:51 am »
Mister Bones says "The ride is starting!"

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Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« Reply #39 on: April 08, 2024, 02:47:30 pm »
Hello! It's me, Kamivax. I also go by Kaminyan The Blender Cat in the Caturday run. I am here to share some insight on Kaminyan: as you might have noticed while reading the Captain's Logs, Kaminyan is not like most of the Starlight's crew, both original and added, as she is described as practically earthborn by the Captain.

 This is because she has spent quite a long time (I haven't fully figured out HOW long though) in Earth's jungles, so she is (at the start of the run at least) feral, primal and closer to the cat girl equivalent of a canny gal than your average cat girl, outlaw or tourist. This has left her predisposed to melee weapons, though she still knows her way with a gun.

She follows the Way of Death, one of the Seven Ways of Trounce (which i find best described as battle philosophies or could even think of them as fighting styles if that clicks for you). The Way of Death is the idea of "hit them fast, hit them hard" or "the enemy cannot kill you if they are dead", it is to end the fight after it began, with the first attack.

 Obviously that doesn't always work when everyone else has armor, but that won't really stop Kaminyan from either hacking her prey to pieces with an axe or just pummel the life out of them with her holy club, or as she prefers to call it, a "macuahuitl" which is presumably complete gibberish to the rest of the crew.

Being the most primal and most tuned with her wild side might cause some possible issues with the Red Codex, effectively turning her into a furry berserker that would make Khorne quite proud, if he can feel pride. She tends to get into arguments with Squirrelwizard, one of the more voodoo or magically inclined crew members (if not THE most), for...reasons that feel pretty obvious since you basically have a khorne berserker and a tzeentch sorcerer in the same room.

Kaminyan makes for a fairly reliable ally on the field, typically closing in and dealing with potentially troublesome enemies and generally being a bit of a bullet sponge (seriously, she has tanked light cannon rounds and a point blank grenade) for the rest of the Starlight's crew, though that leads to her getting sent to the medbay semi-regularly. Alright, I think that's enough lore dumping for me, if people have questions pertaining to Kaminyan,  I will answer to the best of my ability.

Offline drew2319

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Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« Reply #40 on: April 08, 2024, 09:44:24 pm »
Drew2319, reporting in! I'm Catvy in the run. I can shed some light (and probably some fur) on Catvy and their "lore" if anyone's interested.

Catvy currently is torn between the Way of Shadow, and the Way of Sunlight. Stuck between the idea of sniping from the shadows, and firing explosives from behind cover. Their main claim to fame is their...interesting luck. Catvy is plagued by what seems to be inverse luck. Incredibly unlikely shots land more often, and what should be sure tends to miss. Explosions too fall under this, though the Catvy can't push it too far. Even their luck can't save them from an RPG immediately after a frag grenade.

Catvy is normally fairly affable and always ready to offer a pun or a quip when off the field, but that humor tends to vanish once guns are drawn. Until they get shot, then the humor returns in full force as a coping mechanism. Which could imply that the Catvy is ALWAYS coping with some kind of trauma, but that's dog propaganda. In their free time, they actually write poetry.

Their chosen armament WAS a sniper rifle, but as the team of cats have discovered explosives, Catvy may have discovered their new calling. Currently rocking the mortar, they send death arcing through the skies. Something about their intuition serves them well when operating it, and a natural eye for geometry.

Cat-ch you all next time, when Catvy attempts to steal the Capnyan's Log to record their own entries!

Offline Yugian

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Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« Reply #41 on: April 08, 2024, 10:39:31 pm »

Captains Log #9

June 2nd, 2602

I'm still not feeling terribly great.

I'm doing better then I was a week ago though. My body no longer gripped by mortal terror, and breathing isnt a concious effort. So, Its progress. Still, I feel like I'm lurching everywhere I go- as if something is weighing on my back and taxing my muscles. At least if I had a stomach ache to go with it- I could suffer jokes about potential 'mistakes' (Which I have NOT committed, thank you!). No, I feel a sense of foreboding. Like static in the air, or an acrid taste on my tongue. Something is coming, and I know not what it is. The best I can do is prepare for it.

As 'Voodoo' (The brainers call Psionics this for some reason. I'll humor them) starts to proliferate throughout the crew, I will see what I can do to try and seek the council of our stronger psykers. Some have prior experience, and even Squirrelwizard 's methods are starting to make sense, at least for this occasion. As we deal more and more with the 'Star Gods', we will need to be more and more wary of their potential methods of attack and those of their followers. At the very least, we can be blessed with the fact we as a race moderately skilled in our potentials. I was never graded particularly high, but-

Captains Quarters

My vision flickers in and out, as if I am losing myself again. Black feathers fall from the sky with clarity as clear as crystal- as warmth proliferates my room once again. Fear grips me once more as I slam my pen down, my hand reaching to turn my plow into a sword. Or in this case, the ever comforting taste of home: A Pulse Pistol.

Ripping it forward, aimed with the care a child would- my eyes darted around the room, then to the roof. Nothing. Was I going mad? That was entirely a possbility here. But a soft voice would break through the silence, teasing in its tone and finding amusement at my headspace. I didnt hear the words at first, I simply pulled the trigger and let loose rounds at whereever the voice was coming from.

I missed. Or more correctly, there was nothing there to begin with.

"Mm. Right, I forgot I was dealing with a Red Queen for once. More prone to thinking with violence- instead of simply waiting for me to Talk..." From nothingness, emerged a woman from shadow. Half dressed, equal parts crow and demonic, with ebony hair and a bemused smile. That look is one im familiar with, one whom knows that she is in total control. She is Humoring me, and I am merely the pawn.

Its not a comforting thought. But realization dawns upon me, I've seen her before. in logs from the brainers- when they were doing arts and crafts with magazines. The words fall from my lips, as if a puppeteer pushed me forth- my gun lowering as I speak. "You... Your from-"

"Two Girls, One Panties? That was fun. Yet, you are doing well. Sifting through clues we have left behind for you... You are moving along the path the Shadowmasters have foreseen." Her tone is approving, even if its spiked with enough pride to poison the well. Or is that smug disposition? Her hands trace across my desk- her presence now entirely too close for my comfort. "And now you've started upon the Path... You are a fascinating creature. Half of this world, half of another- Yet fitting in neither..."

My hand grips my gun again- my features scowling at something she should not Know... Yet Does.

"Calm down, You know its useless. Don't waste ammo you'll need for the trials ahead, you idiot." We exchange glances- but we know whom holds the power here. I aquiess, and her queer smile returns. "You will need friends if you are to master not only your new powers, but the dark star as well. Have you chosen this path? Or Been chosen? The answer is pointless, for you must now survive walking it... And we, the Witches of the Coven- have taken an interest in your potential. The birth of a new Chaos Saint..."

She hums with a sastified disposition. Measuring up a new sister to be? Im being appraised as if im prey, before a predator. Or if I am ripe for slaughter- Both could be equally true. A finger rises up to take my chin- as she speaks once more. "I shall return in the future. My sisters and I wish to test you- quests befitting of your aspirations. To see if you are worthy. If not, we are simply hastening your demise..." Then most egreiously of all, she takes a hand to my head- and laces her fingers through my hair, to tease my ears. "Im inclined to believe you will succeed... But you may easily prove me wrong."

She turns to leave- feathers once more congregating. Only snap reactions allow me to muster any strength to my voice- overcoming her assault. "Wait, Hold on, I have questions-!"

She cranes her head back- bemusement upon her features. "Your not a Devious Queen. I dont have to answer Shit for once."

I choke back irriation, or the urge to put more holes in my walls. Instead, I just yell. "Im not. According to you, I am a Chaos Saint instead! Apparently, that is above a crown, so you will answer to me!"

She rolls her eyes, her wings flapping once as if to work out the insult. "Aspiring saint. You have proven nothing yet... But I'm not gone yet. Make your questions quick."

Right. Okay. "You speak as if there are other 'queens', other Codex's that have existed and those whom have wielded them- Is that true? Whom are they? What IS a Chaos Saint, and how did you know...?"

She sighs quietly, as if my questions were chosen poorly. Or was she simply tired of hearing these questions? She at least ordains to answer, despite the irritation. "Yes, You are not special... Weren't special, until now. Your still not. You may be. We've yet to see... You will learn as you walk the path. And how did I know?" Once more, her wings flap and that smug disposition crosses her lips. Once more in total control and this was to humor me. A tease.

"An answer for another time." And in feathers, she disappears. Leaving nothing but my own thoughts, and the hum of my sodium lights.

"Goddamnit-!" I slam my hand down in a clear irritation, rage creeping into my mind again. Yet, the visit was not entirely without merit. For one, I feel much lighter now. If the She-Bitch was simply on my back the entire time, I'm glad to have her Off- and if simply knowing what is Wrong with me was the cure, at least I can fight and lead my crew again. Regardless of what may come in the future, if i was not capable of that- we would already be lost. But my ear would flick with a clear irritation.

She had no right to touch my ears... Which. In a hair trigger- heard boots coming down the hallway. Picking up my gun again, i'd look to it, and the half dozen holes in my wall. Well shit.

"Capnyan! We heard weapon discharges! Was it another assassnyan?!" Clutched with rifles- two kits enter my door. Armed for battle, as good Claw-Sisters should be, I blink, before slumping back into my chair, letting the gun collapse onto the table. Rubbing my face- my ears would flick as I'd wave them away.

"I'm alright... I'm doing alright. Just a Malfunction. Back to your posts- Thank you Sisters."

They both shrug, before leaving my quarters. This was not helping my image around the crew- already once disturbed from the the 'yelling' and the sudden need for rest... But. I will press on.

Who else will see us through this storm? Especially now, as our 'patrons' look upon us so? I knew that leaning upon them was a mistake... To have placed our faith into the hands of random gods. We all must endure it to the end now... And as I once said. They will Tremble at what they have created. They have ordained me to walk this path, after all...

Stream is Over!
Behold, a Sauce!

Post Mortem

I had a pretty Happy Birthday and I am no longer lazy. So get your late update.

Hired: No One!

Survivors: Gwynevere Bennett (Way of Missed Strike, B-72 K-212, Zephyr1124 (B-76, K-207) ,Fleur Vert (B-53, K-123), Gentlefood (Way of Shadow, B-81, K-150), Kiest (B-58, K-99), Xeoposer (B-73, K-211), Isdar (B-58, K-117), Kaminyan The Blender Cat (Way of Death, B-62, K-209), Tarmph (B-82, K-204), Mittens Leadpaw (B-43, K-62), Catvy (Way of Shadow, B-78, K-141), DoctorRex (B-55, K-67), ArdriKrios (B-68, K-202), NinjaZombie0 (B-52, K-121), SquirrelWizard (Way of Sunlight, B-70, K-99), Mjolko (B-54, K-72), Talemgrandmaster (B-71, K-120) Shirajirajin (B-60, K-84), , Slegex (B-59, K-96), Violeta Kellide (Way of Shadow, B-86, K-195), NictisOfTheMafia (B-62 K-87), Wabbon (B-43, K-103), Sayuri (Way of Claw, B-58, K-99),  CGP (B-28, K-37) Krickraken (B-39, K-67) Curechan9 II (B-25, K-30), Rovlemhage (B-20, K-33), CaptainOrion (B-17, K-23), Psyentific1 (B-40, K-71), ZebraFinch (B-23, K-39), DJ Grom (B-20, K-33), Scotty297 (B-33, K-34), Atusid (B-35, K-81), GigaShogg (B-28, K-40), Das_Bystander (B-23, K-37), Kildarienhyton (B-24, K-32), VintageMedic (B-20, K-21), Xika (B-14, K-19)

Died: GigaShogg (B-29, K-44- Intercontinental Dog Missile Incoming.) All 15 of The Engineering Crew.

Deus Ex Machinas: 12 Deus Ex Machinas (127 Total)
The Combats are getting nastier. And there was no saving that Industrial Base.

The Good - SAMURAI PIZZA CATS. We have the Samurai Armor! And despite the laundry list of BAD, we're still alive and getting two new bases up and running. Losing material by the truck load is bad. But the fact we can bounce back means we're generally on the upswing to keeping afloat. That's Winning.

More importantly, we have The Secret Deal. Time to upgrade our standard equipment to Pulse Munitions- and our front line battle cats get an upgrade in their armor.

The Bad - Well, First thing that comes to mind. I lost the Industrial base. Even with decent protection, it got slammed twice over the course of a few days. Despite shooting down every bandit vessel that came their way. Then the main base got hit a day or two later. So uh. That Sucked.

It would be a greater set back, but I then got an Industrial refueling mission- Selling off all the Captors there and the 300 Helerium put us back on track. But I am *Woefully* behind on bases. I think what's worse is simply just falling one step behind on the kills that would have saved the base. Yet, it is entirely my fault. I lean on Ground defenses, and thus I paid the price for it.

I would put it under funny, but with my bases off line, I don't have the space I need to get my Hunting Party going as well. So Primals are delayed too.

That can hurt.

The Funny- Witch Quests are Online. Love and Beauty, here we come. Noctrune in Red, Plz no.
« Last Edit: Today at 04:03:44 am by Yugian »