Balcerzak

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About Balcerzak

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    Warchief of the Lilim in Exile
  • Birthday 04/23/83

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    Male
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    Eden Prairie

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    Blazing Sword

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  1. Abby hadn't expected that. And to Nikolai of all people. Sure, he was a bit of a disagreeable ass, but it's not like anybody was without their rough edges. Was this the universe's way of getting back at her, for trying to crawl out of the hole it tried stuffing her in earlier? Offing yet more people she actually knew from before. No fucking way. Slamming down on the console, she growled, and geared into action. "Clearing a way for you guys by breaking up this guard unit. I'll position myself to back you up too, so just try not to take too long, alright!" Valor move to 10,17 titanium sword #2
  2. Alright, that looked bad, very bad. But Thorvald knew he couldn't let the team get any more distracted by it than they already were. It would need some serious luck, but not quite miracle level, for Nikolai to make it out of that. If he kept a cool head and the safety systems were engaged... Yeah, trust in that. "Okay people, we still have a job to do out here, and there's one major factor in the way of that. We down this sniper before we try to rescue that pilot, make sure we're secure before the SAR. Any of the others we can mop up, fine, whatever, but if some get away, they're not priority. Fencer, I'm tasking you with the takedown, I know you can do this, I've seen the good work you're putting in every mission. Red, you look like you're in position to help too, and if you need it, call in the big guns. Terminator... your tank's indicator is showing desperately low, hold on a minute while I get you fueled back up and good to go. Everyone else, if you can't assist directly, help out by clearing the way for them." Closing the comms, he frowned. It was hard to keep a cheery attitude in situations like this, but if nobody did, then things would only be the worse for it. So much for protecting the lost boys forever. It hurt, failing like this, it really did. But there was work to be done. Thorvald bless Astin, resupplies Hannah
  3. Naimanzuunnadintsetseg had connected, feathering one of the annoyances pretty well, but her footwork on dodging apparently needed to up its game, as one of his fellows closed in and scored a bit of a nasty hit. Grunting and pressing a hand to the wound, she applied enough pressure that her clothes would stick to it and hopefully keep it staunched for the rest of the battle. It would obviously need to be looked at after, but there were more important things to handle for the moment. At the very least, the band they'd met up with were quite competent. There was a bit of conversation here and there, not much standing out as more than steeling themselves for the fight to come, or keeping allies apprised of changing circumstances. Not much, that is, until the word 'princess' was uttered. That certainly caused Naimanzuunnadintsetseg's ears to prick up. It wasn't every day one ran into foreign royalty. Curiosity sufficiently piqued, it was unfortunate that the details would have to wait until after the life and death situation was taken care of. Hopefully the newly approaching pair from the south would side with them against the bandits. If not, well... a bow was generally a good counter to a wyvern. With luck it wouldn't come to that, though. Circling around some of the ruffians with a wide berth, she pulled another arrow from her quiver and let loose at one of the knaves threatening the princess. It never hurt to stay on one's good side, and at very least it would erase some of the debt incurred by requiring her group's aid in the first place. "Doing well, everyone, after this we should have at least bought a little breathing room." Mostly empty words, but they helped to keep spirits up, and distract herself from the pain of her wound. Naiman moves to 7,2, shoots bandit #5 Sebastian moves to 9,5, throw a knife at the thief Graham moves to 9,6 and Steel bows hunter 3
  4. The Riese was actually carrying a full load, considering the battle was still afoot, but with circumstances such as they were there was no avoiding it. At least they hadn't all needed to pile in for repairs, although a few minor touchups were appreciated here and there. Thorvald was a bit anxious, worrying about how the others were holding up without his overprotective eye to keep watch on them, while Abigail was frustrated at the delay keeping her from extracting righteous vengeance on Apotheosis. Two different takes on a similar base emotion. The only thing keeping Abby from hanging from the lip of ramp that loaded into the hangar, ready to drop down onto land the second they crossed the river, was the fact that it wasn't designed that way in the first place. Well, that and the fact that her machine really did need a bit of repair, and that she didn't need another earful from Jess if the captain somehow caught wind of a stunt like that. At any rate, what it really came down to in the end, was that Abigail was barely paying any attention to any of the happenings surrounding Elaine's antics with the captured Oberon, its hostile pilot, or even that much to the lieutenant and Christina. She did care enough about the latter two to check in that they were alright, but seeing that both exited their craft on their own power was enough to reassure her that they'd escaped just fine from their tussle with the latest pair of unknowns thrown their way. Then it was popping out and helping the mechanics who'd come for the maintenance so as to help speed things along. Thorvald, on the other hand, was stunned into silent contemplation by the second Christina. Having been the reason they'd ended up saving the first Miss Troy, he felt distinctly responsible for her and now, to add onto that the fates of potentially others, exactly like her? Just what was going on, and how many had they failed to save? Too many questions, and the middle of a battle was no time for answers. Nothing to do but chew on his lip and stew. Well, at least until Makoto reported in his disappointment and began climbing aboard. "Nonsense, son, you did just fine out there. Plenty of good work, even if those unknowns didn't seem to dent. It looked like Idol also struggled to do anything meaningful, and we'll have to go over the full data after. In the meantime, don't let it get you down, just gear up for what we have left to work on. See you down there when you're ready," Thorvald finished a minor pep talk and then, his machine not quite fully repaired (but as good as it was going to get for now), considering they were across the river and the repositioning almost complete, he got the okay to launch back out into the fray. Thorvald moves to 13-14 Abigail followed his lead soon after, being a little delayed in comparison given she'd actually gotten out of her craft to help out touching up the Crescent Moon a little. When she hit the ground, she saw that Doyle had charged in pretty far, nearly unsupported. Like hell she was letting that go unanswered and unsupported. Cursing silently a bit at her lack of a proper call-sign, and resolving to do some research this afternoon to fix that, she radioed out a general message without referring to herself as anything in particular. "Going on ahead to meet up with Doyle," Abby ended up skipping use of the other pilot's call-sign as well, as per her usual. "Whether the rest of you wanna get in close too, or stay back and line up shots, just... make everything count. Let's keep these bastards on the ropes." Abigail moves to 11-15 and uses Titanium Sword on Saturn #2
  5. Don't Count the Mods Out

    but what's the question?
  6. Naimanzuunnadintsetseg sighed in response to the ruffians' thinly veiled threats. What was it that had betrayed her? It must have been something in the way she'd been carrying herself after joining up with the caravan. Sylvia's influence perhaps? She'd initially simply planned on offloading the spoils of her latest hunt and continuing on her way, but there'd been small talk during the transaction, and the topic had come up about how they wouldn't mind adding another guard to the roster--for all the good it had ended up being in the end. At this point in exchange, something told her plainly that a lecture about how she was the proud son of Altan, and a brave warrior of the Ulagan tribe, would be too late to correct the raiders' opinions. Perhaps their mistake was, for once, in her favor, as Naimanzuunnadintsetseg contemplated the fates of those who had already died. At least she had this extra time to seek a finish with dignity, taking down a handful, maybe more, before she fell. For some reason, Sylvia even bothered attempting the smooth talk route. Fine, let her try, the young nomad thought, discretely checking that her knife was loose in its sheath, and listening to the comforting rattle produced by a slight shrug of her shoulders--informing her that, yes, the arrows in her quiver were within easy reach. "Taxes, tolls... horseshit," she turned her head to the side and spat, not bothering to hide the contempt in her voice, whose normally lighter tenor tones were darkened by disgust. "Needn't bother dressing it up pretty-like, the ugly business you're really after." That was probably more words than they deserved, and certainly all she'd give them. Fortunately, her lancer companion's signal had not gone unnoticed, and thus the bolt from the blue did not come as entirely a surprise. Even so, when the nature of the potential aid on the horizon had been revealed as foul wizardry, it prompted a quick ritual gesture to ward off evil spirits. With any luck this wasn't going to be a frying pan into fire situation, because these saviors were far from ideal... Still, beggars can't be choosers. The privateer's follow-up shot had missed its mark, sadly enough, but between the pair of commotions, they'd purchased some wiggle room at least, and a better glance at the approaching party. Her companion's continued inability to pronounce her name did not fail to disappoint, but Naimanzuunnadintsetseg was beginning to become resigned to this, it only warranting a slight roll of the eyes this time as the woman picked whatever flower came to mind to replace it with. No time or energy for a lecture really. "It's not that hard," was all the effort she expended as she kept pace and drew her bow. Then pausing slightly, she fell behind Sylvia to pepper one of the rogues with some arrows, covering their retreat. Naiman to 11,6, shoot the thief on 13,6 with her bow Graham to 10,6, Rescue Naiman, equip Partisan Sebastian to 9,6, take Naiman, drop her on 9,5
  7. Don't Count the Mods Out

    this salt is amazing if only I had butter and popcorn
  8. All Aboard Thorvald had very nearly charged straight after Kim's machine, especially after an initial hail to her callsign hadn't yielded a response. Jamming or something, probably, given she managed to free herself and make some progress back in their general direction. Her positioning was aggressive, but maybe it would pay out. Given the terrain, it wasn't easy to reach her by foot. The Riese would provide some more flexibility. Patching in to the bridge, he informed them of his thoughts. "Papa Bear here, Bright Eyes. Gonna go ahead and dock here for the moment, if you don't mind towing us somewhere a little more convenient where we can make an effective stand. Looks like Idol's on her way to try and meet us midway, so I'll leave the exact coords to your discretion, but it'll be faster than trying to work around this river. Gonna round up anyone else in the same boat, a united front'll be much stronger, even if it's gonna be a little agonizing waiting around doing nothing for a little while." Intentions conveyed, then it was just time to herd the flock. Well, what was left of it anyway. Many of the other machines had either already crossed or already loaded up. The only one left to really persuade was, of course, the blonde rebel. She hadn't liked his first choice of callsign for her, so rather than continue to antagonize her with it, or pick something even sillier, he'd be adult about this and go for simple and inoffensive. Like... hair color. Their other spitfire had taken Red to go with hers, so this one gets... "Yellow, gonna need you to follow me onto the boat for a spell. That river's a problem for us and we both know it. Sucks, I know, you want to get in the fight, but there's no two ways about it." "Who the FUCK are you calling 'yellow', I ain't no coward..." Abigail steamed, as his unfortunate choice once again missed the mark. That said, there were no enemies remotely in range, and... Jess had wanted her to pay a visit to the hangar. Was it really such a bad idea? "It does seem to be the quickest way to the action, though, so at least you're head's on straight, I'll give you that." Thorvald boards the Riese Abby boards the Riese
  9. Don't Count the Mods Out

    There are several marvel videogames that aren't lego ones. I'm not sure what you're implying here.
  10. I appreciate how receptive she is to private messages
  11. The crew had done a fantastic job of thinning the herd, even managing to handle the most the dangerous of the targets in their immediate vicinity with little issue. There looked to be one last opening before it was time to board the Riese and cross the river, so Thorvald opted to shoot first, and hitch a ride later. "All right, New Girl. Firing my beams at target of opportunity. Should leave it within your capabilities to mop up. Show me what you've got!" Then he lined up, and let loose, hopefully setting up an easy kill. Thorvald fires Hi-Beams at Cressida 1
  12. Thorvald Blesses Kim Tarquin's shot had been unexpected, for Thorvald at least, and potentially ill-advised, given the full parameters of that unknown were yet to be revealed, especially if Elaine was to be believed. Yet, for all that, it seemed to have worked, and incredibly well. They appeared to have a ripe opportunity on their hands. Who looked to be posed for a follow-up? Minnie? Yeah, she seemed unmolested, especially compared to the situation last deploy, and fresh for a fight. Radioing over some words of encouragement, Thorvald tried to turn her on to the idea of leaving more wreckage for salvaging than naught. Private channel up, the Artemis crew gets a minor pep talk. "Look, we haven't seen anything in action from it yet, but let's trust Red on this one and, if possible, try to recover some of its special systems afterwards. I trust you can scrap it without ruining anything too badly, especially if some of this data the XO wired over can help you any." Pressing a button, Thorvald passed along a bit of what he'd been given, and hopefully everything would work out for the best.
  13. What's the next step here, had been the thought running through Abigail's head, and the answer was "very little". Without crossing the river--a feat that seemed more difficult than it was worth, would undoubtedly be classified as "charging in foolishly" by Jess, and just an overall bad idea--there were only so many targets available. Grimacing as she pondered her chances against one of the plane-types, finding them not entirely favorable--it was that or sit around looking pretty, which was a non-option. An idea came to her though, and she radioed to Thorvald for help. Two chances to hit the thing would be better than one. "Hey, you in the big boy suit there, let's swat one of the little buggers out of the sky, I'll try to drive it into your line of fire, follow my lead," she broadcast, and impulsively set off to do just that. Thorvald hadn't quite expected that transmission, and certainly not coming from the source it did. Still, he'd gone along with worse ideas and there was no real reason to leave her hanging. Roxanna's data might be able to help, and with a two pronged assault... yeah, he had a good feeling. Abigail moves to 20,7 Pulse Kunai Hunter 2 supported by Thorvald with High Beams
  14. I may have made a mistake in here somewhere, but here goes nothing Name: Naimanzuunnadintsetseg Age: 19 Sex: Mulan Appearance: Long, straight black hair, worn in the traditional male style of the Magonsaete tribes. Dark brown, slightly almond-shaped eyes, set in a weathered face the color of honey, with cheeks frequently ruddy from the winds. Most typically will be dressed in oiled leathers and furs, with the amount of layers chosen as befitting the weather or other circumstances. You'd be very hard pressed to find them in any finery, as clothing is worn to be functional, not fashionable. Roughly 5'9, 150 pounds if the living is good, closer to 130 when times are hard. Nationality: Magonsaete Backstory: Though born the fifth child of ultimately nine, Naimanzuunnadintsetseg was but the second to reach the age of ten years, with three older brothers dying to famine, accident, and pestilence respectively. When confronted about the femininity of her name (which means eight hundred precious flowers) by anyone aggressively doubting her disguise, she relays this history as apt explanation, for it fits well with common tribal practice of giving a son a woman's name so that misfortune would be less interested in claiming them. The prosperity of clan she was born into swung wildly, at times being very well off, other times finding itself squeezed dry and nearly in danger of being wiped out by warring neighbors. At the age of fourteen she was presented as a bride to the chief of one such bloodthirsty tribe, as a means of appeasement: her clan accepting that their chieftain's daughter seemed a reasonable price to pay to ensure the continued survival of everyone else. Not content to suffer this fate, however, when her new husband came to her on their wedding night, drunk from revelry, she parted his head from his body with a hunting knife, then stole a horse, riding back to her birth home. Angrily presenting the severed trophy to her father, she demanded, and was given, treatment befitting a son instead. Several good years followed before the winds of change brought about an unfortunate turn of events, casting Naimanzuunnadintsetseg to the mercy of the fates. While leading a small hunting party, totaling five men, the rest of her tribe was slaughtered wholesale by Malaphar, though that specific bit information remains a mystery to her. All she knows is that what had been her life till present was no more. There was a fruitless arguement with the rest of the men over how to proceed, but the differences proved ultimately to be irreconcilable, and after a fight, the survivors went their separate ways. Life on the harsh plains proved to be too much to weather alone, however, so in final desperation, and in somewhat poorer health than her prime, she succumbs to her option of last resort and heads for the city of Magon. Survival is chief concern, but she burns with a desire to reclaim some of the former power and glory that her tribe had once possessed, to lead a new one of her own, perhaps. Whether that be through force, through trickery, or how else exactly to accomplish it, is as yet undecided. Will that be the future that lies waiting for her, or is there some other she could never have predicted? Thief Unit Archetype (+1 move, +10% skl, +5% spd, steal, open, etc.) Skills: Nihil, Gamble Stat: Base (Growth%) HP: 31 (50%) Str: 6 (65%) Mag: 0 (10%) Skl: 9 (55%) Spd: 7 (60%) Lck: 2 (70%) Def: 5 (20%) Res: 0 (15%)
  15. Abigail grunted as another round put some serious dents into this Crescent Moon of Buck's. While the Hyperions' snipers had nothing on the slug from ol' yon off in the distance, they weren't anything to sneeze at neither. Of course, Jess picks the opportunity to ring in and start worrying. The stumbling over her rank and title was actually kind of cute, and combined with the obviously good intentions behind her mothering it kept Abby from being too annoyed at what sort of felt like attempted interference in her piloting. Maybe the captain realized she was being too pushy too, as a protective energy field was remotely deployed around Abigail's mech instead. Much more palatable option than turning tail, more specifically, having to be the first to do so. While Abby might have to chew her out a bit later, remind her about their 'no special treatment' discussions, for now she was just shaking her head and smiling. "Ten Four, when repairs are necessary, I'll be sure to find the hangar, Bright Eyes." Now, what's the next step here... Abigail resumed surveying the battlefield.