MISSION #02 A MAN OF WORTH EXECUTION PHASE

[vivalamods]

EVENT #02: A MAN OF WORTH EXECUTION PHASE

At the appointed time, a lavish fleet of airships begin to descend upon the islands of Elysium. Departing from the Maikrecht port, the heraldry on the central ship marks a noble general of extreme renown. His airship is surrounded by 3 other airships in a protective triangular formation, as well as a flight of 2 Zepter and 3 Feder armors. As they descend, the Flotsam fleet set sails, hoisting black flags as one over every single ship in the fleet. Flotsam has but 4 functional airships to their name, and all are present today as they take flight. As the airships climb in altitude, the Flotsam fleet begins firing upon the escort group from below.

It is above this salvo of cannon fire that the Corsairs begin to board. Descending on the escort airships via glider, they have but one goal - destroy the ships. Meanwhile, a smaller strike force quietly descends on the main ship with their own mission: secure the VIP and get him out alive.

CORE MISSIONS

Attack the Ships:Combatants will need to attack and sink the 3 escort ships and armor escorts, as well as ensure the elimination of any soldier within the escort party.
Conflicts: The fighting will be bitter, with lots of powerful soldiers. There are 3 Feder and 2 Zepter armors that will need to be contended with, the Feder Armors carrying gattling guns and the Zepter armors piloted by powerful lightning mages. The soldiers manning the ships are elite, and cannot be easily dispatched.
Requirements: To participate in this mission, your thread header should read ATTACK THE SHIPS.

Capture the VIP:Infiltrators will need to sneak aboard the main ship and capture the VIP. The man himself is an aging noble in rich robes and with graying hair who goes by the title of Lord Gundhir. They will need to capture and subdue him, as well as get him off his ship and onto a Corsair vessel.
Conflicts: Lord Gundhir is not a fighter, but he won’t come easily. Additionally, he is accompanied by his son, Adolfus Gundhir, who is a powerful warrior known for fighting with a massive greatsword. While the private and sumptuous appointed quarters the two nobles are in aren’t great terrain for using the greatsword, the younger Gundhir is an extremely accomplished warrior and if encountered directly will take the combined might of the entire team to threaten.
Requirements: To participate in this mission, your thread header should read CAPTURE THE VIP.

back to navigation
code credit

Comments

[purplexing]

The moment Donnie feels the pressure of the blade begin to shift, he pushes away, his own dodge from the sweep of Adolfus's sword hardly graceful as he lands heavily on his back with a wince. He's quick to roll onto his side to get his feet back under him, looking frantically towards Shu and the others to make sure they hadn't gotten hurt.

There's no way he'd be able to fend off a direct hit with that sword, the scratches on his staff more than a little concerning. He scrambles out of the way as the man comes at him again, metal scraping against metal as Donnie barely angles his staff in time to divert another slash.

It's still strong enough to drive him against the wall, but Adolfus's sword lodges into the doorframe and the turtlekin doesn't hesitate to reestablish his personal space, ducking away. After seeing how easily he'd dispersed them, Donnie has a feeling direct tactics won't get them very far. His mind races as he moves closer to Shu, casting a look around.

Lord Gundhir hasn't done anything yet but he still looks entirely too confident even with Corsairs flanking him, his attention upon the engagement against his son. The room is a fair size but limited for maneuverability due to all the furnishings.

"We need to spread out more. That sword is stupid-huge. Use the obstacles to our advantage."

[singlemilletgrain]

Paying heed to the commands of Mission Leader, the team cautiously creates distance, taking up positions behind sofas, beside cupboards, and in doorways. The tension thickens; the expressions are universally somber as they consider their enemy. This was close to a worst case scenario. That the swordsman was immediately on guard to defend his father was a predictable outcome, but the mere strength he had exhibited in merely three blows was beyond what they had anticipated.

It is possible they will not all make it off the ship. But the Corsairs are an organization greater than the individual, and the mission took priority. The two Corsairs move to seize Lord Gundhir before he can do anything tangible to aid his son as the others face off in a impasse with the Goliath.

Shu, after checking to ensure that Donnie has not taken a hit, begins to gravitate in Adolfus's general direction, one step forward, one step sideways, keeping a chair and a tea table between them. They don't need to defeat him. They just need to distract - evade - create enough space to abscond with the VIP and leave these rooms behind. Her eyes flash backwards briefly towards Lord Gundhir.

"Come."

She takes up a defensive position with her baton.

"Your father will come to no harm if you drop your weapon now."

[purplexing]

Knowing you were potentially going to encounter an accomplished warrior and actually encountering said person are two completely different things. Seeing Adolfus in action, Donnie can fully understand how someone could be so strong- you had to be if you were swinging around heavy metal that large. The only other person Donnie knows that could probably manage that sort of feat is Raph, not that Raph cared for using swords when he could use his fists. But Raph had never been in an actual battle outside of their rough-housing and sparring, and what's more, Raph, aside from any of his brothers, are simply not here.

Not that Donnie would want any of them to be here. This is dangerous, and while the other Corsairs may be prepared to face the fact that some could possibly die on this mission, that's not something the turtlekin's allowed himself to think about. It's not an option. And if he's supposed to see this thing through, he's not losing anyone if he can help it.

Most of the furniture is secured, with few exceptions such as the chairs, so Donnie knows they'll be difficult to get around when you couldn't just shove them out of the way. Unfortunately, they've moved from the most ideal position to keep the exit open since they'd had to evade Adolfus's strikes.

Gundhir's son finally pulls his weapon free, turning deliberately to face the room and the Corsairs scattered within, but it's his father who responds with a quiet, gravelly chuckle.

"You won't harm me," he sneers. "That would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it? You Corsairs are all high risk, high reward. Let's see how willing you actually are to pay for it."

[singlemilletgrain]

"You were not addressed."

Shu's voice, normally warm as the rays of the vernal sun, now bites like the chill of winter frost. It appears she is capable of being ruthless when the situation demands. Her tail betrays her tension, twitching violently before entwining around the chair, as if soothed by the grounding motion. Another quick glance backwards with cold eyes before she issues the only command she is likely to give in this mission.

"Gag him."

The Corsairs hastily do as she demands, leading to a muffled exclamation of outrage from the lord and a sharp intake of breath from the son.

"...You and your father have caused the ruination of countless lives. Outlanders seized in labor camps, settlements plundered and raided, citizens forced into debts and starvation. Our guests shall be treated with much more courtesy than you have ever considered, I promise you. How do you respond?"

The frigid tension that blankets the room quivers palpably as a second ticks by... two seconds. A third.

Then many things happen at once.

Adolfus Gundhir leaps forward at Shu with an unerring thrust across the furniture, Shu's tail lashes up and out and smashes the chair straight into his face, the two Corsairs begin to drag a flailing Lord Gundhir, and another voice cries out, "Go go go!"

It is possible Shu intends to stay behind and distract long enough for the remainder to make their getaway, though it is difficult to tell if any intended stratagem will come through in this chaos.

[purplexing]

Where he stands, Donnie swallows. This isn't a side of Shu he ever wants to be on the receiving end of.

Things happen so quickly that it feels like it had all been rehearsed. One must always be prepared for the unpredictable just as much as the predictable in battle, his father had told him and his brothers once. It had been an infuriatingly nonsensical thing to Donnie at the time for the words alone, but he was finally beginning to understand. Not that understanding makes it any easier.

Donnie nearly jumps as Shu counters Adolfus's sudden attack with a chair, dancing aside as their hostage is moved towards the doorway and out to the hall. He has no idea how strong Shu is but he's more anxious to leave anyone behind. Adolfus has staggered back, leaning heavily against the desk, and the turtlekin wouldn't be surprised if he was being fueled by pure rage. Really, what is this guy made of??

Looking towards the door as the last of the Corsairs filter out, Donnie thrusts a hand into his beltpouch to pull out a small smokebomb. It's smaller than the ones they'd packed into the vents, more potent to work faster.

"We're going," he says, his voice managing to sound steadier than he feels, but he hopes Shu can figure that he has a plan at the very least. The display of his magic is brief this time, but a spark of glowing purple by his hand, the faintest wisp of smoke trailing up from his fist.

Should Shu meet his eyes then, he'll nod before jerking his head towards the door, but he won't fling the smokebomb until Shu's on the move. Already he's having second thoughts, wondering if it'd be enough as Adolfus is already pushing away from the desk, blood streaming down his face and only sharpening that look of rage.

[singlemilletgrain]

Under normal circumstances, Shu would have repulsed the attack, leapt for the doorway, met Donnie’s gaze, and facilitated his plan. But today… she is a few steps behind. As Donnie tries to meet her eyes, he will find that she is gazing down, mouth partially open in an ‘O’ of surprise, eyes wrinkled in a frown of seeming disbelief. A crimson flower has begun to bloom through her overalls. The greatsword had struck true. Blow for equivalent blow had been exchanged, and the blood streaming down Adolfus’s face is matched by the pooling liquid beneath Shu.

This did not happen.

Operator file: Nongye Tianshi Shu of Yan, ever happy to impart all the agricultural knowledge there is.
Position: Melee
Tags: Defense Healing Support
Medical Records: No Originium infection detected
Branch: 6* Guardian Defender
Trivia: Of all Defenders, Shu is the only one to use nothing in place of a shield.

When queried, she had simply responded, “I don’t need one.” And she did her job admirably. Certainly, Feranmut could die. Certainly they could be injured. But the force necessary to truly cause her harm with a simple blade was something that few individuals on Terra could muster, and she had never truly considered herself to be in any real danger. Not in Dahuang and not ten thousand feet in the sky on a floating warship.

How stupid of her.

The rules were different here.

When she finally glances up to see Donnie, the self-assurance is absent for the very first time. It is replaced, for the most fleeting of moments, by fear.

Just one solitary moment.

Then she is stirring to action. Her non-dominant hand staunching her wound, she vaults the table between her and the door as Adolfus staggers sideways, trying to seize her as she passes. Her tail, so useful mere moments before, becomes a liability as he manages a tenuous grip and attempts to yank.

cw: dismemberment I guess

[purplexing]

"Shu!"

Donnie barely hears his own shout over the sudden, loud thudding of his heartbeat. Everything sounds miles away, and for a brief moment it feels like nothing is real.

And then everything comes rudely rushing back when he makes eye-contact with her, that look seeming to have no business on Shu's face, and it triggers something in him that demands a response, demands action. His shock is honed in an instant, sharpened into a well-familiar emotion: Anger. Anger at being used by the Imperials, angry at them for thinking themselves so much better than anyone else, angry that this bastard had hurt his friend...!

As Shu moves to escape, Donnie rushes forward. The bomb wasn't meant to be a weapon but he hurls it with all his might anyway- the only way he knows how to throw anything- at Adolfus's face. The moment his hand is freed up, the turtlekin brings his staff over his head in a spin, that flaring, unnatural glow that seems trademark to his magic tracing a circle as a blade forms at one end, still a brilliant blur of neon purple as he brings it down on and through the offending arm and the hand that dares try to hinder Shu's retreat.

[singlemilletgrain]

Echoes of the words she had spoken just days before ring through her mind as each individual moment flashes by.

Alas! Alas! What crime have the men of today committed that Heaven sends down upon them confusion and death?

She is stumbling, feet unsteady beneath her as she feels a force pulling her back. She is looking wildly around, a hiss of pain and anger escaping her as her tail lashes back and forth. A blur of green and purple flashing by. The barest glimpse of a wild expression of raw hatred. An explosion of smoke. A thrust of her hand.

“No, Donn — “

And then a hideous crack.

…

Adolfus has fallen somewhere behind the smokescreen. Shu does not care to look.

She focuses her eyes on the turtlekin instead, reaching with her free hand towards his shoulder as she clambers to her feet. If he allows, she will pull him gently towards her, something close to an embrace. When she speaks again, it is with the same calm assurance that he knows.

“Let’s go.”

Her smile seems to say, “It will be alright.”

[purplexing]

Anger is a quick fuel, rage a short fuse that burns off, and in the blink of an eye like gunpowder, it's just all gone. It doesn't leave much behind but a blank space, an emptiness that doesn't quite know how to be filled.

Donnie's never been good with emotions. He tries to keep them at arms-length as much as he can, more so since he's been away from his family. They don't cooperate half as much as he'd like, but the numbness of not knowing what to feel is just as overwhelming somehow.

The feverish brightness in his eyes hasn't completely abated, his body trembling, still high on adrenaline as his breath sounds harshly within the confines of his mask. The mystic blade of energy pixelates and vanishes, the end of the staff hitting the floor with a dull thunk, even though it remains with his fingers locked around it. There's no resistance as Shu pulls Donnie towards her, his eyes still locked in the direction of Adolfus, but it isn't until she speaks that he drags his focus away from the smoky haze and looks at her.

It's a very brittle semblance of control that he clings to, a very stiff nod to her words, like he's afraid one false breath will make him shatter. Oh how much he wants to believe that things will be all right, but right now, it's one of those rare times where his mind's just blank.

[singlemilletgrain]

She tugs at the shellshocked teenager (immediately regretting the adjective that leapt to mind), pulling him away from the smoke and the spray of blood even as her own wound continues to stain her clothing through. One hand clutched to her chest, the other shepherding the boy like one might guide a lost child, she emerges through the doorway like Liberty Leading the People, softly pulling the door closed behind them. The remainder of the team fans out to allow them space as they see their final two members emerge, Lord Gundhir spitting inaudible curses through his gag.

This is her fault. She is conscious of this thought and acknowledges it as truth; close behind follows the understanding that there is nothing to be done about it in this immediate moment. If she does not have the endurance of a Feranmut here, she can at least maintain the self-possession of one. There would be time to acknowledge the necessary emotions when they are off this ship.

Right now...

She gently drops Donnie's hand as she steps out into the blanketed hallway, the buds responding to her presence by bending leafy stems and bowing tiny heads of petals towards her. Another welcome surge of vitality and strength emanates forth. A second step and tiny tendrils are coiling rapidly around her body, up her legs and to her chest, gently twining around her wound before falling away.

The bleeding stops.

Here, too, she can sense that her healing is less effective than it ought to be, but it suffices. She will not grow faint or bleed out. And Donnie, as he enters the passage, will find that any minor scrapes he suffered will be patched by the plants, while major injuries are reduced in severity.

Shu takes a moment for a long, shaky exhalation before turning to the turtlekin with firm words and soft eyes.

"We must complete the mission. You know the way to the stern."

You can do this.

[purplexing]

His own wounds had been mostly superficial, and once Donnie steps out onto the greenery he can feel the throbbing of his bruises fading. The refresh helps keep him from a complete adrenaline crash, but mentally he's still on shaky ground. He looks at Shu, and the fact that she's gotten herself patched up for now is one small weight off his mind, if for the time being.

The turtlekin looks to the others, still too numb to be completely unsettled by the expectant looks from more than a few of them.

"We must complete the mission."

Shu's right, and as he lets those words sink in, he tries to hang onto them, repeating the last three in his mind like a mantra.

The breath he takes in then is almost a gasp, like he's just remembered to do so. He nods, hoping he looks more confident than he feels, taking a step forward.

Complete the mission complete the mission complete the mission...

Again he nods, like he's trying to convince himself. If he can't fool them, he can at least try to fool himself.

"This way," he says, gesturing with his staff as he heads towards the main corridor again, pointedly avoiding making eye contact with Lord Gundhir.

[singlemilletgrain]

They hare away immediately in the direction indicated, dragging the fuming Lord Gundhir behind them. Some small graces: the man had not seen what had occurred in those final moments and whatever injuries the rest of their team had sustained were not enough to noticeably slow any of them. Shu lingers for a moment, allowing Donnie to take the lead in navigation, waiting until she was alone to crack the door open and flick a handful of seeds inside.

It wouldn't do to have Adolfus Gundhir exsanguinate alone in his quarters.

Not that she intended to tend to him in any meaningful way. Murmuring a quick recitation -- perhaps a prayer, perhaps another idiom -- under her breath, she follows in the steps of the others, one hand still gingerly probing at her clotted wound. When she turns the corner and leaves the passage behind, the little sprouts persist for another minute or two before collapsing all at once, withering away to nothing. No trace is left behind of their presence.

Theoretically, she still has her drawn schematics of the ship. But Donnie knows the way from personal experience, and she senses he needs this task to continue functioning. She will not double check his guidance at any step of the way, trusting in his instincts.

[purplexing]

Donnie heads forth, listening as they head along the halls but the sound of the engines competes with anything else he might hope to hear. His expression is practically set in stone, stolid as he hangs onto the singular task of getting them out. He lifts his left arm, flipping the cover on the bracer he wears over his forearm to reveal the modified ENC he's made.

"Target secured. Heading into position for exfil. Are you there?" he relays as they come up towards the sumptuous doors of the captain's quarters. Hopefully the captain was too busy with the ship and not lounging around inside, but Donnie isn't going to take chances. He casts a quick look around at the group once they're there, a silent check to see if they're ready, and once he gets the quiet affirmations, he tries the doors.

Unlocked, probably in everyone's haste to deal with the Corsair ships that had started to attack their fleet. Donnie pushes it open cautiously, eyes sweeping the room before he steps inside, signaling an all clear.

"Start working on the windows," he directs once they start to move inside. "Someone keep an eye out on the hall.

[singlemilletgrain]

There is the audio equivalent of static snow for a good few seconds before Donnie receives a response.

"Confirmed. Bringing extraction ship into position. You have two minutes to get your team out. We're sitting ducks if we stay put longer."

Shu walks towards the large panoramic windows at the head of the captain's quarters, her hand and forehead pressing up against the glass. From here, they can see the situation more clearly. A sea of white clouds, billowing out in every direction. Crewed ships dotting the field of vision, some barely distinct black smudges against the backdrop of clouds, others close enough that she thinks she recognizes a few faces. At least, that flare of vivid green hair seems familiar. Streaks of light criss-cross the sky, lasers and shots and cannon fire disperse in every direction; as she watches, a flare of gunfire and a just-as-vaguely-familiar blonde figure crash into a power armor, sending it falling through the sky like a meteor.

It would all be a marvelous sight if it weren't so damning.

Beside her, a member of her team has begun to carve through the extraordinarily thick glass with a laser tool. At the same time, she spots their rescue boat gliding out from the cover of a particularly fluffy cumulonimbus formation to get into position beneath them.

"Better hold on to something, boss. Pressure's gonna destabilize quick."

And now Gundhir has chewed up his gag enough that his words can be partially made out.

"Arh ew ihTHANE?! Ew -- 'Umpin?!"

Shu takes the advice of her compatriot and hooks both arms around a decorative candle sconce on the wall, glancing towards Donnie as she does so.

[purplexing]

"Affirmative."

Donnie claps the cover of his ENC closed, looking to the others. "Plugs and mufflers on," he advises, not that seasoned air pirates need the head's up. He taps the side of his own headgear, finally looking at Gundhir with something of a glare, but he tosses over a spare set of earplugs to the ones watching the lord so they can at least do him that much of a favor. They unfortunately need him mostly in tact.

Looking out the window, Donnie seeks out their escape vessel, nodding once he also catches a glimpse of it. He moves to brace himself by the massive desk. "Prepare grapples." Another look around to make sure everyone's got themselves secured, sweeping past Shu just to make sure she's among them before he nods towards those at the window.

"Ready in three, two..."

[singlemilletgrain]

"One."

The pane of glass topples outwards, an implosion of air bursts through the gaping hole, and for a moment, Shu is lifted off her feet as the pressure equalizes. Chairs and books and decorations spiral out through the opening in a maelstrom of debris, and thousands of miles below them, a rustic family of farmers seed the legend of the day their fabulously rare antique bronze bust of the Emperor literally fell out of the sky into their barn, generating enough instant wealth for them to immediately take the vacation they'd been longing to take for decades.

Distant windfall aside, the team is preoccupied by the necessity of getting off this ship in 120 seconds. The one who cut through the glass has the honor of disembarking first, wrapping his hook securely around a ceiling beam before leaping out with only a moment's hesitation. The two dragging a blubbering Lord Gundhir are next. They take a good half of the allotted time attempting to manhandle him into a suitable position to descend a hook before they give up on the squirming lord, attaching him by the belt with a carabiner and booting him physically out the window instead.

Shu tries not to take too much pleasure in the distant screech as his handlers follow in rapid succession.

And that leaves...

"Donnie."

Shu, still with one hand braced against the candle sconce, turns to the boy with a faint exhalation of breath. There is a moment's pause before she releases the wall, clasps both hands together, and dips her head in a deep bow, holding it steady for the full length of her next sentence.

"Thank you for saving me."

[purplexing]

Two minutes is entirely doable. The Corsairs here prove their experience as they set up and move out with their hostage in tow. Under different circumstances, Donnie would have enjoyed the sound of the panicking lord.

He stands there still grasping the edge of the desk, winds whipping at the ends of his bandanna as he watches his team make their exit. He'd collapse his staff but the last hit he'd taken with Adolfus's blade have dented the housing to render it impossible, but right now hanging onto the thing is as much an emotional crutch as it is a slight hindrance.

Hearing his name breaks whatever spell of concentration he'd had, head turning towards the other remaining person of his team with a blink. There's a twitch of a grimace cracking the carefully crafted mask of stoicism, good as the intent is behind Shu's words. His lips press into a tight line, fingers gripping desk and staff so tightly that he can hardly feel them, even when he forces them to let go of the former.

Time to go.

"I wasn't going to leave anyone behind." Especially not you. He finally finds his words and he's glad that at the very least, the cutting winds can help dry out the traitorous burning of his eyes as he uselessly grasps at whatever threads of that fake facade remain as he can. Distantly he hears shouting from beyond the doors behind him, prompting his jerky steps away from the desk.

[singlemilletgrain]

30 seconds.

Shu lifts her head and behind the perpetual self-assurance, the ultra-courteous manners and demeanor, there is a glimmer of something more raw. A depth of sadness lies in those gray-green eyes, a chasm of emotion so vast that it seems impossible it could have formed in the past few moments alone. Perhaps it has always been there, unseen. Perhaps it is the fount from which her gentle courtesy springs.

"What happened was my fault. I acted a fool, but you were the one who paid a price. You must not be burdened by it."

20 seconds.

The pounding of footsteps grows louder. Shu gestures towards the opening, a clear signal for Donnie to descend. She does not seem to expect any answer, helping him quickly secure his line before handling her own.

[purplexing]

"Please, not now..." His tone is almost pleading, his volume just loud enough to be heard over the rushing wind. Donnie doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to think about any of it but he feels like it's all right there, as simple as glancing over his shoulder. He keeps his head firmly facing forward, even at the sound of footsteps. They need to go.

He fumbles with his carabiner, just as well that Shu helps him get the clasp around the line. Everything secure, at least he hopes so. What's left of his concentration's in tatters, but he knows he can't stay in that ship another second. Out the window he goes, the wind stinging his eyes, ripping away the tears that had formed too quickly to be dried out.

It's all so fast and dizzying as he feels momentarily weightless, losing all sense of direction before eventually finding supporting hands around him and his feet guided to the firmness of a deck beneath them.

[singlemilletgrain]

10 seconds.

She does not speak, which in itself is a response.

The door bursts open as Shu watches Donnie reach the safety of the waiting ship, and then she, too, jumps. Her knee-length loose hair whips around her like the feathers of wings, and she closes her eyes as she falls. She remembers this feeling of weightlessness, this sensation of becoming one with the wind and skies. How simple and obvious things had seemed in that moment when she had fulfilled her destiny as proxy of the land.

And just like then... have I really saved anyone at all? Maybe -- it is truly just selfishness.

Her eyes open. She is in the arms of a crew member of the rescue ship. Someone has cut the lines away from them; far above, she sees the distant, furious faces of their impotent pursuers. The engines gun, and in a moment, they are whisked away through the skies, back towards Corsair HQ.

Mission Complete.