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Post by azmoham on Aug 19, 2017 13:45:58 GMT -8
She turned to the Russian and shook her head, unholstering the flamethrower so Fyodor could better examine it.
"This may be the best flamethrower ever made, as far as I know. I spent four years building it, if there's any soul in it, it's mine."
She smirked at him, squeezing the trigger just a little so the tiniest spurt of flame was ejected from the barrel, but it sputtered and died by the time it reached the man. She trusted the thing deeply, and knew every single centimeter of it by heart, she knew what made it go and what made it stop and how to make it go again. She knew its limits and how to shape the its deadly projectile like a sculptor with clay, moving and bending it with surprising precision for what amounted to a gun that shot clouds of fire.
"It's barrel is made from a tantalum with a molybdenum igniter fitted with an electric spark generator for most efficient possible lighting, the trigger is made from torlon, and most of the inner pieces are machine-fabbed 304 stainless steel."
She grinned when she spoke of it, how carefully she'd chosen each and every material, how much time she'd spent putting it together, how much she went without in the name of Hephaestus.
"The tanks are aluminum with stainless steel plating to make it puncture and impact resistant, the fuel gauge is rated up to 1300 psi. The hose is noryl, and the harness,"
she plucked at the black material which kept the flamethrower strapped to her body.
"is kevlar weave. There are three settings, 'Wide','medium', and 'narrow'. One of the only models of this weapon that have multiple settings. I'd say Heph is pretty darn special."
She finished with a chipper smile.
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Post by relentless on Aug 19, 2017 14:07:26 GMT -8
Tiberion took the bottle in his hand with sudden surprise, almost fumbling it as he was given it. He held it by the neck, turning it around and squinting at the label of the Russian mans drink.
'Fyodors special reserve'
It read in rough Russian, a hum of amusement occurred as he began unscrewing the bottle with his other hand, laced with arteries and cybernetic wiring alike.
"Not really. A name for a weapon can be a negative or positive. A positive would be that the owner of the weapon will take greater care of it, whilst on the other side of the coin, they'll cling onto it, which could risk their own lives. It'd be like the owner of a dog charging out on a highway to save his dog from a lorry."
Tiberion explains humbly, taking a sip of his vodka before taking a quick swig, immediately regretting his decision and coughing with a cringed face. His mouth felt like raw iron, a tingling sensation as the vodka burnt his throats and left him coughing.
"Ch-christ! Taking the air outta me!"
Tiberion chuckles, passing the bottle back as he reached for his pot noodle, giving it a stir before he took a spoonful of soup and noodles quickly in order to kill off that dryness in his throat.
"Those are impressive specs, is that an antique remade or a newly built model? Is it English? German model perhaps?"
Tiberion inquires with an intrigued bait of his tongue latched onto her hook, clearly interested by the details of her flamethrower.
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Post by rumsztyk on Aug 19, 2017 15:08:46 GMT -8
Munching on some noodles, Miles considered his next step. Well, socialising with gun-nuts wasn't particularly enticing to him. He let the circlejerk continue, spying instead an interesting duo. Well, the pale, burly man he didn't care for that much - another merc. But the woman... she could be interesting. Merely based on the fact she wasn't here for the mindless shooting, meaning she ought to have something else going for her.
Grabbing the half-finished bowl, he casually approached the table. "Good evening." He piped up, trying to strike up some small talk. "May I sit? Name's Miles."
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Aug 19, 2017 15:23:30 GMT -8
 Name: Eden Condor. Age: 50 Gender: Male Class: Para-military- Close quarters Juggernaut. Skills: Capable Leader, hand to hand expert, well fit, can't write, bad sense of when to retreat (Could very well retreat when comrades and him are about to win. Or march comrades into the grave via never retreating.), can't use a gun, unable to control emotions when lives are on the line. Ethnicity: Armenian Accent: Rough, sounds like he needs a drink./ Russian. Height: 5'9 Weight: 170 lbs without armor. 200 lbs with. Cybernetics: They are mainly in his lower half, they are built mainly into hinges such as his ankles, knees, and hips. Reason why was when he was young his legs hadnt developed correctly, and so when he got older more and more problems arose to the point he needed cybernetics. Only other cybernetics Eden has are in his ears, able to switch on and off to allow sound when needed. His loss of hearing was caused by a faulty Flash Bang grenade that blew near to his head. Thankfully his eye sight was preserved but his hearing took a serious blow. Items: Machete that can become electrified via modifications built on. Death mask, a specifically designed mask to mimic deaths face and strike fear into opponents. A badge. And a single bottle of emergency water. Appearance: With full armor on. What you would see usually of military wear in our world. Eden wears a hooded polyfiber undercoat, a black blast resistant armor chest piece, camo pants, with fortified black boots, and finally his death mask that's partly made with bullet proof material. (Top half Ref on Top of post - the gun ofc.) Casual wear: His more casual wear is plain and simple. A bit more on the relax side. He wears shorts and T-shirts that both range from Black's to Blue's. Body: Having been through hell and back on more than one occasion, he has built some considerable muscle. His legs however, having always had problems, aren't as well worked on compared to his upper half. Scars on his chest and back, both small and come from the same type of weapon, a knife. Are randomly strewn on his torso and back. His face is hardened and rough, with a thick neck, this man lives up to his reputation. With wide shoulders, a big nose, along with medium sized ears that flare out a little, as well as hairy arms and legs, Eden is definitely buff. For color, his hair is a nice light brown, his eyes are a darker brown, and his skin color is a bit on the tan side. Biography: (Short Version.) A man who can't pass an oppurtunity to kick Eldritch ass. Won a losing battle, lost all his comrades, seeks revenge to settle the score. Title/Nickname on the field: Juggernaut of Obliteration. A man to be feared and respected. |
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Post by Unter on Aug 20, 2017 0:59:10 GMT -8
Fyodor laughed a good time when he saw the effect of the vodka on Tiberion "HAHAHAHAHA ! See, that's what I'm talking about ! Still, it's not that strong. My grandma made one so strong it burned my mouth! We couldn't drink it, so we used it as fuel for some machine." He gave a quick look at Marcy and Tiberion.
"Дурак (Fool). When I see you people knowing so much about mecanics, I'm astounded. I don't even know how my own weapon work. But it can kill, so be it. And you constructed that flamethower ? Urgh, if there's one thing I would never wield it's a flamethrower. Those things are scary, they hurt real bad. And against metal, they're not that great. I prefer a good AP shell and boum, no more armor."
He sighed. "In Soviet Russia, people use flamethrowers to light their cigaretes. I think some people are dumb there."
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Post by azmoham on Aug 20, 2017 11:13:55 GMT -8
Marcy shrugged, caressing the metal flame port.
"It's custom, based on U.S. designs, but a wholly original piece."
She explained with no small amount of pride, she'd had to spend hours submerged in the dusty archives of her college where the only paper records left were kept, yellowing with age and stinking of mothballs and mildew, she'd pried them from countless manila folders and compiled a fairly comprehensive overview of everything flamethrower-related. Eventually she ended up paying a hefty fee to have the lot scanned in so she didn't have to clutter her dorm with stacks of dusty papers and worsen her already somewhat poor relationship with her dorm mate. In response to the Russian man's problems, she smiled knowingly.
"I'm working on a way to get around armor right now actually, thinking about adding some sort of acid sprayer."
There was a slightly unsettling glee in her voice when she spoke of it, but she mostly managed to hide it.
"Besides, metal can be melted, and circuits can be fried."
She offered both men a weighty look as she spoke, subtly implying that even they may not be untouchable by the might Hephaestus.
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Post by Outisakanobody on Aug 20, 2017 11:25:06 GMT -8
Finishing up his noodles, Sean gave a pleased sigh. He once again looked over at the group loudly talking about guns and armor. He was certainly used to their types. Well not the fire bug. She still gave him the creeps.
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Post by relentless on Aug 21, 2017 4:01:06 GMT -8
Tiberion raised an eyebrow as she slid under a silent threat under those words, that look she gave them, a warning. He would've smiled but he didn't want to make her suspicious of him, so he let out a humoured 'hmph', and starred his pot noodle.
"Against metal and Kevlar, it would take a good amount of time for your flamethrower to reach the melting point for both materials. If a power armour is meant to harness a power energy source in order to function properly, then it's bound to be built with the right material. I would estimate that, with my power armour being made out of a strong, steel alloy of Titanium, aluminium and riveted steel, you'd be spending quite a bit of time melting it down."
Tiberion hypothesised, pausing to put some noodles into his mouth with a slurp. He waggled a finger at her, before he held a clenched fist in front of his mouth to hold in a burp.
"The addition of an acid sprayer would help definitely, keep in mind that you would have to be maintaining a high dosage of corrosive liquids onto the metal in order for it to eat away at it. A light spray won't do much, not to mention that when the flame is active, it will most likely evaporate the acid after a few seconds of exposure."
Tiberion added with a gentle, friendly smile at her, stirring his post noodle again as he tuted.
"But against flesh? Enemies will drop like flies."
Tiberion finished off with a confident nod.
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Post by azmoham on Aug 21, 2017 7:58:45 GMT -8
Those were valid points, she looked down at the weapon and hummed thoughtfully, squinting as she re-evaluated her upgrades. Maybe some sort of...static generator, something to gum up the joints? She'd have to think up something more clever than sheer brute force, because against a walking suit of armor that'd likely be a recipe for a quick and messy death. It was something of a shock to realize that were one of these men harboring dark magic, there was little chance she or any other cleaner or security personnel to do to much against them. They'd have to find a way to disable the suits and then dismantle them quickly before control could be regained. Maybe an emp generator, something to disrupt the control systems? Finally, sighing and quite frankly a bit deflated, she set the mighty Hephaestus down on the table and took her still-warm bowl of noodles, beginning to work through the meager meal. After a few mouthfuls, she looked back to Tiberion and stared watched the man.
"What would you recommend then?"
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Post by Unter on Aug 21, 2017 8:07:06 GMT -8
"I would recommend you drop this weapon and use a more useful one. If they shoot you in the head before you can get to them, it's pointless. And what if this thing..." he points at the flamethrower. "is damaged in the fight ? Are you going to repair it under fire ? Or are you going to let this thing explodes right under our noses ?" He murmurs a bad russian word.
"But I'm sure you're confident in your actions, and that's what matters." He gives a smile to Marcy.
"Down there, you can only rely on each other, and pray that your mind does not crumble under the force of these things."
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Post by relentless on Aug 21, 2017 8:21:38 GMT -8
Tiberion sighs and stands up from his chair with his pot noodle in his hand, constantly stirring it with slow, dreamy waves of the spoon in his noodles. He began walking around the table slowly, eyeing the weapon as he pondered improvements.
"Fyodor, is it? What you say applies to all weapons. It doesn't matter what weapon it is, be it a pistol or a shotgun, all those rules apply."
Tiberion counters with a knowledgable sigh to follow as he circles around Marcy, before ending up by her side, eating pot noodles with her before swallowed quickly and stared into the weapon intently.
"If you wish to engage against something so heavily armoured, you need something to pierce it. With your flamethrower, it won't reach the melting point in time and you'd need to carefully spray acid onto it until it was doused, which an opponent looking to harm you wouldn't give you the time to be precise or careful."
Tiberion notes as he takes another mouthful of noodles, slurping a loose strand into his mouth and swallowing silently, passing a look at Marcy.
"I would suggest some form of Flammable gel launcher, with a tight muzzle so the spray isn't broad, and so it's concentrated. This would mean, that you could spray the gel underneath joints such as the armpits, and then set it aflame. Depending on the material of the joints, it may not be flame resistant and result in the join being vulnerable. It could even damage internal wiring, but the main point of this would be to both gas the individual inside with carbon monoxide, or to allow a way to heat up the interior so they boil up."
Tiberion consoled as he moved a chair to the left, stepping ahead and getting a closer look at the weapon.
"But naturally, a flamethrower no matter it's augments isn't much use against armour. With those augments you'd stand a chance, but it'd be a risk that even I wouldn't take."
Tiberion says as he admired the handiwork of the flamethrower, nodding soundly as he dips his spoon into the pot noodle again, nodding soundly before he turns his head and smiles at Marcy.
"But I must say, Marcy, you've done a fabulous job 'ere."
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Post by porkylabrador on Aug 21, 2017 23:25:46 GMT -8
It was too much, Bee-Bee opened her mouth to reply to the German barkeep but naught but an unintelligible gurgle escaped the smear of pink neon that was her lips. Her brain raced with it... that awful thing, that emotion that flooded 'neath her skin and stoked the embers of anger in her guts before now, driving her to commit more than a few petty crimes and even fully gestated atrocities: mild irritation.
"EEGADS!" The candy-head slapped her palms to the sides of her face with a wet clapping noise and yanked her cheeks down as if the mild irritation could be vomited like laser vision from her eyes as she spun to face behind herself, buttocks still planted on her stool within her zone of security. Her vision focused on the group that seemingly couldn't stop praising one-another. "Ohhhohoho!" The Pink Peril's voice descended into one of her numerous, poorly imitated accents, this particular incarnation within her throat was aiming for Victorian Aristocratic English gentry. With her fleshy palm she gripped the bottle of rum being offered to her and pointed the neck towards the Cleaner and the Juggernaut. "Ooooh, what a simply darling hat you have Lady Penelope! Mayhaps it were gifted to you by your mother so you might've something to wear while accepting Lord Thundernuggets proposal? HAH!" She through her head back in a splash of hot pink and snorted through her nostrils. In truth the display was more childish and amusing than it was especially angry.
"Ain't no point in singin' kumbaya, yeah?" Bee-Bee waggled her bottle more at the group, dropping back into her usual parlance. "Ain't no point in holdin' 'ands eiver, we're all Toothpaste, yeah? Good an' proper goo piles waitin' to 'appen for ol' Becca to slip in. 'sides, there ain't no campfire 'ere anyway..." Her face screwed up for a moment. "MARSHMELLOWS." She blurted with a small spasm before chugging rum into her mouth like orange juice.
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Post by azmoham on Aug 23, 2017 12:24:49 GMT -8
Marcy was in the midst of thinking over the suggestions offered by the sturdy Englishman, wondering how much a retrofit would cost in order to implement the rather novel gel idea-when she was rudely interrupted by Beebee's hollering. Turning her head towards the source of the commotion, she squinted at the figure, the one with the arm she'd noticed earlier. It took her another second to even begin to parse the gibberish the woman was spouting, and her squint became a look of annoyance and she considered whether or not she could have the raving woman detained for illicit substance abuse based on her outburst alone.
"What're you even talking about?"
She asked, trying to piece together some semblance of reason from the disjointed fragments of a sentence. Deciding that it wasn't really a good use of her time to even bother questioning the woman, she looked back to the weapon, mentally configuring a list of supplies. Perhaps the gel idea could indeed work, although it had the trouble of being less efficient in terms of material use and maybe even more uncontrollable than the thing was already. What if she could cross the two ideas? Creating a sort of acidic gel that could stick to the joints and seize them up while melting them down? Now that was an idea with some real potential, already she could feel a flicker of excitement in her belly from the anticipation of something to work on. Looking back to Timberion, she offered him a pleased smile.
"Thank you, it's not often I get to actually talk to people here about this sort of thing."
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Post by Unter on Aug 23, 2017 13:03:14 GMT -8
"Work, work work. Is it all we can discuss ? We need to relax some time." He took the bottle of vodka that Tiberion left on the table and finished it straight. He let out a big *BURP* He throwed the bottle accross the room and laughed "HAHAHA ! Here, a little drunkness to smoothen all this nasty business."
"Hey Tavarish Tiberion, looking for some way to vent ?" He waved his arms around to flex his muscles and start clenching his fists.
"How about we stretched our arms and leg a little?"
He started jumping on his feets. Looks like alcohol makes him jumpy.
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Post by relentless on Aug 23, 2017 13:38:40 GMT -8
The pink haired woman, either completely mad, drugged up with some powerful hallucinogens, or pissed out of her head and that was her second bottle of rum. Either way, it was quite distasteful... but it was enough to make him smile from how comical and silly she was acting. A jester, if there ever was a clearer sight.
Tiberion turns on a pivot, trying to hold in laughter, only managing to produce a small smirk of humour clear to see. Eventually, he let out a small, quiet chuckle before he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, swiftly ignoring her.
"It's fine, I enjoy being a tad bit nerdy from time to time as well. I mean, I'm supposed to be a bit of a nerd to work this thing, aren't I?"
Tiberion chuckled soundly asBee Bee thankfully left the area, turning toward Fyogor or a brief moment.
"Mmm, what do you mean? I've got to stash that bad boy into my room, and set up my working space."
Tiberion said, turning back to Marcy once again, then looking into his armour.
"Now... I would ask of your assistance... but... weeellll, it's not really something I can share, until you've seen it in action, if that makes sense. Military confidentiality. However! I could use some help with a small problem, if oh could lend me some of your time in my workspace?"
Tiberion requested with a neutral tone, traveling around to the back of his power armour.
He places his left hand against the lead storage department, feeling the hum of energy tingle through his fingers.
"I need to, remove something, though since I'm tired from traveling here, I can't do it on my own without creating A very high risk for radiation leakage. Sooo, I need a helping hand to extract the power supply, and..."
Tiberion raises his eyebrows at Marcy, cocking his head at her.
"..And I need someone to help me tinker with it, only a bit, need to calibrate and get a diagnose of the readings of the power supply."
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