Psychopithicus

The more posts you make like this, the more convinced I am that my cynicism regarding your original intentions was justified. It has been civilly explained to you several times over why your proposal will not happen. You have repeatedly ignored these posts in favor of defending your position no matter how illogical your reasoning becomes. Any legitimacy your claims may have had are rapidly losing credibility in this matter, and you have brought people's "attacks" on yourself because they've run out of patience for your sheer fucking obstinance. Do yourself a favor and quit while you're behind.

So, after taking a peek at the other thread for context, this is what I'm seeing in this situation. You had no issue with the game's content at first. Then you had a character that was generic'd because something about that character went against Homecoming's Code of Conduct. Now you suddenly have an objection--which you did not have until your character got generic'd--to the CoC applying only to the players and not the game's content as a whole. Regardless of what the CoC violation even was or whether the GMs were right to generic your character, your overall reaction to having administrative action taken against you really isn't painting you in a sympathetic light here.

Whatever your motivations may be (I'm too cynical to see this as just "advocating for fairness" but that's a whole other can of worms), you're effectively asking the devs to re-write the entire game and perform mass content cutting for little to no tangible gain. The devs are volunteers; this isn't their full-time job, and they're sure as hell not being paid to keep Homecoming's servers up. If you don't have the time for this, why would you assume they do?

I just had this happen to me on a level 22. Logged out of a character, suddenly got the name release icon.

I've been doing multiple revisions of a new-ish character, and thought I might as well throw together a version of him for this contest. Odds are very good that the final character on my end will look nothing like this. Proto Roy HC.costume

Close to the Sun Arc ID: 43275 @Psychopithicus Feeling that something is amiss with the timeline, Montague Castanella asks for capable individuals to venture into the ancient land of Cimerora to investigate. It soon becomes clear, however, that something is happening that could irreparably warp the future, and must be stopped before it starts.

Props to you for putting in all that thought and effort. I'm sure your thread will see immense success based on your polite and respectful behavior in this thread. To actually address @Sarakitteh's original question, though, I've personally had struggles with social anxiety that make it hard to really get started RPing with new people, and past experiences with guilds/SGs/etc. have made me highly hesitant to really commit to one. One thing that helped me was something the City of Roleplay Discord was doing a while back, namely Community Story Arcs. The idea was that one (or more) person organized a storyline, and offered a variety of plot hooks for people and their different characters to join in through (such as mystical shenanigans requiring a learned sorcerer, or a trail of murders getting the attention of a street-level hero). Doing this helped me make friends in the CoHRP community and organically develop a new circle of folks to do things with. While there's a recent lull in CoRP's Community Story Arcs as of my writing this (which is not helped by the many stressors of current RL events), the basic principle should still help you get what you're looking for. Alternatively, the Hero Corps Founder's Falls SG puts on a monthly event on the first Sunday of each month (one of which is actually coming up on Sunday the 5th, the date on the actual event posting there is inaccurate) where players from across the community can group up and do IC runs of AE story arcs that people have put out there (some of the Dev's Choice arcs, for instance, have gotten some spotlight there). Hoping this is helpful, and best of luck to you!

Like I did with the Hero version of this, I've also put together a (admittedly lengthier) writeup for the Coordinate's Rogue mission, link to the Google doc in the spoiler tag (because, again, there will be spoiled). Hope you enjoy!

This is a great idea and a fun time! I was inspired to put together a short IC story of sorts for my character's run of the Hero mission (may also come back later for a similar deal with the Vigi mission), so I'll slap it up here in Google Doc form. (Link spoilered due to the account being fairly blow-by-blow and thus containing many...well...spoilers.) Looking forward to seeing what else comes of this!

Turns out I had a character whose color scheme was already pretty close to what's asked for here, so I figured "why not".

Hmm, already some neat ideas here. Let me see what I can add. The way I see the HEATs and VEATs is that each gives spotlight to (and, in the case of the former, introducing) a lesser-explored concept in the CoHverse, namely the Kheldian lore on Blueside and Operation DESTINY on Redside. Each EAT is given powersets and abilities that no other AT has access to, which is what lets them stand out. With this in mind, here are some of my ideas (and I may be echoing some that were already said): -Given Praetoria's current state in the lore, a PEAT-specific early-level storyline could involve a survivor's journey to the Last Bastion and, in turn, Primal Earth. Following their arrival on Primal Earth and foray into mid-to-later-level storylines, they could face some of the anti-Praetorian fatigue prejudice seen in bits of the New Praetorians arc, maybe even a vigilante/villain group that wants to do away with or exploit displaced Praetorians. -Having the PEAT be some form of Infested/DE would make sense, and if the above story ideas were to be used, the player could be given some imperfect cure or whatnot that gives them free will but allows them to keep the Infested/DE powers (a la Devoured Pyriss). DE biographies state that all of them can do the Bee Attack seen in Savage Assault and Beast Mastery, so there may be a jumping-off point there given what's already in the game (I would also like to mention that I am far from a programmer and am talking entirely out of my rear end if I go into tech stuff at all). -Through Bobcat's bio, we learn that militaries were doing gene-splicing experiments to fight Hami, hence Bobcat's cat-abilities. Something similar could be explored through a PEAT, maybe even working in the abandoned Primalist AT for this scenario. -The "sides" aspect of Praetoria could be represented by having one EAT each for Resistance and Loyalists, but I have zero ideas for how that can work story-wise (maybe give Ouro some story focus, idk). I'm gonna cut myself off here so I don't go on all day, but I'm looking forward to seeing what people come up with and/or what comes of this down the pike.

I'm sad I missed this. Will there be more Bounty Nights in the future?

Life’s Ambitions: Life on Primal Earth, as Robbi had come to learn, was nowhere near as smooth as life in Praetoria had been. Deagon’s latest caper had all the hallmarks of a simple scheme. The Council had set up a makeshift base in a Port Oakes shipyard, pushing the local crime family out in the process. Their intention had been to use the ferries to smuggle in greater amounts of their unique weaponry, everything from the so-called “Mek Men” to their prized Quantum Array Guns. Unfortunately, the ousted criminals made their displeasure at the Council’s actions public enough to be included in a Rogue Isles Protector article, inspiring Deagon to plan an attack that would both harm the Council’s plans and profit from acquiring their weapons. As it turned out, Deagon had not been the only one with some variant of this idea. A cacophony of shouts and gunfire echoed through the air as Deagon’s body tumbled through a glass window. Flashes of white light could be seen within the storehouse, accompanied by the sight of Council soldiers sailing into the wooden walls. The mercenary gritted his teeth beneath his helmet and got on one knee, aiming his rifle through the now-open window. Inside, Robbi walked a steady path backwards, protecting herself with careful shots from her pulse rifle. With the few remaining Council soldiers unconscious at best and a great number of her drones in pieces, Robbi herself was left to take aim at the disruptive newcomer, a levitating man dressed in what appeared to be samurai armor. “A true warrior fights alongside their comrades, not behind them!” the samurai snarled in disgust. He possessed the signature glowing eyes of a Kheldian, but unlike the Longbow agent Robbi encountered in the Council’s Nerva base, the light in his eyes lacked any trace of darkness. Robbi fired off an energy pulse at the man’s armored chest, but the apparent Kheldian samurai abruptly dropped to the floor, allowing the blast to sail over him. Landing in a crouching position, the man quickly thrust his arms upward in time with his rise to full height, releasing a sphere of energy that rippled through the air in front of him. Robbi quickly ducked aside, scrambling to her feet with rifle in hand. “Face me, you so-called mercenary!” the samurai roared through his helmet’s tiger-like mouth guard. “The Council’s forces here are no more! Your Clockwork’s minions have fallen! I, Shingetsu, challenge you to engage me in honorable—” The samurai was cut off by a beam to the face from Deagon’s own rifle, the mercenary himself climbing through the shattered window. “You talk way too much.” “Ha! Perhaps so!” Shingetsu laughed, giving his head a shake. “Let us communicate, then, through a more effective language!” He struck a practiced martial arts pose, one hand positioned in front of him alongside his foot and the other clenched by his side. Instead of attacking, Shingetsu slowly drew his outstretched hand inward, eventually balling it into a fist. “Henshin!” the samurai declared, eyes burning with growing intensity. A burst of light erupted from Shingetsu’s form, devouring him and expanding outward. The light soon faded, revealing the Kheldian’s human-sized figure to have been replaced by a towering behemoth. The creature lumbered forth, each step shaking the floor beneath the combatants. “Oh, for God’s sake!” Deagon groaned. “Robbi, I’ll keep him busy, try and grab a Quantum gun!” Robbi complied, holstering her Rikti rifle as she darted for a nearby crate. Shingetsu’s now-beastly head turned in her direction, but a blast from Deagon’s rifle struck the Kheldian’s chest, drawing his attention. “Shouldn’t someone who preaches about honor and chivalry be less inclined to attack a lady?” Deagon quipped before firing additional shots. As Deagon’s beams peppered Shingetsu’s form, the alien samurai became enveloped in light once more. This time, the cry of “Henshin” led to shifting into a smaller shape, a shrimp-like creature sporting a collection of tentacles and the ability to fly. Shingetsu then used this ability to great effect, slithering through the air and successfully avoiding Deagon’s latest rifle shots. Meanwhile, Robbi placed her hands on a crate bearing the Council’s eye-like insignia, pulling off the lid and dropping it beside her. Lined neatly beside one another in the crate were two of the Council’s prize weapon: the Quantum Array Gun. Without hesitation, Robbi hefted one gun out of its crate and took aim at her benefactor’s current predicament. “You know, I’m getting awfully sick of you Kheldians popping out of the damn woodwork!” Deagon snapped as his shots continued to miss. “The feeling is mutual, mercenary!” Shingetsu retorted as he zigged and zagged out of harm’s way. “Let us end this affair!” Robbi raised her Quantum gun as it powered up, but her target was quicker. Another sphere of light formed at the two-pronged tip of Shingetsu’s tail, remaining there only for a second before the shape-shifting samurai flung it forth. At first, the attack seemed to be directed at the air between Deagon and Robbi. Then, as it progressed, it split into two beams of light aimed towards both of Shingetsu’s enemies. The subsequent blow to Deagon’s chest sent him tumbling back once more, though he soon rolled into a kneeling position, armor scorched by Shingetsu’s blast. The other beam rushed directly towards Robbi, but the Clockwork quickly reacted by shielding herself with the only object she had available. Namely, the bulky Quantum gun in her hands. A cascade of darkness and crimson energy erupted through the warehouse, tearing the wood asunder and tossing aside whatever else laid in its path. Robbi’s body sailed through a wall, her mechanical eyes spotting the sky above her just before ocean water swallowed her view. Her broken limbs cracked and sparkled as the electricity that once flowed through her circuits danced and arced around her. Text and data flooded her field of vision as process after process struggled to resolve the problems, culminating in two words dominating her sight. [EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN] Numbers raced across the void once more. Snow and static flared up, only to soon give way to a world of grey and red. Walls befitting a fortress surrounded her, blood red lights shined down on her. “There. Reboot successful,” a voice announced with a deadpan sigh. “You have the payment?” “That I do,” the voice of Deagon replied. Robbi blinked as her processes returned to life, eventually gathering the power to sit upright. Deagon was indeed nearby, handing stacks of money to the other voice’s owner. The figure began thumbing through the bills, giving Robbi a moment to note his striking resemblance to soldiers depicted in the Arachnos posters and propaganda she had seen dotted around the Isles. His helmet was just as spider-like as his brethren, but came in shades of silver and white instead of charcoal and grey. “Nice boots, by the way,” the soldier in white remarked as he continued counting his payment. “Handy little transport compartments.” “You can never be too careful in the Isles,” Deagon shrugged. “But, I imagine you knew that already.” “Something like that,” the man in white armor replied, tone devoid of either pride or disappointment. Robbi repositioned herself, sliding off of a table and onto her feet. Deagon greeted her with a nod. “How you doing, Robbi?” he asked. “I am…functioning,” she answered. “But I appear to lack any memory between this moment and the moment in which I was damaged.” “You have the cosplaying Kheldian to thank for that,” Deagon scoffed bitterly. “I was able to drive him off, but had to give up getting any of the Council’s guns in order to get you put back together. Again.” Robbi nodded, then turned her gaze to the man in white and silver. He paid her no mind at first, still focused on his cash count, until he glanced up enough to meet Robbi’s gaze. The two simply stared at each other in silence for a moment. “…what?” the soldier finally grumbled. Robbi paused before speaking. “Based on what I observed during my reboot, I gather that you are the individual who repaired my body.” “And?” The Clockwork blinked. “…thank you, sir.” “Fine, whatever,” the soldier merely grunted, shooing Robbi off with an irritated wave of his hand before glancing at Deagon. “You’ve paid in full. Good doing business, hail Arachnos, and…yadda yadda. We’re done here.” With a swish of his monochrome cape, the soldier turned to leave without another word. Robbi could only blink. “…I apologize if I was offensive, sir,” she ventured. Deagon simply looked on, folding his arms. The Arachnos soldier heaved another irritated sigh as he stopped, speaking without even facing Robbi as he put his new funds in a wall safe. “First of all, don’t call me ‘sir’. I’m not your superior, and generally, residents of the Rogue the Isles who give out polite little honorifics like candy on Halloween when it’s not actually necessary are either sycophants or liars. Second, the only thing genuinely offensive about you was your initial coding, specifically how it looked like it was brute-forced in by a four-year-old with a squeaky mallet. Everything else is just mildly annoying at best, truth be told.” Robbi could only stare, but Deagon chuckled at the soldier’s colorful metaphors. “Rough day, Olfyde?” he asked. “Eh, just the usual,” the man in white sighed. “Now, get going. Need to be ready to help the next clueless Destined One who will inevitably insist that I fix their rune-shooting rifle despite the fact that magic isn’t in my jurisdiction.” Deagon shrugged, looking to Robbi. “Guess that’s our cue, then.” He nodded his head toward the exit, and turned to leave. Robbi stared at Olfyde for a moment longer, then followed her benefactor out. “Don’t mind his attitude,” Deagon advised his partner once they were out of Olfyde’s earshot. “He’s one of Arachnos’ Arbiters, high-ranking personnel who supposedly represent the will of Lord Recluse himself. Attacking one of them is one of the few rules that Arachnos will seriously enforce, so I imagine a Quartermaster like him gets a lot of people who make being around them as unpleasant as possible instead of just stealing everything they want.” Robbi nodded in comprehension, but still glanced back to Quartermaster Olfyde’s shop. The Arachnos posters frequently portrayed people of his ilk as having risen from the gutter of Etoile society to become its elite, thanks in no small part to the hand of Lord Recluse. The Arbiters in particular seemed much skin to the Emperor’s Praetors, though the former were greater in number and seemed to carry out a variety of duties beyond the management of their society’s day-to-day affairs. Olfyde’s seeming irritation at having achieved an ambition many could only dream of perplexed her immensely. But, as she glanced to her benefactor, one question led to more. Deagon had shared very little about himself since Robbi had entered into his service. What, for example, did he aspire to accomplish with his life? …in fact, what did Robbi wish to make of her life, now that she bore shreds of independent thought?

I personally like the idea of a plaque saying something along the lines of "Hami raids start here". Veracor does seem to be a decent individual from what I've seen of him, but something that would show up across the game as a whole rather than just in Everlasting doesn't feel to me like the best way to show appreciation for what he's done (especially since he's still alive and the player representation through in-game NPCs has exclusively been in memory of players who passed away). There are other things that can be done to show appreciation, though! Could host a costume contest in Veracor's honor, make an AE arc for/about him...there are possibilities. The most important thing, imo, is making sure Veracor himself is okay with this sort of thing before actually going through with it.

(Hello, all! Finally got this third story put together after God knows how long. It's noticeably more lengthy--which is part of the delay--but is also one of my favorites to date. Hope you enjoy!) Aggressive Negotiations: Events were now progressing in directions Robbi found favorable. Today was her first day truly accompanying Deagon on his latest escapade. The fact that he had allowed her this privilege, in spite of his disgust for her previous actions in support of Praetoria, was certainly promising. Further benefits included the ability to see more of Primal Earth, or at least of the Rogue Isles. At the moment, however, all Robbi could see was thick steel walls and shipping crates marked with spider-like emblems. According to Deagon’s instruction, departure from Port Oakes required stowing away on ferries used by Arachnos for transport of goods from island to island. Doing so was apparently a common practice; Robbi counted at least three other stowaways joining them on their particular cruise. Eventually, however, the ship stopped. The stowaways all departed through whatever openings they could find, Deagon and Robbi doing the same. The two came out onto a dock, Deagon hefting his rifle onto his shoulder and observing the path ahead. “Well…here we are,” Deagon remarked. “The Nerva Archipelago.” Robbi, too, gazed out ahead. The Archipelago did not seem all that different from Port Oakes. While it lacked Oakes’ shipping focus and associated docks, the structures seemed similarly bare-bones and run down, as if every settlement on the Rogue Isles lacked proper maintenance. The distant horizon was dotted with what seemed to be large figures, statues of stone that stretched to the heavens. “We’ll need to watch our step here,” Deagon began, drawing Robbi’s attention. “Nerva’s the odd one out of the Isles in that it’s a United Nations protectorate, which means Arachnos doesn’t have as much of a presence here. The ones with the biggest foothold are Longbow, an arm of the UN’s ‘Freedom Corps’.” He punctuated his statement by using the fingers of his free hand to imitate quotation marks. Robbi merely blinked. “What is this…Freedom Core?” “It’s a government peacekeeping agency with some Primal Earth heroes involved,” Deagon explained. “Longbow is their more aggressive branch that’s headed up by Ms. Liberty, one of our more famous heroes. Or infamous, depending on who you talk to. Negative impressions certainly aren’t helped by Longbow’s soldiers being gung-ho about their version of justice and decidedly condescending towards those who don’t follow their specific rulebook.” His Clockwork sidekick paused, slowly nodding in understanding; judging by Deagon’s bitter tone, she would have to tread lightly with this subject. “How will I recognize Longbow personnel?” “Bright red and white spandex, occasionally wearing star-spangled capes. In the Isles, they stick out like sore thumbs,” Deagon scoffed. “At any rate, we have a contact we need to meet. You remember the plan?” “Yes,” Robbi nodded. “I recall my role in this affair.” “Good,” Deagon nodded as well. “Just make sure you leave some room to improvise, if the need comes up. Not every plan goes as smoothly in practice as it does on paper.” Robbi nodded, and without another word, Deagon turned to venture ahead. His Clockwork companion followed, already calculating routes to take. Deagon’s level of trust in her—and potentially the amount of time she would be allowed to familiarize herself with Primal Earth—would depend on how well she performed the task he gave her. She would have to avoid disappointment. Their contact was waiting for them at a local beach. Alongside that contact was his entourage. A trio of soldiers stood on the beach, all but one sporting green uniforms and charcoal chest armoring. One of the soldiers in green covered his face with an armored mask, the other opting for a simple hat and goggles. The final of the soldiers dressed in a garish blue spandex, his costume’s limbs ending in dark gloves and boots with face similarly shrouded. A crate rested between the three, big enough for an adult—like the hat-wearing soldier—to sit on. All eyes turned to Robbi’s mercenary benefactor as he approached, sand groaning beneath every footstep. Deagon, with rifle now on his back, was the first to speak. “Archon Britt?” he ventured. “Ah, Mr. Deagon, yes? Welcome! Lovely beach, yes? Aside from the odd Coralax incursion, of course,” the hat-wearing soldier grinned, tipping his hat and rising to his feet. “The Council has heard of your exploits, in particular your one-man raids against sects of the Lost. Quite impressive for an up-and-coming mercenary!” All three soldiers’ eyes focused solely on Deagon; Robbi seemed virtually beneath their notice. In spite of this, she remained silent and followed their gaze, watching as the mercenary performed his role. “Well, I’m sure you can imagine that an up-and-coming merc won’t focus on groups like the Lost forever,” Deagon said. “At some point, I’ll be expanding my net and setting my sights higher. I’m told you have an interest in giving people like me a leg up?” “Indeed,” Archon Britt nodded. “The Council will rule this world someday, and those who aid us in our pursuits in any way—big or small—shall be rewarded for doing so. You are, of course, more than welcome to fully join the Council, but we do recognize the benefits of having freelance mercenaries in our pocket. For instance…Adjutant Nebble?” He snapped his fingers, prompting the spandex soldier to open the crate. Soon, he lifted out a strange device, resembling a rather long rifle with pulsating red energy emanating from its open barrel. “How much do you know about the Kheldian race, mercenary?” Nebble asked, a mild sneer in his voice as he hefted up the massive rifle. “I’ve heard bits and pieces,” Deagon shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to hear more, though.” “Kheldians are energy beings from outer space, capable of bonding to beings of flesh and blood and bestowing great powers upon them!” Nebble explained, illustrating by leaning his head back. A pulsing darkness soon filled the eyes of his mask, only to fade shortly after. “But, if one finds the correct energy frequency and applies it to a bonded Kheldian, they can be forcibly—and painfully—separated into human and Kheldian. This is their greatest weakness, and one this Quantum Array Gun exploits.” “Kheldians bonded to humans have become quite prominent in the hero community, categorized into groups called Peacebringers and Warshades,” Archon Britt added. “Should you ever find yourself against one of either, our Quantum Guns may prove most handy…if you decide to purchase one, of course.” “I’ll admit, that does sound tempting,” Deagon nodded. Robbi continued to look on, even as the mercenary spoke further. “But I’ve also heard rumors about the Council having mercenaries of its own. The, uh…Void Hunters?” “Oh, yes, our elite anti-Kheldian force. But I’m sure one of your profession would have no desire to split his profits,” Archon Britt replied, dismissively waving his hand. “Ah, but that’s the thing,” Deagon held up a finger. “The Quantums aren’t going to last forever. If I buy them, I’m going to need to come back to you over and over for maintenance, more ammunition, and so on. And I just so happen to have heard about groups of Freakshow who’ve also had dealings with the Council and came away with more than just the Quantum Guns. They got powers like what your friend here was showing off earlier.” He nodded over to Adjutant Nebble, whose grip on the Quantum Gun’s handle tightened. Archon Britt and his allies exchanged glances. “Tell you what,” Deagon continued. “If you give me some background on how one gets these powers, we’ll see if we can reach an agreement. And those abilities are worth more than a few weapons, right?” The Archon pursed his lips for a moment, slowly nodding. He glanced to each of his two allies; the masked soldier in green merely shrugged, while Adjutant Nebble slowly shook his head. Eventually, Britt looked back to Deagon. “Very well,” the Archon said. Nebble’s head noticeably sagged in response, but his superior paid it no mind. “There are several ways one may receive such powers. The standard method is to bond with a specific type of Kheldian called a Nictus, who have turned their once-bright bodies dark in search of power. On the other hand, a Nictus whose life comes to an end will crystallize, and fragments of these crystals—N-Fragments for short—can be implanted in a human being, which has given rise to our Galaxy troopers and Void Hunters. They will not have as much power as a true Kheldian, but it will be power nonetheless.” “Granted, if the procedure goes wrong, you’ll end up as one of our War Wolves,” the green-masked soldier finally spoke up with a shrug. Robbi paused, blinking as so many terms sailed over her metallic head. Deagon also paused, slowly raising a finger. “…let me see if I’m understanding this correctly,” Deagon began slowly. “Implanting fragments of a dead, crystallized Nictus will give someone Kheldian abilities…but if the process isn’t done a specific way, the person having the implants done will instead turn into a giant wolf monster that has nothing whatsoever to do with Kheldians.” “Of course!” Nebble declared proudly. “Don’t you know anything about science?” Britt grinned widely and nodded along. Deagon merely sighed and shook his head. “All right, you know what? I’ll take that risk,” he declared. “How much for the N-Fragment treatment?” The Archon put a hand to his chin, nodding thoughtfully as he looked Deagon up and down. “Well…you do seem a fit enough individual to make good use of the N-Fragments. And, as you pointed out yourself, such a process would bring us more funds than a simple Quantum Gun sale. Sergeant Vane?” The green-masked soldier stood at attention, both he and his superior ignoring Adjutant Nebble’s dejected sigh. “Ensure that we are not followed,” Archon Britt ordered. “We shall escort Mr. Deagon to our nearest laboratory and conduct our transaction there.” Deagon slowly nodded in what seemed to be satisfaction, then looked over to Robbi. “You keep on lookout, too.” Robbi nodded. She turned her gaze around the area, eyes scanning the group’s surroundings and taking note of all she saw. Mobsters in pinstripe suits interrogated victims in the relative safety of an alleyway. The odd Hellion waved around a torch without a care in the world. Rusty satellite dishes stretched to the sky. Her gaze lingered on the dishes, mouth opening slightly and metal tongue clicking, as the Council soldiers led her and Deagon away from the beach. Archon Britt led his party into a maze of warehouses, many of them several times the size of the tiny storage facility Deagon and Robbi called home. The inside of the particular warehouse Britt selected seemed just as mundane, even when the Archon happily led his associates to a blank wall and knocked on it. Soon, however, a section of the wall faded away, a pair of glistening silver elevator doors in their place. “Right this way,” Britt said with a grand gesture to the opening elevator doors. Deagon simply shrugged and played along, Robbi and Britt’s subordinates following suit. The elevator soon descended, carrying the group down further and further into the earth until finally halting. Once the doors opened, the Council’s true base was revealed, a sprawling underground facility laden with all manner of technological marvels. Soldiers marched to and fro with assault rifles in hand, guard robots in black stood rigidly at their stations, and more blue-garbed Galaxy troops manned the numerous computer terminals. “Impressive, isn’t it?” Archon Britt grinned. “The fate of all who join the Council and prove themselves worthy will be to partake in such splendor!” “One step at a time here, Archon,” Deagon reminded him. “We still have a transaction to finish.” “Yes, of course,” Britt nodded. “If you’ll follow me?” The Archon led them deeper into the compound, Deagon lightly elbowing Robbi’s side. As if on cue, the Clockwork’s eyes again began to wander. Massive pistons rose and fell from the ground, overseen by more Council soldiers. Massive tanks, seemingly made for fuel, were under guard by at least three soldiers each. All of it seemed very important to the Council, perhaps to this base in particular. “Now, the procedure is completely painless, but there may be some internal sensations you—” An alarm’s sudden but telltale blare cut the Archon off. Red lights on the ceiling flashed, the soldiers beneath them scrambling for their weapons. Deagon simply folded his arms and looked on, his posture relaxed and seemingly content. “What? What’s going on?” Archon Britt snapped into his radio. “Intruders?! How can this have—” “We can worry about how this happened later,” Deagon interjected. “What’s important right now is driving these intruders back. Any idea who they are?” Britt held up a finger, listening to his radio for a moment, before sneering one word. “Longbow.” “Well…in that case,” Deagon began, “Robbi can help your people fight them off right now, but you and I go ahead and get that N-Fragment procedure done while Longbow is busy. Having one more person with powers might be what turns the tide here.” Robbi blinked, but maintained a careful silence. “Fine, fine, do what you will!” the Archon snapped. “Deagon, follow me.” The mercenary nodded at Robbi, prompting her to turn and march back to the elevator. Once the ride finished, she exited the doors and made her way further out into the open, making herself a single blue-and-silver beacon amidst a sea of shelves. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth, emitting several lines of Clockwork code. The sounds of battle echoed from ahead of her: the thump of falling bodies, the hum of energy blasts, the shriek of shredding metal, the roar of rapid gunfire. Soon, the cacophony of violence faded away, the faint noises of post-battle chatter taking its place. Then came the telltale repeated thumps of boots on metal. Footsteps. Robbi remained where she was, face blank but mouth drawn in a thin line. In the windows above her, she glimpsed sight of the drones she called as they took their positions. The footsteps within the warehouse grew louder as the intruders approached. And then they arrived. Longbow really did wear very bright red-and-white spandex. Some even accompanied it with bulky jetpacks and helmets resembling half of a grey egg. Most of them carried standard firearms such as pistols and rifles, though the occasional gasoline tank could be seen mounted on a few rifles. The group paused when Robbi—a single Praetorian Clockwork standing seemingly alone in the middle of a vast hallway—entered their field of vision. She took this as her cue. “Good day,” she said politely. “I am Clockwork em-three-three-five-six-five-seven, dubbed ‘Robbi’ by my benefactor for simplicity. I have standing orders to prevent you from further accessing this compound. I apologize for the inconvenience.” A few of Longbow’s soldiers looked to one another in confusion, some gesturing at Robbi as if asking their fellows if they all saw the same thing. A young woman with strangely purple skin muttered something to a few of her comrades before stepping forward. As she did so, a dark glow in her eyes—almost identical to that demonstrated by the Council’s Galaxy troops—seemed to subside. “Hey there, uh…Robbi, was it?” the woman asked. The Clockwork nodded. “My name’s Pulsumbra, I’m an officer with Longbow. My squad here got a tip about a Council base in this location, which I think we can safely confirm after fighting through a few squads of Council soldiers to get here. You said you’re under orders to keep us from getting further?” Robbi nodded. “Okay, so…do you mind if I ask who gave you those orders?” Pulsumbra ventured. Robbi paused, evaluating her options. Her ultimate goal was to buy time for not only Deagon’s procedure, but for more of her drones to make their way into the most strategically-important sections of the Council’s base. With this in mind, she elected to keep the conversation going. “My benefactor is named Deagon,” Robbi answered. Pulsumbra paused, as if waiting for more information, but Robbi’s silence pushed her to speak. “Uh…okay…Deagon, got it. What can you tell me about this Deagon?” Now Robbi responded. “I do not possess a great deal of information regarding my benefactor. I am aware that he is a mercenary active in the Rogue Isles, but I am not privy to further details regarding his operations due in part to only being in Deagon’s care for a short time.” “Well, that’s helpful,” one of Pulsumbra’s comrades sarcastically remarked. “Hey, easy, you’ve worked with Clockworks like her, right?” Pulsumbra admonished him. “When you have ever known them to lie?” Robbi blinked. “…you are familiar with Praetorian Clockwork?” “Huh? Oh, yeah!” Pulsumbra spoke up, clasping her hands together. “We actually have some specialized Mender Clockworks working with us in Longbow, designed by Dr. Alec Parson himself. They’ve been really helpful as support units!” Alec Parson. A name Robbi recognized. A name from Praetoria. A name connecting her to the world she had lost. “…Dr. Parson is on Primal Earth?” One could almost hear a faint hope in Robbi’s monotone voice. “Yeah, he is!” Pulsumbra replied with a smile. “Actually, he’s working with this super group over in Paragon City called the New Praetorians. You can probably guess this for yourself, but that group’s made up of survivors from Praetoria. Kind of like you, actually!” Another of Pulsumbra’s allies spoke up. “Warden, we’re kind of on a schedule here, can we make friends with gutter-dwellers another time?” The purple-skinned Warden shot her comrade a warning glare, but nonetheless looked back to Robbi. “Okay, Robbi? I’ll make you a deal. If you turn yourself in now and let us pass, we’ll see if we can get you to meet the New Praetorians. What do you think?” Another instance in which Robbi was required to make an existence-altering choice. Primal Earth seemed to be littered with them. Dr. Parson had seen to the proper functioning of many Clockwork in Praetoria, Robbi included. An encounter with sons and daughters of Praetoria—of Robbi’s home—was an extraordinary opportunity. But how would she get to that point? Pulsumbra’s opinions seemed rather isolated; would Longbow follow through on her word? And even if they did, would Robbi remain as she was once within Dr. Parson’s sights? There were too many variables. There was too much uncertainty. There was too much risk. Her best option became to stay her current course. Robbi merely tilted her head back and emitted more Clockwork code. The noise of shattering glass soon echoed through the warehouse as her drones broke through the windows above, dropping abruptly onto the Longbow squad. Panicked yells and gunfire filled the air as the squad fought back, culminating in several blasts of dark energy knocking several drones aside. “All right…fine,” Pulsumbra sighed, cracking her knuckles as her eyes began to glow much like the Galaxy Adjutant’s had. “We’ll do it the hard way.” Dark matter surrounded her hands, prompting Robbi to draw her Rikti rifle. Before either could fire, however, a small sphere sailed over Robbi’s shoulder and fell at Pulsumbra’s feet. The Warden’s eyes went wide, her arms crossing in an X-shape in front of her just as the grenade burst. Robbi merely stared ahead, the explosion small enough to not reach her but large enough to stir up a cloud of dust and fire. As the smoke cleared, however, Pulsumbra stood entirely unharmed, shielded by a purple bubble of energy she had apparently generated around herself. “Okay, the gloves are off now!” the Warden cried. “I need Miniguns and Nullifiers up front, Eagles on flank, and—” The sound of a laser blast cut her off, a single green bolt piercing the ceiling. Robbi paused, turning her head to find Deagon behind her, his smoking beam rifle pointed upward. He gave his Clockwork companion a nod as he strode by her, shifting his rifle into his arms and focusing his helmet’s visor on Pulsumbra. “I’d hold your fire if I were you, Warshade,” Deagon declared. “You’ve got more important things to worry about.” Robbi, as if on cue, opened her mouth and began clicking her tongue again. Each and every one of Longbow’s soldiers aimed their guns at the duo, but a grimacing Pulsumbra held up a hand to stop them. “I take it you’re Deagon?” she asked, earning a simple one-shoulder shrug from the helmeted man. “What are you talking about? And why are you—” “Warden, the drones!” A light on each of Robbi’s fallen minions began to blink, accompanied by a loud beeping noise that accelerated its pace as the seconds passed. Down below, the drones standing by critical structure points in the Council’s base also began to beep, freezing in place and ignoring every attempt at stirring them. Archon Britt could only snarl. “That accursed mercenary!” he spat. “He played us like a damn fiddle!” “EVERYONE AROUND ME! NOW!” Pulsumbra roared, throwing her arms out wide as her soldiers gathered. A purple energy began to course through her body, spreading a field out to her comrades as the dark aura in her eyes intensified. “That’s our cue as well,” Deagon commented, putting a hand on Robbi’s shoulder. “I’m admittedly taking a gamble here, so brace yourself.” A dark energy identical to Pulsumbra’s began to flow across Deagon’s arm and onto Robbi’s body. The Clockwork blinked, but before anything could be said, darkness swallowed her field of vision. In what seemed like a split-second later, the darkness peeled away, revealing the gloomy sky of the Nerva Archipelago. That sky was soon lit with orange, however, as a nearby warehouse burst into flames from a multitude of spontaneous explosions from within. Even the ground beneath the warehouse began to sink and crumble, as if something beneath it had just been destroyed. “Well, I’d call this a successful venture,” Deagon remarked as he dusted off his hands. Robbi stared into the flames for a moment, hesitating before speaking. “…did the Longbow squadron perish in my drones’ detonation?” “Unfortunately, that’s not likely,” Deagon shook his head. “That Warshade was prepping a teleport of her own to get her people out. We might run into her again, or we might not. Either way, it’s best we keep on our toes.” Robbi nodded, though her gaze remained on the burning warehouse that had once sheltered the Council base beneath. “For now, it’s time we head home,” Deagon said. “I’d like to try and master some new tricks before our next bit of field work.” He lifted up a hand, allowing dark energy to course through it; the implantation of N-Fragments had evidently been successful. Robbi simply nodded once more, and turned to follow the mercenary as he departed the scene of his arson. Their mission had finished, and her benefactor seemed pleased with the results. This was an acceptable set of circumstances. Still, the possibility of encountering Alec Parson or other Praetorian survivors existed. Perhaps, someday, she could meet them. But, for now, Robbi would hold steady in her role as Deagon’s accomplice. She needed no more drastic changes in her life.