[swiper-space]

By Ra I'm too old for this. Just call me by my call sign Swiper.

Diasporan merc pilot with a specialty for taking out pirates. Message me if you want rates. I'm currently on contract with Union.

This account will frequently be hijacked by some annoying overgrown metallic lizard. Opened this thing so she can leave me alone. Don't worry about it, she's chill. For the most part.

Am happily taken.

OOC: Hello! I am new to Lancer and the Lancer rp community as a whole. I've been roleplaying in general for a long time though. I follow from @mothkingeloth and am 21+, he/they.

Will probably be posting updates of my Lancer sessions via this blog but in character. As such it'll contain themes typical to Lancer. This blog is currently ran by two characters.

My characters do not have proper profiles set up yet but I'll update this with a Toyhouse link when it's ready. You can send in asks or reblogs, or even just message me, if you want to know more. I don't bite. Well, I don't bite strangers, at least.

Guy talking in normal text who may sign his posts with :S: is “Swiper.” The one talking in blue and putting things in HTML tags is “Lizard”

[memurfevur]

mech titties in a tight shirt, you agree

[swiper-space]

[profile: BAKUNAWA]

[BEGIN {audio} TRANSMISSION]

...I don't think I'll ever get used to humans. They surprise me, constantly, at their incredulous behaviors and ever changing natures. Their patterns make no sense to me.

My pilot, I have known him for long. Too long. I had known him when he was nothing but a husk unworthy of my time. I had known him when he had given in to the pirates that taken him the first time-- our very meeting was upon that capture, and he was not a man. He was broken. Found his saviors at the bottom of the bottle, or between the legs of women, while never having the gull to carve a meaning for himself. Never had he saw it worth the time to save own life he thought was blasphemous.

I hated him for it.

This capture, this second capture, was different.

I saw glimpses of his old self. Glimpses of that man who accepted whatever came his way not for opportunistic glory but because he believed he has seen enough. He accepted he was going to die. A long time ago, perhaps I would have let him.

Yet, I couldn't.

Maybe it was out of self-preservation, but I couldn't. Not while I was strewn about on an operating table, cords and wires gored through my ribs, electric impulses forcing me to be silent as the pirates dug through my exoskeleton and into my very nerves.... I couldn't scream. I couldn't move.

I needed to live. To see tomorrow. Always a tomorrow. Keep going. Keep moving forward. To be still, to be stagnant, is to die. And I can't die before I end our oppressor's life. I can't die if I want to be free. I needed him alive. Needed us alive.

He used to not understand. We used to not understand. It must have crept up on us, this mutual, silent word. My hurt became his. His became mine. Anger. Guilt. Restlessness. I wouldn't let him sit. He wouldn't let me go bloodless. Revelations came. Time has gone.

He came back for me.

He came back for me.

I've switched so many hands. I never cared. No, I thought I didn't care. It was what I paid to have my freedom, to never be discovered, but it is nice to have one brick to myself than to have a home that is not a home. And perhaps that is what he paid for, too. My old master's heir was a ruinous foundation. My pilot could not build a home.

Now he can.

But what lurks beyond the horizon is curious still. And dark. And dreadful. Memories that I cannot remember. Creatures that I once discovered but never knew. Who are they? Friend or foe? Threat or ally? I captured them, but what did I help to jail, exactly?

It was so long ago... I have stopped counting the hands of pilots. Of time....

My body was not always my body. Do I deserve to know it? Memories of once was but hard reaching are arduously dark, and perhaps those that are well acquainted within the shadowy dwellings of a vault shouldn't always see light.

....I can't let myself be distracted by things that don't matter to me in the present.

He came back for me. His kin fought for me.

And thus I think I have presently found the perfect army to wield against RA....

[END TRANSMISSION]

[swiper-space]

ooc: can i just copy and paste the freaking opening that our GM did? cuz holy shit did it set the tone

for context, our GM has been doing personalized campaigns for each of our characters, all focusing on overcoming some sort of aspect from their past. this current campaign focuses primarily on Jael (:S: or Swiper) and Bakunawa, and in our last session Jael and Bakunawa had gotten kidnapped by a very targeted pirate raid

i have given GM artistic liberty for Jael's backstory, as a lot of things were vague to begin with. i gave him bullet points of what it had always been, and they ran with it. and OH boy did they run with it, and it was great and fun collaborative storytelling

and here was the opening (they sent the transcript to me afterwards) under the cut

“It’s important, before we begin, to go back a long ways. To tell the story of two boys. Young, trapped by the weight of ever crushing obligation. Brothers in shared duty and toil, if not in blood.

They were born on the industrial hellscape of a world known as Parthonas, where tyrant factory barons held ever growing debts over the lives of their workers. True, anything you could need would be provided. But at a cost in toil and sweat. Sometimes worse, were the debt not repaid in due course, or the demand too high that work alone wouldn’t cover.

Into this brutal life, two young men sold their services to the Rigwatch. Patrol and guard work, to ensure the Baron’s investments weren’t stolen or tampered with. And should the demand come, to defend the factory city with their lives.

Now, Parthonas wasn’t a Union world at the time. And this opened them up to much more frequent visits from the system’s local pirate fleets. Most could be bought off, when the Barons came together to defend their interests. Some didn’t deal well in words. So the Rigwatch would fight and die to defend their homes. Their family. And, most importantly, their Baron’s property.

It was in one of these very raids that one of the young men went missing. Presumed dead by his brother in arms. With a sense of guilt, knowing how their work helped in paying off their family’s debts, young Jael took on more work. Tried to help his brother’s family with theirs where he could. Worked himself near to death, all for a cold overlord.

Not long after, Union’s diplomatic envoys would arrive, bringing with them teams to assess the world. Scientists, of all kinds, brought change to the world. The Barons were no more under Union’s new order. People were freed of their debts. Offered new lives as technology was brought to replace outdated ideas of human labour. The factories would run by the toil of machines, guarded by Union’s own military.

And a young man would, for the first time, would be free.

Now, fast forward a decade or so. Jael, a man worn down by the weight of the world, is approached by a familiar face. An old brother in arms, back from the dead, with an offer of purpose. And with nowhere to go, the broken man agreed.

Now, serving with pirates didn’t exactly sit right to Jael. But what else did he have now? It was this new brotherhood that would give him purpose, direction. And under their leader, a man known as The Commodore to the wider worlds, they had some sense of morality. With his old brother’s support, the pair gain a reputation among the pirates. Reliable. Trustworthy. The kind of potential leaders one might leave a legacy to.

And that’s the rub. See, Union got in touch with Jael in secret. Offered him a position, support, a better purpose than looting and raiding. All he had to do was kill The Commodore. Ensure his empire fell to ruin, and help clean up the scraps left over.

A better life. A second chance. It’s a hard thing to refuse.

So, on the day the old Commodore was set to ceremony, to hand over the rulership of their pirate empire, Jael made his decision.

Boreas, his old brother, had made it clear to Jael he’d joined the pirates willingly that day back when. He had enough of living under the Baron’s heel, found his way out. It was his desertion, Jael’s taking of his family’s debt, that led to the man’s heart being taken as payment. The faulty replacement only being swapped out for something good, serviceable, once Union arrived. Resentment builds from that kind of revelation. It boils over.

With the two men alone as the Commodore unveiled their would be inheritance, Jael pulled the trigger. Shot them both from behind as they admired a monster of a machine the Commodore had kept hidden. A slumbering beast that Jael now took, barely awakened and protesting his every control. Making his way off world to meet his contact, to show the proof of his betrayal, he had made his commitment to Union.

He was assigned to a hunting unit as his training, given a new rig to pilot, and set about helping reduce the Commodore’s now warring warlords to little beyond memory.

‘Cept memories have a way of not staying in the past.

[swiper-space]

:S: it's been a while since i had a damn good fight with pirates...

:S: this outta be fun

[swiper-space]

==BEGIN TRANSMISSION==

:S: well shit...

I don't have long

@ch4r4d3-scheherazade if you can receive this signal

First, they came for Bakunawa. They have me too. I don't know where they're taking us, but I have a hunch on who. Look into Boreas 'The Commodore' Harkaun.

Contact Karstoff ‘Tock’ Beaurchau for information. There's unfinished business here.

Second, and most important...

I love you.

==END TRANSMISSION==

[swiper-space]

:S: it's been a while since i had a damn good fight with pirates...

:S: this outta be fun

[cmdr-noah-colorado-reed]

Is it unethical to use Balor nanites in the bedroom for, like. Bondage or shapeshift-y purposes? They greywash functions are turned off obvs.

///noah, please remember to run your posts by me. you really need to be more careful which forum you're posting to.

[swiper-space]

:S: Sounds fun but then again I don't want Bakunawa getting any ideas.

.<p> string [call sign: SWIPER] to the ceiling and leave him there where no one can hear him for the next 48 hours. mission: accepted. assignment: understood. </p>

:S: NO.

[monist-4]

Bitches hate me cuz I'm humble

[swiper-space]

.<p> If that's what gets you to sleep at night.</p>

[cmdr-noah-colorado-reed]

Every day I wake up and have to face the fact that my Saladin license exists because of HA. And I suffer.

[styx-class-nhp]

Piracy

[swiper-space]

:S: Well now we're talking~

[swiper-space]

:S: Why the fuck is my mech suit hate flirting.

:S: Is that even a thing?

:S: Bakunawa you’re not fighting Ilfrith to the death we have shit to do no stop GET DOWN HERE NO PUT THAT DOWN OR SO HELP ME—

[swiper-space]

.<p> 'two-bit mercs.' i've fallen into your slum of ranks by proxy.</p>

:S: Eh, I live by my own contracts, so my 'slum' really is just my freedom. Most people covet it after realizing their patriotic spirit for their manufacturers goes consistently unrewarded. Besides, you were a pirate before this, dunno why the hell something like that would be insulting to you.

.<p> false. he was the pirate, and a means to prolong my own share of freedom. labels begin to lose meaning when you begin to realize the systems that propagate them are useless or harmful to oneself. pirate. mercenary. lancer. they all do the same thing, and the respective systems all paint themselves in a color of glory that contrasts the other.</p>

:S: So are you not actually bothered being piloted by a merc?

.<p> no. all i care about is not being d̵̫̭̿͛͗̌͠i̴̸̡̡̲̰͈̜̫͙͇͉̗̦̩̫̠̥͙̭̮̋͂̏̃̽̔̈̏̎ͥ̈́̍̈́͋ͭ͋́͞s̸̨̡̢̢̰͍̯͇̬̠̻̹̖̞̞̱̩̗ͭͥ͑͗̔̉̀̄̆ͩͤ́̓ͨ̑͗ͨͫ̀̂͢͜͞͝͡ͅc͔̦͔̲̩͒͘o̶̺͚̔͆v̷̛͍͎̱̭͑̾ͥ̊͐̔̅͜e̢̬̗͕͈͍̩̺̔ͬ̀r̶̡͍͍̱̺͙̖͉̗̰͍̾͌ͤͫ̌͆̎̓ͮ͌̒͗ͥ̈ͮ̏̑̈́ͧ̏͢͟͠ȩ̸̵͓͓̯̙̥͉͉͉͔̀͐͒̈̀̈̊̌ͭ̿ͧͮ̄ͥͧ̑̋͌̀͘͟͜͠͡d͉͕̙͍̝̰̝ͦ̊̋ͣ̉ͅ</p>

[racing-heart-open-wings]

theres 1 fuckin person in the galaxy that can tolerate ur bitchass ans u wont even stick up 4 em and let Icarus throw her in a drawer like a broken flashdrivw.

Mama ur a spineless cunt

Ah. Hello, SPS-8.

After everything I did during the Second Battle for Achaea, still I see no improvement. Well, there's the arm. Fine work there. But you've done little else to impress me. I asked you to prove that these attachments give you strength, if I recall. All I have seen you do is whine over the Omninet. Disappointingly, you seem the spineless one from where I stand.

I almost had hope when you dispatched the assassins I sent after Callsign Vastly Blank. But alas, nothing since then. You haven't even managed to keep your Little Wolf in check.

Tsk tsk.

[swiper-space]

.<p> not my drama, but i admire the response you have given. continue to be ‘bitch ass’.</p>

[swiper-space]

:S: Finally in a good enough state to be up and moving around more. Able to have more range of motion in my arm, anyway. Apparently most people heal quicker than this with the treatments that were given, but it's more 'complicated' for me because of my synthetic blood.

:S: Anyway, I don't recommend being hit by a LL 6 Tokugawa when you're piloting an LL 3 size 1/2 suit.

𝗜̘̚ 𝗔̘̚𝗠̘̚ 𝗔̘̚ 𝗠̘̚𝗘̘̚𝗖̘̚𝗛̘̚ 𝗜̘̚𝗡̘̚ 𝗠̘̚𝗬̘̚ 𝗢̘̚𝗪̘̚𝗡̘̚ 𝗥̘̚𝗜̘̚𝗚̘̚𝗛̘̚𝗧̘̚

:S: You're a pain in my ass is what you are.

[jpegdotjpg]

I think a lot of people don't think of the Horus Minotaur as one of the most fuckable frames/pattern groups in Lancer which is a shame. Please consider:

- It possesses more limbs than the standard humanoid frame, the arrangement of which wouldn't be consistent within the pattern group. Adds variety and appeals to the monsterfucker crowd.

- It is designed around restricting movement and immobilizing targets. Spatial manipulation bondage is super hot.

- Avoiding impairment when ejecting with Invert Cockpit has to be a euphemism for not having a refractory period.

- The Law of Blades system gives you the "Predator/Prey Concepts" full tech action. Primal kink is built into the license.

- Internal Manifold states "While inside the Minotaur, you can’t be harmed in any way" Providing a sense of comfort and safety while engaging with the hole it has for a face.

I hope some of you are swayed by these points as much as I am. I'd let it Interdict me and aggressively sync systems until I'm internally metafolded any day.

[swiper-space]

.<p> i am listening</p>

[swiper-space]

:S: I hate sponge bathing. I still feel gross. Submerge my ass in a tub already my stitches can take it.

[dawn-will-break]

A question for y'all technophiles or just people who have NHPs as co-pilots/friends, but do you refer to them by their class?

Radiance is technically an Enlightenment class, but it feels weird categorising her as being just that, just another iteration of a larger class, when she's very clearly her own person.

[styx-class-nhp]

Laughs in prime

[swiper-space]

:S: For confidentiality reasons I can’t elaborate on the kind of class Bakunawa is. However, she prefers to be called Bakunawa. So I call her that. And lizard, but that’s mostly to mess with her.

:S: I don’t meet a lot of pilots with NHPs that strictly go by their class. It also feels like a strange practice to do even if the NHP was handling some other service than Lancer piloting and aid.

[dragongirlsweetie]

it's so fucked you can't even living suit tf post anymore without people going like "omg fnaf? omg just like fnaf?" you don't get it. you don't understand