catherine_b320

Come on down, ladies and gents, you're the next contestant on the CRIT IS RIGHT!


So how'm'I doing? Good, bad, ugly? Have I broke some rule of Spartanating that I should get smacked upside the head for? This is where you bring all those concerns/comments/etc.


IP is off, anon is on! Go nuts, friends.

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I'm setting up a perimeter patrol. Anyone who has a mind to volunteer or otherwise participate, I'll need your name and capabilities.


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Sangheili. Eider. 16:00 hours.



[For those presently in Eider, Kat is building fortifications around the city. Her right arm, generally cybernetic, is missing, and yeah, she's totally packing entire trees around on her left shoulder. Feel free to run into her, but be warned, you might find yourself conscripted! YOU'RE IN THE ARMY NOW, BITCHES.]

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          My mood does not improve.


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Has anyone deigned devise a plan of attack, or will it be that we all fight blindly?

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          Situation: unchanged. Armaments forthcoming. Wouldn't you know it, they make nothing in my size. My right arm for a gauss canon, in lieu of the kingdom I don't have.

          The housing unit provided has a curious excess of amenities, given the volume of its space. Any number of Helljumpers I have known would no doubt feel right at home. Preliminary scans show no signs of tampering or surveillance, unless you count the local wildlife committee.

          Mark V modification: frustrating. Nothing seems to take. Knowing it's not a lack of expertise, my theories run to either a technological dampening field, effects compliant with several theoretical UNSC projects of a highly classified nature, or the unmitigated sadistic glee of a higher power. Given this place, I hedge no bets.

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How many of you on this rock are versed in combat methodology?

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                   Unfamiliar planet, terrain congruent with UNSC standard habitable class. Atmospheric composition: breathable. No details as yet.

                   Total communications black-out. Local communicators: useless. I could build something more serviceable from a toaster iron and bits of shrapnel. Internal workings disintegrate when tampered with. Not an isolated occurrence. Locals beginning to disapprove of my curiosity.

                    Locals refer to location as 'Vertiline'. No known UNSC-governed world by this name. Technology is nominal. Pre-22nd century. Positively Neolithic.

                    Threat assessment: High. Civilian presence: Likewise. Potential Covenant agent present. Winter Contingency still in effect.

                    Consider: Slip-space rupture? Consider: Hallucination. Consider: Elysium. Consider: Full psych work-up.

                    Noble Team is completely dark. I do not like it.

                    Armour functions at forty percent and holding, not responding to conventional service hacks. Energy shielding disabled.

                   And there is a hole in my helmet.

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So, to my understanding, we are brought to this place to perform tricks for the locals? I do not fare well jumping through hoops. Let us get this over with, quickly.

I have heard there are those that can fashion rudimentary weapons. I require their names, locations, and the basic technological restrictions of their abilities.

To those that find themselves here as I do, I would appreciate information regarding the manner of your translocation.

Noble Two, out.