Bullroarer
New Member
Dark as a Dungeon
Various Systems
Various places
May 14th, 3018.
Surrounding Alphonso was the baroque cockpit of a ten-meter-tall mark IV bipedal racer frame... or what would have been one if it wasn't actually a collection of parts scavenged from the Acadia ice derby racetrack. He rubbed his hands together to bring forth some warmth to his fingertips before sliding his nervous lithe body into the jockey command harness; a slightly oversized hard shell torso restraint, foot control apparatus slicked with a layer of frost, and the arm control modules. His breath blew clouds of ice vapor as he took a sip of hot tea from a battered "facts don't care" steel tumbler before setting the nearly empty vessel on a resin coaster glued to the top of the command console, a swirl of green and gold glaring with the dull greys of the machinery.
When Alphonso asked if he could join his father's warband, as many young male Acadians do with their fathers after their nameday, Laeoric just laughed and not the mirthful sort. As the legendary Laeoric Diligenzia, victor of over a hundred Vendettas, was often fond of saying, "Boy, the whole point of earning your name is to go out and prove your worth, not for me to give ya your worth."
In a moment, he would spring forward upon the ancient signals of a cylindrical three light lamp and race against a dozen other youngbloods. If he didn't succeed in winning this race, he would never gain his father's name and, more importantly, his respect. Throwing the mind sync switch, he tried to merge his mind with the machine's ghost. His heads-up display blurred as pain pierced his skull and the ghost rejected him. This was not a problem he had considered, being rejected by the machine as well.
After his head cleared, he checked his mind/machine interface on the back of the neurojack helmet. He felt completely foolish when he expected five inserted plugs and found only four. the fifth, the red one, dangled within his reach. Attached to the primary bundle by a zip tie, He quickly reinserted the plug and completed the neuro link with the spirit within the machine. He was now ready. With the nervousness gone, the lamp cycled from red to green. He willed the machine to stride forward, away from the frame gantry. He was on his way, towards his destiny.
[OOC notes: Joint Post by the Blood Cross Roleplay Group. Music my Merle Travis, linked through youtube.]
Various Systems
Various places
May 14th, 3018.
Surrounding Alphonso was the baroque cockpit of a ten-meter-tall mark IV bipedal racer frame... or what would have been one if it wasn't actually a collection of parts scavenged from the Acadia ice derby racetrack. He rubbed his hands together to bring forth some warmth to his fingertips before sliding his nervous lithe body into the jockey command harness; a slightly oversized hard shell torso restraint, foot control apparatus slicked with a layer of frost, and the arm control modules. His breath blew clouds of ice vapor as he took a sip of hot tea from a battered "facts don't care" steel tumbler before setting the nearly empty vessel on a resin coaster glued to the top of the command console, a swirl of green and gold glaring with the dull greys of the machinery.
When Alphonso asked if he could join his father's warband, as many young male Acadians do with their fathers after their nameday, Laeoric just laughed and not the mirthful sort. As the legendary Laeoric Diligenzia, victor of over a hundred Vendettas, was often fond of saying, "Boy, the whole point of earning your name is to go out and prove your worth, not for me to give ya your worth."
In a moment, he would spring forward upon the ancient signals of a cylindrical three light lamp and race against a dozen other youngbloods. If he didn't succeed in winning this race, he would never gain his father's name and, more importantly, his respect. Throwing the mind sync switch, he tried to merge his mind with the machine's ghost. His heads-up display blurred as pain pierced his skull and the ghost rejected him. This was not a problem he had considered, being rejected by the machine as well.
After his head cleared, he checked his mind/machine interface on the back of the neurojack helmet. He felt completely foolish when he expected five inserted plugs and found only four. the fifth, the red one, dangled within his reach. Attached to the primary bundle by a zip tie, He quickly reinserted the plug and completed the neuro link with the spirit within the machine. He was now ready. With the nervousness gone, the lamp cycled from red to green. He willed the machine to stride forward, away from the frame gantry. He was on his way, towards his destiny.
[OOC notes: Joint Post by the Blood Cross Roleplay Group. Music my Merle Travis, linked through youtube.]
Last edited: