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Post by TG-Mourn || TG-Cackler on Aug 7, 2015 20:15:06 GMT
Cackler bellowed, and laughter rolled from his intake like his armor plates rolled over his chassis, so robust a fashion it nearly seemed as if the mech had blown his own vocalizer simply from laughing. Bomb after bomb, lob after lob, his opponent's transformation didn't cause him to stop his throwing for a change of tactic. Cackler knew one method of attack, and that was the simplest form; a full frontal assault. As grenades flew farther to reach the mech as the Cybertronian treaded vehicle began to speed away from him, but he didn't stop- not even with Mourn near.
Mourn had grimaced as he watched the mech wind up for the finishing blow. He'd had confidence enough in his partner to stop the attack, and stop it he did; watching as the preparation for the attack was all for not, Bulwark's armor shifting in a particular way to protect him from the blasts of Cackler's most favored attack pattern, Mourn rolled out of the way. Every slightest of movement was met with an intense ache in his chassis, a stinging pain that threatened to send him back into the dirt. The tactician was no stranger to battle, however, nor was he a stranger to the injuries that came with it. I've had worse, he reminded himself, and he continued to move. Crawling forward, over his first, broken blade, he'd made up his mind to desert it... looking back at his transformed opponent, however, he made a split-second decision that perhaps this wouldn't be the wisest course.
He brusquely grabbed the handle of his broken blade, and rolled out of the way. An explosive of Cackler's nearly overshot, and he felt armor singe from the blast of a grenade that was far too close for comfort. He continued with the maneuver regardless. The quick movement allowed him to successfully roll out of the vehicle's path, but he'd left the rapier in Bulwark's wake, handle protruding from the ground. If it were successful in achieving what Mourn had purposed for it, the broken blade would get lodged in the treads of the alt-mode and immobilize it. If not, however, Mourn would have to find another way to quickly roll out of the way and reposition.
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Colossus
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Post by Colossus on Aug 7, 2015 20:42:15 GMT
Shifting up a gear, Roadcharge accelerated, his vehicle mode lurching forward as he did so. Roadcharge's armor was holding up against the explosives, but he would need to rethink his plans if he was to deal with Cackler. The other mech was getting to be a real pain, and needed to be dealt with. But if he tried hard enough, he could get the smaller one at least. These thoughts preoccupied his mind as he drove forward.
Reaching the blade embedded into the ground, one of his treads clipped the rapier. However, due to his speed, strength, and weight, the blade quickly snapped. A piece remained caught in his treads, uncomfortably scratching the wheels within the treads as he drove. He'd have to pull it out later, after he was done breaking some skulls.
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Post by TG-Mourn || TG-Cackler on Aug 7, 2015 20:54:01 GMT
He didn't allow Bulwark a second, and Mourn was already assuming alt-mode. With the combination of his opponent's deadly alt-mode and his partner's even deadlier attack, the most sensible decision was, of course, to get the frag out of there. What's more, he knew that no matter how thick the armor, an opponent was always on the worse end of things with Cackler. If this mech really wanted to play a game of attrition and rely so heavily on his armor's protection from the explosives, he'd find soon that armor wore down much quicker than Cackler's large supply of explosives.
Meanwhile, the larger of the pair was drawing closer. Walking steadily, there was still large enough a distance between the attacker and his target that an attempt to back up into him could be responded to quickly enough by the slow mech to keep him lobbing safely. Mourn considered the calculation quickly as his much faster alt-mode, less armored, and more sleek, sped away from the treaded vehicle, evading it with ease and kicking up a cloud of dirt at it almost as if to insult his speed. Mourn was well out of harm's way- either by his enemy's servo, or by Cackler's- and was now more focused on letting Cackler do what he was best at.
Grenades weren't the only explosives being lobbed now. A couple of randomly chosen time bombs were thrown, and instead of exploding rattled off of the vehicle's armor harmlessly, falling to the ground where, if he rolled over them at the wrong time, they would undoubtedly tear his treads to bits.
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Post by Colossus on Aug 7, 2015 21:49:49 GMT
Bugged by being both outrun and outgunned, Roadcharge transformed and landed on his pedes. Moving to avoid explosives, He reached to his waist and activated his emergency beacon. The device lit up and acknowledged nearby Decepticons, making the signal more urgent. Once that was done, Roadcharge took off into a sprint, going back into the swamps for cover and breathing room. This fight was going to end badly unless he could nail the laughing one with the howitzer again.
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Gateway
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Post by Gateway on Aug 7, 2015 21:59:51 GMT
A large warp bridge appeared over the swamp, a single pod flew out and landed at the edge of the marsh as there was no clearing to land in. Gateway stepped out and looked around. [Font color="Roadcharge is somewhere in this swamp, we just need to follow the signal he's giving.[/font] He walked out and stepped into the mud. Ugh, this planet really is a mudball. He shook the mud off his pede, but looked ahead of to see that was in vain. He exvented in disappointment, this was going to be a annoying search mission, hopefully they wouldn't come across anyone else.He looked back into the pod. You alright in here?
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Post by TG-Mourn || TG-Cackler on Aug 7, 2015 22:02:31 GMT
The tactician watched with interest. Pulling up beside Cackler, he transformed. Standing tall next to his partner, a new grimace plastered on his expression. He could see the tactical advantage of the swamp for one with heavier artillery; he had not forgotten Bulwark's howitzer. Cackler continued to lob, bellowing out harsh, hearty laughs at the mech as he did so, his optics wide and bright.
Mourn raised a fisted servo, and the lobbing ceased immediately. Cackler glanced over to his partner and rose an optic ridge, scowling, his laughter silenced.
"What's tha big aidea?" he asked in his gravelly, rough voice. Instead of responding verbally, Mourn took out his energy rifle, primed it with a quick, quiet hum, and then fired in a matter of a couple of seconds. With Bulwark facing the other direction, running into the swamp, he'd fully exposed his back to him.
The shot was aimed precisely at the spot he'd hit before; a hole in the armor that he could exploit. Roadcharge had made a mistake when he'd turned his back. With Mourn's aim, the shot was more than likely to hit its target true to the mark, and once that happened, there would be more than a little bit of damage to his internal systems. If he even managed to do some damage with the intensely focused energy blast, he might even do some damage to the mech's backstrut- his spine- and immobilize him for good.
"WP, single shot," Mourn said, turning away and not bothering to watch and see whether or not his shot had hit true. He was sure it had, and even if he hadn't, this next attack would seal their victory over their opponent. He knelt, shielding himself under the tall brush lining the edge of the swamp to protect himself from sight and avoid being shot by any return fire that might result if their opponent wasn't killed in the process. Cackler was giddy, his thick chassis bouncing slightly, round, robust armor bouncing with him.
The quick, private command that was meaningless to Roadcharge was a command to use Cackler's white phosphorous explosives- his most powerful, and most deadly. Not a few seconds after Mourn had given the command, the white phosphorous bomb- a rather large one, at that- had been dug out of the "bag of fun" and thrown, with all Cackler's might, toward Bulwark.
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Post by Breech Loader on Aug 7, 2015 22:09:27 GMT
Hotwire steps out of the pod. Then she transforms into her Chinook helicopter form to avoid stepping into the mud, hovering a few feet off the ground.
"So, who're we looking for?"
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Colossus
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Post by Colossus on Aug 7, 2015 22:59:06 GMT
Running into the swamp, Roadcharge cursed under his venting. Things were awful, he needed to rethink his guns next time he got to the armory. He quickly began reaching for his howitzer, but was struck in his previous wound. His optics widened as pain surged through his frame. Collapsing to the ground, having lost control of his legs, he groaned. It would be some time before his secondary nervous circuitry would reroute things to allow him some leg control.
Seeing a notification that a warp bridge opened on his HUD, he grinned slightly through his pain.
:: 'Bout time ya showed up... I lost my legs, so I'll need someone to haul me. :: He commed.
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Gateway
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Post by Gateway on Aug 7, 2015 23:04:03 GMT
From what I can tell, it's Roadcharge's distress beacon. So we're on the lookout for a large truck mech. He's probably completely coated in mud by now. Gateway said as he walked into the swamp. He immediately heard a rifle being shot. In shock he broke into a sprint towards the sound, but was hindered by the thick mud. He transformed and began to hover above the sludge, completely ignoring the filth that bow coated him and forgetting his comrade. ::I'm on my way, was that shot I heard what took you down?:: He stopped just twenty feet away from Mourne and Cackler. He didn't recognize them, which was bad news. He started to back away, now remembering the recruit that came along with him.
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Post by Breech Loader on Aug 7, 2015 23:16:12 GMT
Breech can see the mess Gateway is in.
"You need a servo there, Boss?" the black and green Chinook asks from where she's hovering, "If we gotta fight now I've totally got loads more guns and swords since the upgrade."
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Post by TG-Mourn || TG-Cackler on Aug 7, 2015 23:23:36 GMT
The intelligent one was the first to spot the new enemy. Just as Cackler put his bag in its place in his back, beginning to trudge forward towards Bulwark, Mourn grabbed his arm to stop him. His faceplates had returned to their usual, expressionless, emotionless appearance, and he was back to normal. Cold, calculating his next movements, Mourn let out a long, deep vent of hot air from his tanks loose, considering the options. If the Howitzer was still in play, they might not be able to reach Bulwark so easily, assuming these were allies of his. While he had a decent amount of firepower, Cackler had already spent more than a sizable amount of explosives, and he only had two white phosphorous bombs left; they'd be at a disadvantage. Cackler growled menacingly at Mourn.
"What's it this time!?" he barked, whipping his helm around to face Mourn; even if the two were partners, it was clear from Cackler's rage, fueled by his lust for battle, that he wasn't being controlled by the tactician. "We're at a disadvantage. I need to assess the present situation," he answered tonelessly. Cackler only scoffed, yanking loose from Mourn's grasp and taking a single, thundering step forward. His ped was in mud, one in the swamp, one out of it.
Mourn was already charging his rifle up again for another round, though whether it would be at the newcomer or at their downed target, he couldn't be sure just yet. Complicated calculations, probabilities, ran through his helm at alarming speeds; considering every aspect of the battle at hand, they still held a slight advantage, though it would take their utilization of the two white phosphorous units. It was a long shot, Mourn knew, but with Bulwark incapacitated, they could pull it off.
Then he spotted the second. Not like this, he thought. If they were to face three opponents, they were at a disadvantage. Not only were they outnumbered, but he had yet to analyze the abilities of the two newcomers; he was not fond of surprises screwing with his calculations. Instead of acting harshly, he continued to charge the rifle, allowing its heat to subside very slowly as he kept it primed and ready to fire. Cackler stayed where he was, growling through a few deep chuckles as he turned to spot the same two newcomers that Mourn had.
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Post by Colossus on Aug 7, 2015 23:36:38 GMT
Coughing, Roadcharge began to shift and transform what he could of his frame, turning his torso into a sort of weapons platform with the howitzer mounted securely on the top. His helm retracted into his frame as his innards repositioned, allowing him to aim from a slit in his armor. Since the shell was still loaded, he fired, aiming for Mourn. The shell would rocket out of the cannon, flying at high speeds towards the target. With any luck it would hit dead on, and give Mourn what he deserves for breaking his spine.
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Gateway
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Post by Gateway on Aug 7, 2015 23:46:43 GMT
Gateway watched the shell fly through the air towards the unknown, but obviously shocked mech in front of him. Yeah, I'm gonna need that help, but I think I found Road too. He fired a missile barrage from both of his rocket pods, hoping it would do enough damage to allow him to retreat for a better plan. As he backed further away from the two, he laid some EMP mines in the mud in case they attempt to follow him. Can you distract them for me, I'll give some support, but I can't give the best firepower.
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Post by Breech Loader on Aug 7, 2015 23:53:13 GMT
Hotwire transforms into base mode, and reaches behind her, pulling out two of her three heavy-duty machine-guns, "I'm gonna say it once, Decepticons. We're just picking up our team-mate. And you're outnumbered and outclassed. Are you gonna retreat?"
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Post by TG-Mourn || TG-Cackler on Aug 8, 2015 0:12:20 GMT
With the Howitzer activating, Mourn distracting by his visual analysis of the two recent arrivals, Cackler growled. Even if he was nearly as close to stupid as you could get without being brain dead, he wasn't entirely absent in his helm.
"We-" he began, suddenly cut off by the blast. It took Mourn by surprise, his helm whipping around to meet the attack. It might have been better, yes, but if the two others watched, what they saw might have been a more terrifying sight than they'd expected to see from a mech being blasted by artillery.
The look on his faceplate was almost one of boredom. While his optics might have widened if he were anyone else, Mourn wasn't right; he took the blast fully, the side of his chassis blasting apart from the artillery shot, arm shredded. If he hadn't risen it to take better aim with his rifle, he might have lost it completely. Cackler backed up onto the shore, releasing a low 'roar' at Bulwark before jumping to Mourn's side. He wasn't going to so much as attempt a patch job. He neither had the finesse, nor the intelligence to pull off a decent repair. Instead, seeing Gateway's barrage of missiles oncoming, he lunged out to shield his already-damaged ally. His shoulder and side took the brunt of the force, the explosions not piercing his armor, but singing it badly and blowing out the ground from underneath him so that he now stood in a small, unimpressive crater.
"Yes," Mourn said, sounding just as bored as he'd looked before he was blasted, "we need to leave. It's hind time..." His voice cutting out from exhaustion was perhaps the only mark of pain that they would see from Mourn outwardly. Kneeling and clutching to his badly leaking side, Mourn activated his comm. systems. "I think it's hind time we made a return to the cause."
{:: This is Mourn, Decepticon tactician. Access code 5G1-8. Requesting immediate bridge evac, preferably to medical facilities. ::}
Once finished with his communication, he turned slowly toward Breech. The motion was as if he were acknowledging a pest that had mildly bothered him. Cackler, chest plating heaving as he took in deep, gasping vents, was more sore than before. The Howitzer had done a number on him with that first shot, and now the missile pods had only furthered the discomfort in his stiff, tough chassis.
"I would hardly say we're outclassed. In fact, the next you hear the names Mourn and Cackler over the comms., come with a trowel. You'll need it to clean off whatever's left of your teammate from the floor," he said tonelessly. Even his speech reflected the self same detachment from the present situation; he could really care less about this now. He turned away from the femme, facing the mech who'd identified himself as Bulwark. "Because next time we meet, Bulwark, I'll let Cackler paint paint the floor with your armor, and I'll keep the new spine you're undoubtedly to receive as a trophy."
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Post by Colossus on Aug 8, 2015 0:33:07 GMT
Not done with them, or their attitude, Roadcharge loaded another howitzer shell and fired, he knew either Mourn would get further ravaged, or Cackler would get wounded. Either way was a good option to Roadcharge. He would laugh as his she'll flew towards Mourn's body, primed to cause even more destruction.
Fraggers....
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Post by Breech Loader on Aug 8, 2015 0:36:39 GMT
"Ooooh, intimidating. I mean serious, I'm trembin' here. Totally scared," Breech tells them.
Her posture shifts, becoming Hotwire without any trouble at all.
"Yeah, I agree. Listening out for Mourn and Cackle. I'm sure gonna be shaking."
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Gateway
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Post by Gateway on Aug 8, 2015 1:01:45 GMT
You sure we will even see you again? Because this is looking really bad on your part! Gateway yelled as he fired another volley of missiles. He also started to cut down branches with his lasers in his tentacles in an attempt to cause them to fall on the two mechs. He quickly armed his last missle volley and fired again. You little slags are going to pay for what you did to him! Ya hear me? He called at them while he tossed EMP mines blindly at them.
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Post by Breech Loader on Aug 8, 2015 1:46:05 GMT
Hotwire grabs Gateway's shoulder, "Hey, cool it! We don't need to offline them! We gotta get the puppy to a med-bay!"
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Post by TG-Mourn || TG-Cackler on Aug 8, 2015 5:35:24 GMT
Even badly damaged as he was, Mourn could out-maneuver Roadcharge. He saw the Howitzer round coming a mile away, and grimaced as he braced himself for a wave of new pain shooting through his chassis; not pain from the round, but rather, pain from the effort of dodging the Howitzer shell. He rolled. Careful not to let his injury get in his way, Mourn bit through the pain. His composure was something to be envious of; he didn't once show any signs of pain or discomfort as he rolled lazily out of the way of the round, an explosion somewhere in the clearing behind him resulting from the near-miss. Simultaneously lifting his rifle to fire back, Mourn closed an optic to intense his focus.
Lifting the rifle, despite its feather-light weight, felt like lifting a mountain. The pain was near unbearable, and to anyone with a lesser tolerance for pain, it just might have been. The high-precision energy rifle fired with intense precision at the base of the weapons stand. It was aimed just at the gap between armor and the based behind it, in a spot that just might allow the energy round to do some final damage that would leave the mech a mark to remember Mourn by. At that very moment, Mourn's old access code was verified by Vehicons aboard the Nemesis, and their bridge came through some distance behind Mourn.
Cackler took Gateway's volley of missiles, groaning through the strain on his effort. His armor was holding well, as it always did; the explosions of low-quality explosives like these was nothing to Cackler's specialized armor. He was, after all, a demolitionist whose expertise was explosives. He didn't flinch when the second volley came by, chuckling boisterously as he reached behind him to grab a handful of explosives- another cluster of cherry bombs- and throw them with a grunt toward the volley. The explosives detonated the volley before they could reach him, resulting in no harm to his already-straining armor. Very well intending to stay and reach a conclusion to this battle, Cackler frowned as he took in a large puff from his cygar. Mourn had already called for the bridge, and looking behind him to see it opening for them, he knew his fun would be over soon enough.
They were in the clearing. Gateway's chopping down trees was a fruitless effort, and even caused Cackler- who, being quite dumb, didn't understand much- to tilt his head in confusion, openly laughing at the strangely stupid gesture.
"We ain't payin' for nothin', fraggars!" Cackler bellowed, another laughing fit coming through. Mourn sneered at the group, and then to his partner. Nodding violently toward the bridge, Cackler gave a single grunt, waving the group off dismissively before he lumbered off noisily into the bridge, away to the Nemesis.
Mourn, much more modest than his companion, wasn't so quick to refute them. He'd already paid with a gnarly injury, though he wouldn't have given them the satisfaction of knowing it. Standing slowly, Mourn's every movement became deliberate. Not appearing to be hindered by any pain whatsoever, still holding the same bored expression, Mourn turned his back to the group and exited through the groundbridge. The last words they'd hear from him before he left were a menacingly quiet "We'll see about that," and he was gone.
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