DragonRage

"You know, you said a lot, but very little of substance," Alexandria points out, "You have a daughter, and a very large vocabulary of slang and jargon, most of which does not seem to be shared between your place of origin and my own. I honestly could not get anything else of use out of that exchange. Perhaps if you could state our mission objectives and rules of engagement, we might achieve real progress? Details on the mission location would also be appreciated, of course."

"Of course we have larger dicks than the Russians. Hell, I'm fairly sure I have a larger dick than the Russians, and I don't think I have one of those," Iowa scoffs, "I honestly couldn't tell you what communism is, but I don't recall it being anywhere in the constitution. Perhaps you are mistaken? I am reasonably sure you do not live in America, after all." Iowa has been recruited for a subplot!

"We invaded the moon? There's someone living on the moon? I don't have any anti-aircraft guns. No doubt we triumphed over the space creatures. Er, you wouldn't happen to know why we invaded the moon? Last I knew, there was far more accessable land left without leaving the planet," Iowa asks, concerned, "I do hope we were attacked first this time... Not that I wish American citizens to die, but we haven't had a great track record of shooting second."

Iowa responds by reaching into her purse, rummaging around, and coming up with an enormous book titled Webster's New International Dictionary 1909. Paging through it to a place near the middle, she triumphantly holds it up for Empi to view. "Behold the lack of 'internet'." She flips further along, to display where 'kryptonite' and 'penicilin' are also not displayed where they ought to be, and then snaps it shut smugly. Then the rest of what Empi said catches up to her. "Did you say twenty-seventeen? That's... a very long time. I've gone and made a right ass of myself, I think. I'm probably going to need to update my dictionary, aren't I? Is Webster still printing those in the future? I do hope men who live on the moon and own flying cars still have use for books. Even if they almost assuredly don't for battleships..."

"I am Acolyte Caspin. I serve the Dark Lady Freya in all her endeavors," The former cultist of Hextor and current cultist of Freya bows uneasily to the group. They look disconcertingly heroic to him. "I hope to learn great things as her squire." After heading back to town, much shopping is done. Everyone gains 10 merit. As the plot MVPs, Law and Freya gain 2 bonus merit each.

Iowa gives Empi a long, hard stare that does not stray below the face more than a few times. "You are not a faerie," She declares, "Faeries do not have many commonalities, but they always have a quick wit and a silver tongue. They don't make up words to try to sound impressive. And they certainly don't waltz into a room with this much cold iron in it without a plan. There's a lot of Irishmen among my crew. They know what faeries are like." 'Subtle' chastisement delivered, Iowa heads for Mitsu, fishing around in her purse. She comes up with an unmarked flask made of brushed steel, which she uncaps and offers to Mitsu. Hints of the scent of paint thinner and molasses waft from the open container. "This may not help forever, but... You really look like you could use a drink, Ms. Mitsurugi."

Iowa considers and discards several potential courses of action as unwise or unhelpful, including a suspicious glance at her cigarette, as she manages to look everywhere in the room but Empi's legs. "...Why are there so many people with wings? Is that... common? Are people usually part bird or part bug around here? Um... Bug person? I think you might have, er, forgotten half your clothes."

Alexandria considers Mar's request, after some thought produces seven tiny diamonds on a very fine chain. The diamond colors are as follows: red, yellow, orange, green, blue, purple, black. The chain links are subtly different colors as well, with sections made of bronze, brass, nickel steel, titanium steel, and platinum-iridum alloy. "This may assist you. Though I do not know which materials you have yet to test." This done, Alexandria grabs a big chunk of scrap metal and starts hollowing out a cavity in it with her bare hands, in order to house the battery she's planning to make.

"Yes, I have," Iowa fishes around in her purse for a cigarette and lights it up by striking the match against her palm. The cancer stick produces a thin trail of gritty, black smoke that looks basically nothing like burning tobacco or pot. "Is it really that obvious? Wait, are you alright? That looked painful. I- Wait. Did you just call yourself a goddess, Ms. Mitsurugi? ...That's rather presumptuous, don't you think? At least a bit tacky as well."

"I've been put into a Jules Verne novel," Iowa decides. It makes as much sense as any other explanation. "I've not heard of a 'multiverse' before. Is that like a universe but larger? Well, if that were destroyed, I'd presume the United States and her allies would go with it. Therefore, it is my duty to preserve it. On a more personal note, it would be unbecoming of an officer and a lady to leave innocent civilians in peril when I am able to act. "What is a Tsukumogomi? I am unfamiliar with the term. It doesn't seem to be in any of the dictionaries I have aboard, and my telegraph officer doesn't recognize it."

Alexandria cautiously dips a finger into the bottle, and it strips the finish right off. "That can work, but it is a bit stronger than I was anticipating. I will need a liner for the battery that is not metal, because this will eat through metal. Or a resilient casing material that this cannot eat through. Hydrochloric acid, I think this is. Nasty stuff. Useful, but nasty stuff."

"There is only one reason for an American battleship to be anywhere," Iowa asserts, "To defend her countrymen. I... don't know that I wish to take orders from my nation's navy anymore, but I will defend her people and her allies to my last breath. If I didn't feel that way, I think I would have come back differently. Wrong. The only thing I can remember between sinking and being here is a sense of standing on the edge of a blade, with rage and acceptance on either side. I could have easily fallen either way, Ms. Mitsurugi."

"They... They called me USS Iowa when they wanted me," She looks down at the floor, "After that British hussy HMS Dreadnought stole everyone's hearts, they called me Coast Battleship Number Four. They had new ships, ships they called more worthy to carry my name. They never built those ships. The Washington Naval Treaty saw to that. But they still... By the end, they stripped enough from me that I wasn't really a ship anymore. Coast Battleship Number Four was a gunnery target. A husk given mercy by her granddaughters. I am USS Iowa. Though without a commission or nation, I could not tell you what that name means."

"I do not remember having one before. Though I do not remember existing before, either. I served, I sank, and now I am moving on dry land," She takes a cautious step toward Mitsu, "How do people stand having so many moving parts? Most of them move even when I do not. It is like I am covered in flags."

"That's the beauty of photovoltaic cells," Alexandria informs Atton and Doherty, "They have no moving parts, which as you might imagine makes them very low-maintenance and user-friendly. You just plug them into a battery, the battery into whatever you need to run, and the panels in the sunlight. Or in this case on the roof of the transport. Battery technology can get complicated, but for a relatively simple, low-to-moderate draw mechanism like a gasoline-based ground vehicle, a simple one should suffice. Just remember to immediately jettison the battery if it is ruptured. Once it starts leaking corrosives, Mr. Battery is no longer your friend. I can make it bullet-resistant, but bulletproof is unfortunately out of my reach with the materials at hand. And I'll need to replace the panels if they get damaged, but they should be able to resist machine gun fire of up to fifty caliber rounds. They can get tougher than that, but not without heavy industrial machinery to do the manufacturing." Once the sheets have been completed, Alexandria starts slowly running her hands down them, leaving behind a dense web of silvery lines, and a dull black surface on the other side. "The silvery side goes down; the black side goes toward the light source. The blue wire is the positive lead, the red wire is the negative lead. They can be cut like wood, along the grain of the silver wires, without breaking. You can fit them to your roof that way. Mar! Do you have any good acids or bases? Ideally ones that won't eat through metal, of similar strength to each other."

"Not swiftly, but I am capable of it." Alexandria takes the finished silicon bits and starts breaking them into flat panels with her bare hands. "And as usual, size limitations apply. It would be easier if I had a sufficient source of carbon."

The currently empty throne room lights up brightly for a few moments. But not for long, before the light fades, save for a single copper star that lingers in the air for a moment. When it vanishes, a rather fancily if unfashionably (for anyone more recent than 1910) dressed woman is left in its place. Standing unsteadily, she stares down at her hands with blank amazement, like she's never seen them before in her life.

"Gasoline? Do you have an antique vehicle?" Alexandria asks Atton curiously, turning and striding toward him, "No, most likely from an earlier time period than my own. This would be much easier if I could simply plug in and recharge it, but I don't have any way to synthesize hydrocarbons on such a large scale. Perhaps... Mar! Do you have a method of synthesizing large amounts of silicon? I believe I could construct a solar panel and electric motor for your vehicle, allowing it to run off of a suitably intense light source. Like the sun. You would still be able to carry chemical fuels like gasoline for emergencies."

Sister Rachel considers Proditor's neck, and then swaps out her standard needles for the Astartes-sized needles anyway. Xenos and psykers are always way tougher than they look. These things are meant to breach power armor's undersheath and Space Marine skin. They'll almost certainly work on the skinny xeno. "Hold still. This will hurt," She informs him coldly, before injecting him with Astartes-grade painkillers. Using the foot long, armor piercing needles. It takes her three tries to find a blood vessel. "If you wish to sell your life for humanity, then sell it dearly!" Sister Rachel uses Feel No Pain on Proditor as a free action. Then she readies her Inferno Pistols to blast whichever enemies are first to enter this square. "The God-Emperor may accept a xenos who dies in defense of humanity, but not if he drops from a scratch! Get on your feet! For Holy Terra!"

"Ah, greetings, Edmond. Wonderful to see you again, as you... perform surgery on a doll? I have been performing adequately, though I am somewhat disappointed that it took me so long to think of simply walking through the barrier that cut the castle off from the rest of the group. It was resilient. It was not resilient enough. How are you? It has been far too long."

Alexandria enters the engineering bay! Seeing that Mar is busy doing something, she immediately puts her shield up. "Oh my. That looks... unstable."

Too bad. Hextor time. A pendant of a fist clenched around several broken arrows hanging from the black knight's neck lights up, and he starts muttering to himself too quietly to hear, nodding occasionally. "We venture out in search of GRANDER WAR!" He declares. "The village is yours, Dark Lady. However, this humble servant of the Dark Gods would beg a boon of you on behalf of his master. FROG!" A young boy, looking around 13, rushes to the front. He's clad in black robes with the arrows-and-fist symbol on them, and chain mail underneath, but even considering his age looks fairly scrawny next to the other servants of the God of War. He's also wearing glasses, and has an animate frog skeleton perched on his shoulder. As Freya watches, the undead amphibian shoots out a tendril of green mist like a living frog's tongue, snags a passing fly, and eats it. "Acolyte Caspin, reporting for duty, sir!" The young boy reports, saluting the knight. "Milady, on behalf of my dark master, it would be a great honor if you were to tutor this young squire," The black knight requests carefully, "Hextor is most impressed by your great darkness and strong necromantic aura. War favors the strong, and with your strength there is no question that you are a master of war."

"Yes, ma'am, whatever you say, ma'am!" The black knight hastily agrees, "We are a cult of Hextor, the glorious god of war! He demands tribute, and peace-loving weaklings such as those in the town below are perfect! Why, they even needed to call outsiders to defend them! Such weakness is anathema! It must be purged before it can spread. ...Unless you want them. I have no doubt that any fate you might bestow them would make our imperfect works seem gauche in contrast, Dark Lady Freya!"

Alexandria drops her shield, and a tiny laser turret pops out of her shoulder, directing a harmless red dot between Tiamat's eyes. She turns her QT communications rig on, and sets the speaker to 'broadcast'. "We're in geosynchronous orbit, Captain Walker! Big, fat, and ugly is in our sights." "Harmonic energy levels peaking! We can't charge this for much longer, or we'll blow out the Tesla coils! Who the heck did Alexandria get to power this thing?!" "High explosive round loaded! Safety interlocks disengaged; barrel cover retracted! Targeting data locked!" "Firing engines at maximum burn! Hull integrity field engaged! All hands, brace yourselves! We're firing the main gun!" "Dumping capacitors now! Tesla coils standing by to disperse excess harmonic energy!" "TASTE THE RAINBOW, YA VOID-SUCKING, BRAIN-DAMAGED GODZILLA SNACK! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The sky lights up, lightning playing across the clouds in a dense web of energy, and through that a burning line descends, trailing waves of rippling rainbows and sonic booms. The line intersects with Tiamat before she can react, shaking the earth as a massive explosion throws up a mushroom cloud of dust and rainbows, the shock wave jellying the surviving Lahmu, and hiding the mother of monsters from sight. But surely nobody could have survived that...

Mitsu goes for the throat! She deals 48 damage, because what is damage reduction 5/bludgeoning to a god? The dracolich's head comes clean off, which it isn't happy about but doesn't seem to be enough to stop it. Halley swings her Variable Sword at the Tiamat, dealing 33 damage! Wide Sword Triggers! The dracolich is dealt 4 damage, which wouldn't normally be a problem but after the pounding it's already taken lops a wing off. The dracolich swings at Navin and Mitsu, but without its eyes is way less accurate. Mitsu dodges its frantic strikes with some difficulty, and Navin with great ease. Hikari cures Navin of what ails him! Navin uses Piercing Strike on the dracolich's torso, pulping bones with immense, crushing force! He deals 40 damage! The dracolich's ribcage starts rattling, chips of bone falling to the ground. Walmond throws some healing out. Lambda turtles up, though the Dracolich doesn't seem inclined to attack again. Solomon fails to find his target, because his target is re-dead. Grant fishes for crits. He doesn't get one.