Author: rosaliarambles

The nation of Contabul was one with a strong military tradition. With multiple divisions and specialised forces, there were no other nations that dared to challenge them, leading to decades of peace in the world of Crossjunk. 

Despite this peace, the military were constantly evolving and recruiting to ensure they could combat any threat that could occur in the future. And today was the selection trials for the Contabul Special Tactics and Infiltration Forces.

“You have all been brought forward today for one reason,” General Torez said as he began his speech. Torez was one of the most decorated soldiers in the military, and was the chairman of the Contabulese Joint Chiefs of Staff. “All you maggots passed the psychometric tests required to qualify for advancing in this process…”

He raised his voice as the speech continued, “…but that does not matter in this trial! The tests only prove one thing, that all you muppets are able to fill in some bubbles on a piece of paper! Now the real test here is your combat prowess, your ability to run a specialised designed gauntlet whilst choosing your own combat loadout to address said challenges!”

“All you men–”. This statement was cut off by a gentle cough somewhere down the lineup of soldiers. Everyone was outfitted differently, some were in heavy armour and carrying equally heavy weaponry, some were carrying light equipment meant to enhance their combat potential through mobility. But one person stood out, not only for being the only girl in the lineup, but also for having the most unique armour of them all.

“Yes. You are not a man, Captain Cuddlesocks-Squishycheeks, excuse me for such rudeness,” Torez said derisively, leading to snorts and muffled laughs along the line.

“Captain Doctor Romy Cuddlesocks-Squishycheeks, thank you very much!” Romy said in a sarcastic response. Being the only engineer and soldier of the Mechanised Warfare Division led to some looking down on her, with many high-ranking officials seeing her prototyping work being a waste of the military budget, despite the multitude of advances she had made in modifying weapons and armour.

One such prototype she was wearing today, a lightly armoured mechanised exoskeleton with several advanced systems allowing for greater freedom of movement and lightning quick reflexes. 

Torez shifted uncomfortably at being stopped in the middle of his speech, feeling unable to resume his flow. “Right, well,” he said, going over and opening the gate to the gauntlet, “let the trial begin I suppose…”

Soldiers attempted the challenge in the order they were lined up, each one coming out the other end, being informed of their time and given “constructive” feedback from Torez.

“Ramirez! You can follow orders well enough, but your technique is atrocious!”

“You have hand grenades for a reason Altman. Use them!”

“If you keep fighting like that Shepherd, we’re going to have to bring you back from the dead!”

Whilst all the feedback varied, all of the soldiers averaged a course completion time of twenty-eight seconds. Then came Romy’s turn, and where all the others had chosen gear to handle a variety of scenarios, the only equipment she was taking into the trial was her exoskeleton, and a customised machine pistol.

As she entered the course and Torez closed the gate, he snickered at her “Good luck passing the trial with that peashooter, Doctor Cuddlesocks-Squishycheeks!” Romy paid no attention to this snarky comment, instead giving her weapon a check one last time and pressing a button on her hand.

A fleeting moment passed before the klaxon to start the trial sounded. Romy accelerated rapidly from a standstill, rushing through the obstacles, darting over barricades as if they were not even there. When enemy targets popped up in front of her the targeting systems in her exoskeleton took over, effortlessly guiding her arms to each target, allowing her to clear a room within seconds.

Charging down a corridor, bullet traps had been set up for her to neutralise, evade, or tank through. None of the guns came ever close to scraping her armour, the heightened state of reaction granted by the integrated technologies automatically allowing her to dodge out of the way.

Then came the final obstacle, one designed to make sure potential candidates had packed the adequate grenades to handle such a large group of enemies. Romy’s pistol however, had several modifications for taking on said scenario, being able to use one burst of fire to target two huddled targets before using a brief moment to realign her aim and annihilate the remaining targets.

The klaxon sounded once more, as the exit gate opened. Torez was standing there, looking in utter shock at his tablet that tracked stats during the trial, only to be greeted with a knowing smirk from the lotlite girl.

“Well?” Romy asked in a singsong tone.

The normally pompous general was completely taken aback by the performance in front of him, saying, “All targets destroyed… no bullet traps hit their mark… clear time… eighteen-point-three-nine seconds.”

Gasps and whispers erupted from the soldiers who had taken the trial, in utter disbelief that such a time had been recorded. “Well,” Romy said, walking off with her head held high, “I look forward to receiving my acceptance letter shortly!”

After the commotion had calmed down, Torez chaired an emergency meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to discuss this latest development, with Romy sitting outside the glass-walled conference room waiting to be called in. Hours passed as the lotlite just watched everyone talk, no sound passing through the thick glass.

Until finally, Torez opened the door to invite her in. He took his seat at the head of the table whilst Romy stood on a box, standing to attention to hear the verdict of her exceptional trial performance.

“Captain Doctor Romy Cuddlesocks-Squishycheeks, we of the–” Torez began once more, before getting interrupted again by Romy.

“What in the fucking hell do you mean “honourable discharge” you uptight bastards?!”

The gathered officials all gasped in shock, both at the language used and getting beaten to the punch. “Oh don’t act so shocked,” Romy said, seething with anger, “I’ve been able to read lips flawlessly for ages, and your entire conversation is known to me. On that note, what do you mean my fucking funding is gone too?!”

Torez shrank into his chair, before a dwarven admiral named Fravan spoke up. “Well, Romy lass,” he began, stumbling over his words in the face of this surprising fury, “out of all the budget allocated to your program, we have not seen many returns on the promise of mechanised warfare.”

“Do you even read my reports? I specify that everything is a pro-to-type, subject to blind testing by other members of the armed forces, which I would love to do if all of you weren’t holding up my test application forms!”

Fravan quickly piped down before Coastal Defence Commander Pip Harding added their opinion, saying, “Yes, we know you make prototypes, but we are also failing to see returns on the innovation programs your department promises.”

Romy nodded, and made some “uh-huh” sounds before launching back at Pip with a brutal comeback. “Tell me, Commander Harding, what is the newest ship in your coastal fleet?”

“The Monument of Fall, why?”

“Tell me, who outfitted the weapons on this ship?”

Pip turned red in an instant, realising that Romy had not only been in charge of installing the tertiary weapon systems on board that ship, but she had also custom manufactured the main gun, a completely new railgun system never before seen on such a ship.

The talented engineer looked across all of the gathered officials, and decided now was the best time to vent her frustrations.

“I get it. None of you like the fact I’m an upjumped weapons tech trying to make my worth as a soldier. You just want me to sit in my warehouse, make innovative weapons for you, and keep my mouth shut whilst collecting paychecks. And y’know what? I could’ve done that, if it weren’t for the boneheaded, arse-kissing, bootlicking mentality of all of you here! When I joined the munitions team all this military had was two sticks and a rock, and all of you had to share the rock!”

Torez slammed his fist on the table, finally getting his own interruption on Romy. “Enough, child!” he said, a grim tone lacing his voice, “I will not sit here and allow our glorious military to be slandered by someone thinking her toys are something of note.”

Silence fell across the conference room. Everyone was in agreement that they wanted Romy out of their armed forces, but for someone to discredit the real contributions she had made to their military strength was bold, even for someone as arrogant as Torez.

Meanwhile, Romy quietly fumed as she stared the general down from across the table, shaking in anger. “Child… toys…” she said to herself, over and over again, quietly at first but quickly increasing in volume before reaching a riotous shout of “These are not childish toys you lobotomised oaf! Next time, if you ever find yourself in need of a weapon, don’t go for a Romy Tech, registered trademark, weapon. Instead, try using that stick up your arse for something productive!”

And with that final insult, she stormed off from the meeting, vaguely hearing them all talking about a court martial as she retreated to her warehouse.

Doffing her exoskeleton, she turned the lights on. Various projects came into view, weapons that had been put into the mod shop for improvements, armour that needed reinforcing, and a whole laundry list worth of build orders for the military. But, in addition to all this, was one of Romy’s most significant pieces of craftsmanship: her Mechanaut Apparatus.

An eight-foot tall upscaled version of her exoskeleton, her Aquatic Ambusher was quite a stocky creation with the cockpit being directly integrated between the shoulders, both of which were heavily plated. The arms were thick and laden with hydraulics, all the better to support the weapons that had been installed. 

One arm carried a large gatling gun modified to be an energy weapon that can change the output of its shots, and the other was intended to carry a large drill. The legs were a similar story to the arms, but with numerous shock absorbers that allowed it to fall a distance of approximately one-hundred feet without damage.

Romy looked fondly at the drill sitting on one of her many workbenches, thinking to herself about how she never got the spin speed right for mounting onto the mech. Strewn across other benches were all her research notes, about her breakthroughs, her hardships, and her potential future ideas.

Looking across the warehouse she sighed deeply, knowing soon all of this will be turned into scrap for boring weapons. But then came a knock, and a figure entering.

“Doctor?” a voice said in inquiry, belonging to a tall, dark-skinned elf wearing a general’s uniform. 

“Mane-Wa, what do you want?” Romy said in response, her voice indicating exasperation at dealing with another general, but not as acidic as in the conference room. Mane-Wa was one of the few higher ups that the lotlite actually felt she could get along with, and was often greeted with respect by.

“I have come to be the messenger for the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Your chance at an honourable discharge has gone, you are now facing a court martial tomorrow, where you will almost certainly be convicted, after which you will be jailed, and your projects requisitioned for scrap.”

“Gee, thanks for telling me what I already figured out. Are you here to just give me it in an official manner or is there something else?”

“In about an hour, a truck will come by with a barge on it. The men will help load your projects and research onto the barge, after which we will escort you to the ocean, and let you sink it to the bottom.”

Romy turned around, a shocked expression crossing her face. “Wait… what?” she said in disbelief.

Mane-Wa closed her eyes and spoke solemnly, “I know you have not been treated right within this institution, and whilst the others have no such cares, I wish to attain some penance for my part in it. Disallowing your life’s work to fall into the wrong hands will grant me a modicum of peace.”

Normally boisterous and always having a comeback prepared, Romy was now completely unable to say anything, her gills quivering slightly as she agreed to this act of defiance. Going over to a heavy-duty safe located in a dark corner of one of her workspaces, she entered the combination and removed a large object, covered in wires and a detonator.

“Do not worry, the explosives my men are providing should be more than adequate,” Mane-Wa said in an attempt to offer reassurance.

Romy took no such comfort in this, responding with “These are my works, my creations, my value. I refuse to let them die by the hands of this military, I need to kill them, with one last creation of my own.”

The elf nodded, and took her leave to allow Romy to gather everything together at the back of the warehouse. An hour passed, and the truck with the barge arrived. Two uniformed elves of a similar appearance to Mane-Wa helped load everything on, from the mech, to the weapons, to the hundreds of papers and notes. When the warehouse was truly empty, they departed for the Sea of Sunset.

As they reached the ocean, the eponymous time had arrived. The twilight creating beautiful orange hues across the water, gentle waves rippling with the wind. Two more of Mane-Wa’s men were waiting at the beach, ready to help lift the barge off into the ocean. Before they pushed it off into the ocean, Romy planted her homemade explosive charge, and primed the detonator, giving one last loving look at her creations.

Mane-Wa’s men pushed the barge off into the ocean, and Romy watched. “It may be best that you do not look,” Mane-Wa said, offering a reassuring head pat to the young girl, “it will only make it harder.”

Again, Romy did not listen to the counsel of what might be her only remaining ally in this land. She watched the barge drift to the ocean, and mentally counted down the detonation timer in her head. As it reached zero, the barge erupted into flames before erupting into a massive explosion, permanently damaging everything on board and destroying the barge, sinking everything to the bottom.

A few tears escaped her eyes as she watched the flames engulf everything she was leaving behind. “It’s been my pleasure darling,” she said, her voice breaking as she watched the last bit of her prized mech sink beneath the waves, “always was.”

Romy passed her thanks to Mane-Wa and her men, providing each a hefty tip for their services. In return Mane-Wa thanked Romy for her service to the military, and wished her luck that her court martial would not be painful.

*****

Night had fallen, and Romy was taking refuge in her favourite dive, a bar & grill called Bifrost. It started with some beers, then it turned into shots, then it turned into cocktails, then it went back to beers, before finally she found herself in a booth with a massive plate of nachos and an expensive bottle of whiskey on the way.

The bartender, a friendly minotaur named Ozark, brought over the lotlite’s comfort, expressing concern as he set it all down, saying, “You’ve been drinking a lot there frills, don’t you think it’s time to go home?”

Romy looked up from her table, and silently slide a bag of coins over to Ozark as a tip, saying something to the effect of “It’s my last day of being alive, all my creations are gone, I may as well enjoy myself,” slurring all the while from the amount she had drank.

With a solemn nod the bartender left as Romy indulged in her mountain of cheese, carbs, and spicy treats, washing it down with huge glugs of bitter brown spirit. As the plate shrank in size and the bottle neared its end, she stood up, taking what was left of her whiskey with her.

She walked out into the rain. It did not bother her, being amphibious meant she felt at as home in water as she did on land. She looked left, where she could walk home and face her fate when morning comes, and she looked right, where she had never walked before.

It seemed like a good idea to go right tonight, so she did. Stumbling her way across the cobbled road, muttering to herself and sometimes singing a tune. She most certainly did not expect falling into a giant pit that seemed to have no end.

*****

How much time had passed? Where am I? Hey where did my booze go?!

So many questions as Romy came to. Looking around, everything looked strange, weird, and mysterious. The world felt… wrong, almost. But she knew one thing.

This world was her new beginning. A chance to start anew. A chance to improve herself. The life she once had was gone, but that does not necessarily mean her life was over. It would take a while for her to get back up to the knowledge she once had. Although that did not matter.

Romy had been given a chance to craft once more. And she was not going to waste it this time.

Inspiration

Starting things off, yes, I know, Romy is incredibly overpowered, bordering into Mary Sue territory.

However, considering this is her origin story and she has everything taken away from her right at the end to start afresh in a new world, I think it works, as she’ll develop new flaws, ideals, and bonds within this setting. Plus, the game she is in is where a lot of things are expected to be broken.

For a brief synopsis, Romy is intended to be my character in an upcoming D&D game called “Multiverscape”, an idea concepted and that will be run by my good friend and longstanding DM Albert.

The main concept of Multiverscape is the world is broken, and it is up to the party to put it back together. What is the world made of? Various media properties all mashed together into different areas, with several video game mechanics being present throughout the game itself.

With such a massive scope to contend with, this is most likely going to be Albert’s Magnum Opus. They will definitely run games after this, and they may run ever better games after this, but Multiverscape is their most significant work. And they have my utmost faith to pull this off and make it great.

One of the main defining traits of Multiverscape is that characters are created using Gestalt rules, where every character starts as a multiclass character, and is able to take simultaneous level ups within their two chosen classes. Romy is a full blown Intelligence character with classes to match.

The first of which is Craftsman, created by Mage Hand Press. The main deal of Craftsman is the ability to work on items during long rests, either creating new items for half their cost in materials, or adding new and wonderful properties to existing items. The specific subclass I chose is the Mechanauts Guild, which gives me access to the Mechanauts Apparatus at Level 3, which, due to my Intelligence modifier, will be the equivalent to plate armour in terms of AC.

The second class is a bit more obscure, Mechanist, created by Danik Shatterspear. Mechanist is essentially Mechanaut Craftsman in a different form, as I get the special armour at Level 1 as opposed to level 3, and I can customise it with upgrades as I go, using a system called “Mech Points” to allocate and exchange upgrades at long rests.

Finally, Romy’s race is a bit of homebrew as well. She is a Lotlite, created by ComradeWalrus. And, in the very unlikely event that you read this… yes, I know I am breaking Lotlite naming convention by calling her “Romy Cuddlesocks-Squishycheeks”, but at the same time, there is an undeniable adorable badassness in a mech pilot with such a name.

The main defining aspect of Romy’s character that is lifted from myself is her desire to create, and how her worth is defined by her creations. A lot of my self-esteem comes from my ability to create, and when I am unable to create or feel I need to force myself to create, this can lead to sadness.

One brief thing to finish off, since Multiverscape is a setting meant to cross over many different properties, I have included a lot of references within the text of the story. Some from video games, and some from anime. Some are very in your face, and some are a bit more subtle/obscure. Let me know if you find any!