[Build] 2150 Build Grist
[LVL 1] 580 Talc
[LVL 2] 120 Gallium
[LVL 3] 180 Bismuth
Xorm smiled a wicked grin. And he turned his smiling fact to the sky, to the thing who spoke of his foolish choice.
"I've been betrayed, certainly, in the past. I've knelt before human kings who grew so paranoid that they'd have your head when you walk into the throne room with sword at your hip. I've prayed to gods who cursed me for every word in their Holy Laws I broke as I upheld and enforced those same laws. I've signed my soul to demons who tore up the contract and cast it to ashes, leaving just the last few lines intact - so all I had gained was nothing, and they had me in their infernal grasp. I've communed with eldrich beasts beyond all understanding, whose fulfillment of their promise was their betrayal - How many times have I gone mad with knowledge, to cast myself into the void and come back altered?
"And each time, I came back. I've a trophy room to make men tremble. Crowns, horns, halos, tentacles, all the same to me.
"But a 'Godmodder?' I've not served one yet. You claim it to be common knowledge that a Godmodder shall betray. But I have no experience with such a thing - So I shall serve with joy."
[1]He reached through dimensions towards the Alchemiter and grasped its controls. It was simply a tool, after all - it didn't care who used it, or why, only that it was used. And from the strange device rose the Berserker's Helm, which fit the turncoat's odd head perfectly. In passing, he asked a question to the spirit of the machine: "Suppose I wish to Alchemize two Alchemy Items together? Would I require the individual items to be combined prior to crafting, or would a totally new item be generated without sacrificing anything?"
[2]As the Helm's demonic focus kicked in, his mind tilted towards slaughter. It raced, all cells finally aligned with one another for a moment, and he saw what had to happen. The Tank had been inconvenienced, but he had done it before and he would do it again. He climbed into the Tormentor's Tank's barrel, and reverse-chambered himself where the Shellshock round would go. And from within those confines, certainly uncertain of survival, he said one, simple, word.
"Fire."
[3] + 5 CP
Total Base Action Power: 6
EFFORTACTION CHARGED ATTACK: MAKING AN ENTRANCE
When the Tank fired off a screaming, energized, blue round, there was a general murmur among the [AG] faction. "Hey, that's not supposed to fire until next turn." "Can that even reach us? It's a pretty slow moving tank, and we should be out of range..." "Hey, where'd that 'Xorm' guy go?"
But as the missile moved closer, there was a trembling of fear. It was no mistake from the Terminal. It was happening. The murmurs turned to whimpers and cries. It hadn't even hit and they were Terrified. But then it turned to confusion. Was that round... Screaming?
"...a day! whAT A LOVELY DAY!"
There was no question now. Xorm, in his Russian-style brute force logic, had launched himself like a cannonball from the Tormentor Tank's turret. His head was covered in thick metal with a slit for vision cut in it, and it gave his voice a robotic ring. He clutched a suspicious-looking shotgun shell in one hand, and he had a shotgun with a few too many rounds in the other. A minor shimmer of light held steady above his skin, although it disappeared as he hit the ground with the force of 7000 damage in one attack.
His landing kicked up a massive cloud of dust and fragmented slate. Visibility was nil, though one thing shone clear through the cloud. A neon blue line, with a pinprick of light in the middle, scanned the field.
*CHONK* went the Quadruple Barrel Shotgun as the alien folded it open.
*Chink!* whispered the Really Powerful Bullet as it slid into a barrel alongside 3 normal shells.
*CHONK* again shouted the gun as it snapped closed.
"Alright. One of you'll have to die, at least. One thing I've learned is that if you don't want to be cast aside, prove your worth. I think a few heads'll do that, eh?"
To be honest, he could see even less of the field than the rest - he was in a decently sized depression in the area, having been made by his meteor impact - and his helmet really did make it difficult to see much besides whatever was right in front of him. But he was here, and someone would perish. As soon as he saw a movement in the dust he was certain was another Player, he fired all four rounds, peppering the area with more chaos. Then he dashed in and started to bash them with his shotgun's stock. Did he know which one he was beating to a pulp? No. He just knew he was doing it in 1000 words or less.
TL;DR
Alchemize Berserker's Helmet. Equip.
Counter the Shellshock delay by loading self as the projectile.
Break out the words, ride the Shellshock into the middle of the [AG]s, and beat the everloving data out of one of the other Players
