#Composite Rifle

[lmaverick123]

Top 10 Video Game Guns (2024 Edition)

A decade is a long time.  Almost a quarter of my life.  Getting older.  Feel older.  Emotionally, physically, mentally.  I feel like I’m an older man who doesn’t fit in in the modern world.  But that’s not what this post is about.  Video games have some pretty dope guns.  There are weapons that can blast things to bits, and ones that are just fun.  Ten years ago, I made a list of guns that I…

[spaghetti-aldente]

Cricket, dragonslayer, wandering mech-knight

I did this for a zine my buddies @rat-on-string and @nighttimetapestry organized! Thank you again for the opportunity, I had a blast making this piece.

[kodfish-26]

hi this is my first actual tumblr post thats not a reblog

ace attorney doodles!!!,!4 idk here u go. u get a prize (not really) if u guess my favs (its so obvious)

im autisming out rn over this like i havent in years so im going a little stir crazy take these stupid drawings

[attackcopterblog]

AG COMPOSITE EXPANDS SUPPORT FOR TIKKA WITH NEW T3X COMPATIBLE RIFLE STOCKS

AG Composite has announced the expansion of their Tikka T3x Compactible rifle stocks with new models. AG Composite states “As the demand for a premier AG stock from Tikka customers continues to grow, AG Composites has quickly addressed this issue by adding two more Tikka-compatible stocks to its lineup. AG Composites has introduced the Adjustable Hunter and Visigoth models, joining the Alpine…

[letsquestjess]

The Bad Batch and Reading to Them (TBB x GN!Reader)

Summary: The Batch love to hear you read to them.

Warnings: Fluff!

-- -- -- -- --

Hunter

It had started with you reading a passage from the book you were engrossed in while Hunter cleaned his bandana. You’d stopped to express your admiration of the story, and loving to hear your voice, he encouraged you to carry on. Over time, he discovered his fondness for those peaceful moments, especially cuddled up with you in bed when you weren’t quite ready for sleep. You took the time to learn which stories he liked best, and after he responded positively to some fantasy books, you eagerly scoured the holo-net for similar titles you thought he might enjoy. 

After waiting patiently, the next book in a series you had been reading was finally released. That night, you climb into bed, leaning back against Hunter’s chest and dive into the pages. As you read, he gently runs his fingers through your hair, his eyes fixated on the way your gaze follows the words, your voice growing more animated with every suspenseful twist. You’re both hooked. When it reaches the part where the main characters take a trip on a boat, he gently sways you and revels in the laugh you give him in response. 

Echo

When Echo's anxieties become overwhelming, your voice is the one thing that never fails to soothe him. Reading to him was something you tried one night when your reassurances didn’t seem to break through the distress. You picked something random, and the distraction coupled with your voice gradually calmed him. 

Night after night, Echo's sleep is plagued by disturbances, and despite his attempts to assure you he’s okay, the evidence is etched onto his weary face. He grows a little short with Tech and grumbles at Wrecker, not meaning to. As the day progresses, you browse the holo-net in search of serene and tender poems, aiming to provide him with some comfort. Once you’re snug in bed, you settle him on your chest and begin to read the compositions. The sweet, hopeful words lull him into the first peaceful night’s rest he’s had in over a week. 

Wrecker

This man could listen to you read forever. It doesn't matter what you're reading, you have his unwavering attention. Wrecker sees this as a way to connect with you, and if you decide to snuggle up with him while reading, he will gladly embrace you for as long as you desire. 

After a while, you discovered his inclination for romantic stories, his face lighting up with an adorable smile whenever the two protagonists find love. Determined to find the fluffiest stories, you finally stumble upon one that you're confident will be a winner. While he busies himself with breakfast preparations, you settle on the kitchen counter, and he listens wistfully to the charming narrative of two souls destined for each other. The smile starts at his cheeks, a subtle twitch in the scar on the side of his face, before his lips part into a warm grin. You don't realise you've stopped reading until he turns to look at you, his blissful expression morphing into confusion. Settling his hands on your hips and letting breakfast slowly simmer, he urges you to continue. 

Crosshair

Crosshair secretly finds comfort in the way you speak, especially when you’re reading to him. He doesn't feel obligated to respond or engage in conversation. He can just listen. You first discovered it while reading an article to him you had stumbled upon, and he paused in his activities, his shoulders easing as he immersed himself in the mollifying sound of your voice. Since then, you’ve subtly slipped in opportunities to read to him whenever you notice he’s tense. 

He returns from a mission, and the haunted look in his eyes tells you it was bad. He traipses around the room in silence, removing pieces of his armour and balancing his rifle in its usual spot by the dresser. Silently, you assist him in washing away the grime, and once he's fresh out of the shower, you wrap yourself around him in bed and hold him tightly. To your surprise, he asks you to read to him. It's the most direct he's been in a while, so you question what he would like. He doesn’t care, and you begin with a passage from the holo-novel you've been immersed in. Soon after, Crosshair's breathing calms, and you notice he has drifted off to sleep.

Tech

Tech cherishes the experience of hearing you read to him. He is completely smitten and will drop everything he’s doing to give you his undivided attention. Your voice is captivating, and if you’re giving him new information, this man is brimming with bliss. 

You stumble upon an intriguing piece about the latest technological breakthroughs in ship travel, which you're confident will pique his interest. While he tinkers with the repairs, you sit in the co-pilot seat and read through the first part of the article, charting the remarkable progress and expected availability times. You assure him you’ll send him the piece later, and as your gaze drops, you catch him sneaking out from under the console, his eyes shining with excitement. He asks if you will finish it instead, since he finds your voice relaxing. Your cheeks warm at his admission, and you carry on reading while he completes the repairs.

[mothgenes]

My self-directed final for my digital illustration class, an illustration of this poem by Hanan Mikha'il Ashrawi. Free Palestine.

Alt text underneath the cut.

Alt text: First image: This is an illustration contained in a white boarder with an uneven frayed appearance. In a war-torn scene absent of human life, streams of missile smoke rise from behind the central figure against a red sky that grows increasingly yellow towards the center immediately behind the central figure. The central figure is an Israeli Occupation Forces operative with his Israeli flag patch visible and a single blue eye with a white Star of David to reflect the flag inside it, the other eye consumed in shadow. The face is devoid of all visible expression, and a crack is visible coming from the shadowed eye over the clay-like skin of the soldier, meant to reference the concept of the IOF as a golem. The IOF officer raises a smoking automatic rifle and gazes down the composition with a lack of feeling. He stares down a little girl with long hair blowing in the wind who's back is to the viewer, with a bleeding crosshairs over half of her face where her eye would be. She wears a Palestinian flag over her shoulders that is also blowing in the wind, and the red triangle moves beyond its borders through the bloodstains that are on it. In the wreckage visible around the soldier, there is a fallen cross visible, close to the subtle shadow of a human hand, and destroyed buildings, bringing to mind the common lie that it is a religious conflict by reminding the viewer that churches and Palestinian Christians are also being murdered and struck with missiles. In the center of the image there is white handwritten text, of the first verse of the poem "From the Diary of an Almost-Four-Year-Old" by Hanan Mikha'il Ashrawi. It reads, "Tomorrow, the bandages will come off. I wonder will I see half an orange, half an apple, half my mother's face with my one remaining eye?" Page 2 alt text: The background is black with a trail of red smoke crossing the composition from the bottom right up and over to the top left in an uneven organic curve. At the bottom right there is the shattered clay head of a golem in a broken army-green helmet. One eye has been shattered and most of the face has been destroyed. There is a smear of blood over a shatter mark on our left's side of the forehead of the golem, as though made by a stone from a sling intended to subtly reference David and Goliath, with the IOF as Goliath. The smear of blood covers the first of three characters that make up the text usually down on the foreheads of golems. In folktales, the way to deactivate a golem is to wipe away the first character of their text, which normally reads "emét", which is truth in Hebrew. Removing the first character makes it say "mét", which means death. This calls for the retirement of the IOF as an entity as it does not help anything- only harms. White text is the main focus of this piece. The white text reads: From the Diary of an Almost-Four-Year-Old" by Hanan Mikha'il Ashrawi Tomorrow, the bandages will come off. I wonder will I see half an orange, half an apple, half my mother's face with my one remaining eye?

I did not see the bullet but felt its pain exploding in my head. His image did not vanish, the soldier with a big gun, unsteady hands, and look in his eyes I could not understand

I can see him so clearly with my eyes closed, it could be that inside our heads we each have one spare set of eyes to make up for the ones we lose

Next month, on my birthday, I'll have a brand new glass eye, maybe things will look round and fat in the middle— I've gazed through all my marbles, they made the world look strange.

I hear a nine-month old has also lost an eye, I wonder if my soldier shot her too—a soldier looking for little girls who look him in the eye— I’m old enough , almost four, I've seen enough of life, but she's just a baby who didn't know any better.

[catwyk]

(notes and comments next, tumblr will not let me add a cut no matter how hard i try!!!!!!! killing and maiming!!!!)

silt verses wips, some will get finished and some wont :p which is which?? who knows !!! not me !!!!

1) thurrocks and faulkner on their quest to the endless drear, with jasp, tapper and wallace in the background (or at least thats the idea). most of my time on this one has been spent adjusting values on the hills in the background, and its absolutely too vibrant and green for how i imagine the scene lol theyre also really shitty hills if you look at them for less than a second so. dont do that please LMAO

2) faulkner in his katabasian garb, sat in a river for to maximise his solo slay. this one is kinda old atp but the design hasnt changed much. ive mentioned the open-mouthed epaulettes referencing the mouth delivering/returning before, but the green uhhh idk thing is dried and woven seaweed :) the rest of the robes will be more decorated with abstract woven patterns and embroidery if i ever start working on this one again

3) now THIS is the relgious faulkner that was giving me brain damage a couple days ago, that ive since realized wont be fixed with the ideas a couple people offered because of the perspectice. its pretty obviously mimicking a guillaume dufube sketch intended for a ceiling that i absolutely love. the parts ive produced, im really happy with, but i cant work out the composition fully so its gonna be abandoned at least for a while. not to mention the absolute misplacement of a sky motif. its one of those paintings i wish i had thicker/oil paint or gouache style brushes on medibang for

4) my mercer design!! heavily inspired by paleoart from various sources. everything she and gage have is organic, except a very few, like her sheath (oblong metal with a leather "cap" around the tip of the blade, a real ancient design i found references for on google) and her rifle. the original image also features gage playing their flute while squatting, but both of those things are hard poses to draw and hard to find refereces for, and im not willing to put in THAT much effort god lord i draw for FUN if its hard im giving up baby

5&6) snare dog!!!! i love these silly guys but i dont like this design, its too wolfish and i imagine them sorta borzoi/greyhound aligned. i also dont like the way the face opens, since i imagine that as more of a twist. i do like the flopping tongue though and i liked the half assed rendering

[is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not]

Atlas Gewitter AS7-K3-Tb2

Mass: 100 tons Chassis: Skobel 100-Lite Variable Composite Biped Power Plant: Defiance Clan-Grade 400 XL Cruising Speed: 43.2 kph Maximum Speed: 64.8 kph Jump Jets: Standard Jump Capacity: 90 meters Armor: Duralex Ferro-Fibrous w/ CASE II Armament: 1 Light Gauss Rifle (C) 1 Streak SRM 4 (C) 2 ER Large Laser (C) 1 Pile Bunker (C) Manufacturer: Defiance Industries (original)/Skobel MechWorks (refit #1)/Fursona's Fusiliers (refit #2) Primary Factory: Defiance Manufacturing Annex - Kwangjong-Ni (original)/Yakima Proving Grounds, Terra (refit 1)/Argo Mechbay (refit #2) Communication System: Clan-enhanced Irian E.A.R. w/ Nova CEWS & Studebaker-T19 Battle Computer Targeting & Tracking System: Clan-enhanced Army Corporation Type 29K w/ Advanced Targeting Computer (w/ VRT) Introduction Year: 3153 Tech Rating/Availability: F/X-X-X-X Cost: 34,853,333 C-bills

Type: Atlas 'Gewitter' Technology Base: Mixed (Unofficial) Tonnage: 100 Battle Value: 2,729

Equipment Mass Internal Structure Composite 5 Engine 400 XL 26.5 Walking MP: 4 Running MP: 6 Jumping MP: 3 Double Heat Sink 10 [20] 0 Gyro 4 Small Cockpit (Armored) 3 Armor Factor (Ferro) 297 15.5 Internal Armor Structure Value Head 3 9 Center Torso 31 47 Center Torso (rear) 5 R/L Torso 21 32 R/L Torso (rear) 10 R/L Arm 17 34 R/L Leg 21 42

Right Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm, Hand Left Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm, Hand

Weapons and Ammo Location Critical Heat Tonnage Triple Strength Myomer RT/LT/RA/LA/RL/LL 1/per - 0.0 Jump Jet CT 1 - 2.0 Jump Jet RT 1 - 2.0 CASE II (Clan) RT 1 - 0.5 Light Gauss Rifle Ammo (32) RT 2 - 2.0 Streak SRM 4 Ammo (25) RT 1 - 1.0 Pile Bunker Ammo (5) RT 1 - 1.0 Pile Bunker Ammo (2) RT 1 - 0.5 Targeting Computer LA 4 - 4.0 ER Large Laser (Clan) LA 1 12 4.0 Jump Jet LT 1 - 2.0 CASE II LT 1 - 0.5 Streak SRM 4 (Clan) LT 1 3 2.0 Light Gauss Rifle (Clan) LT 4 1 11.0 Armored Cowl (Armored) HD 1 - 1.5 Nova Combined Electronic Warfare System HD 1 - 1.5 ER Large Laser (Clan) RA 1 12 4.0 Pile Bunker (Clan)* RA 6 - 6.0 Engagement Ring** RA - - 0.5

* = A Pile Bunker inflicts one point of damage for every five tons the 'Mech weighs. When punching with a Pile Bunker, the user can choose to fire the pile, expending one shot of ammunition (5 ammo per ton) and generating 5 heat, scoring a critical on the location hit with a -2 modifier. In addition, if armor remains after an attack where the Pile Bunker has been fired, roll for a second critical hit with a -2 modifier. For each critical dealt, also deal one point of internal damage to that location.

** = gives a -1/-1 morale bonus to pilot and gunnery skills - if (and only if) Theodora Marten-Steiner is piloting.

Features the following design quirks: Battle Computer, Battle Fists (LA), Battle Fists (RA), Combat Computer, Cowl, Distracting, Easy to Pilot, Extended Torso Twist, Fine Manipulators, Illegal Design (Custom Weapons+Custom Equipment), Improved Communications, Improved Sensors, Multi-Trac, Nimble Jumper, Reinforced Legs, Variable Range Targeting

[theseshipsshallsail]

Summary:

Thanks to an especially virulent strain of the winter flu, his headstrong boyfriend’s voice crackles and rasps; punctuated by the occasional rattling cough that shakes him to the bones. His skin is pasty. His lips are chapped. Every flash of animation, it seems, comes at a cost of energy he just doesn’t have, and eyeing the general detritus of Kleenex boxes and lozenge wrappers that litter the wooden coffee table, Oliver’s hard-pressed to remember if he’s actually seen him eat.

Elio’s been slouched on their tan three-seater since the first light of dawn: swaddled in an oversized sweatshirt and some plaid pyjama pants as he rifles through various files of staff paper and his ubiquitous notebook. I’d much rather fail at originality than succeed in imitation, he’d declared last Wednesday, lamenting each scathing critique from his pompous review panel, yet much as Oliver appreciates his righteous indignation, his protective instincts can’t help but bristle at the fact he sounds utterly miserable, to boot.

Thanks to an especially virulent strain of the winter flu, his headstrong boyfriend’s voice crackles and rasps; punctuated by the occasional rattling cough that shakes him to the bones. His skin is pasty. His lips are chapped. Every flash of animation, it seems, comes at a cost of energy he just doesn’t have, and eyeing the general detritus of Kleenex boxes and lozenge wrappers that litter the wooden coffee table, Oliver’s hard-pressed to remember if he’s actually seen him eat. 

There’s been plenty of herbal tea to soothe his scratchy throat. Nasal spray. VapoRub. A regular dose of Tylenol from the Walgreens two blocks over. But nothing that falls under the category of food. An untouched plate of toast on the nearby bookcase bears out his suspicions, so Oliver raids the kitchen cupboards for a can of chicken soup, then heats the contents on their gas-powered stove; wincing in sympathy when Elio convulses with a gut-punch sneeze, swearing and hacking in alternate breaths.

Several minutes of snotty sniffing later, Oliver turns off the burner then pours the simple meal into an old Columbia Lions mug: the one Elio’d claimed for his own upon his initial move to the States. The other man’s squinting at a dog-eared composition sheet when he eventually returns to the couch, and Oliver figures his blocked sinus is the culprit as he pinches the bridge of his cherry-red nose; probably trying to banish the cobwebs.

“Scoot up, Patient Zero,” he says, sitting down carefully beside him, and when Elio blinks sluggishly his mercurial eyes are nothing but dull slits of colour beneath his heavy lashes; the light of their freestanding lamp shade apparently too much to bear. “Tell me again how you never get sick?” 

Elio summons a gimlet glare. “I'm not sick; I’m dying,” he groans - the edge of a wheeze rattling the vowels - but he accepts the mug all the same, and Oliver hums indulgently as he sweeps an unholy assortment of balled-up tissues into a neat little pile. 

“Your stubbornness is commendable,” he says, pleased to see Elio make short shrift of the steaming liquid, if not the noodles themselves. “But do yourself a favour and get some rest, yeah?"

“Un mal nécessaire.” A yawn: barely stifled. “I have to finish these -” 

“Not today you don't.” Oliver rescues the mug from his slightly-drooping hand. “Even us creatures of habit deserve a night off.” 

Elio smirks; slow and playful. “Is that so?” he says, nodding at the Sophomore Ontology coursework partially obscuring the living room rug.

Which, yes. Fair enough. But -

“I’m still new to the syllabus,” Oliver replies, nudging him gently with his knee. “Professor Johnson’s lesson plans were shoddy at best. You, however, have a fever of thirty-eight.” As the flush on his sunken cheeks can attest. “So don’t pretend you’re not ready to pass out from exhaustion.”

A grunt is the only acknowledgement he receives, and Oliver’s all set to try a different tack when Elio slumps sideways like a stringless marionette. It’s completely proprietary - the way he claims his unsuspecting lap as an ad hoc pillow - but Oliver’s quick to adopt his role as a piece of human furniture, uncaring of the knobbly shoulder blade digging exorbitantly into his thigh.

Little victories, he decides, and reining in a grin, smooths the messy curls from his maestro’s clammy forehead. 

“Do you need anything else?” he asks instead, the slim column of Elio’s neck spasming amidst his muttered grumblings. “A blanket? Some water? There’s a fresh bottle of vitamins in the bathroom cabinet…”

“Just your support in these harrowing times,” Elio murmurs, the arm around his middle snugging tighter, so Oliver follows his own advice as he drags a knitted Afghan over the curve of Elio's body - fishes a dog-eared copy of The King Must Die from between the sunken cushions - then crosses his legs at the ankles as he settles in for the duration. 

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Sad Knight Palmer speed-prompt inspired by the latest Halo short story, Halo: The Machine Breaks and bellygunnr and I's Promethean Knight Palmer Au

-

The Knight's connection to its battlenet conductor is gone. It is without the combat-wisdom of the Strategos command pattern states. It is alone.

There is silence in its thoughts save for the occasional ping it sends out. Query. Nothing. Not even an echo. It switches frequencies and tries again.

Something alien and not pings back.

There is warmth and icy fear churning in her core, both foreign to this frame of metal and hardlight. The signal is friendly but not battlenet. She knows him, because he announces himself with every message, with every data packet and brush against her mind.

Who is he? Who is this being in the data? There are so few stewards left floating in the Domain, so how does it live? Why are there no orders? Why is she alone?

It is a war machine. It needs orders. Knights follow orders, give orders to their schemas of crawlers and watchers. It is a battlewagon, it must have soldiers. She is a commander, where are her S-

Query. Nothing.

There is a human looking at her. Not even wearing any of their primitive human armor around its soft flesh. He looks worried. Pinched brow, lips in a tight line, and spine straightening out of remembered reflex when he knows she's seen him worrying again.

Query.

Who is he?

His face flashes through her mind. The Knight searches its databanks. This human's face is familiar and not.

Clarification needed.

Network isolation wreaks havoc on the Knight's functioning. It has its unit frame and nothing else. No rifle. No allies.

Query.

The being in the network that is not her Strategos wraps around her firewalls. He feels sad.

Query.

Why does this Ancilla[! He is an Ancilla!] act this way? Why does he not have orders?

Conjecture: It is wrong somehow. This unit has been abandoned.

Observation: This unit does not feel abandoned.

The Knight has been in this room with the wall between it and her watchers for multiple solar cycles. Many of the humans visit it, there are tests. Most even talk to her.

This Unit remembers something other than being this Unit.

This Unit has only ever had this frame. This Spartan misses her armor.

Tom won't stop visiting her even after she sent him away.

Roland answers her pings as best he can.

The fog dissipates for a moment and the memories surface.

There is the blunt hurt of recognition in the face of unceasing loss and then she is gone again.

Durance Membrane.

Failure at the time of Composition.

Davis deserved better.

Will they remember her?

Will someone come shut her off?

The Knight's connection to its battlenet conductor is gone.

[skelegun]

This weekend I painted some of my Quar! Since most people probably haven’t heard of Quar, I’ll give some Quar Lore. The Quar are a species of leathery anteater like creatures who are basically like us, except technologically they are at roughly WWI levels. Their species has been fighting the Long War off and on again since times immemorial at the whims of their ruling elite.

These four Quar are Coftyrans. They come from the proud and ancient empire of Coftyr, and consider themselves the last bastion of traditional Quar values. They go into battle in fancy uniforms and armed with finely crafted though usually outdated weaponry.

From a war gaming perspective, I rather like their rules and the way their equipment looks, most of their guns are bullpups. Despite being the “old school” faction, they were also the ones to invent SMGs, which is neat and helps prevent them from being flanderized. I also like the way their squads are set up. It’s an NCO with a SMG, 8 dudes with bolt action rifles, and a one guy with a LMG. That’s a solid set up that was pretty common IRL up through WWII and beyond for many countries. Officers are equipped with a pistol and sword which also based as hell.

These guys are Crusaders. They are basically Trotskyites from my interpretation of the lore. The Crusade is an international movement that aims to end the Long War by force, and to smash the ancient class based system that dominates Quar society. They started as a small band of rebels and have since turned into a well oiled martial machine, for a while it seemed they had the royalists on the ropes, but now their advance has stalled and cracks are starting to appear in their facade.

From a war gaming perspective their rules seem kinda strange and at odds with their lore. Like they are supposed to be logistical geniuses who favor innovative tactics, but their standard squad is really goofy. It’s a sergeant with a semi automatic rifle, and three teams consisting of 2 with guys semi automatic rifles and 1 guy with a “heavy rifle” (which seems to be a semi automatic anti-tank rifle with a bayonet). It’s a strange squad composition that IRL would get pinned down and shredded by the coftyran squad’s automatic weaponry. Also their officers use these like handcrafted heirloom shotguns which seems at odds with the lore of them being a hyper utilitarian classless faction.

[to-riii]

‘Uncage the safety, pull the trigger. Uncage the safety, pull the trigger.’ I whisper to myself.

Those words are my entire existence, my only purpose. The satisfying click of the safety catch followed by the flash of light from the rifle. The crackle of the commlink. The hard plastic of the neural link cabling.

It feels familiar. Comfortable even. Like it’s become a part of me.

A target appears in front of me, the safety catch unlocks, and I pull the trigger. Target neutralized. Another appears soon afterwards, and I repeat the same motion.

It feels like this is all I’ve ever known. They tell me there’s nothing beyond the 30-inch composite walls that surround me is worth it. In here I’m safe.

My body. My fortress. My home. My prison.

‘Uncage the safety, pull the trigger. Uncage the safety, pull the trigger.’

[boinkingbattlemechs]

AS7-K3b2 "Gewitter"

Gewitter was the custom command 'Mech of Lieutenant General Theodora Marten-Steiner, notable for her role in the early formation of the Third Star League SLDF, Operation TOUCHDOWN, Operation WINDFALL, and the later Lyran War of Reclamation. Famous in her eventual role as commander of the hyper-elite Royal Guards RCT, the Lieutenant General also served as the second commanding officer of the Royal Black Watch regiment, after its second re-founding in 3151.

Gewitter is built on the Atlas chassis, though a great deal of modification has made it truly one-of-a-kind. The original platform upon which the venerable ‘Mech was built was the Atlas AS7-K3, notable for its inclusion of jump jets. They remained a hallmark of Gewitter, carrying through to the final model, introduced on the battlefields of Helios in October 3153, much to the horror of the Word of Blake forces at the Battle of Fort Bayeux.

Gewitter is, at first glance, a fairly standard Atlas mech, originally of Defiance Industries manufacture. However, after two major refits, very little remains of the original K3 as it entered service in 3134.

The first refit was conducted by the MechTechs of Skobel Mechworks at their Yakima Proving Grounds on Terra. There, for a time, Gewitter sat opposite Test Unit Sierra Five - the original Mackie and the first ever BattleMech - while the Atlas was fully rebuilt. The refit focused on integrating mixed Inner Sphere and Clan technology along with additional command gear, armor, and sensors; steps were also taken to shave weight from the original design. This further enhanced its pilot’s dynamic, fluid style with greater maneuverability. An extra additional step added late in the refit process, as ordered by Commanding General Melissa Hazen herself, saw Gewitter's right hand fitted with a half-ton, 24-karat engagement ring, complete with the largest natural diamonds ever cut in human history - the inside band of which was etched in micro-font with the entire Jade Falcon Remembrance. This ring remained upon Gewitter's right arm, even after the wedding of Hazen and Marten-Steiner in the aftermath of Operation TOUCHDOWN.

The second refit, performed on the battlefields of Helios by Star Captain (later Khan) Xerxes Truscott of Clan Star Adder, focused primarily on the integration of two newly designed, powerful, and devastating weapons: the Clan-spec Light Gauss Rifle and the Pile Bunker.

After this second and final refit, Gewitter was equipped as follows:

Atlas 'Gewitter' AS7-K3-Tb2

Mass: 100 tons

Chassis: Skobel 100-Lite Variable Composite Biped

Power Plant: Defiance Clan-Grade 400 XL

Cruising Speed: 43.2 kph

Maximum Speed: 64.8 kph

Jump Jets: Standard

Jump Capacity: 90 meters

Armor: Duralex Ferro-Fibrous w/ CASE II

Armament:

1 Light Gauss Rifle (C)

1 Streak SRM 4 (C)

2 ER Large Laser (C)

1 Pile Bunker (C)

Manufacturer: Defiance Industries (original)/Skobel MechWorks (refit #1)/Fursona's Fusiliers (refit #2)

Primary Factory: Defiance Manufacturing Annex - Kwangjong-Ni (original)/Yakima Proving Grounds, Terra (refit #1)/Argo Mechbay (refit #2)

Communication System: Clan-enhanced Irian E.A.R. w/ Nova CEWS & Studebaker-T19 Battle Computer

Targeting & Tracking System: Clan-enhanced Army Corporation Type 29K w/ Advanced Targeting Computer (w/ VRT)

Introduction Year: 3153

Tech Rating/Availability: F/X-X-X-X

Cost: 34,853,333 C-bills

Type: Atlas 'Gewitter'

Technology Base: Mixed (Unofficial)

Tonnage: 100

Battle Value: 2,729

Equipment Mass

Internal Structure Composite 5

Engine 400 XL 26.5

Walking MP: 4

Running MP: 6

Jumping MP: 3

Double Heat Sink 10 [20] 0

Gyro 4

Small Cockpit (Armored) 3

Armor Factor (Ferro) 297 15.5

Internal Armor

Structure Value

Head 3 9

Center Torso 31 47

Center Torso (rear) 5

R/L Torso 21 32

R/L Torso (rear) 10

R/L Arm 17 34

R/L Leg 21 42

Right Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm, Hand

Left Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm, Hand

Weapons

and Ammo Location Critical Heat Tonnage

Triple Strength Myomer RT/LT/RA/LA/RL/LL 1/per - 0.0

Jump Jet CT 1 - 2.0

Jump Jet RT 1 - 2.0

CASE II (Clan) RT 1 - 0.5

Light Gauss Rifle Ammo (32) RT 2 - 2.0

Streak SRM 4 Ammo (25) RT 1 - 1.0

Pile Bunker Ammo (5) RT 1 - 1.0

Pile Bunker Ammo (2) RT 1 - 0.5

Targeting Computer LA 4 - 4.0

ER Large Laser (Clan) LA 1 12 4.0

Jump Jet LT 1 - 2.0

CASE II LT 1 - 0.5

Streak SRM 4 (Clan) LT 1 3 2.0

Light Gauss Rifle (Clan)* LT 4 1 11.0

Armored Cowl (Armored) HD 1 - 1.5

Nova Combined Electronic Warfare System HD 1 - 1.5

ER Large Laser (Clan) RA 1 12 4.0

Pile Bunker (Clan)** RA 6 - 6.0

Engagement Ring*** RA - - 0.5

* = Heat 1, Dmg 12, Min.Rng 2, Short.Rng 1-7, Med.Rng: 8-16, Long.Rng: 17-24, Tons: 11, Crit.Slots: 4, Ammo/Ton: 16

** = A Pile Bunker inflicts one point of damage for every five tons the 'Mech weighs. When punching with a Pile Bunker, the user can choose to fire the pile, expending one shot of ammunition (5 ammo per ton) and generating 5 heat, scoring a critical on the location hit with a -2 modifier. In addition, if armor remains after an attack where the Pile Bunker has been fired, roll for a second critical hit with a -2 modifier. For each critical dealt, also deal one point of internal damage to that location.

*** = gives a -1/-1 morale bonus to pilot and gunnery skills - if (and only if) Theodora Marten-Steiner is piloting.

Features the following design quirks: Battle Computer, Battle Fists (LA), Battle Fists (RA), Combat Computer, Cowl, Distracting, Easy to Pilot, Extended Torso Twist, Fine Manipulators, Illegal Design (Custom Weapons+Custom Equipment), Improved Communications, Improved Sensors, Multi-Trac, Nimble Jumper, Reinforced Legs, Variable Range Targeting

(Our second Fanon Friday 'Mech! Again designed by yours truly for @baldy-wan-kenobi's character Theodora, part of the Operation Touchdown AU RP project. No art on this one, but hopefully there may be some soon!)

[soup-mother]

people won't admit this but the soviet union was actually a project to create a union of republics capable of pushing the limit of acronyms. really shattering the belief that there is a god with stuff like NIIKhIMMash, TsNIICherMet, and of course the infamous world record holder: NIIOMTPLABOPARMBETZHELBETRABSBOMONIMONKONOTDTEKHSTROMONT (the laboratory for reinforcement, concrete and ferroconcrete operations, for composite-monolithic and monolithic constructions, of the Department of the Technology of Building-assembly operations, of the Scientific Research Institute of the Organization for mechanization and technical aid)

i remember reading about some historical figures who'd been a member of some like rifle group acronymed as something ridiculous. truly a union of giants ("GiantS" here being an acronym of "giant" and "acronyms")

[king-of-wrath]

Open Starter for Mutuals: To Hell and Back (Hopefully)

Down in the depths of DHORCS' newest headquarters, technicians had made adjustments to the extra-dimensional portal generator. Now able to send an adult human into Hell, the agency would need to perform vital reconnaissance: they needed to know the number and composition of demonic legions, to locate strongholds, identify points of interest and map-out each of the Seven Rings.

The casualty projections were extremely grim: even with the best military equipment,blessed tenfold by heavily indoctrinated and genetically "pure" holy men, it was expected that no more than one agent per ten would survive deployment. But in the minds of DHORCS' higher-ups, obtaining even the smallest amounts of information was well worth the sacrifice. Agents One and Two were given the unenviable task of drawing names from a hat---knowing they were sending their fellows to certain death.

Agent One reached in and pulled a slip from the hat. "Five," he read aloud. The same agent would step out from a line and receive his equipment: a fire-resistant bomb-disposal suit with a full-faced gas mask, an assault rifle and a handgun engraved with religious iconography and a backpack full of basic camping supplies.

"Twenty-six," Agent Two read aloud. With a solemn nod, she stepped out of line and went to gear-up.

"Forty-two," Agent One called out. He turned and briefly embraced his fellow agent before going forward.

"Seven," Two called. They swallowed hard, but accepted their fate.

"Eighteen," One called. "Put the fear of God and Man into 'em," One told Eighteen with a tear welling in his eye.

"...Sixty-nine," Two rolled her eyes. A few agents struggled to hold back giggles---until someone replied with "Nice", making them all spit and choke. The agent called out wasn't amused, having clearly endured that childishness for months.

"Thirteen," One called as the process continued.

"Fifty-five," Two called. Unlike the others, she seemed to relish in the opportunity.

"Thirty-three," One called.

"And..." Two reached inside. "...Eleven."

Agent Eleven was mortified and on the verge of fainting. Already pale and scrawny, he looked even more like a ghost. The agents to his left and right grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him forward, not letting him escape his imminent doom. He received his kit, but struggled to put it on because he was trembling like a newborn faun.

"Ey, youse!" One snapped his fingers at the two heading back into line. "Help Casper 'ere into his suit," he said with a chuckle.

Now that all ten agents were outfitted, the generator began its start-up cycle. If all went according to plan, they would be sent to a different location in Hell and regroup. Each agent's data-pad contained one part of a ten-character activation code, which would broadcast a homing signal back to headquarters for extraction. Even if the other nine had perished, the anticipated survivor was expected to recover their fellows' data---they needed to, if they had any hope of returning home.

One minute passed, feeling like an hour to the ten agents standing in wait. A man-sized rift then opened before them.

"Alright, one at a time!" Two commanded. "Same order as you were called!"

One by one, each of the nine agents ran headlong into Hell itself---not knowing what to expect or whether they would survive. Eleven was still terrified and had to be unceremoniously tossed through by Agent One.

Eleven shut his eyes, grit his teeth and curled into a tight ball as he felt himself flung through space and time. During every second of extra-dimensional travel, his ears were blasted by agonized screams and the echoing laughter of dark, thirsting beings.

Inside a ruined hovel, on the edge of the perpetually-violent Doomsday District, a tear in reality opened and spat forth the unfortunate agent. He felt his body thud against the rubble, but the heavy padding cushioned his fall. The laughter stopped and the screams weren't as loud, though his eardrums rattled with the sound of gunfire from not far away.

Eleven slowly lifted his head, raising the blast-shield on his helmet to discover where he was. He saw bullet tracers intersecting across a blood-red sky as unseen combatants shouted. He crawled along the ground, peeking out from a pile of bricks---just in time to see a grenade bounce down the street.

With the agility of a frightened cat, Eleven threw himself back and curled into a ball again. Once the explosive went-off, he scrambled to his feet and ran away from this apparent "war-zone". In one hand, he held the blast-shield down in front of his face and in the other, he tentatively gripped the handle of his rifle.

"God help me..." he muttered through his air filter.

[materiallugy]

What are the materials used in weapons manufacturing?

Materials used in weapons manufacturing are chosen based on their mechanical properties, durability, and suitability for specific applications. The materials used in weapons manufacturing are:

1. Alloys, including steel, aluminum, titanium, nickel, and cooper. 2. Composites, including carbon fiber, glass fiber, and kevlar. 3. Ceramics, including alumina, silicon carbide, and boron carbide. 4. Polymers, including polyamide, polycarbonate, and polyethylene. 5. Specialized Coatings and Treatments, including ceramic coatings, teflon coatings, and phosphate coatings. 6. Explosives and Propellants, including RDX (Cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine), TNT (Trinitrotoluene), and composite propellants. 7. Electronic and Semiconductor Materials, including silicon, and gallium nitride (GaN).

Alloys

High-Strength Steel - Commonly used in the manufacturing of 

Barrels: The main component of a firearm, responsible for propelling projectiles.

Receivers: The housing for the firearm's action, holding essential components.

Slides (pistols): The moving part that houses the barrel and holds ammunition.

Frames (pistols): The base of the handgun, supporting other components.

Bolts and carriers (rifles): Components involved in the firing cycle.

Springs: Essential for firearm operation, providing recoil and return forces.

Steels like 4140, 4340, and maraging steel are known for their toughness, high yield strength, and resistance to wear.............