Component:c81-plasma-cannon
In Game Description
Despite its high-tech sound, this plasma cannon is actually a relatively crude solution to the Protectorate's problem of being out-armored in every weight class. These coilguns fire a magnetic bottle containing superheated plasma which shatters against the armor of a warship and melts large holes, opening it up for attack from lighter caliber weaponry such as 100mm.
Stats
| C81 Plasma Cannon | |
|---|---|
| Faction | OSP |
| Cost | 30 pts |
| Dimensions | 4x6x4 (C4 SPNL) |
| Hitpoints | 500 |
| Hitpoints to Function | 20 |
| Damage Threshold | 40 |
| Mass | 80 Tonnes |
| DC Priority | Medium |
| Accuracy Marks | 26m @ 5 km 52m @ 10 km |
| Role | Offensive |
| Integrated FC | No |
| Optical Backup | Yes |
| Compatible Ammo Types | Ballistic/Magnetic |
| * | 400mm Ampoule |
| Recycle Time | Single Shot |
| Reload Time (Energy) | 12s |
| Fire Rate | 5.0 RPM |
| Power | -1500 (kW) |
| Traverse Rate | 5 deg/s |
| Elevation Rate | 0 deg/s |
| Traverse Limits | +25 deg., -25 deg. |
Lore
"Quickly, Kosta!" Hillman shouts, storming down the passageway with his team following close behind. Shouts from spacers in other compartments and passageways are drowned out by the ambient din of cannonfire.
"Secure oxygen!" Hillman orders, his helmet making a brief hiss as he seals it from the outside, his team doing the same as they all round a corner and proceed towards the bow of the Axford. Their tools rattle, their boots thunder with heavy steps, only briefly slowing to hear the ship's PA screech to life.
"Unknown fire inbound from port! All hands, brace!"
Hillman and his squad are nearly thrown from their feet as the ship lets of[sic] a violent shudder, their vision flashed with a dazzling array of pink and blue. Kosta looks up, steadying herself, before she points down the passagway[sic]. "Look!" She calls out, Hillman and the others following her gaze. "What in Nyx is that?!"
It was hard to miss; Just ahead of them, the left wall of the passageway glows a fiery hot white, tinted pink as the metal interior slowly sloughs off into a molten slag. A harsh sizzle reacches their ears as a purple gas seeps through the fissures. The whole passageway is blocked off, the blast having turned it into a roiling channel of melted steel. Hillman sucks air through his teeth, his brow furrowing as he snaps an about-face. "Other way! We'll go through block-"
"Incoming, incoming! Port side! Brace for-"
There's a bright flash in the passageway, the PA system silenced by the deafening clap of a 100mm shell puncturing through the molten wall like paper. The last thing Hillman and his squad feels is the shrapnel.
