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> Tau Ceti IV (New Earth), Legionnaires FBO
Commodore Benjamin Maxwell
post Nov 8 2009, 03:30 PM
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Planet Details: Tau Ceti IV (New Earth)

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Star Type: G8V
Position in System: 4 (of 6)
Number of Moons: 1 (Lanna)
Days to Jump Point: 6
Surface Water: 74%
Atm. Pressure: Standard (Tainted)
Surface Gravity: 1.00
Equatorial Temp: 31° C
Highest Native Life: Mammals
Population: 302,000,000
Governor: Lonni Johanna
Planetary Legate: Umberto Cabot

OVERVIEW:

Originally known as Tau Ceti IV, the first inhabitable world seen by human eyes beyond the Terran solar system was so much like home, its discoverers on the TAS Pathfinder were quick to rename it New Earth when they arrived in orbit in December of 2108. Offering almost everything found on Terra herself, from abundant water supply to deep mineral, chemical, and metal ore deposits, eager colonists and corporate entities alike flocked to this new world. It comes as no surprise, then, that by the peak of the Star League era, New Earth was one of the most heavily industrialized and developed planets in the Terran Hegemony. Five major SLDF contractors set up their headquarters on New Earth, along with such successful enterprises as the New Earth Trading Company (NETC). All five continents—McKenna in the northwest, Lanhold to its east, the massive Neoasia in the south, the island continent of Kellargo, and even the north polar continent of Arctiqua—boasted major cities and heavy industry. Dozens of Castles Brian were set up on New Earth as well, and the Star League even built the famous Combat College of New Earth outside the capital city of Foundation Point, on McKenna. During the Amaris crisis, the college, most of the Castles Brian, all the major factories, and close to half the planet’s largest population centers were destroyed by Amaris troops using every means available when it became clear they could not hold the planet. The world’s gutted infrastructure and war-ravaged environment left the survivors shocked and demoralized, victims of widespread famine and disease—particularly the virulent New Earth Pox. The centuries of decline that followed, despite being under the banner of the wealthy Lyran state, did little to help pull the world out of the ruins, largely due to the continuous raiding and open warfare between the Lyrans and their neighbors. Only the NETC remained through it all, a last vestige of the once-mighty Star League and the only viable large corporation still active on New Earth. Headquartered in Meredith, on Neoasia, the NETC retains its status as a premier transport and trade facilitator The capital of Tau Ceti IV is the metropolis of New Foundation, and it is the city out of which the Legionnaires are based.


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Position: Senior Captain | Legionnaires
Current BattleMech: WHF-3B White Flame (Lothos) [Heavy - Quad]
Loadout: 1x Large Pulse Laser, 1x Medium Pulse Laser, 2x ER Medium Lasers, 1x Anti-Missile System, Jump Jets
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Commodore Benjamin Maxwell
post Nov 8 2009, 05:00 PM
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From: Tau Ceti IV
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Located in the heart of the run-down, ramshackle outskirts of New Foundation, the Legionnaires' compound occupies an entire city block, and is comprised of a mishmash of formerly-abandoned warehouses and industrial facilities, clustered together in a crumbling industrial park whose purpose was long ago forgotten. A shabby, five-story brownstone tenement, set in the center of the compound, serves as the company's corporate headquarters, and doubles as housing for the twenty-four employees of the organization.

Here, the sweeping cityscapes of the more privileged districts have given way to broken, run-down tenements and seedy-looking shops, and the meticulously paved and finely manicured boulevards have deteriorated into a rough mixture of gravel and broken ferrocrete. Alleys lead off in all directions, holding dark promise of lethal peril. It's a safe conclustion that this end of town is widely regarded as nothing more than "slums."


_________________________

April 14, 3067
Outskirts of New Foundation
Tau Ceti IV (New Earth) - 1834 Hours

_________________________

As I drove down the pothole-ridden avenue which led away from the upscale commercial district and into the city's outskirts, my com unit chirped with a text message from the MRBC. Reaching toward my belt, I held the sedan's steering wheel with one hand, and flipped the comm unit's screen open with the other.

Captain Maxwell -

Your MRBC grant application has been denied. The Most Blessed Credit Union has classified you as an 'investment risk' due to your previous affiliation with ComStar.


I cringed at the message - no doubt my slip of the tounge did little to bolster my credibility with the MRBC - and there was no easy explanation to give. And before I could even entertain giving the organization the...difficult...explanation, I needed to know that I could trust them - and moreover, I needed to impress upon them the absolute need to trust me. A great deal was at stake.

I quickly tapped out a brief reply.


If it pleases you, I would like to discuss this further. Give me a location at which I may meet with your agents tomorrow.

Pressing the 'send' button, I laid the comm unit on the seat beside me, and continued my drive through the rainy night. As the sweeping cityscapes of the more privilaged districts slowly transitioned into broken, run-down tenements and seedy-looking shops, the paved tarmac slowly gave way to a rough mixture of gravel and broken ferrocrete - the local authorities had long ago stopped maintaining the roadway here - and it was all I could do to keep the sedan under control as it was jostled violently from side-to-side. The area was definitely approaching the term known as 'slums.'

Turning onto a narrow boulevard with the ironic moniker of 'Hope Street,' I slowed as I approached the abandoned industrial park that was home to the Legionnaires mercenary unit. Although the complex was comprised largely of a dozen or so massive warehouses whose structural integrity was in serious question, several manufacturing plants with technology nearly a century out of date, and a low-rise tenement which should have been condemned a decade ago, it suited the needs of our operation, and had been a great steal at a mere fifty million C-Bills upon our acquisition of the entire city block some time ago.

I pulled the sedan into the narrow drive which led into the compound, and pressed my thumb against a biometric reader which would raise the yardarm and lower the traffic block obstructing my path. Unfortunately, neither happened. I ran my thumb across the reader several more times, but to no avail. In frustration, I jammed my finger against the 'call' button.


"Control. Van De Graff speaking."

"It's Maxwell - the gate's malfunctioned again."

"Blake's blood! All right, Captain...you're going to have to park it curbside for tonight...we'll have a Humvee meet you on the other side of the barrier."

I sighed.

"Don't bother. I'll walk."

[Track I: A New Foundation]


--------------------
Position: Senior Captain | Legionnaires
Current BattleMech: WHF-3B White Flame (Lothos) [Heavy - Quad]
Loadout: 1x Large Pulse Laser, 1x Medium Pulse Laser, 2x ER Medium Lasers, 1x Anti-Missile System, Jump Jets
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Lieutenant Commander Marcus Braddock
post Nov 8 2009, 07:51 PM
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Even inside the compound - which is above-par compared to our surroundings - the quality of the ferrocrete surfacing leaves room for improvement.
"Heh. Now that's the understatement of the year, I don't mind tellin' you..."”
I do things like that sometimes. Mutter answers to questions nobody asked, and reply to statements no one else heard. Isn't that a sign of madness? Talking to yourself? Anyway, the point is that the roads here are a tad on the rough side. This was never more evident than in the stretch of pressed ferrocrete opening from between the reformed warehouses, a concourse that serves as the main thoroughfare of the legionnaires' compound. Pulling out of the ex-industrial building designated as our motor-pool, I aligned the Humvees' four wheels as best I could on the discordant roadway and gritted my teeth against the oncoming jolts and bounces.

It's a bit of a mission, y'know? A real quest. By the time you've bumped and jostled your way to the end of it, grunting and swearing, muscles tense from fighting with various vehicle controls, you feel like you've run the distance on foot rather than driven. Not that I'm a stranger to running, right? But with the compound gate controls on the fritz again, it's a trip that I've had to make more than you would think necessary.

The sky was seething, grey clouds chasing and swallowing each other, reforming and regurgitating in a deluge of motion. In the semi-darkness of oncoming night, my headlights picked out a few other personnel walking from one building to another, but any activity seemed subdued by the fading light. The shadowed outlines of the entry drive and accompanying traffic blocks came into sharp relief as the powerful lamps washed over them, along with a man standing hunched besides the yardarm, looking up at the sky with a face that shifted between concern and a good old frown.

I pulled the big military four wheel drive into a long slow turn to bleed off speed; riding out the last few slips and bumps before coming to a comparatively gentle halt beside the man. I quickly threw open the door and dropped the short distance to the roadway, black boots sounding a grating thud on the uneven surface.
Windy is one of those words, isn't it? It can describe anything from the gentlest of breezes to the most heavy-handed of gales. This particular wind had enough bite to make me pull my jacket tighter around my torso before bringing my right hand up in salute.

"Evening, Captain. What's the word? I know you said you'd walk, but control sent me out since I was already in the motor-pool. Gate's on the blink again?"
Captain Benjamin Maxwell's face changed to a grin as he crossed around the front of the vehicle, heading for the passenger side.
"That it is, Talus. I'll have to put it on the 'to do' list of things that desperately need patching up around here." He popped open the door and hauled himself up inside. Briefly shifting for comfort in the hard backed military seating. "Shall we get moving before it rains?" I turned around and stepped back up to the driver side door, mirroring his motion and laying my hands across the wheel.
"Sounds like a plan, sir. Where to?"”

Hoo boy, this is good. I'm pumped to get back on this horse.

[Track II: Talus]

This post has been edited by Captain Benjamin Maxwell: Nov 10 2009, 05:18 PM


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Position: Lieutenant Commander | Legionnaires
Current Battlemech: Catapult - "Jackal."
Loadout: - 2x Holly LRM 15 launchers (shoulder mounted).
- 4x Martell Medium Lasers (torso mounted).
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MechWarrior Kazuki Kintaro
post Nov 9 2009, 09:55 AM
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It wasn’t long before rain ran thick off my slicker. My hurried footsteps splashed puddles and kicked up mud and dirt from the poorly kept road. The pitter-patter of smaller, faster steps weren’t far behind.

Here, in this vermin ridden slum, now more than ever, I realised these were the all-or-nothing days. Good and bad days had become a muddied and blurred mess. On this tired work horse we called the Inner Sphere, only the all-or-nothing days existed. That and pain.

I didn’t have time to think about the events that had lead me to this very moment. Here and now; that’s all that mattered. I barged into the run down hotel like a drunkard navigating an urgently needed toilet. The hotel porter hardly noticed me. That was the beauty of places like these. Nobody asked questions and everybody took money. It was a good thing too as I was still bleeding handsomely.

My bloodied hand fumbled the lock while my other hand’s grip tightened around my earlier successfully acquired objective. With some aggravating effort, the door locks released and I stumbled into my room.

“Bastard thing!” I hissed under my breath. I struggled with the clasp on my rain slicker. After a final, albeit painful heave, the slicker crumbled to the floor, dampening the dirty brown rug that was placed in front of my bed. “Sit over there.” I instructed. I felt almost guilty I had thought of this boy as an objective earlier. The more I thought about it, the more my headache intensified. I had retrieved the child, completed my objective and that was all there was too it. For now at least.

The child did as he was instructed. Well, he got half way there. His emotionless eyes caught a glimpse of a moth that was resting on the window pane. Suddenly, he became a deer caught in full frontal view of headlights. Without moving a muscle, he carefully watched the equally still insect. It didn’t matter, not for now. I had more pressing matters to attend to.

I stumbled into the attached bathroom and caught first sight of my earlier inflicted wound. A piece of shrapnel was sticking out of my side, just below my rib cage.

“Damn grenade…” I cursed as I tore out the small 1 x 1 inch piece of jagged metal. By Blake did it hurt, and I would have sworn blue, bloody murder had I not remembered I was in the presence of a child (not that it mattered anyway, given his condition). Giving out several, pain ridden pants, I tore open the vacuum packaging on my last remaining hypodermic needle. With a deep breath, I plunged the needle into my wound, making sure it would chemically cauterise the wound while curing any sepsis I could incur later.

“Hard part’s over.” I grunted, unravelling a length of bandage to wrap around my body. “Hard part’s over…”

When I returned to the bedroom, the child’s curiosity had spiked again. Now he was standing directly below the centre light, watching as the moth danced and head butted the bulb furiously. The child’s hand reached out in an awkward manner. It was similar to an industrial robot’s arm, only moving in one single direction at a time. His digits were moving as if they were performing carefully thought out calculations. I watched until he realised that no matter how outstretched his arm was he could not reach the moth. Standing perfectly still, his complexion did not change. What an odd child.

“Do you have a name?” The child didn’t respond. I wearily made my way towards the bed and sat down on the edge. I needed rest. “Don't talk much, do you? I’ll name you tomorrow. For now, I need to rest.” I fell backwards onto the bed with tiredness settling it’s weary head on my shoulders.

“These are the all-or-nothing days…”


[Track III: All or Nothing]


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Position: Mechwarrior | Legionnaires
Callsign: Sabre
Current BattleMech: STG-6L Stinger
Loadout: 2x Medium Lasers, Jump Jets
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Commodore Benjamin Maxwell
post Nov 9 2009, 12:57 PM
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From: Tau Ceti IV
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April 14, 3067
Legionnaires Compound
New Foundation - Tau Ceti IV (New Earth)

_______________________________________

Talus had a pinache for good timing, whether it involved delivering that last critical hit that proved decisive in battle, or, more mundanely, retreiving a down-on-luck officer from the pouring rain. Even the circumstances of his hiring had been thanks to good timing - during my last visit to the MRBC Hiring Hall on Outreach, a seemingly-promising MechWarrior I'd just signed on was carted off by the local authorities at the exact moment Talus was approaching me to inquire about employment. Good timing, indeed.

"Thanks for the lift," I replied. "Let's get the hell out of here. I've got a possible lead waiting back at the office that might interest you."

____________________________

Stepping quickly across the battered threshold, I pulled the tenement's lobby door closed behind me as torrents of rain billowed past. In keeping with the spirit of Murphy's Law, the light drizzle had evolved into a powerful downpour just as Talus had put the Humvee in 'park,' soaking both of us through every layer of our uniforms and leaving the both of us shivering from the cold.

Pushing a wet tuft of hair from my forehead, I pulled off my saturated gloves, and made my way toward the rickety wooden stairs leading up to the second floor. My waterlogged high-quarter boots made wet, squishing sounds as I walked on the dirty linoleum of the building's lobby, kicking up old newspapers, dried leaves, and assorted other refuse as I did so. As I stepped onto the staircase's landing, its ancient, wooden boards creaked in loud protest.


"Who's there?"

The voice was that of Corporal Nicholas Schuster, tech officer of the unit and an accomplished BattleMech pilot. The young Lyran had originally been a member of the local constabulatory, but had been separated from the department due to an untreatable asthmatic condition. Shortly thereafter, he had found his way to our unit, and I was eager to add him to our ranks.

"It's Maxwell. You going to shoot me now," I muttered, "or torture me by sparing my life?"

Schuster appeared on the second story landing, peering down at me and lighting an aeromatic Yak 42 as I made my way to the top of the staircase.

"The wet t-shirt look is a good one for you," the Corporal chuckled as I sloshed to a stop at his level. "And to answer your question, torture is always much more fun."

"Thanks," I smirked, clapping a soaking wet hand on Schuster's meticulously-pressed epulet, and maneuvering past him into the ratty hallway which led to the small administrative offices of the fledgling company. "Got a minute?"

"Of course," the Lyran replied, adding dramatic emphasis to the end of his sentence. The entire organization had been working overtime to try and bring our finances back into the black over the past week, and the stress of the added hours was beginning to show. I wanted to believe that our efforts were, in some way, paying off, but the responses I'd managed to get thus far were questionable at best.

The single, forty-watt lightbulb which illuminated the corridor cast disfigured shadows across the crumbling walls and the trash-strewn floor as Talus, Schuster, and I made our way into the mahogany-paneled office. Although the rest of the building was in dire need of condemnation, this particular suite had somehow managed to maintain its classic charm, and looked like something straight out of a Dixon Hill novel. Frosted glass panes separated the reception area from the assorted doorways leading off into various sub-offices, and the floor, hewn from authentic mahogany, shone brightly under a heavy coat of sealant. I shrugged off my gray uniform coat, and made my way past the vacant receptionist's desk and into my office, where the familiar smells of cheap booze, cigar smoke, and gun oil welcomed me home.


"I spoke with the MRBC this evening," I began, tossing my coat onto a nearby stand, and easing into the well-worn padded desk chair dominating the center of the room. Its casters squeaked loudly as I rolled toward my desk.

"So I heard," Schuster replied, pulling the door closed behind him, as Talus walked over to the water cooler. "Hobson told me."

"I figured as much."

The water cooler bubbled loudly as Talus prepared a cup of water for himself. After a moment, the MechWarrior made his way over to the desk to join us, sinking into one of the four ratty but comfortable chairs arranged in a semi-circle for guests and clients.

"How did it go?"

I shook my head, and handed him a printout of the text message I'd received earlier in the evening. After scrutinizing it for a moment, Schuster shrugged, and placed the printout on a near corner of the desk, where it assumed place of prominence atop two empty Domination Pizza boxes, the tagline "You've Got Thirty Minutes - OR ELSE" blaring from their lids.

"Think they'll keep the appointment?"

I shook my head.

"I doubt it. Van De Graff phoned me after I got back to tell me that Murlance is part of a task force bound for Styx that is due to shove off tomorrow morning. But in all actuality, that buys us some time."

Talus looked quizzical.

"To do what?" he interjected.

I retrieved an oversized manilla folder from beneath a pile of bills marked "past due," and leafed through it briefly before withdrawing several black-and-white surveillence photos.

"To make that fake Stone Rhino we've got listed in our public inventory a reality."


--------------------
Position: Senior Captain | Legionnaires
Current BattleMech: WHF-3B White Flame (Lothos) [Heavy - Quad]
Loadout: 1x Large Pulse Laser, 1x Medium Pulse Laser, 2x ER Medium Lasers, 1x Anti-Missile System, Jump Jets
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Sergeant Hobson
post Nov 9 2009, 02:09 PM
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LEGIONNAIRES | DropShip Commander
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April 14, 3067
The STARSHIP Cantina
New Foundation - Tau Ceti IV (New Earth)

_______________________________________
My senses reeled as I found myself in a dark, grimy bar with a cooking pit sunk in the middle. In the pit a large, unidentifiable animal had been spitted, and was slowly turning over a bank of lasers running at low power. Squinting at the lasers, I recognized, under the grease, the armament of a Mark IV tramp freighter.

Suspended over the pit, in the middle of the room, was the bar itself. The barkeep, a morbidly overweight fellow bedecked with tattoos, had done a halfhearted job of stringing up a series of extremely harzardous Christmas lights in an effort to liven things up a bit. He leaned on one arm, and ignored me as I walked in, instead observing the server droids as they trundled by, delivering food and drinks. A holovid screen over the bar blared assorted ComStar programming, and a knot of off-duty technicians yelled and threw beer cans at it as they watched.

The décor here was once neo-western - a fashion that went out 350 years ago - but decades of neglect and fights had erased all but the most enduring features of the original decoration. At several tables patrons were gambling, though it wasn't clear what the stakes were, or even the game. A bank of holos across one wall was showing Elvis singing 'You ain't nothing but a Mad Dog.’ I winced at the volume and wondered whose idea it was to clone long dead singing stars.

As the crash of breaking dishes and shattering glassware mingled with the general rowdy atmosphere of the bar, a pallid youth with a cyberhacker haircut (shaved down the middle to take the receptor for a cranial jack) stared through me vacantly, jacked into a coin-op VR machine in the corner.

Most of the tables were taken, but there were a few vacancies.


[Track IV: The STARSHIP Cantina]

This post has been edited by Captain Benjamin Maxwell: Nov 10 2009, 05:23 PM


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Recipient of the Order of Katherine Steiner medal for distinguished performance in combat.
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Agent John Murlance
post Nov 9 2009, 02:26 PM
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The crack of billiards breaking on a felt pool table, coupled with the clink of glassware and the invigorating, generally rowdy and energized atmosphere of the inner-city bar set an upbeat mood as I watched four wooden, solid-colored balls drop into their respective pockets and clatter down the return chutes.

"I'll be damned. On your opening break, no less. Must be that 'luck of the Irish' you were referring to, eh, Higgins?"

"'tis not luck...'tis skill, laddie! And judgin' from yer last two games, I'd say you could stand to learn a fing or two from me!" The Northwind Highlander's well-inebriated compatriots dissolved into drunken laughter as I smirked at the well-intentioned jab. Ambling over to the table, I applied a liberal amount of chalk to the end of my pool cue, before leaning over the faux-mahogany bumpers to line up my shot. With a swift jab, I sent the cue-ball spinning across the table, sinking two stripes and displacing a number of solids, one of which came to rest dangerously close to the outer edge of a corner pocket.

"Not bad for a beginner," Higgins quipped, taking a slam of his ale before returning to the game.

"I'm not exactly a 'beginner,' you know...in fact - "

"Ah, but ya play like one!" Higgins laughed, wiping his mouth with a grimy sleeve and lining up his next shot. "Now, let's show you how it's done!"

This post has been edited by Agent John Murlance: Nov 9 2009, 02:59 PM
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Lance Callahan
post Nov 9 2009, 03:18 PM
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It was time to start kicking for a new life. Mom and dad were dead, I had to get over it. Grandma and Grandpa Flint should have taken the dive long ago, yet somehow their bodies were still as lively as a kids.

It was annoying. Every day I had to wake up to this blasted oldie music crap, get fed some sort of... I don't even know what it could be called. Trash soup, maybe? Who cares, I'm done with them. I've got my own life to live now, not a second to spare. So I got kicked out of one of the most prestigious schools in the Universe; they weren't teaching me anything but a bunch of ludicrous self-righteous rhetoric anyway. Won't get a good job now, though, just because I stood up for something I believed in. This world is messed up.

And so now I'm in a bar, watching a bunch of drunk idiots wasting their lives just for a good friggin' time. I don't need to drink to have a good time! They won't even remember their blasted 'fun' afterwards.

My attention was taken away from these thoughts, though, as a new patron shuffled onto the scene. There was something... shining about him. Not physically, no he looked just a rowdy as the rest of the gangs around these parts. But, something else made him stand out. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, maybe simply his idle gaze as he walked to one of the vacant tables.

I stood up. It seemed to me like this was the kind of guy I could find a job through. Maybe fate put him here for a reason, maybe I could finally earn my way into a career. My dreams were instantly cut short as my first step landed my drink on a particularly hardy, most certainly drunken, customer.

Not a word passed before his giant fist was colliding into my face. An instant later, I was on the ground. No doubt my nose was bleeding. It took every ounce of energy I had to keep myself conscious. The bar was a blur, a loud, loud blur. Nothing seemed to make sense, just a fury of lights passing back and forth, a torrent of noise that I was certainly would rupture my eardrum and break my ossicles. It was too much. For my own sake, I let my mind fade. The world turned to silent darkness as I slipped into an unconscious sleep.

What a wonderful day at the STARSHIP cantina.


This post has been edited by Lance Callahan: Nov 9 2009, 03:18 PM
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Sergeant Hobson
post Nov 9 2009, 03:32 PM
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“Steiner PPC, please,” I nodded to the barkeep, who grunted at me before commencing the drink preparation. I glanced at the holoscreens over the bar, watching some poor fool in a Clint get his ass handed to him by an opponent in a Zeus. I pointed to the carnage, eliciting peals of laughter from an off-duty cop seated nearby. The free-for-all matches on Solaris VII were so entertaining.

A louder-than-usual sound of shattering plates and furniture being violently displaced interrupted my train of thought as the bartender dove across his bar in a failed attack lunge toward a hulking patron who had just slugged a fellow half his size to the floor. The barkeep's attack missed, and he plowed into a series of tables, displacing drunkards and lowlifes in a cellulose-jiggling impact that was both morbid and fascinating all at the same time. I stood up from my table, and strode toward the heart of the commotion. I could see a couple of cops approaching from the other side of the hazy bar, looking cooly nonchalant.

After all, this sort of thing was entirely commonplace around here.

The bartender landed a beefy punch in the thug's eye as I reached the scene of the commotion. Staggering backwards, the larger of the two men ducked under a second jackhammer punch from the barkeep, before lunging forward and shoving the bartender aside, which resulted in a second spectacular explosion of flatware and furnishings. Stepping around the clash of the titans, I walked over to the now-unconscious smaller combatant, who was laid out on the floor of the bar like an insect splattered on the windshield of an APC. I grabbed the man by the back of his coat and pulled him out of the melee, dumping him haphazardly in a nearby booth before shaking him by the shoulder in an attempt to rouse him from his stupor.


"Hey. Wake up. You okay?"

This post has been edited by Sergeant Hobson: Nov 9 2009, 03:36 PM


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Captain Adam Wolf
post Nov 9 2009, 07:34 PM
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April 14, 3067
Outside New Foundation city limits
New Foundation - Tau Ceti IV (New Earth)

_______________________________________

The sharp crack resounded from the high banked hills followed quickly by two more retorts of a rifle rolling out over the range. Allowing the small cloud of debris to drift away from the target down range I resighted through the 4x scope attached to the rails of my new LMAR-14M combat rifle. My lips curling up slightly into a small grin as I see the 3 black dots on the target tightly grouped together, if a little high and to the right.

"Looks like just another small adjustment here," I muttered to myself as I took the screwdriver and made a minute adjustment to one of the refinement screws on the scope mount and then another tiny turn with another screw, "and there, and we should be good."

I settled back in behind the rifle, which was currently fixed in a special mount to allow for proper sighting, and slipped my finger into the trigger guard. Fingering the safety back into fire mode I lined up the shot on the new target which had automatically been moved into place. Taking in a deep breath I slowly let it out and pulled the trigger, then quickly released it with the same pressure and pulled it two more times to send another three rounds down range at the awaiting target. This time I broke into a full smile as I saw the 3 black holes lined up almost perfectly in a tight triangle well within the bullseye.

The sudden crack of thunder, nature's own form of a gunshot, caused me to look up and notice with dismay the darkening clouds along the horizon. Removing my rifle from the sighting mount I turned and headed back towards the militarized ATV I had driven to the range on. I give a little nod and two finger salute to the man sitting in the bulletproof guard post at the edge of the range as I pass.


"Heading home already Wolf?"[\color][color=red] he called out as he waved.

"Yeah, gonna head back to base before that rain hits" I gesture back over my shoulder towards the horizon with a nod of my head.

He laughs and shakes his head a little,
"I don't remember a little rain ever keeping you off the range, besides you know that knew rifle is gonna work rain or shine. Wish I had enough c-bills stashed away somewhere to buy me one of them babies."

"Well you should come work for us Dave, you know the Legionnaires pay pretty good. As for the rain, we just got a new piece of expensive equipment that IS a little sensitive and I want to make sure that lackey of a Chief Engineer I've got gets it indoors before the rain destroys it."

"You know thats not what the latest rumour about the Legionnaires is, some people say the MRBC is going to repo every piece of equipment you've got, right down to the nice little toy there," he says with a slight chuckle as he points at the 100HP military ATV. "Besides, I'm quite comfy here, I mean I get to sit around all day and shoot a gun whenever I want and I never have to worry about someone shooting back at me."

"Fair enough, and you know, you can't put too much stock in rumours. People will say just about anything if they think it'll get people to listen."

"True, true. Well anyways you better get going, your going to be hard pressed to beat that rain I think, even with your crazy driving."

"See you later Dave," I called as I hoped onto the ATV and fired up its oversized engine.

Dropping the LMAR-14M into the holster along the side of the ATVs body I take another quick look at the horizon and decide to pull out the rain slicker from the rear storage compartment and hastily throw it on before popping the clutch and racing out of the old firing range.

The hard packed dirt roads in the country side past the New Foundation city limits made it easy going for a while, the ATV winding up to 90km/h (60mph) with ease as the large engine rumbled beneath me. The large ferro-glass windshield cutting out almost all the wind that would otherwise be pelting my exposed face with dirt. As I neared the city limits the roads turned into a half paved, half gravel disaster that forced me to reduce my speed by a third in order to avoid jarring myself into unconciousness. As it was the ATV rocked and bounced rather viciously despite its heavier weight and stability, and I was forced several times to cut off road to avoid the worse sections where pieces of ferro-crete were sticking up at near 90 degree angles to the road. Apparently the New Foundation public works department hadn't been out this way since the last Battlemech came trucking through.

As Dave had said I didnt beat the rain, though it didnt start to really come down until I could see the compound itself. By that point the rain slicker was pretty much through already, though it had kept most of the rain out it really didnt do anything against the cold penetrating through your clothes. As I pulled up to the compound I ran my finger through the biometric scanner and was pleasantly greated with the grinding of metal as the barricade lowered and traffic arms raised up to admit entrance, there was a reason I drove around to the far side of the compound most of the time, the northern gate usually worked alright, but too many times I had trouble at both the eastern and southern gates to bother with them. Driving towards the motorpool I notice the large empty transport bed parked near one the better looking structures and smile thinking
Scott may be a bit of lackey at times, but the Chief can definately be relied on when it counts.

Entering the motorpool through the large bay doors, which automatically opened as I approached, I parked the ATV in an empty stall and shake off the rain slicker, leaving it out to dry across the back storage compartment of the ATV. Walking back towards the smaller doorway closest to the next facility I look outside after opening the door. Thankfully due to the buildings the rain was coming more or less straight down here and I didnt get blasted with water when I pulled the door open. Looking up to sky it didnt look like the rain was about to stop any time soon so I grabbed a fresh rain coat from the nearby hangers, this one unfortunately without a hood, and wrapped it tight around me. Popping the collar up to at least attempt to stop the rain from running in around my neck I hunch over a bit run out into the rain heading towards the administrative building of the Legionnaires compound.

[Track V: Gunslinger]


--------------------
Position: Captain | Legionnaires
Callsign : Gunman
Current BattleMech : BattleMaster BLR-WL1 (Moradin) [85 tonnes Heavy]
Loadout : LB-10X AC, AC/5, ATM-3, 3x ER Medium Laser, 3x ER Small Laser (rear), Hardened Armour
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Lance Callahan
post Nov 9 2009, 10:54 PM
Post #11



LEGIONNAIRES | MechWarrior
Rank: MechWarrior



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Posts: 31
Joined: 18-December 05
Member No.: 13





Back at the STARSHIP Cantina
___________________________

"Hey. Wake up. You ok?"

"Mom?"

Everything was still hazy. If the man's face had contorted, I couldn't tell. Heck, he could have been ranting about the meaning of life and I wouldn't have picked up a word. Those words... they had sent me back into my past. Years back, the critical point of my life. Oh all I wanted to do was bask in that moment, to enjoy the images before me. Even if it was just an illusion of my mind, it was as real as all dreams were.

But no... I was here, I couldn't let myself seep back into regret. Time moved forward, not back, and if I kept dwelling on the past then I'd be left in it. I struggled to sit upright. It was a daunting task in its own right. Sure, I'd been in my own share of fights before. Even won a few. But that guy was drunk. He had no sense about him, he swung with every ounce of strength in his body with no regard for humanity. Ah, what it meant to be drunk; all or nothing, all for nothing.

What it meant was that my nose was probably broken. It didn't take a genius to understand what the seering pain and splattered blood meant. Fortunately, a broken nose heals in time. The drunkard would be suffering for that outburst for a long while, if the bartender's reaction was any indication.

My mind turned back to the matter at hand. This guy had went into the heat of battle and dragged me out of there and, though he could certainly have been gentler, had ensured I was still... alive, I guess. I owed him my gratitude, if nothing else.


"Thanks. I'll be fine, just a little blood. I owe you one, what's your name?"

[Track VI: You Ok?]
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MechWarrior Alex Thorn
post Nov 9 2009, 10:59 PM
Post #12



LEGIONNAIRES
Rank: MechWarrior



****

Group: LEGIONNAIRES
Posts: 175
Joined: 16-December 05
Member No.: 10





I'm gonna kind of start my character over a bit since we started over

I hit the streets in the pouring rain. Everyone on this stravag planet seemed to like me, even though I was no longer part of Clan Wolf-in-Exile. After failing my Trial of Position, I decided to head to the Inner Sphere to try and make a living for myself. Unfortunately not many people, or mercs, were looking for a Clan Mechwarrior.

I pulled my jacket, colored in black and orange in my former Clan's colors, closer over my neck. I looked both ways outside of the HQ for some small-time mercenary force. Not knowing where to go next I headed to my left, leaving my fate to The Founder.


"Will I ever find my place in this universe?"
, I muttered to myself.

Just as I was losing all hope I stumbled upon a gate to my left. I stopped and looked at the sign outside. It read "Legionnaires". I cocked my head to the side and thought why not? I pushed the buzzer on the outer speaker hoping someone was sitting at their station.

[Track VII: Lone Wolf]


--------------------
Position : Mechwarrior
Callsign :
Current BattleMech : Marauder IIC (Wolf's Teeth) [Assault]
Loadout: 3x ER PPC, 2x Medium Pulse Laser, 4x ER Small Laser
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Lieutenant Commander Marcus Braddock
post Nov 9 2009, 11:51 PM
Post #13



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Posts: 68
Joined: 10-June 07
Member No.: 218





The glass gently cooled the inside of my hand as chilled water splashed into it from the purifier, the gentle gurgling noise at once soothing and teasing, speaking volumes about it’s refreshing wetness to my throat, filled as it was with the bitter tang of Corporal Schusters’ smoke.
Water’s good like that. It can be many things at once. As good a liquid as any to be reliant on, I figure.
I tuned back into the unfolding conversation, unsure if I my presence was still required. From my vantage point in the far corner of the office, all I could see were the backs of both Schuster and the Captain – The Corporal sitting before the Captains' desk, listening as Maxwell rummaged around the various cabinets behind his desk and relayed the outcome of his trip to the MRBC.

“Think they’ll keep the appointment?” Schuster glanced up from a printout he was reading and placed it on the haphazardly cluttered workspace. I took a gulp of my water as the Corporal inhaled deeply from his cigarette. I savoured the sensation of the light, quick coolness spreading through my chest.
That’s why Nick was a good man, from what I could see. Not a lot could faze him, and consequently he could assimilate and apply information with a quicksure confidence. That and he seemed to have some level of disregard for formal rank obligations. I admire a man with chutzpah.
Ben glanced up at me and nodded at a chair as he replied. I complied and sank into one of the worn-down-but-functional affairs next to Schuster.

“I doubt it. Van De Graff phoned me after I got back, to tell me that Murlance is part of a task force bound for Styx that is due to shove off tomorrow morning. But in all actuality, that buys us some time.”
This had me confused. I thought we were hoping, if not relying on the MRBC’s blessing. The way Captain Maxwell put it though, sounded like he was happy with this turnout. That’d be just like Benjamin, too right. Some sort of hobbled-together plan or maverick new job, just in time to make payroll. Always worth a listen.
“Time to do what?” I asked blandly, jumping in front of Nick as he was opening his mouth to speak. A brief glint sparkled in Captain Maxwell’s eyes, as if he was pleased I asked. He deftly produced what he had been looking for behind his desk, and with a flourish sent a handful of photographs spinning onto to the desk in front of me.
That's another thing about this legionnaire crowd that surprises me; how well connected some of these them are. I don’t know where or how he’d acquired them, but the mixture of grainy, black and white shots, some aerial, some sub-orbital, clearly showed the massive proportions of a heavy battlemech on various open-air fields and undergoing various refits in some compound. I tentatively assumed whole group of photos to be of the same mech, at the same compound, although its location was a mystery to me as the shots were unmarked, even by date or organisation. Ben gave me and Schuster a few moments grace to look over them, then answered my question.

“To make that fake Stone Rhino we’ve got listed in our public inventory a reality.”
Nick, naturally, was unfazed.
“Maxwell, you sneaky –“
“A Stone Rhino? That’s some serious tonnage, sir.”
I, however, was.
“Yes, yes it is Talus. Which is what makes it such a valuable asset to us. With that kind of heavyweight on our side, it opens up a lot more contracts for us. Contracts that we need.”
I was intrigued. Very intrigued. I drained my glass, shrugged my jacket into a more comfortable position and leaned forward over the desk. Benjamin met my eyes steadily, the hint of glee flashing in them again.
“Sounds like a plan, sir.” I said evenly. “Enlighten me.”

[Track VIII: A Labor of Love]


--------------------
Position: Lieutenant Commander | Legionnaires
Current Battlemech: Catapult - "Jackal."
Loadout: - 2x Holly LRM 15 launchers (shoulder mounted).
- 4x Martell Medium Lasers (torso mounted).
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Commodore Benjamin Maxwell
post Nov 10 2009, 11:54 AM
Post #14



LEGIONNAIRES Founder
Rank: Captain



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Posts: 658
Joined: 15-December 05
From: Tau Ceti IV
Member No.: 1





Legionnaires Compound
New Foundation, Tau Ceti IV (New Earth)
April 14, 3067

__________________________________

I chuckled, and accepted the folder back from Talus, who stared across the desk at me in disbelief.

"I figured you might say that."

Talus took a long swig of his water, and leaned forward in his chair.

"How did you find out that the Kell Hounds even had a detachment operating on Saffel? With a Stone Rhino readily available, no less?"

I tossed the folder onto my desk, and folded my hands in my lap, smiling smugly.

"It's really quite remarkable how willing guns for hire are to sell information when one of their own goes rogue."

The MechWarrior shook his head.

"I won't argue with you on that one."

"You want the details?"

"Please."

I grinned.

"According to the Kell Hounds, one of their MechWarriors, a nut-job by the name of Hadrian "Fury" Isis, bitter over the overthrow of Archon Nondi Steiner and her forces by Peter Steiner-Davion and his Kell Hound allies, has gone rogue, taking a dropship and the two lances under his command, and fleeing into Draconis Combine space. Disguised as a detachment of the Davion-controlled Federated Commonwealth, he apparently intends to incite a major conflict between House Kurita and House Davion by launching a direct attack against Saffel - which is a planet that has historically been a major point of contention between the two factions.

"This has thrown the Kell Hounds into a panic. They cannot respond directly to this situation, because an incursion into Combine space by a traditionally Davion-loyal force would be looked upon by House Kurita as an act of war, even if they were there to prevent an incident. Beyond this, if it were to become public that a detachment of one of the largest, and most respected, mercenary units had gone rogue, it would be disasterous for both the Kell Hounds and the MRBC itself.

"With that said, the Kell Hounds have proposed that we get our hands dirty for them. They want us to track down and capture Captain Isis, and eliminate, with extreme prejudice, the remainder of his lance. The Kell Hound dropship needs to be destroyed to prevent it from falling into Kurita hands and being used as evidence to support a war.

Now, the Kell Hounds want this handled quietly. Neither House Kurita nor House Davion are to know of the nature of this mission. If we fail, the consequences could be catastrophic."

Talus balked visibly at the suggestion. "With all due respect, sir, we barely have enough fuel and ammo to carry out a contract here on New Earth, let alone halfway across the quadrant. As it stands now, we're paying back loans by taking out loans. I don't know that we can handle this one, especially with only one lance."

"Where does the Stone Rhino fit into all of this?" Schuster interrupted.

"The Rhino, as it would happen, is what proved to be Isis' undoing. The Kell Hounds had recently acquired it from a third party - don't ask - I don't know, and I don't want to know - and they had it warehoused on Outreach. When Isis lost his mind and decided to go vigilante, he stole the 'Mech and made off with it. What he didn't realize at the time was that the Kell Hounds had lo-jacked it. It was simply a matter of tracing the beacon's signal to its source in order to find him. The Kell Hounds are offering first right of salvage to it if we can pull the whole affair off."

"So all we need to do is travel to Saffel, hoping our intel is correct, and slug our way through Isis' defenders, grab both him and the Stone Rhino and run, all the while praying that the Draconis Combine doesn't have any reenforcements in the area."

"That's pretty much it."

The Corporal looked dubious.

"Let me see that report," he muttered, reaching for the folder. I slowly pressed it into his hand, casting him a reluctant look. Schuster glanced through it, finally pausing on the section marked 'Force Composition.'

"A Cyclops, an Anihillator, two UrbanMechs, a Bushwaker, a Black Hawk and an Uziel. Oh, and a coolant truck with accompanying recovery vehicle. Are they planning to sit out this little soiré?"

I grimaced.

"There is a very good possibility those assets will be present when we make planetfall."

"Another leap of faith?"

"Essentially. But I really don't see us having many other options. Our proficiency rating is dismal right now. It's the only contract anyone wants to offer us."

Schuster sighed, staring at the intelligence reports for several minutes before snapping the folder shut and tossing it onto my desk.

"What are your thoughts, gentlemen?"

[Track IX: Broken Arrow]


--------------------
Position: Senior Captain | Legionnaires
Current BattleMech: WHF-3B White Flame (Lothos) [Heavy - Quad]
Loadout: 1x Large Pulse Laser, 1x Medium Pulse Laser, 2x ER Medium Lasers, 1x Anti-Missile System, Jump Jets
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Corporal Nick Schuster
post Nov 10 2009, 12:17 PM
Post #15



Legionnaires | MechWarrior
Rank: Corporal



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Posts: 76
Joined: 24-December 05
From: Somewhere!
Member No.: 20





"Well, I - "

My thoughts were cut short as the intercom system at the vacant receptionist's desk began buzzing incessantly. Excusing myself from the office, I walked out to the lobby and jammed my finger down on the call button.

"Control. Schuster speaking."

Alex, this post is a response to yours.


--------------------
Position : Tech Specialist | LEGIONNAIRES
Callsign : MANTIS
Current BattleMech : LGN-01 Kit Fox [Light -35 Tons - 96.75 km/h max]
Loadout : [1x ER Large Laser] [1x Small Pulse Laser] [1x LB-X Autocannon/5 - Ammo: Slug (20 rounds)] [1x Streak SRM-2 (Improved OS) - Ammo: 50 Acid SRM-2 | 50 Anti-Personnel SRM-2] [CASE] [FireScan II with Multi-Trac II & IndirecTrac]
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