10 replies to this topic

[cmopatrick]

(well, hopefully Thom won't mind (if he does, I'll delete the thread), but I already have problems finding all the character bios and backstories from the ooc and signup thread: so I'm posting the same pieces I already have over there into this thread and maybe the rest of you will also.)

Character Profile(s):

Name: Lu Shen-zhong
Call Sign: Shark (Sha-Yu)
Role: Mechwarrior
DoB: 3010
Planet of Birth: Bandora
Shen is about 5'6” (1.67m) about 150lbs (about 68kg), strongly built, but not a weightlifter. His black hair is cut so close that it looks like a shadow on his head and attempts to grasp any individual hairs are pointless. His eyes are an odd color, black shot with an almost electric blue.

Name: Ellie Kasmov-Lu
Call Sign: none
Role: Crewchief/tech... and sometime surrogate mom/drill sergeant for Shen
DoB: 2974
Planet of Birth: Sian
Ellie is about 5'2” (1.57m) about 100lbs (just over 45kg), sinewy, and anything but a lightweight. Her jet black hair is usually braided down the back, with so few gray hairs that you would be forgiven for not noticing them. Her eyes are unexpectedly green with hints of sky blue.

Mech: Osprey OSP-16b (custom modified from the OSP-15)
Mass: 55 tons
Tech Base: Inner Sphere
Rules Level: Tournament Legal
Tech Rating/Era Availability: D/C-E-D
Production Year: 2750
Cost: 4,395,542 C-Bills
Battle Value: 1,281
Chassis: peacmeal Standard
Power Plant: Unknown 275 Fusion Engine
Walking Speed: 54.0 km/h
Maximum Speed: 86.4 km/h
Jump Jets: None
Armor: Unknown Standard Armor
Armament:
1 Ceres Arms Large Laser
4 Ceres Arms Medium Lasers

Bio(s):
…............

Winter Morning, early 3035
quiet office in the Ducal Palace
Yushui, Gei-Fu. Capellan Confederation

In front of me is a handwritten note lying atop a twenty-five year old Mechwarrior's dossier. While the rest of the material is obviously device generated, the very fact that this sheet of old fashioned paper with it's neatly drawn characters was even used testifies that it is significant enough that the author did not want to risk it entering into the computers. It reads thus:

Colonel Lu:

As ordered, I have evaluated the Mechwarrior and find him unfit for promotion to elevated rank. While showing flashes of brilliant potential, he seems unable to concentrate on his drills and is uninspired to work towards, let alone achieve, the excellence needed to take any command. In all, I find him to be average.

I am red-faced and anger boils as I reread those condemnatory sentences again. My orderly shrinks as if into his desk as he sees the reaction he knows all to well...
The main door opens and an adjutant announces, “Captain Kasmov-Lu.”
Captain Kasmov-Lu... my Aunt Ellie... enters with a firm step more appropriate to someone younger than sixty-something and taller than 5'2”. She strides to my desk, takes the seat across from me and stares through me with a look that would turn a jaguar into a house cat.
“Leave us,” I state, waving at my orderly to join the retreating officer... outside the room.
Set within a face of lines and textures more suited to a crocodile than a woman, her brilliant green eyes seem to evaluate me and I struggle to keep from reverting to the ten year old I was the last time we visited her home.
“Colonel Lu, I presume,” she smirks.
“Lu Tzu,” I reply with a deep bow. I hear her laughter before I am upright enough again to see that calculating expression.
“Master Lu, is it? Ha, what hole have you dug yourself into now, Joseph?”
I shake my head and get straight to the point, “It's Shen. I am pulling my hair out.”
She smiles, “Ah, yes. I remember my little warrior-poet great-nephew. I introduced him to Li Bai's poems.”
“Troublemaker,” slips out before I think about to whom I speak.
“Indeed. Adz saver, too, or I am very much mistaken.”
I hate it when she is so shrewd. Of course, she may just have excellent ways of finding out information, even though she just arrived on planet this morning.

My frustration from earlier returns and I toss the scrawled note towards her... she smiles as it slides across the polished desktop and falls uninterrupted to the floor.
“You were saying, Colonel.” She pronounces my rank like she might humor some second-grader who has an imagination greater than his stature would seem to allow.
“Average!” I nearly scream. “MY son is just Average?! Great-grandson of a Chancellor, scion of House Liao and he is an AVERAGE Mechwarrior?!!” Even as I say the words, I know I am at the edge of rage, humiliated by the failure of my third son to excel. “Uninspired! My only living son is UNINSPIRED to reach for rank or distinction!”
Her smile reminds me of some cartoon of a predator about to pounce on prey, “Yes, and as I remember, your other two are dead precisely because they were inspired and attempted to excel in combat when outnumbered and overwhelmed.”
“Yes, and they died with HONOR! Their records were stellar, unlike my last cub.” Too late, I realize I have all but spit these last words at her.
Her eyes show a bit of surprise, but her tone is even and almost deadly, “You forget yourself, Colonel.”
I'm sure my face has just flushed, it burns and tingles, but I need to get things right quickly...
She is continuing and I dare not interrupt, “I am daughter to Tormax Liao and the consort Lady Mei-Li, as was you own father, my younger brother. You will show respect or I will whisper you name in ears that should not hear it. Do you understand me?”
I bow low again and do not rise, “Yes, Lu Tzu.”

“You should have to grovel more, but I am tired and wish to go sleep off my reentry weariness. Proceed, Joseph.”
I raise myself and say, “Thank you, Lu Tzu.” I pick up the dossier and read from the front page, “Lu Shen-zhong, male, CCAF serial 247718-L268, graduated CWC 3031, 7th in a class of eighty Mechwarriors, Excellent marks in science and political studies, above average 'Mechwarrior skills, honors in Poetry and Classical Painting.” I catch myself rolling my eyes and try to stiffle it, Ellie likes those things and it will be harder to get her cooperation if I antagonize her further.
“What of his assignments and commanders?” she asks.
“They all have the same babble I see for any serving person with royal blood... not an honest line in any one of them... except this note.” I carefully lift the only other handwritten note in the file and read it to her, “Pilot Lu seems to struggle to pursue excellence. He is always proper, but never does more than needed to maintain his current station. We do not have the needed gravity to encourage him to strive for the achievements, respectfully request that Pilot Lu be transferred to the command of some near relative to assist in attitude adjustment.”

Now I have her attention.
“You did well to send for me, Joseph. What is your plan?”
“There is a former Colonel from CapCom who is putting something together for a mercenary unit. I served under him at one time and his reputation for pushing his troops is rightfully legendary. You were a Master Crew-Chief for many years...”
“And you want me to be the tech for Shen while on this soiree? His chief cook and bottle washer, too, I wager.” Her eyes have narrowed and she is calculating.
“Tech, yes. The other, no. Maybe the sting that gets him moving when no one else can.”
“What will he sit in?”
“I'm moving up and want to...”
“Give him your Osprey? The one from the Glorious Father?!”
“Yes.”

She shakes her head, “I want promotion to Major, active duty. Tell no one but Shen, he must know that when I order him he must do as I say.”
That was easy, I think while nodding. Or not...
“And I want a comfortable home on Lake Azure, no less that 2000 acres with full lakefront and an estate worthy of a daughter of Liao. When I return, I get full retirement as a Major.”
“Woah, I can't...”
She is getting angry again and her tone reflects that, “You will draw our orders up and have them ready for me to depart before you call for me again. If you do not, then I expect to be returned to my home on the morning dropship. Have I made myself clear?”
“You will look after him for...”
“No more than three years. Less if he gets killed.”
There is no question in her eyes, I must do it.
“Agreed.”
“Orders and papers by the morning, then, and get me a copy of that file.”
She rises and I know the meeting is over. I too rise and bowing offer, “Thank you, Lu Tzu.”
“Master Lu indeed,” she chuckles and turns towards the door.
This had better work, I will be spending nearly a quarter of my fortune for nothing it it fails.

.....................

OSP-16b background:

Originally an Osprey OSP-15, this 'Mech was captured by Capellan's during a raid in the First Succession War and given to House Liao as a tribute. Unfortunately, the Gauss had been rendered unusable and there was other significant damage dealt during its “acquisition”... it was stored away for more favorable times... and forgotten completely.

By the time it was returned to, knowledge and capabilities had deteriorated to the point that it was impossible to replace much of the technology that had made it so potent. The Gauss was replaced with a Ceres Arms Large Laser. The extra light power-plant was replaced with a common fusion engine, and most of the deteriorated Endo Steel frame was replaced with standard materials. Even the double heat sinks needed downgrading to singles. The huge loss of weight available left the techs responsible for getting the 'Mech out of its stable with a limited option set. After a failed attempt to replace much of the long range firepower with LRMs failed in the sluggish OSP-16, a shrewd young tech named Ellie Lu was given the assignment of creating a potent protector for support assets that would not add to the logistics burdens. She chose to boost the engine from a limited 220 to a 275, and equip the 'Mech as an all energy combatant with a fair heat profile, matching four Ceres Arms Medium Lasers with the single dorsal Ceres Arms Large Laser.

Many years later, Chancellor Maximilian Liao gave the 'Mech to a Captain Joseph Lu after the latter used it with great distinction and exceptional heroism in several battles. Coincidentally, Captain (now Colonel) Joseph Lu was (is) Captain Ellie Kasmov-Lu's (Tech Ellie Lu's) nephew.

.......................

Further Notes on Ellie Kasmov-Lu:

Ellie is the daughter of Tormax Liao (Maximilian Liao's dad and Chancellor before him) and a consort named Lu Mei-Li (not his wife, hence Ellie is not an actual heir) born about five years before Tormax actually became Chancellor (while his aunt Ingrid was still Chancellor). Colonel Joseph Lu's father is a younger brother of Ellie's. Ellie's power isn't inherited as much as it is that she has kept some very powerful friends at court whose ears she can (and does) "whisper" a name into and ruin a career. Ellie is almost a force of nature and is consistent with being a very strong but subtle woman. Joseph's original motivation at calling her out of her comfortable (but not opulent) retirement is that he thinks Ellie will get out of Shen what no one else can, without being too obvious about it.

Edited by cmopatrick, 21 April 2013 - 04:05 PM.

[cmopatrick]

I have an odd sensation as the dropship passenger door opens into the tunnel beyond: it is like I have been here before, though I certainly haven't. Decorated as if we were passing through a lush jungle, the back-lit tube offers an air-conditioned path of greens and blues wrapping about me as I join the line of travelers disembarking.
An unseen voice speaks as I pass onto the narrow walkway, saying, “Wolf's Dragoons welcome you to Outreach. Please feel free to visit our Hiring Hall for the best in combat contracting. As always, enjoy your stay.” I imagine the speaker is some bubbly teenage female, but can not imagine the face with such a nondescript lack of accent; maybe its just generated.
The atmosphere seem deliberately perfumed, perhaps to help hide the odors of those who did not take the reentry very well. Its not that it was particularly bad, but it was rough enough that some wear their morning meal on their clothing, while others seem to have had trouble retaining digested materials until the appropriate time. I pity the children, many still teary eyed, even though they seem on average to have done better than their parents.
I have a sense that I am entering a different place and time. Outreach had been Capellan for almost two hundred and fifty years, and was only granted to the Wolf's Dragoons less than five years ago by a Davion. Yet even in the long tunnel there are still hints of our hand in the building of this facility.
Still, in such a short time there is now an already famous Hiring Hall for the mercenary types to flock to, one already rivaling Comstar's MRB... and without the inflated fees the latter steals. As I continue, I wonder why I am here; unfortunately, I was given orders not requests and I will have to wait until my contact meets me with detailed instructions. I wonder at the half secrecy, I have had to travel out of uniform but I'm still traveling under my own name on a civilian commercial craft.
It doesn't make sense. Not much lately does. I have been relieved of my 'Mech assignment and transferred from the Hussars to my father's CCAF command on Gei-Fu, yet I was ordered here instead.
It's probably good I didn't have to face him, I know he wants me to be more than just a warrior poet, but I’m content. Why does he have to be disappointed so easily. It's not like he will need me to provide for he and mother in their old age, I bet he owns a quarter of Gei-Fu by now... or at least enough that he will never need the pittance I would make.

Unbidden, a poem springs to life:

Father, frowning, unsatisfied.

Why so sour?

Crane wings sweep sons

Like blowing chaff.

Cherish one not dead,

Smile unfrowning on me.

I feel a sadness that comes often when I think of him; proud Colonel Lu would likely be ashamed to be called “dad” by one such as me. Contentment is anathema to him, just as naked ambition is to me.

The tunnel finally opens out into a modern terminal, the kind that services not only dropships, but various civilian aircraft and various ground transit modes as well. In spite of the climate controls, there is a feeling of humidity in the air that reflects the warm lush world beyond the widows. All about are modest “improvements” disguising the classical bones of our older Capellan architecture.
My directions are almost unnecessary, this terminal is Capellan functional, no matter how much face-lift it has gotten; I could find my way to the transports even with my eyes closed.
“Mister Lu?” A civilian asks looking up from a pad. He seems to be expecting me, but I was told my contact would be a woman. He repeats himself, though without the question, “Mister Lu. Welcome to Outreach, please follow me.”
This is unexpected, but I realize a thrill of adrenaline at the unknown and decide to play out whatever this might be. “Lead on, sir.”
He smiles, tucks his pad into some inner pocket, turns, and walks briskly away from the transit connections. I follow. The lad is effortlessly setting a good pace and even though shorter than I is making me work to keep up. I realize too late he is walking directly towards a security checkpoint... I am to be considered a spy, am I not?
My breath comes harder the closer I am, but I do not slow. Am I doing anything to make myself conspicuous? Have I actually done anything wrong? What will father think of me now?

Surprisingly, he walks to a doorway slightly right of the checkpoint and motions me to follow as he keys in a pass-code of some kind and waves something small over the wall. The door opens to reveal a small enclosed gangway to something I can't see. Down we walk until it ends in a small bulbous chamber... with a hovercar attached to a hatchway in the floor.
“What about my bags?” I ask.
Without a word, he descends into the driver's seat. There is a ladder-like device that I use to lower myself into the passenger seat beside him. The craft blowers spin up and I feel the negative gravity effects of the buoyant cushion of air. Above me, the gangway retracts and our hatch closes.
Moments later, we are speeding along a sunken roadway, light filtering in through the heavy grate that forms our ceiling. Above I see we are passing near enough to several dropships that I imagine I can see faces on their observation decks. Finally, we clear the long isolation of the corridor and rise to skim at normal elevation above the planet.

“Your bags are being transferred to your temporary quarters, Mister Lu,” he says without preamble. “I am taking you to meet a rather impressive woman.”
“Ah,” I begin, “and do you know who she is?”
“I was told not to ask so I could honestly answer you with a 'no'.”
Interesting. Back to the cloak and dagger stuff again. But why the mystery? “Can you describe her, then?” I query.
Laughing, he shakes his head.
“Not even going to tell me if she is cute?”
Chuckling rather on the edge of uncontrollably, he finally replies, “You will have your answer soon enough, sir.”
I look back out the window at the countryside speeding by... and try very hard to take my mind off the questions that seem to swirl around this whole thing.

It has been maybe thirty minutes, but we finally reach a nice unpretentious bungalow in what seems a comfortable neighborhood. We glide to a private entrance and my side door opens without my bidding.
I look over at my chauffeur and simply offer, “Thanks.”
“No problem,” he responds. “Good luck.”
I step out and he is gone.
Taking in my surroundings, I spot a woman looking out at a garden of some sort, maybe twenty meters away. The sun is on her back, revealing beautiful long jet hair tumbling from a knot and reaching almost to her waist. A nice waist, too, curves where they are most appealing and no hint of improper weight. This might be a very enjoyable trip after all, even if the rest of it is a frustration.
I call out, “Hello?” as I walk her way.
Turning, she replies with, “Welcome, Shen.”

I stop in my tracks as I see her face... “Aunt Ellie?”

.............................

Dear Nephew:
Your son has arrived and is ready for his vacation.
He seems healthy, though perhaps a little flabby. I will try to keep him away from cake and cookies and get him exercising while he is here. I have spoken with the riding instructor you indicated and he thinks the child has potential to compete. He also agrees the horse you sent will serve well in the ring, once the little one has gained enough self-confidence.
Presuming your permission, I have enrolled him in Mr. Black's training class and they will be introduced tomorrow. I will write soon with more details and your son's progress.
How is your wife? I trust the weather is getting better for her health. I so look forward to having both of you over to my place by the lake before too long. Have fun with the family.
Aunt Ellie.

Edited by cmopatrick, 21 April 2013 - 03:54 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Good looking out, CMO. I had to go through the OOC page just to jot down everybody's data. You have any objection with me adding notable NPC's on here for quick reference?

[Sparks Murphey]

Name: Sasha Bibikov

Callsign: Fractal

Date of Birth/Age: August 26th, 3009 (25 years old)

Current Mech: Clint CLNT-2-3T

House Affiliation: House Liao

Military History:
3027 - Sarna RTC
3028 - Recruit Company, Sarna Militia
3032-34 - 5th McCarron’s Armored Cavalry

Physical Description: Short, thin and wiry. His black hair has a tendency to dramatically spike itself when not constrained by a neurohelmet or other headwear, so he tends to wear an assortment of hoods, beanies and hats to keep it in line. He walks with a slight limp courtesy of the Fourth Succession War.

Open Background: Sasha was born on Sarna, the son of a corporate lawyer and a civil engineer. At 18, he applied for positions at both the Capella War College and the Sian Center for Martial Disciplines, but was turned back from both at the entrance exam. Instead, he enrolled in the Sarna Regional Training Center.

He had just finished his first year there when the Fourth Succession War arrived. Sasha and his fellow students were organised into a rough company to augment the four regiments of McCarron’s Armored Cavalry already on world. Though theoretically the students were meant to keep out of major conflict (a privilege afforded by the MAC’s early trouncing of the invaders), during a support action against a recon element, Sasha’s lance came under heavy artillery fire. His Wasp was destroyed and he was out of action for the next 3 months while surgeons repaired his left leg. Sasha was evacuated with the rest of the Capellan forces, leaving his family behind on Sarna.

Following the Fourth Succession War, Sasha continued his training on Gei-Fu, but dropped out to take a brief tilt at the Solaris arenas. He returned to the Confederation with a Clint in mid-’32 to join the MAC’s rebuilding efforts. Sasha served as a skirmisher and striker in the 5th Regiment for two years, before heading out on his own for a spell.

Deep Background: During the fighting on Sarna, Sasha’s father, Robert, covertly assisted the invaders by supplying them with metropolitan maps of infrastructure. Sasha learned of this just prior to his evacuation and hasn’t yet had a chance to resolve the issue between himself and his father.


***


The Minstrel’s Gutters
Card, 2nd Moon of Jonzac
Early 3035

The shrapnel and debris looked wrong. Benny had explained it before, that it was a result of the zero atmosphere that made the debris from the barrages arc so perfectly and neatly, and on an intellectual level, Sasha got that. His eyes were still astounded every time he beheld the spectacle in person, though.

As the last of the 5 shell artillery volley impacted on the crest of the ridge, Sasha signalled to his partner on this op, Ronnie “Highball” Vu-Pham in his Assassin, using his Clint’s left hand to make giant versions of infantry hand signs to prevent them unnecessarily emitting radiation. The two were moving before the dirt had finished its lazy fall to the ground, and it pattered off Sasha's canopy like a heavy rainstorm.

As they crested the ridge, Sasha got his first direct sight of the enemy he’d been stalking for the last ten minutes. Taking shelter in a sharp gorge were a BattleMaster, a JagerMech, a Grasshopper and a Centurion, waiting for the last of the artillery to die away. Each was painted in a grey-brown camo that blended with the surrounding terrain, with the lightning-and-bullet insignia of the Illician Lancers on the arm.

“Hitting targets now,” Sasha radioed, firing a quick burst of AC/5 rounds into the back of the BattleMaster. Beside him, a flight of missiles flew from the Assassin into the back of the assault. Fragments of armour flew from the machine, though it was slow to turn, so Sasha flipped open the ports on his medium lasers and added a pair of emerald beams to the mix. The Centurion was obviously paying attention, though, and whipped around, it’s autocannon barking a response. The two heavies turned to face their attackers as well.

Well, that went nicely, Sasha thought to himself, backing the Clint behind the the ridge. The JagerMech’s cannons flashed, and a pair of shells pounded against his ‘Mech’s left torso.

“Got them turning, Benny,” Sasha reported.

“Roger. Joining the dance now,” came the reply.

Highball was turning his Assassin left and Sasha joined him, the two mediums bobbing and weaving at full speed along the ridgeline. The Grasshopper still seemed a little preoccupied, so Sasha fired another burst of rounds at the larger machine. It seemed to do the trick, as the Grasshopper replied with a full salvo from it’s lasers. Most of the punch was taken out of the lasers by the long range, but the large laser scored a gash across his front armour, and his cockpit window temporarily went dark as it polarised to shield against the touch of a medium. They might not do much against his armour at this range, but they were still powerful enough to char him alive if they got into the cockpit.

“Hey, Benny, you’re aware this is a swing not a waltz, right?” Sasha jibed.

“Yeah, what are you fatsos doing over there, anyway?” Highball threw in.

“Sometimes a little slow grace is more impressive than whatever that jittery nonsense you’re up to is,” Benny shot back.

And grace it was. Benny’s Thug, accompanied close at hand by Pocket’s Warhammer, mounted the ridge on the far side of the enemy and, as if in a single action, unleashed four simultaneous PPC blasts into the back of the BattleMaster. The large machine stumbled forward, righted itself, only to be hit again by a veritable wall of SRMs. Something inside it caught, and the machine violently tore itself to pieces, one piece the pilot’s ejection seat rocketing into the black sky. Sasha wondered if the FedRat would reach orbit in this low gravity.

The formation of the remaining three Davies was falling apart, individual pilots making individual decisions about what to do and where to go next. Sasha took a parting shot at the Grasshopper, then ducked back down below the ridgeline. If they wanted him, they’d have to come and get him.

“We’re back in cover, Benny, how’s it look on your side?”

“The Jager is coming up to play. The Cent’s joining him,” Benny reported, “Looks like the ‘Hopper has decided you’re more interesting.”

“Hmph. Highball, circle north, keep an eye out for the Grasshopper. I’ll head south,” Sasha said over the direct link.

Their two machines parted, both twisted to watch the ridge. The lack of sound was unsettling; Sasha could see the flashes of fire from the nearby skirmish, along with the occasional missed shot, but the absence of atmosphere meant the only sound that reached him was transmitted distantly through the ground, and the Clint’s own footfalls mostly muffled that.

Where the blazes was this Grasshopper?

Sasha decided that he ought to crest the ridge again. He wanted to know where the Grasshopper had got to, and even if it had decided to be boring and not engage, he could at least drop some ordnance on the backs of the other Davies.

“Highball, I’m cresting again. I’ll...oh, shrimp.”

The Grasshopper was just a few dozen metres away, the woman inside it’s cockpit blister visibly recoiling from their sudden meeting. Sasha dodged the Clint to the right, twisting that way as well, and the heavy machine’s lasers glanced off his left side.

“Found the Grasshopper, on my position” he called, taking a swing at his foe’s head with his fist. The Grasshopper swatted the punch away with it’s right arm and delivered a punch with its other that slammed into his right shoulder. With the low gravity, the blow was enough to lift his 40 ton machine off the ground and throw it a dozen metres backwards. Sasha absently checked his oxygen mask; a blow like that to the head could open the cockpit to the unfriendly vacuum outside.

His autocannon barking, Sasha started a fast orbit of the Grasshopper, interspersed with little hops and turns with his jump jets to keep the Davy guessing. The Grasshopper spat back with it's medium lasers, adding a volley of missiles to the mix.

Must have them a bit rattled if they’re shooting LRMs at this range, Sasha thought, Wait... that’s not five tubes... “Highball, the Grasshopper is short range, SRMs instead of LRMs, he radioed.

"Roger, Fractal, do you want me to close or hang back and hit him?"

Another battery of lasers speared out, cutting into his ‘Mech’s left arm. Sirens went off and his battle computer informed him that he’d taken critical damage to the upper actuators. Most other chassis would be overheating after unleashing that amount of damage, but that was the thing about Grasshoppers: they packed a crazy amount of heat sinks.

He couldn’t afford to prolong the fight. “Come in close, orbit anti-clockwise. Try to chew up the right torso, with any luck she didn’t move the bin.”

“Roger.” A flight of missiles accompanied Highball’s reply, detonating against the Grasshopper’s back.

The two mediums set about a circling dance around their larger foe, repeatedly stabbing at the right torso until the yellow-hot armour sagged and dribbled like wax. For its part, the Grasshopper finished its job on Sasha’s arm, cutting it off just above the elbow. Not that he needed it, but it would be a pain to reattach. Finally, the internal structure of the Grasshopper’s right side collapsed, denying it an arm but failing to produce the ammo explosion Sasha had hoped for.

“Fractal and Highball, if you two are quite finished sightseeing, you’re welcome to join our fight any time,” Benny piped in.

“Just a second, Benny, I need to grab a photo of this lady shoving her foot up my a**,” Sasha shot back, “Highball, new plan. Take her right leg.”

This close in, it was hard to get his torso-mounted lasers to aim low enough to hit the Grasshopper’s leg, though at least it took away the temptation to overheat. The autocannon had less trouble, it’s rounds biting into the armour of the leg. Highball added his own medium laser and SRMs, though a few of the missiles went wide and nearly hit Sasha's Clint instead.

“Hey, careful there.”

“Sorry, too busy trying not to be lunch!” Highball replied.

Sasha could see the problem. The Grasshopper, apparently content with taking his arm, had decided to rededicate itself to exterminating Highball’s Assassin. The smaller ‘Mech’s frontal armour was crisscrossed with laser cuts. The other thing he could see, though, was the exposed structure of the Grasshopper's right leg, which looked far more promising.

“Timber!” he shouted, taking a running leap and planting both feet squarely on the side of the Grasshopper’s knee. It would have been a damaging enough normally, but 40 tons hitting the already weakened joint was enough to break it in two. The Clint and the Grasshopper went down in a heap.

“Leave her,” Sasha said, scrambling his ‘Mech to its feet, “She’s not going anywhere.”

Returning to the fight, it was clear that Benny and Pocket had fared well in their fight. Though Pocket’s Warhammer was looking low on armour on the front, the JagerMech’s ammunition bins were on fire (another bizarre sight in the low gravity, zero atmosphere environment) and the Centurion was struggling to hold its own against Benny’s Thug. It’s pilot must have heard about the Grasshopper’s defeat, because the Davy was trying to fallback and disengage.

“Looks like he’s running,” Benny observed, “Fractal, Highball, run him down for me, would ya?”

“No problem, Benny,” Sasha said, drawing a bead on the comparatively slow Centurion. It was moments like these he prized the Clint’s Sloane 220 Lockover targeting system. Despite being four hundred years old, and in defiance of the Clint’s otherwise less-than-sterling construction, it was a fine piece of equipment. Within moments, he had a readout on the Centurion’s damage so far: like most experienced Centurion pilots, he’d twisted and spread the damage across the side and arms, with little of it hitting the vulnerable areas over the reactor and gyro. It looked like a fairly standard build, though, and that meant the most-likely-untouched LRM ammo would be in the now exposed left torso. He aimed carefully, and fired off a series of shells...

This time it worked, and worked so spectacularly, Sasha almost felt sorry for the Davy. Almost. Rather than just exploding, the missiles seemed to ignite, spinning the ‘Mech up off its feet for a moment before pile driving it back into the dusty ground. That was when their warheads went off, scattering parts of the Centurion in a million directions, just in time for Highball’s flight of LRMs to arrive and add a final insult.

“Salvage, get some trucks over here to pick up what they can,” Benny called, “We’ve also got a prisoner, so we’ll need an air bridge and armed guards. Good work, boys.”


***


DropShip Steel Fate
Card, 2nd moon of Jonzac
Early 3035

As usual, the ‘Mechs were the last in. The salvage teams had cycled through the airlock while Sasha and the rest of his lance stood guard. In some ways, it was something of a pointless exercise: with the small radius of the moon and it’s lack of atmosphere, the DropShip would spot any approaching enemies well before they got in range, and could probably fight off anything that the BattleMechs could. Nothing came, though, and eventually Sasha was watching the external air pressure gauge climb from inside the main airlock.

The mechbay was busier than usual, the ramp rats scurrying to secure everything they could. The machines of lances One and Three were safe in their alcoves, which was odd because Three were meant to be out on a recon op scouting their next target.

“Hey, Benny,” Sasha said over the comm, “Are we expecting to go somewhere?”

“I’ll brief you in ten.” Which almost certainly meant yes.

He backed the Clint into its alcove and began powering it down, as a pair of astechs started attaching the chains that would hold the giant in place during flight. Another indicator that they were going to be underway sooner than anticipated.

Xin Alevina, his tech, was waiting for him when he stepped out onto the gantry. “Missing something?” She asked, looking meaningfully at the stump of his Clint’s left arm.

Sasha waved it off. “Nah, I know exactly where it is. See? Highball’s got it safe and sound.” He pointed across the bay to Highball’s Assassin, carrying his detached limb.

Xin grabbed the mic on her lapel. “Peter, Wei, make sure that arm Highball has got gets strapped down somewhere safe.”

“Xin, what’s going on?” Sasha asked, leaning casually against the railing, “Are we weighing anchor?”

“Officially, I don’t know. Orders came down about an hour ago that we were to make ready for flight,” Xin replied, “Unofficially, I’d say it looks like we’re going to be leaving the system.”

Sasha scowled. “Leaving? Why? Don’t tell me the Davies are sending reinforcements.”

Xin shrugged. “Don’t ask me, they don’t keep us in the loop about things like that. Looks like you're about to get your answer, though.”

Across the bay, Sergeant Sui-Hung Franklin, “Benny” to her troops, was climbing atop her Thug with a bullhorn.

“Listen up, people,” she said, her voice echoing in the metal hall. Work stopped and machines fell silent as people turned to listen. “In case some of you haven’t guessed, yes, we’re withdrawing from Jonzac. Don’t worry, we’re not expecting anyone en route to the JP.

“We’ve done a good job out here. The Illician Lancers are hurting, they’ve lost ‘Mechs, they’ve lost facilities. More importantly, they’ve lost respect, because the AFFC high command know that if they send the Lancers up against the MAC, they’ll lose. So for now at least, their threat is silenced.

“In the meantime, there’s another threat. As you may know, the Duchy of Andurien has decided they’re a big player in the Inner Sphere, and decided to tackle the CapCon. The 2nd and 4th MAC have gone over there to give them a lesson in how wrong they are. And like us, they’re winning. As they push forward, though, a certain man who likes to think himself a fox might decide that this side of the realm is undefended. Well, we’re going to camp on it and make sure he doesn’t.

“Alright, that’s all I’ve got for you for now. Dismissed!”

Sasha was already scampering down to the lower deck, taking the rungs of the ladder four at a time in the low gravity.

“Benny!” he called, dodging past a loader as he caught up to her. “Benny! This is crazy! Are we really running home right when we’ve got the FedRats on the back foot?”

“They’re aren’t all on their back foot, Fractal, just the Lancers. The rest of the Federated Suns probably doesn’t know we’re here yet,” Benny said, climbing the steps to the crew deck, “Trust me, I want to hurt the FC too. McBride? He does too. Heck, I don’t think you’ll find an officer in the MAC who’s not itching to put the hurt on them.”

“So you think this will be a temporary thing?” Sasha asked skeptically.

Benny looked him over. “Yeah. But I don’t think in the way you’re hoping. My guess, we head back to Menke for a bit, then ship out to somewhere close but a little bit back from the border, like Harloc or Relevow. Wait for the FS to be open and this thing with Andurien to die down, then hit ‘em. But it could be years, or decades.”

“And meanwhile, they sit on a third of our worlds,” Sasha added with a scowl.

“Yep. And it stinks,” Benny agreed, “But the MAC can’t do anything about that, not yet. If we tried to wrest even a single planet back, we’d get clobbered by their combined might. You really want to keep putting the hurt on Davy? Join a smaller merc group, one that can afford to do smaller raids, and hit them that way.”

“I might just do that, you know.”

“I’m not standing in your way. In fact, if you do, give ‘em a few hits for me. Just remember, you’re not going to win back Sarna like that. And the MAC will be always be waiting for you to come back.”

[cmopatrick]

Thom Frankfurt, on 21 April 2013 - 04:33 PM, said:

... You have any objection with me adding notable NPC's on here for quick reference?

not at all, please feel free. I was just trying to make it easier for us to keep track until we are enough into it to have everyone memorized. we need to get to know some of the NPCs as well, so why not?

[dal10]

Name: Kasuga Matsumoto - i had some personality issues i wanted to use but required the character to be a gal - see deep bio (note that this section may be completely removed as it can be considered offensive, but as a rule i tend to make my characters with a lot of baggage, lends itself to the character in my opinion (well not counting janus, at least i hadn't had time to give him any considering his naivety)) . also note this is the first time i have RPed a gal, may not work out well, in which case i will think of what to do later.

Callsign: Trek

Date of Birth/Age: 3009 - 26 years of age

Current Mech:



Phoenix Hawk PXH-1D

Mass: 45 tons
Tech Base: Inner Sphere
Chassis Config: Biped
Rules Level: Introductory
Era: Age of War/Star League
Tech Rating/Era Availability: D/C-E-D
Production Year: 2586
Cost: 4,057,390 C-Bills
Battle Value: 1,083

Chassis: Earthwekrks PXH Standard
Power Plant: GM 270 Fusion Engine
Walking Speed: 64.8 km/h
Maximum Speed: 97.2 km/h
Jump Jets: Rawlings 45
Jump Capacity: 180 meters
Armor: Durallex Light Standard Armor
Armament:
1 Harmon Large Laser
2 Harmon Medium Lasers
Manufacturer: Earthwerks Incorporated, Coventry Metal Works, Achernar BattleMechs, Gorton, Kingsley, and Thorpe Enterpises
Primary Factory: Keystone (Earthwerks), Coventry (CMW), New Avalon (Achernar), New Oslo (GKT)
Communications System: Neil 6000
Targeting and Tracking System: Octagon Tartrac System C

================================================================================
Equipment Type Rating Mass
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Internal Structure: Standard 75 points 4.50
Engine: Fusion Engine 270 14.50
Walking MP: 6
Running MP: 9
Jumping MP: 6 Standard
Jump Jet Locations: 3 LT, 3 RT 3.00
Heat Sinks: Single Heat Sink 12 2.00
Heat Sink Locations: 1 LL, 1 RL
Gyro: Standard 3.00
Cockpit: Standard 3.00
Actuators: L: SH+UA+LA+H R: SH+UA+LA+H
Armor: Standard Armor AV - 128 8.00

Internal Armor
Structure Factor
Head 3 6
Center Torso 14 23
Center Torso (rear) 5
L/R Torso 11 18
L/R Torso (rear) 4
L/R Arm 7 10
L/R Leg 11 15

================================================================================
Equipment Location Heat Critical Mass
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Medium Laser LA 3 1 1.00
Large Laser RA 8 2 5.00
Medium Laser LA 3 1 1.00
Free Critical Slots: 35

BattleForce Statistics
MV S (+0) M (+2) L (+4) E (+6) Wt. Ov Armor: 4 Points: 11
6j 2 2 0 0 2 0 Structure: 4
Special Abilities: ENE, SRCH, ES, SEAL, SOA




House Affiliation: Ex-Kurita

Military History: Sun Zhang academy 3028-3031 (last year is partial)
11th Legion of vega 3031-3034 Station: Land's End - 3rd Battalion - Second Company- 3rd lance - Charger Battlemech

Physical Description: Kasuga stands at a meager 5'3" and weighs in at 114 lbs or 51.7 kilograms. She has olive skin and a small frame. She tends to wear baggier clothing to cover her curves and small-mid size chest. She generally wears a baggy tanktop that shows off her rather well developed biceps (muscle is noticeable, but not giant) (it is made of breathable material so she wears it underneath the cooling vest) , with full length pants secured with a tight belt and a pair of plated gloves (aka brass knuckles built into the gloves) Standard footwear is a cutdown version of the mechwarrior boots that are jointed to allow for easier running. her hair tends to go down just far enough to frame her face, but is short and layered, making it both practical in the cockpit and difficult to grab. (both gender appropriate and practical)

Open Background: Kasuga was born in 3009 on the planet of Benjamin to a Tai-sa of the 6th Benjamin Regular's who desperately wanted a son. However, since at that time Kasuga was his only child (she would have a brother born when she was 17), he settled for training her in the ways of the samurai. Kasuga excelled in her training, both in kendo and in the code of bushido. However, as girls were not considered samurai, she had to fight male prejudice her entire life. At the age of 19 she was accepted into Sun Zhang Academy, the premier war college in the Combine (she has been dethroned as familly heir at this point, but it is really a foot note as she is completely denounced by her father later). Her acceptance into the college was less of a recognition of her skills and tenacity than it was a pity from the headmaster, who had issues with her family, something about some great uncle of hers killing some grand-something or other of his (honor grudges last forever and start for the silliest reasons). He felt certain that she would fail at the university and be sent back to her family in shame. Instead, Kasuga did fairly well in the college, consistently scoring in the middle of the class for her year, which understandably pissed a lot of the samurai wannabes off (while simultaneously making her father proud of her). This state of being existed for the next two and a half years, until a training excercise pitted a company of recruits against a company of instructors. The group hatched a plan to work together to defeat the instructors (the rule was win, but don't violate bushido which means do not interrupt 1v1 matches <- foreshadow). by concentrating fire, they took out several of the instructors before they could react to the tactics. however one recruit didn't get the memo, instead challenging one of them to a 1v1 duel. As said recruit was about to lose, Kasuga, who wanted to beat the instructors while not losing a person, fired on and took out the instructor (ks ftw). This deeply offended the academy, as such conduct was not befitting that of an elite samurai of the Combine. As such the headmaster, finally having an excuse, expelled her. Upon hearing the news her father denounced all ties to her.

However the DCMS still kept around a disgraced samurai, exiling her to the 11th legion of vega. There she served in the second lance of the third company, third battalion. Stationed on Land's End to deal with pirate raiders, she piloted an ancient charger. after about three years, Land's End was set upon by some salvagers, looking over a remote section of the planet that was part of battles dating back to the age of war. the Sho-Sa in charge of the unit ordered an attack on the salvagers, sending 3rd company to deal with them. Unwilling to sacrifice what little honor she had left by attacking the peaceful salvagers, she turned on her own command, deciding her honor before her duty to the dragon. The company suffered heavy losses, including the death of its commander at Kasuga's hand. Kasuga's Charger was lost in the fighting and she was found unconscious in her chair by the salvagers. As thanks for helping them they took her with them. Gifting her with a functional Kyudo battlemech, albeit downgraded, they took her out of the combine and down into davion space, where she hired out her services as a mercenary, as fighting was all she knew how to do. (que story)


Deep Background: no longer redacted, though still may offend some. (my original draft actually went into much greater detail for this section, but i don't think pgi would appreciate the subject matter so i went with a lite version.

Spoiler

Disclaimer: if i could have thought of a better background device to make my character the way i wanted her to be, i would have used it. i could not




while officially, as claimed by both her and the survivors of her company, she turned on the unit due to her perceived injustice of the attack on the salvagers, in reality she had completely different motives for turning her back on her unit. The legions of vega are widely known to be dumping grounds for malcontents and unhonourable warriors. It is for all intents and purposes scum who is given the opportunity to die for the combine. As such, they tend to be loose morally. Women in particular tend to be incredibly rare in the DCMS, let alone the Legion (samurai honor codes). as such, she tended to be lusted for by the men of the unit, though she heavily resisted any and all advances. Once assigned to the third company she had to deal with her past. The commander of the battalion was rejected from entering Sun Zhang Academy. As such he had an intense dislike of any warriors who had attended the academy, this is what got him thrown into the legion.in the first place. Now came along a Sun Zhang dropout and a women to boot. A woman had gotten an honor that he had been denied. As such he did his best to break her. He ordered her company to take "liberties" with her. one at a time, When the opportunity came to leave her life behind she gladly took it, knowing that either she would die or escape her personal hell. The result is that now she heavily distrusts men and will tend to strike out at them if they touch her.

Edited by dal10, 06 May 2013 - 02:09 PM.

[ChaosGrinder]

I´ll expand the background here via diary entrys.

Name: Meredith McCann

Callsign: Cypher

Age: 25

Mech: Half-destroyed Firefly. Restrained digital cammo. Cramped, stuffed Cockpit.

Appearance : Ginger and short, brown eyes, Glasses. Long, curly, slightly messy hair, freckles, usually wears light clothes, mostly barefoot, was called Mad Mox for her hobby of wearing and making latex clothing. ( Also sells custom made clothes for a few extra credits).

Background: Born and raised on Isle of Skye on upper middle class, she was raised bilingual, graduated as mech pilot ( plus scout certificate, although that was a mere D ), went out to join a merc group fighting in the far regions of space, close to the periphery. Adapting the lifestyle of the group she was fighting with she started smoking and drinking, clubbing and enjoying life from a rather dark side. It wasn´t for long until they started shady buisness, smuggling, and the like. But the new found wealth didn´t last for long.
During a raid on a corporate-run junkyard, they where detected and only 3 of 8 survived the following fight. Left for dead and without mech, she had the had little choice but to search the yard. And this time her luck didn´t fail her. She managed to bring a half-decayed Firefly back online and with that barely walking, unarmed mech she made an escape to solaris, where she lived for half a year, selling her clothes and even opening her own small shop. But the settled life was to peaceful for her and she decided to heat out again. Leaving Solaris behind her, she made her way off planet and into adventure.

Equipment : Glasses, Multitool, matches, cigarettes, boot knife.

Misc: Can play guitar acceptable, usually sews in her free time.

[Spokes]

Name: Guō Chāo

Callsign: Shrike (Bó​-Láo​)
Role: Aerofighter Pilot

Date of Birth: July 1st, 3009
System of Origin: Sirius

Citizenship: Capellan Confederation
Caste: The Directorship

Height: 155 cm
Weight: 54 kg

Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown

Physical Appearance: Short and stocky, with a roundish face and pronounced bone structure. Her thick hair is kept short, often pulled into a small top knot.

Open Background: Guō Chāo is the daughter of a wealthy planetary official and a minor noble. The youngest of eight children, Chāo was slated for military service at a young age in order to earn her citizenship and help fulfill the family's obligations to the Confederation. She was attending the State military academy on Tikonov in 3026 when mercenary raiders in the service of the Free Worlds League attacked her homeworld. The Liao defenders were defeated wholesale, and the planetary government surrendered. Her Mother and five of her siblings were killed during the raid.

In the wake of the attack, her Father and surviving brothers were brought before a Court of Tolerance and tried and convicted for cowardice and treason. All three were stripped of their citizenship and have since disappeared. It is presumed they were executed.

Chāo's father, seeing which way the winds were blowing, transferred most of the family wealth to his youngest daughter a mere month before he was arrested. Chāo herself was never charged, and the legal precedent exempting CCAF service members from taxation blocked initial attempts at seizing the family fortune.

Her military training was cut short at the outbreak of the 4th Succession War, and Chāo was reassigned to a small Chartered Mercenary command newly created by the CCAF A&T. That command was in turn assigned to the Tikonov Commonality, and saw a single heavy engagement before the Commonality broke away from the Confederation. Chāo's commanders subsequently signed a new contract with the Tikonov Free Republic. This had the effect of removing Chāo from official military service to the Confederation, and the State was swift to levy enough special taxes to claim all of the transferred assets, save for her Aerofighter.

After three years of garrison duty, Chāo's unit disbanded their Aerofighter squadron to save money. The affected pilots attempted to operate on their own, signing a short-term contract with a small corporation in the Sirius system. Facing mounting financial problems at the conclusion of the contract, her fellow pilots disbanded and sold their fighters. Chāo spent the last of her money on transport to Outreach.

Deep Background: Unbeknownst to her, Chāo's father and her two brothers are alive and were being held as Servitors at the subterranean labor camp on Brighton when the St. Ives Commonality broke away during the 4th Succession War. Their current status is unknown.

Aerofighter: TR-7 Thrush

Spoiler

Tonnage: 25 tons
Frame: Mujika Aerospace Type 12
Engine: Rawlings 250
Armament: 3 Kajuka Type 2 "Bright Blossom" Medium Lasers
Communication System: Endicott Type 22 Maser
Targeting/Tracking System: Dwyerson Mark XI
Standard Thrust Rating: 1,470 kN
Emergency Thrust Rating: 2,205 kN

Thrust: 12
Overthrust: 18
Structural Integrity: 12

Engine: 250 --------------- 12.5 tons
Fuel: 75 -------------------- 5 tons
Cockpit: -------------------- 3 tons
Armor: 24+10 ------------- 1.5 tons
Heat Sinks: 10 ------------- 0 tons

Armor:

Cockpit: 10
Nose: 5
Wings: 4/4
Fuselage: 5
Engine: 6

1 Medium Laser --------- Nose
1 Medium Laser --------- Right Wing
1 Medium Laser --------- Left WIng

Intro Story

Spoiler

Sirius V, Sirius
Sarna March, Federated Suns
January 23rd, 3035

The ancient ridge lifts almost a hundred meters off the surrounding plains. Composed mostly of water ice, its dirty red-gray surface has been pocked by sublimation and smoothed by wind erosion into a ragged dune shape. The forces of man have made their mark as well, generations of miners working to chisel a small ice quarry out of the leeward side.

A lone pressure suited figure moves in the bowl of the quarry, coaxing a small fire to life with the help of a portable oxygen tank. The light of the fire reflects off the walls of the quarry, the flickering shadows barely visible under the actinic light of Sirius and its companion star. The figure moves slowly, face hidden by the helmet's polarized glare shield. Finally, seemingly satisfied with the small fire pit, the figure drops to its knees and is still. Long minutes pass, the only sounds are the low rush of oxygen from the tank and the high, sharp keen of the wind overhead. A red-brown plume of sulfur and nitrogen compounds begins to precipitate in the heat of the flame, rising slowly in the still air of the quarry before being carried away by the ammonia laced winds.

A small duffel bag produces a number of items-- a stack of paper "Joss" notes, a bundle of incense, a cheap copy of a CCAF officer's commision, two cigars of Tikonov vintage, a worn graduation photograph and assorted other trinkets. The figure is slow and deliberate as it drops the items one at a time into the fire.

Tears begin to well, hidden by the mask of the suit. Memories float up and fade again as each offering is made. Gloved fingers trace over the photograph, the paper already brittle in the -50 C air. A flick of the wrist, and it spins into the fire. The Joss notes go last, worthless paper money printed and then burned as an offering to family passed beyond. The figure shifts, a laugh or perhaps a shrug, damped from the bulk of the suit. A stack of L-bills follows the Joss notes into the fire, pitched with a particular venom.

The figure stills again as the fire sputters against the yellow-green horizon. The heating elements in the suit struggle against the frigid ground, and numbness begins to set in. Parents, siblings, aunts and uncles, all gone and scattered somewhere in the plains below this ridge. The wind seems to carry their voices, and it would be so easy, so very easy to simply reach over and turn the suit's heater off.

A short, deep moan from the tank as the oxygen runs out, and the fire dies in an instant.

The figure stands then, its movements stiff from the cold and high gravity. The plains stretch away from the ridge to the horizon, broken only by a broad, shallow lake of ammonia crusted with reddish mud and water ice. Shattered chunks of metal and ferrocrete betray the lake as more of man's work. The figure pauses long enough to turn the dial on the suit's heater to its highest setting before stepping into the wind.

Guō Chāo was careful to keep her faceplate aimed at the ground as she made her way back to the bubble topped crawler parked at the base of the ridge. Here, at the hub of Man's empire, it was possible to see the stars of the Inner Sphere laid out in almost the same fashion as ancient man would have seen them thousands of years ago on Terra. But the Little Sister, Sirius' companion dwarf, was approaching the near point of its long orbit. Together, the two stars produced a glare that would quickly burn out the retinas of any who dared take in that view. For hundreds of years, the twin suns of Sirius V had forced humility on the people who lived under their gaze, blocking out the view that had tempted so many with the false promises of ambition and greed. But in the end, greed had arrived unannounced at their doorstep, and all had been laid to ruin.

The suited figure takes one last, long look at the lake before entering the crawler. The sound of the motor is almost lost in the driving wind as the vehicle picks its way around the debris in the direction of an abandoned spaceport.

*****************************

Long shadows fall across the ridge line as the twin suns set, casting the ruins poking out of the lake into stark relief. The throaty roar of an engine breaks through the keening wind, and a lone fighter comes over the horizon. It circles the lake once, tips its wing, and then launches skyward.

Minutes later Sirius sets and the lake plunges into darkness. The stars of the Inner Sphere whirl askance overhead, but the ghosts of Tiantan are silent once more.

[Red Duck]

Name: Owen Kenly
Callsign: Red
Date of Birth/Age: July 7^th 3011
Current Mech: Firestarter K
House Affiliation: Steiner
Physical Description: Owen is 6’ 1’’, thin, with short, reddish brown hair. He has tanned skin and burn scarring on his left shoulder and upper neck. He often wears a scarf to hide this.
Background: Born on Apollo to parents Frank and Sarah Kenly, Owen led a relatively sheltered childhood. Looking to follow after his grandfather, who has been a Mechwarrior, Owen joined the Somerset Academy at the age of twelve. Here, he barely managed to scrape a pass in the physical and practical examinations, but passed the theory with flying colours. Since graduating he has barely seen combat, but has served as in the reserves of the LCAF. Always one afflicted with wanderlust, Owen has packed up his Firestarter, which he inherited from his grandfather, and has headed to Outreach to live the life as a merc and to see the universe. He hopes that as part of a merc unit, he can see both the best and worst the world has to offer him, and break the shackles of his sheltered childhood.
Closed Background: Owen received the burns on his neck and shoulder in a house fire when he was 9 that claimed the lives of both of his parents. It was after this that he moved in with his grandfather and learned he wanted to become a MW. As a result of the event, Owen is fairly withdrawn, an quite quiet.

Firestarter-K
Armament: 2 Flamers (Right arm), 2 Small Lasers (Left and right torso), Large Laser (Left arm)
Mass: 35tonne
Chassis: Argile H/09
Armour: Livingston Ceramics
Engine: GM 210
Speed: 97.2km/h
Jumpjets: Luxor Load Lifters

7^th July 3032
Supply Depot 23, Franchelco City
Dromini VI, Lyran Commonwealth

Three months had passed since the 7^th reserved company had arrived on Dromini VI, and they had yet to see any combat. Not that there was a lack of it. Far out from the safety of the city, explosions sporadically flared on the horizon, the sound like a distant thunder reaching Owen several seconds later. The Combine had been making attempts to retake the planet over the past year, but for now at least, the LCAF kept them out. Well, the rest of it anyways, thought Owen. Out there, across the plains, men and women were fighting to defend the planet. And he was stuck here with the rest of his company doing a lot of nothing. Oh of course, keeping a few lances in reserve in the city was a sound strategy, allowing for rapid response if those Draconis forces broke through. Didn’t mean he had to like it. Sitting on the wall of the compound in the cool night air, Owen checked his watch. 03:46. Still a few more hours until sunrise, when 3^rd Lance would take over as the unit on standby. The sound of footsteps heralded the arrival of one of his Lance mates.

Nathan Mar was a stocky fellow, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. He was a laid back individual, with an unnatural love for tea. All through basic training, when all around him were stressed to the bone or missed home, Nathan was always laid back, so long as he got his tea. So when he approached Owen on the wall with two mugs in his hands, Owen was not surprised at all. Standing up and taking the mug, he nodded to his friend. The pair looked out across the city.

“Quite a light show, eh?” Nathan was the first to speak. “Heard Sixth were being brought back to the city from the forward bases, we might be part of the dance yet.”

“Would certainly be nice” Owen took a sup at the tea. He could taste a dash of honey. Excellent.

“Yeah! Been itching to take a few shots at those Combine tanks since we got here”. He let out a laugh. “Say, any word from home on your grandpa?”

Owen looked down into his mug. His grandfather’s Alzheimer’s hadn’t been getting any better. The nurse had said he sometimes couldn’t even remember his own name. “He’s getting better” Owen lied. “The nurse said he was responding well to his medication.”

“Well that’s great news!” He patted Owen on the back with a grin. “Anyway, I don’t understand how you can stand the cold. It’s not like the stars are out tonight either. Come inside, Roth and Jen were asking after you”.

The two walked down the stairs off the wall and into the canteen. Inside, the rest of the Lance were waiting. On one of the tables was a small cake.

“Surprise!” Shouted Jen.

“Happy Birthday man” Roth piped up.

“T-Thanks guys” Owen hadn’t realised it was the 7^th already. It was his 21^st.


31^st July, 3032
Seloran Heights
Dromini VI, Lyran Commonwealth

Owen stalked forward in his Firestarter-K. To his left, Jen’s Locust advanced cautiously. A Combine scout Lance had gotten behind the main line, but had thus far evaded detection in the rugged area. Owen knew that Roth and Nathan would be somewhere to his right on the far side of the rocky hill in their Cicada and Wasp. They’d been searching for the past half hour, and had yet to see anything.

“Seeing anything?” Roth’s voice crackled over the radio.

Owen checked his radar. Still nothing. “Not picking them up. You sure command said they were he-“

“Got something” Nathan shouted. “600 hundred metres north”.

“We’ll head your way” Jen replied, her Locust picking up speed heading for the corner that would take them right. Before they even got that far though, Owen heard the bark of an AC.

“Contact! Taking fire from a pair of Vulcans. Bulldog, can you open up on one of them, try drive them back to cover?”

“Roger that Lance Lead”. Roth replied

Getting closer, Owen heard a PPC shout out in retaliation to the ACs. Close behind Jen’s Locust, they approached the combat that was ensuing. Ahead, a pair of Panther’s crested the hill and fired at their Lance mates. Owen fired his Large Laser at the nearest one, hitting it in the torso.

“Right arm is gone! Getting chewed up here guys!”

“We’re almost there Gargoyle, hold on a little longer” Jen shouted down the radio, a fair amount less calm than Nathan was. They rounded the corner, firing at the twin Panthers; a PPC shot flew over the Firestarter’s head mere foot away. The Cicada and Wasp had started backing down the way they had come, both damaged, but the Wasp heavily so. Owen fired his Large Laser at the Panther again, digging a deep gouge into its torso. They were still too far away for his flamers to be of any use. Suddenly, a PPC round shot past him and connected with the cockpit of the Wasp. Jen and Owen caught up with the damaged Cicada as the Wasp fell to the ground.

“Gargoyle, you there? Gargoyle? Nathan!?”

The fire fight didn’t last much longer. The Combine Lance backed off as the trio got back to cover. It had been their first real combat. It hadn’t lasted a minute. They’d walked right into the ambush. Owen didn’t sleep that night.

Edited by Red Duck, 02 May 2013 - 07:24 PM.

[Spokes]

Character notes:

Guō Chāo-- Stubborn

Chāo was born to a life of privilege, but it was made known early that she was the "throw away" child. Knowing that she was to be sent away for military service, Chāo's family maintained a respectful but detached relationship with her. Though she has a strong sense of obligation to family and house, those bonds are largely cultural and not emotional.

The environment at the war academy was a shock-- I've read about some of the unofficial hazing that goes down at Russia's Cosmonaut training facility, and I'm left imaging that there would be a lot of that at the war college on Tikonov. Her experiences at the school and during the conflicts that followed have largely beaten any sense of entitlement out of her. It may occasionally resurface, but more out of reflex than any deeply held beliefs.

She retains the bearing of both her pedigree and educational background. In a society that values knowing one's place and respecting the social position of others, Chāo is used to being above most of those around her. This comes through in her body language-- she carries herself without the deference one would expect from a low ranking member of the CCAF, and when pressed she is far more likely to bristle than to be cowed. Again, this is not arrogance so much as habit.

It is worth noting that she never actually graduated from the academy, as the Fourth Succession War broke out before she could complete the program.

Physically, Chāo is short, squat and stocky. She grew up in a 1.5g environment, and her bones are shorter and thicker than they would be on a human raised on a standard gravity world, with wide, pronounced cheek bones, thick fingers and blocky shoulders.

Technically, "Chāo" is a male name, but it seemed like one that might be gender neutral by the 31st century. It means, "To leap" or "To surpass". Taken together, "Guō Chāo" can mean "To overcome obstacles", but turned a certain way it can also mean "Over the wall". In a society that takes great care in naming its children, this double meaning is not insignificant.


Kin Lu-- Placid

Kin stands at around 5'6", is well muscled but lacks the heavy bone structure of a high-g native. He is bald, with a close cropped goatee and mustache, and carries himself in a way that suggests a man completely at peace with the world and his place in it. His manner manages to be both deferential and assertive at the same time. He is ice to Chāo's fire, and he presents himself with a polite dignity few can match.

Kin Lu is a retainer hired by the Guō family to mentor their youngest daughter and prepare her for a life of martial service. Kin has been a constant fixture in Chāo's life since her tenth birthday, and has pushed, prodded, cajoled and embarrassed her into becoming the survivor she is today. Noble and commoner, teacher and student, Kin and Chāo's relationship is complex, and each will defer to the other at seemingly odd times.

Kin is significantly older than Chāo, and while close, their relationship is familial and not romantic.


Ming Sa-- Nervous

Ming is a servitor who worked as a gardener and grounds keeper on the Guō Estate under the Tiantan dome. Kin recognized him from among the few survivors of Tiantan and elected to bring him along. Less assured of his position than the other two, Ming finds comfort in protocol and will often push for formality even though it places him at the bottom of the social ladder.

Ming is in his early forties, and shares Chāo's stunted bone structure. Injuries sustained during the Tiantan disaster have damaged his windpipe and left him largely unable to speak.

***********************

Having worked together on a number of ships and assignments, as a group the three are somewhat insular and distant towards those around them. While the ground pounders are passengers at this point, Chāo is now an active part of the ship's defense and can be expected on the King's upper decks as she goes about her duties.

Chāo does not know Ellie, but it is possible Ellie might have heard of House Guō through her ties to the Capellan Court. If these two are ever at cross purposes, it could be interesting. Irresistible force meets immovable object.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Name: Colonel Reuben Black ret.
Callsign: Badger
Date of Birth/Age: 5/19/2973 62 years old
Current Mech: VTR-9B Victor
House Affiliation: Liao
Military History: Colonel Black was an Capellan officer who first gained notoriety during the Third Succession War, his radical strategies and rapid counter attacks became textbook Capellan practice used by other units during the 3rd SW as his actions not only blunted Davion attacks, but forced the attackers back on the defensive on more than one occasion.
Physical Description: He's covered in wiry black/gray hair, with a piercing steely gaze staring out of a ruddy face, and a barrel chest which strains against the confines of his CCAF dress uniform
You often think that the call sign 'Badger' fits him perfectly due to his feral like appearance
Open Background: What you know about his military history, seems friendly with a carefree attitude except for situations where a serious attitude is needs
Deep Background: Feels ashamed by the beating that the CapCon received during the 4th SW, he's sit around with the guilty feelings that if he wasn't retired during the war he could have done something anything to help. He's since sold off all his property and resigned his mandarin hood (which his wife just loves) to start up the Black Arrows.

Name: Sara Phister
Callsign: Widow
Date of Birth/Age: 9/09/ 3010 age 24
Current Mech: Raven
House Affiliation: Liao
Military History: Conscripted into the CCAF just prior to the 4th SW, wounded in action.
Physical Description: 6 foot tall sandy blond hair with blue eyes. She has scars from her war injuries and always seems to wear a tight jump suit.
Open Background: Has a brother serving on one of the other drop ships. Proudly displays her tech skills and is willing to lend a helping hand where needed.
Deep Background: Has some freaky scar tissue from her injuries and surgeries that she received in combat. She has a borderline psychotic hatred of anything Davion.

Name: Po Spiros
Callsign: Po.
Date of Birth/Age: 1/30/ 2989 46 years old.
Current tank. Zhukov Heavy Tank (testing it for Aldis Industries)
House Affiliation: Liao
Military History: Served with distinction during both the 3rd & 4th SW. In the battle of Tikonov his Von Luckner singlehandedly destroyed/crippled six Davion Battlemechs. Also evauated Colonel Pavel Ridzik. Followed Ridzik to form the Tikonov Free Republic, went merc after Ridzik's assassination.
Physical Description: Easily 6'2'' Po wears a leather vest and leather cap. (think 40's style tank commander helmet) Broad shouldered, and thick boned (not fat actually thick boned like size 16 pinky ring big) Covered in wirey hair and the scars that comes from his trade. Often smokes and drinks. Typical tank jock.
Open Background: Friendly and outgoing, but can often be loud and obnoxious. Prides himself on being a practical joker and intimidating some of the younger treadheads. Was CCAF Boxing champion in 3025
Deep Background: Feels partly to blame for Ridzik's death as he was one of his bodyguards, but was on the night of the assassination was visiting his wounded friend, DeMarkus Frankfurt.


Name: Malcolm Waters
Callsign: None
Date of Birth/Age: 7/17/2960 age 74
House Affiliation: none
Military History: none
Physical Description: Malcolm is a cadaverously thin old man covered with liver spots and a balding pate, wearing a spacer's uniform and a rather bored expression.
Open Background: Malcolm is new to the mercenary lifestyle, he's partly regretting his decision of going merc as he's not used to the rough and tumble cutthoats. Was previously running groceries out of Kaifeng with his son who captains the dropship Isabella Rae
Deep Background: None per se. Only switched professions for the extra cash.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 19 May 2013 - 01:39 PM.