351 replies to this topic

[RogueSpear]

...I replied with a picture of Inigo Montoya. How was my response not taken as a joke

[dal10]

because i use it all the time to call out people being *******.

[RogueSpear]

Pffft. I'm Scottish dude. We ain't a subtle people. If I want to call you ret*rded, I'll just call you ret*rded. If I want to joke about you being ret*rded, it means I like you - and that I may use a gif

Also, on the note of being incredibly unsubtle, I had my first trial shift yesterday. Got added on Facebook by a girl from work. First thing she asked was 'What was that song you were singing yesterday?'
Apparently the music I was listening to in my head was also being mumbled by my mouth. For over an hour, I was walking around an English pub making vaguely germanic sounding syllables to a tune because I had a swedish folk metal song I didn't know the words to stuck in my head.
Now taking all bets on how long it takes 'em to fire me.

[dal10]

as long as it wasn't dirty i don't think they will do anything.

[RogueSpear]

Dude, even if they were fine with me being completely zoned out singing for ten hours while glass clearing, delivering meals and so on, it's a Wetherspoons. They have a strict no music policy xD
Not even on the fruit machines.

[SethAbercromby]

Welp, I'm done with that. Sorry for the huge wall of text that is the Background story. I believe I've actually doubled the amount of text from what was the final draft for Midale 1.0. I also did some text formatting that hopefully makes reading the 'Mechs specs a little easier.

Spoiler

Name:
Aravind Mantri

Date of Birth (Age):
June 17th, 3005 (30 years old)

Current Mech:
Griffin GRF-1N

House Affiliation:
House Kurita / Neutral

Military History:
3025-34 6th Pesht Regulars BattleMech Regiment

Physical Description:
Aravind Mantri is a sleek man with green eyes and brown hair grown to neck length that usually looks a bit messy. He is 185 cm tall and weights 70 kg. He usually wears a brown longcoat above a lightweight combat vest, which almost makes it look like a black undershirt. Attached to his belt is a bumbag with military issue gloves for technical uses.

Background:
Born on the planet Nowhere, Aravind wasn't exactly able to call any instance of his early life terribly interesting as the planet marks the Kurita end of the Inner Sphere and didn't seem to be of much interest, even to pirates.

When he became old enough to join military forces, he volunteered for recruitment into the 6th Pesht Regulars BattleMech Regiment which had just been stationed on the planet, apparently to fend off the poor idiots stupid enough to think there was anything of value to steal. As there was not much to do aside from the regular training routines and patrols, Aravind spend a lot of his free time in the battle simulator, sharpening his piloting skills and theoretical combat strategies.

However, every now and then, Pirates would show up, attempting to raid the Planet's military facilities and cargo docks. Knowing that the 6th was stationed on the planet the raiding forces only went in with only a handful of BattleMechs that would allow for quick insertion and withdrawal from the planet. Because the local militia didn't have the means to keep the pirates at bay before lances of the 6th could arrive, lances of two were assigned to key locations, acting as a quick response team until reinforcements could arrive. Aravind was first assigned to the reinforcement troops, that would usually consist mostly of rookies led by a veteran pilot or 'Mech instructor, later to one of the less important locations, assisted by another pilot he had already fought with in the reinforcement unit. The two of them were hit during the raids quite often as the facility was of low value but also fairly remote, extending the response time of the other military forces by a few minutes. However, as the 6th commonly fought with the assistance of fighters and VTOLs linked into a C3 Network, the two of them were able to keep most attackers at bay until additional forces arrived.

BattleMechs that were abandoned by retreating forces and salvageable were either stripped and sold or in some cases kept in the hanger as reserve units. Aravind and his lancemate would often try to bait the last pilot remaining to abandon his 'Mech. The idea was to cripple the 'Mech by either destroying the most potent weapon systems, shooting off one or possibly both legs or dangerously damage the central torso and then pull out of combat, granting them a chance to bail and retreat, which was taken more often than not. Since they actively avoid critically damaging a 'Mech, this attempt would backfire on some occasions causing the cornered pilot to act against all reason and unload everything they have in one desperate last stand, forcing them to go for the kill. One time it actually forced both of them to eject their damaged machines before the opposing pirates' 'Mech could be destroyed by a VTOL-pilot. While both of their 'Mechs suffered critical damage, the maintenance team was able to put both of them into service again.

This led Aravind to become interested into Mechanics and 'Mech maintenance. Combine military units encouraged their soldiers to practice in fields outside of combat to broaden their horizon and Aravind was able to bend that statement (generally favoring spiritual practices such as martial arts, painting or gardening) into him being allowed to work with the local maintenance team. He usually stayed within the regiment to work with, so he was primarily learning to work with BattleMechs. Aravind soon noticed that knowing how something works makes you observe it operating very different from what a "simple" operator perceives. While he wouldn't claim that any way is better but the way the movement and operation feels are very different from what someone experiences when they are not familiar with the inner workings, even if they have some technical knowledge about 'Mechs.

Originally piloting an Archer 2K variant, Aravind managed to strike a deal with the 6th to receive a captured Griffin 1N as personal 'Mech. This was bound to a few conditions though. Primarily, he would have to return to the reinforcement unit to get used to the new 'Mech. Taking lance command was only permitted if no other option was available. Secondly, the unit would only cover major expenses to keep the 'Mech in a functional state. Any additional expenses such as switching the engine or replacing the weapon systems would have to be covered by Aravind himself. As it turned out, that happened to be much more expensive as originally assumed because the pirates had made numerous changes to the 'Mech to fit makeshift spare parts to keep it from falling apart. Because of time and money constraints, he has to date not been able to re-fit everything to standard measurements, but none of these have an actual effect on the 'Mechs performance.

When searching for options concerning that both weapons of the Griffin had a minimum range to operate from, Aravind searched for something that would ideally not need to replace any of his current weapons as he was feeling very comfortable with using both of them. During that time, Solaris VII matches became quite popular within the 6th. Or to be more specific, the broadcasting of the announcements and results of said matches via the HPG. While everything that actually reached Nowhere was technically outdated by far, to them each arrival was hot news that was heavily discussed and bet on. One of these Matches brought the Retractable Blade to Aravinds attention. The pilot using it didn't win, in fact he didn't even make it into the top 3, but the idea of the weapon fascinated him similarly to the jettison-capable PPC mounted on his Griffin. It theoretically allowed for a fair number of interesting tactics to be explored on the battlefield.

"Field tests" in the combat simulator provided mixed results partially due to the limited amount of data available on that weapon due to its low spread and rare usage inside and even more so outside of Solaris. Aravind assumed that Solaris pilots thought of the weapon as not flashy enough while the military considered it as too flashy for "proper" use. He did however manage to convince command to approve of the weapon and managed to track down Ceres as a manufacturer. He likes to not think of the total expenses spend to finally obtain the weapon, but he believes that they have been well worth it.

Aravind left the 6th after 9 years of service. He had seen enough of his home planet and wanted to see more of the Inner Sphere. After some consideration, his best choice would arguably be to join a mercenary unit. He managed to arrange transportation of his 'Mech and himself to the distant world of Outreach which drained him of most of the money he had saved up. Returning empty-handed would be no option.

Personality:
Aravind likes to be prepared for everything that might happen. His over-preparedness goes so far that he makes jokes about being borderline paranoid himself. Usually a fairly quiet and calm person, Aravind usually doesn't make many friends in a given environment because he almost never directly approaches others by himself, seeming somewhat antisocial to others. However, the few friends he actually does make usually are the kind he would trust his back to and is very loyal to them. He prefers quiet environments and can sometimes actually get nauseous in a very noisy and cramped environment (think of it as sea sickness caused by too much sound from too many directions at the same time). During maintenance, Aravind likes to work at his own pace to avoid making any critical mistakes. Double and triple checking critical parts are parts of his natural routine regardless of how low a chance of failure is. This often causes his "it's done when it's done" attitude with the "time is money" attitudes of other technicians to collide. Conversely, his behavior inside a 'Mech is quite the opposite, usually preferring a quick and direct approach to a calm and calculated approach. Under stress, he can become very focused for a short time but this defense mechanism drains him very quickly, leaving him vulnerable to panic and with a generally weaker focus and being more impulsive, for better or worse.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Griffin GRF-1N

Mass: 55 tons
Tech Base: Inner Sphere
Chassis Config: Biped
Rules Level: Tournament Legal
Era: Succession Wars
Tech Rating/Era Availability: D/X-E-D
Production Year: 2900
Cost: 4.873.407 C-Bills
Battle Value: 1.108

Chassis: Earthwerks GRF Standard
Power Plant: Nissan General Industries 275 Fusion Engine
Walking Speed: 54,0 km/h
Maximum Speed: 86,4 km/h
Jump Jets: Earthwerks Incorporated Rawlings 55
Jump Capacity: 150 meters
Armor: Starshield A Standard Armor
Armament:
1 New Samarkand Metals Magna Hellstar PPC
1 Luthien Armor Works Shigunga LRM-10
1 Ceres Metals Retractable Blade
Manufacturer: Earthwerks Incorporated
Primary Factory: Grand Base
Communications System: Earthwerks Incorporated Neil 6000
Targeting and Tracking System: Apple Computers Interstellar Octagon Tartrac System C

==============================================
Equipment: Type / Rating / Mass
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Internal Structure: Standard / 91 points / 5,50
Engine: Fusion Engine / 275 / 15,50
Walking MP: 5
Running MP: 8
Jumping MP: 5 Standard
Jump Jet Locations: 1 CT, 2 LT, 2 RT / / 2,50
Heat Sinks: Single Heat Sink / 10 / 0,00
Gyro: Standard / / 3,00
Cockpit: Standard / / 3,00
Actuators: L: SH+UA+LA+H R: SH+UA+LA+H
Armor: Standard Armor / AV - 96 / 6,00

Location: Internal Structure / Armor Factor
-----------------------------------------------------
Head: 3 / 9
Center Torso: 18 / 13
Center Torso (rear): / 4
L/R Torso: 13 / 13
L/R Torso (rear): / 3
L/R Arm: 9 / 8
L/R Leg: 13 / 11

==============================================
Equipment: Location / Heat / Critical / Mass
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
PPC RA / 10 / 3 / 7,00
Retractable Blade LA / - / 4 / 3,50
LRM-10 RT / 4 / 2 / 5,00
@LRM-10 (24) RT / - / 2 / 2,00
@LRM-10 (12) RL / - / 1 / 1,00
@LRM-10 (12) LL / - / 1 / 1,00

[Thom Frankfurt]

Dude! That's a lot of ammo! Personally I'd drop some ammo for more armor, but that's just me. And retractable blade... I'll allow it, but I'm still not understanding why everyone goes nuts for that weapon, it doesn't do that much more damage than a punch. I don't get it.

[Shagohad]

Thom Frankfurt, on 29 November 2013 - 12:47 AM, said:

Dude! That's a lot of ammo! Personally I'd drop some ammo for more armor, but that's just me. And retractable blade... I'll allow it, but I'm still not understanding why everyone goes nuts for that weapon, it doesn't do that much more damage than a punch. I don't get it.

Kuritans and their weeaboo stuff. Be a real man and kick and punch things. Or rip your own arm off and beat your opponent to death with it.

[cmopatrick]

Ummm... I thought you didn't allow PPC. If you are now, I'll update mine when I get home to have PPC on the dorsal instead of the dinky LL. It would be more in keeping with the thought of replacing the Gauss.

[Thom Frankfurt]

cmopatrick, on 29 November 2013 - 10:19 AM, said:

Ummm... I thought you didn't allow PPC. If you are now, I'll update mine when I get home to have PPC on the dorsal instead of the dinky LL. It would be more in keeping with the thought of replacing the Gauss.

You must have me confused with Janitor, Homie. Just like the Cappies, I'm all about the big lightning gun.

[cmopatrick]

@Thom: Fair enough. I've updated the OSP-16c description to have a Ceres Arms Smasher PPC on the dorsal mount. If you rather not read through it and compare, I dropped a ton of armor and a heat sink for the weight, it is otherwise the same mech.

[RogueSpear]

The ammo overabundance makes sense to me for a mech designed for long patrol work + holding off superior forces while awaiting reinforcements. Very potent harassment value when you don't need to worry about actually hitting your opponent and just going for suppression instead.
On the other hand, I tend to start my customizing by strapping as much armour as I possibly can to a mech, so whatevs.

[dal10]

While this character shares a name and nationality with the original kasuga, this is where the similarities end. Basically my issue with my rendition, besides her rather woe is me original background, of her as a samurai is there was no way she could leave the combine with an actual mech. Between the death to mercenary order and the fact that DCMS high command could strip her of a mech at will, it would be unlikely that she could show up with a mech. Also the sun zhang thing kinda "overpowered" her in comparison to the rest of the characters. Though that is completely debatable. Likely she would be a much better gunner and an on par pilot with the rest of the group. She would basically start as a regular pilot in a group of green pilots if you want to put it in tabletop terms(i know that technically she would still be a green pilot due to.her lack of combat experience, but this is just an example) So i had to come up with alternate reasoning.

In my original draft of her she had actually interacted with the yaks prior to her introduction into the story. This gave me an idea. There are 2 groups of people within the combine that have significant funding, not counting the azami, the samurai and the yakuza. Therefore if she is to have the kind of resources to get out of the combine with a mech, it will require she be from one of those two groups initially. At that point she has to either A be a fugitive, which i would rather not at this point, or be sent here for some reason. As the samurai wouldn't send anyone away with the davions building up again, that leaves the ISF on that front. That is against the rules however.

That leaves the yaks. Theodore is currently setting up the ghost regiments, so i figured i would play a character who is trying to get some combat experience before she actually joins one of the ghost regiments.


Name: Kasuga Matsumoto

Call sign:Snake

Date of Birth/Age: 3009 - 26 years old

Current Mech: PNT-9R Panther

House Affiliation: Draconis Combine

Military History: 15 years as both a guerilla fighter and yakuza gang member.
3 month crash course in mech operation.
nearly 800 hours simulator time.

Physical Description: 5'6" 120 lbs (53 ish kilos)
Jet black long straight hair, usually in a pony tail. Her hair around her temples is thinned out to allow better contact from the neurohelmet. She is of an average build, though a bit on the thin side. she is between a B and an A cup. Her face is for the most part classical asiatic, however there are traces of caucasoid and negroid with her face being less flat and her eyes being rounder than normal for someone of pure asiatic ancestry. She generally tries to adapt what she is wearing to what is normal for her surroundings. For the current RP is consists of a long sleeve t-shirt with a denim jacket and khaki pants. Due to her lifestyle, she always has a blade or two, or 12 for that matter, on her somewhere. She wears a left handed bandolier style belt with a semi-auto magnum pistol in the holster.

Kasuga is also heavily tattooed. Particularly below her neck to her elbows and her knees. While it isn't fully filled in due to tradition, the full outline patterns have been filled in to keep any additional tattoos neatly separated.

(i used the scientific names so don't get annoyed at negroid)

Open Background: Kasuga was born to a merchant and his wife on marduk during the year 3009. Like most worlds that did not boast a heavy samurai presence, though there was some due to the mech factory on planet, the planet had a de facto ruler in the local Yakuza gang, the Hakuryū no u~ingu ni. This gang ran numerous smaller gangs all over the planet. The local one ran a protection bracket. When Kasuga was about eight years old her father took out a loan from the gang to expand his business. While he did make more from it, it was not enough to cover the loan in its entirety. Kasuga was sold into slavery with the gang to pay off the rest of the loan. Shortly after she was gifted to the main syndicate as part of the local gang's tribute to the larger organization. If she had been older she might have ended up in a brothel. Instead she became a personal servant of the current number two man of the organization(by servant i mean like a maid who cleans things). He treated her fairly well, almost taking on a mentor like role to the young girl.

Shortly before the 4th succession war the previous oyabun passed away, leaving her master as the leader of the organization. He worked hard to curb what he saw as excesses in the organization, and one of his first actions was to free Kasuga and induct her into the gang. While she was free she still had to start from the bottom. over the next three years she worked her way up the chain to becoming a mid level "associate and handywoman" in the organization. while she generally specialized in racketeering and gambling (don't play cards with her, she cheats) she occasionally did wetwork. These skills came in handy when the Federated Suns conquered Marduk. Like most Yakuza run worlds the organization set up a resistance movement against the invaders. for several years they did their best to nickel and dime the Davion forces down. Kasuga did her fair share as well. She planted more than a few explosive devices after crawling through the sewers of the capital city of New Pontiac. Eventually the Combine retook the planet towards the end of the 4th. Things settled down for a while after that.

In 3033 Theodore Kurita ascended to the position of Gunji-no-Kanrei. One of his first actions was to start to convince the Yakuza to join the combine military. Hakuryū no u~ingu ni wished to send pilots to join the newly formed ghost legions, however they had no mech trained pilots to send. Unwilling to not contribute and bring shame upon his house, the oyabun of the Hakuryū no u~ingu ni ordered that several members be taught how to pilot mechs and then be sent to outreach to join a mercenary unit in order to gain experience so that they too could contribute to the glory of the combine. Their mechs were purchased by agents of the Yakuza on world, and they were ordered to find units for several years, then come back to join the DCMS.

Deep Background: Kasuga was chosen to leave the planet not because she was the best candidate for the position, but because the second in command was considering making a play for power as the Oyabun of the organization was getting up there in years. He was purging the organization of the hardliners under the current Oyabun's ideology. the 2nd in command was aiming to bring back the gang to the old order of things which made a significantly larger profit, albeit wasn't as honorable as the current gang was.


This one better?

Edited by dal10, 29 November 2013 - 10:25 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

I really like it, Dal. Great bio and really fits with the little I know about the DC during this timeline. And I can't believe that the filter didn't blot out that word. LOL

[Spokes]

dal10, on 29 November 2013 - 10:21 PM, said:

This one better?

Very much so.

[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

Introduction

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.

Interlude 1

Spoiler

Harlech Spaceport, Outreach
Sarna March, Federated Suns
February 12th, 3035

Guō Chāo stalked down the ferrocrete guideway, past row after row of the repair and refit hangers that dominated this area of the Harlech Spaceport. The hangers nearer the main runways were well kept, though they had seen obvious use. The ones she was passing now looked new, the result of a construction boom following in the wake of Dragoon stewardship of this world. The new hangers looked familiar-- Chāo checked one of the sign posts, grunted, and turned down one of the smaller walkways.

All around her, drop shuttles and aerofighters lay tucked into the state of the art facilities, most in various states of disassembly. Techs shouted orders over the din of arc welders and heavy lift equipment. Chāo's face was a careful mask of fatigue and annoyed indifference as she shifted the weight of the bundle she was carrying. She ignored the techs, and they ignored her. Another sign post, another turn.

The hangers were getting smaller, some now little more than glorified warehouses. Chāo spotted the one she wanted at the end of the row. It was small, somehow old amongst the hastily constructed shanties around it. Worn concrete blocks, one hanger door missing, roof that looked like it would collapse any moment. She shifted the heavy bundle back to her other arm and made for the little hanger.

Chāo reached the hanger, walked past it and turned left into a muddy field at the end of the row. Half a dozen broken down wrecks littered the yard, most abandoned by their owners. One had had one of its wings covered with a bright blue tarp and looked like it had been sheltering several people for quite some time.

Her own Thrush was parked off to one side, its wheels half sunk into the mud. Two middle aged men of Capellan decent rested under the port wing, blending in nicely with the vagabonds sleeping under the blue tarp. Chāo's face flushed with rage and she pounded across the yard, making every effort to ignore the mud sucking at her boots. One of the men opened his eyes as she approached. She was only a few words into her tirade when the mud finally succeeded in pulling off her left boot. Chāo's momentum carried her forward and she sank ankle deep in the sludge. A moment of stunned silence passed between the three Capellans, and the barest hint of a smile crossed the man's face.

Chāo resumed screaming just as a large Dropship passed overhead, swallowing her words in a continuous wave of thunder. The man merely crossed his arms and waited for both storms to subside. Her anger spent itself, the Dropship passed, and the man took the bundle and helped her extract her foot from the muck. The other man, still in possession of most of his hair and more obviously afraid of her, moved to the side of the fighter, bent over slightly and cupped his hands. Chāo planted her mud-soaked foot onto his palms and with his help managed to lever herself up and into the open cockpit. She settled into the seat, taking great care to keep her muddy feet away from the flight controls. She hit a switch on the console, frowned at the warning lights that came on, said something harsh in Capellan to the two techs down below.

Her muddy boot sailed up over the edge of the canopy seal and plopped in her lap, splashing mud throughout the cockpit. Chāo roared down at her two techs, "Two lights on, no pay! Three lights on, no food!" A muddy rag followed the boot and Chāo sank back into the cockpit and closed her eyes, mud pooling at the bottom of the contoured seat. She'd been walking around the hanger district since before daybreak, and had managed to trade her side arm for the tools her Techs needed to get her fighter back in the air again, but her money was almost gone and then. . .well, and then it was tarp time.

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

Master Tech Kin Lu unwrapped the bundle and examined the tool set contained within. Good, these will do nicely. He instructed his companion to remove the fighter's port side access panel and set about arranging his tools for the job ahead. He smiled to himself as the sound of snoring filtered down from the open cockpit.


========================================

Outside Wolf Hall
Harlech, Outreach
Sarna March, Federated Suns
February 14th, 3035

"No registration fee, no listing. No listing, no entrance. Bah!" Chāo scowled at the well dressed mercenaries making their way through the entry doors and into the air conditioned space. She was wearing her last clean uniform and had managed to wipe off her mud soaked boots on the thick carpet just inside the entryway before she was shown the door, but the Guō Chāo express was officially bingo fuel. They had finished off the last of the fighter's emergency protein packs the night before and were sponging water from a leaking fresh water line a few buildings over from where they were parked. Two weeks of living in a field had left Chāo in desperate need of a shower, but she ignored the smell as best she could and hoped it would be lost in the press of bodies milling outside of the Hiring Hall. A single, distinctive voice cuts through the din. Chāo turns to look, but blast it, why was everyone always so tall! Pushing and shoving her way through the crowd, the diminutive pilot arrives at the edge of the group gathered by the table amidst a flurry of curses and elbows. . .

========================================

The transport pulled away, leaving Chāo back near the Hiring Hall where the day had begun. She watched as the vehicle merged into traffic and disappeared from view. Dropship Crimson King, Bay J-10, departure in two days. She turned, clutched the dogie bag from the restaurant, headed in the direction of the refit hangers. A smile began to ease the stunned expression from her face as she walked.

They had a job.

Interlude 2

Spoiler

Harlech Spaceport, Outreach
Sarna March, Federated Suns
February 14th, 3035

Guō Chāo bounced down the ferrocrete guideway, past row after row of the repair and refit hangers that dominated this area of the Harlech Spaceport. The traffic was heavier here, and Chāo caught herself daydreaming as she maneuvered through the crowd. She paused, realizing the hangers were unfamiliar - Chāo checked one of the sign posts, laughed, and backtracked about a hundred meters before turning down one of the smaller walkways.

All around her, drop shuttles and aerofighters lay tucked into the state of the art facilities, most in various states of disassembly. Techs shouted orders over the din of arc welders and heavy lift equipment. Chāo started humming as she shifted the weight of the bundle she was carrying. She nodded to the few techs that took notice of her-- the one who shouted the slur received a big smile. Another sign post, another turn.

The hangers were getting smaller, some now little more than glorified warehouses. Chāo spotted the old battered shack at the end of the row. It had looked sad and worn this morning, but now seemed to radiate defiance. Alone and nearly forgotten, it refused to die. She shifted the heavy bundle back to her other arm and made for the little hanger.

Chāo reached the hanger, walked past it and turned left onto the muddy field that had been her home these past two weeks. The setting sun cast long shadows over the broken down wrecks that littered the yard. The blue tarp had been pulled back, and the vagabonds were gathered close around a small fire just beyond the shelter of their disabled fighter.

Her own Thrush sat right where she'd left it, the dirt caking the paint not as noticeable in the fading half light. The two techs looked up as she approached. Chāo raised the leftover food from the restaurant high over her head and roared triumph.

"Bàoxǐ!"

Interlude 3

Spoiler

Harlech Spaceport, Outreach
Sarna March, Federated Suns
February 14th, 3035 -- 2100 Hrs

The scent of roasted meat lingered in the still night air as Ming Sa worked to reseat the access panel on the Thrush's dorsal heat exchanger. Master Lu had clipped an arc lamp to the top of the fighter's raised canopy, providing sufficient illumination for the task. It did not, however, have enough power to blot out the stars brooding in the sky above Harlech. Ming kept his gaze down, focusing on the exposed coil-- he would not allow himself to look at the stars. It would be unseemly.

The coil was still hot, and Ming moved slowly both to avoid injury and to avoid drawing attention to himself. If he could not distance himself from the conversation in body, he would do so in spirit. He would not eavesdrop on Lady Guō and Master Lu.

It would be unseemly.

The panel slid back into place, and Ming fastened the bolts just as Master Lu had shown him. After a moment, he undid the bolts and adjusted them so they were aligned with each other. Satisfied, he grasped the armor plate by the radiator extension and swung it down to cover the opening.

Ming felt the conversation behind him shift, and he forced his mind away from the words. He closed his eyes, and he could see his gardens again. Flowering brush, vines, the squat evergreens that had been so favored by the Mandrinn. Those terraces had once been his entire world. He wished it could be so again.

The Lady was shouting-- she must know now that Master Lu had sold the last of his wife's jewelry while she was away. She must know too that the money was not enough to hire a cargo mule to move their holding. Lady Guō was angry, but Ming could feel the shame in her voice. It was not seemly.

Their holding. Tonight, the last of the House of Guō held court on the back of the sole remaining fragment of their estate. The castle, the keep, even the stable was gone-- only the horse remained.

The conversation behind him stilled, and Ming turned his attention to the surrounding field. The ki here had shifted repeatedly since their arrival, the little warbird beneath him struggling against the disruption of the ruined building it was facing. Ming could feel the ki flowing towards them now, could feel the resolve radiating behind him, and he knew the warbird had won. Shapes, shapes were important. He patted the armor plate. Round and square, Heaven and Earth. Their ancestors smiled down on them this night.

"Wait here!"

Master Lu and Lady Guō had spoken as one. It was often so as of late.

Ming decided it was an auspicious sign.

Interlude 4

Spoiler

Guideway 23, Harlech Spaceport, Outreach
Sarna March, Federated Suns
February 15th, 3035 -- 0900 Hrs

The day was already warm, the humid air hanging heavy inside the ferrocrete hanger. Jax had come in early, hoping to get through his assignments before the heat had a chance to settle in. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with a hand towel and considered the landing strut on the Stuka sitting in front of him.

No way I'm going to have this thing set straight by noon, malking i**** must have been asleep at the stick to bend his gear up like this!

The hanger was going to be like an oven by then too. They could close the doors and crank up the HVAC, but no, that would cost money. The foreman wouldn't like that one bit.

"Hey Jax, take a look at this will ya!"

The tech looked over at Barrett, then turned to follow his gaze out through the hanger doors.

"Well, will you look at that! That crazy Cappie b**** has herself an entourage! Hey Jax, those're those dead enders who been squatting in that mud pit back on row 133, ain't they?"

"Looks like. Jesus, you'd think they'd never heard of service truck."

There were about a dozen of them, including the Capellan woman Jax had seen walking back and forth the last couple of weeks. The group was straining at a rope they had tied to the nose wheel of a TR-7. The little interceptor was caked in mud-- the only visible marking was a thick black stripe running down the side of the nose, and then out along the edge of the circular wing. There were some symbols painted onto the stripe where it crossed under the canopy-- two skulls, two Marik Eagles. . .

. . .and one Davion Sunburst. Jax got to his feet and came up alongside Barrett. He raised his voice enough so that it would carry out of the hanger.

"Probably spent their last C-bill on that tow rope. Hell, the b**** has probably been letting those fellas take turns to get them to pull like that!"

"Hey Cappie, I gots something in here you'cn haul!"

The jeering got louder as the fighter rolled slowly by and the other techs in Jax's hanger got in on the fun. Jax thought of a good one, but before he could let fly two rather large men came out of the hanger on the other side of the guideway. One spat out something in Russian, the other picked up what looked like a rifle and started out onto the ferrocrete. Jax took a half step back, then realized it was a pressure washer. The man turned the wand on the fighter, and the water stream blasted the filth away, leaving the underlying green and off-white paint scheme to glisten in the morning sun. More people had come out of the hanger across from Jax, and the two groups stared hate at each other as the Thrush took a turn and crawled out of view. The tech could hear a ragged cheer go up from the hangers the next row over.

The Russian with the washer gave Jax a predatory smile, then he and his companions went back inside. Seconds later, the sound of welding equipment picked up again.

The tech ground his teeth and turned back into the hanger, heat forgotten. "Barrett, go get me the cutting gear from rack twelve. Boss wants that gear working by noon, and by God we're gonna do it."

Jax knelt back down in front of the Stuka, his eyes searching for the quickest way to cut out the damaged part. The Succession Wars had resumed along Guideway 23.

Interlude 5

Spoiler

Grand Promenade, Kimball Station
Nadir Jump Point, Capella
Capella Commonality, Capellan Confederation
11 April, 3035 -- 11:00 Hrs (09:10 Capellan Standard Time)

The sound of birdsong, the warmth of sunlight, the touch of wind. After nearly two months of space travel, the open space of the promenade was a welcome relief. Never mind that the "sunlight" came from overhead UV lamps, the "wind" was backwash from the circulation fans and the birdsong was piped in through speakers hidden in the planters lining the thoroughfare. There was room to move, gravity, and the air didn't smell like unwashed socks.

The station's massive grav deck had an internal circumference of almost four kilometers, most of which had been turned into an approximation of a narrow city street, complete with parks, open air markets, and even three and four story buildings. Many of the station's crew had actual apartments in those structures, while others held shops, restaurants and even hotels. The plants were wrong (and often artificial) but with the walls of the grav deck close on either side and the dry air it was close enough to Tikograd's residential district to give Chāo a start.

She hadn't been back to the Confederation since the fall of Tikonov in 3028. Six years. . .though in truth, everything had unraveled well before then. Her family, their estate, the academy, her classmates, all were gone. Home was gone, and in its place was a world where Chāo no longer seemed to fit.

Fah. Home is where ever I am. My bunk, my fighter bay, this park. That bench over there.

Chāo crossed to one of the fake wood benches, plopping the bag of food down next to her as she sat. But the bench was too big, and soon she was squirming in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position. The bag produced a sandwich wrapped in wax paper. She bit into it, made a face, took a closer look. Some sort of meat paste.

A brief flit of laughter brought her head up. She caught sight of a man and woman holding hands, heading deeper into the park. Chāo stared after them long after they had disappeared into the foliage. What did she have to offer then? A disgraced name? A pauper's life riding jump ships from one conflagration to the next? A life expectancy measured in liters and kilo newtons?

Chāo set her face into an expressionless mask, tucked her legs under her, mentally counted the L-bills remaining in her pocket and took another bite of the sandwich.

Interlude 6

Spoiler

Grand Promenade, Kimball Station
Nadir Jump Point, Capella
Capella Commonality, Capellan Confederation
12 April, 3035 -- 10:00 Hrs (08:20 Capellan Standard Time)

"Too big." The auto-pistol landed on the counter with a heavy thunk. Vasili eyed the pistol, then looked down at the woman who'd dropped it. "They don't come any smaller."

"It's too big." Her tone suggested she either hadn't heard him or didn't care to. The store owner drew himself up to his full height, one massive hand on either side of the discarded weapon as he leaned over the counter.

"That's because we don't sell guns for midgets!" He shared a laugh with the store's only other customer, a man who was looking over the automatic rifles. The kind of rifles people were willing to pay real money for. Vasili turned away in anticipation of a big sale.

"It's too big."

The man's thick eye brows furrowed, and he let his rapidly darkening mood show on his face, and then in the low rumble of his growl. When that failed to have any effect, he reached back and hammered on the door frame to the main stock room three times, hard enough to knock the dust out of the gaps in the ceiling. The dwarf didn't even have the decency to flinch.

Chāo held the owner's gaze as a smallish man, redolent with the smells of too much gun oil and not enough washing, oozed his way through a dirty curtain at the back of the store and shuffled to a stop next to the counter. He took great care to look only at the shop's tile flooring.

"Show our very special customer our very special stock, hmm?"

The man brought both hands up in front of his head, right fist to left palm, bowed, backed towards the curtain. He drew back the partition and motioned with a wrinkled hand-- Chāo shook her head, eyes narrowing, the silent command. You go first.

The opening led to a corridor, an over sized crawl space really, running between the edge of the grav deck and the store next to the gun shop. It was cold, damp, the humidity unusual on board a space station. Old, dim bulbs with bare wires hung at odd angles in the centrifugal gravity. There was an intermittent sound of dripping water and the air smelled of mildew and decay. Chāo could hear things scuttling away in the darkness as she followed the servitor deeper into the tunnel.

The man's obsequious bearing faded, and soon he was talking almost continuously. He seemed glad for the company, frequently glancing back over his shoulder has he spoke. "You're a MechWarrior right? Looking for something to take into the cockpit with you I bet. Some good stuff back here, old, but good. The stuff Vasili keeps up front is all flash and bang, and that stuff sells good, but I keep some choice stuff back here too. Practical, as you please." The man flashed her a smile. Chāo realized with a start that he was probably no older than she was.

Half his teeth were missing.

The servitor slowed, ducked under a pipe, turned left into a gap in the wall. Chāo reached up and put a hand on the pipe as she passed underneath it, was surprised to feel vibrations in the metal, realized it was from the mechanism driving the station's gravity deck.

"My family were MechWarriors once, fought for the Star League! They left though. Took the 'Mech with them. And. . ."

The tunnel opened out into a larger area, what looked like it had once been a maintenance office for this part of the station. A large workbench ran the length of the near wall, the single electric lantern perched on it casting the only light in the room. The rest of the space was dominated with floor to ceiling shelving units. Weapons and tools in various states of repair covered nearly every available surface. Chāo could feel the deep thrum of the grav deck through the floor now-- every so often the vibrations would surge through the shelves and cause their burdens to rattle softly.

". . .and those of us that stayed became this." The cowering he had displayed in the store was completely gone, replaced with something halfway between dignity and despair.

The young man continued speaking as he threaded his way through the maze of the shelves. Chāo mostly ignored him, focusing instead on the surprising variety of technical bric-a-brac lying about. Most of it was junk, and yet. . .

One of the pieces had a connector that looked similar to the ones on Kin's diagnostic tools. Chāo bumped the shelf trying to get a better look and a spider the size of her hand fell off one of the upper shelves and landed on her forearm. She watched as it scuttled up her sleeve, memories of her survival training on Tikonov coming to the surface, thought to herself, I've eaten scarier things than you. The man seemed to find what he was looking for and called Chāo over-- she brushed the arachnid off her shoulder with a bare hand and moved to join him.

"Here! There should be something in here to your liking! How about. ..here, try this one. . ."

She took the proffered revolver, held it up in a shooting stance, tested the weight. She'd never really considered revolvers to be viable weapons, but moving the bullets out of the grip allowed it to be smaller and she had to admit it was a much better fit. It was a bit heavy though.

They went down the row-- too heavy, too light, too rusty, too fragile. She turned the gun in her hand over and made a face-- the cylinder didn't want to stay in the closed position. Chāo turned to hand the weapon back and drew up short.

The servitor had dropped to his knees, the words coming out in a rush. "Please, Lady, take me with you! I will be worth whatever Vasili asks in payment!" The man misread her expression and his voice surged, reciting his qualifications, his lineage, his worth, begging now. . .

"Shut up!"

Chāo's outburst surprised them both, the words coming unbidden, fueled by years of running, of loss, of hurt. The pain in the servitor's eyes was gut wrenching, eyes so much like her own, and she wanted to apologize, to explain. I can barely look after me, I can't take care of you! Your owner will want to know who I am, do you understand what that could mean! Don't look at me like that, don't ask this of me! Go away! In the end, she found herself unable to push any words past the lump in her throat.

It was Chāo's turn to look at the floor.

The man straightened up, seemed to know his chance had passed. Three hammer blows sounded low and mournful along the pipe in the ceiling, someone pounding far away, the shout muffled by the distance. "Taishu!"

The servitor bowed, hands up, right fist to left palm, respectful in every way save for the fury smoldering in his eyes. He turned and left without another word.

Chāo watched him go, looked around the room, the filthy mattress in the corner, the chamber pot, pictured herself wearing the man's threadbare rags, living in this dark hovel with Kin and Ming, forgotten. The shudder that shot through her was not caused by the chill air.

She turned back to the shelf, eager to be gone from this place. Some of the guns were still boxed, and she brushed the webbing away, read one of the labels. An auto-revolver? Chāo pulled the weapon free of the packaging, held it out, sighted down the barrel. It fit her hands perfectly. The weapon was unusual-- the barrel was aligned with the bottom of the hexagonal cylinder instead of the top, and the hammer was completely recessed into the frame. She checked the box again. Fah. It was expensive too. A quick search of the shelves turned up a box with a much cheaper gun that fired the same ammunition-- Chāo put the expensive gun into the cheap box and made for the exit.

She snatched the electrical gizmo she'd been looking at earlier on her way out and stuffed it into one of her pockets.

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

The artificial sunlight of the main promenade was a welcome change from the dank of the shop's back room. Chāo paused at her bench by the park long enough to relace her boots and belt on the newly holstered pistol. She stood up and stretched, picked up the box of ammunition, took in the boulevard and the various storefronts on either side of it. Chāo found herself wondering how many of those stores had hidden warrens with hidden people living in them.

Turning towards the Dropship, she decided she really never wanted to find out. . .

[kevin roshak]

Wow Spokes. That's awesome.

[GLIZZY GULPER]

Yay, character stuff.

Spoiler

Name: Xavier Rogers
Date of Birth: January 27th, 3012 / 23
House Affiliation: Lyran Commonwealth
BattleMech: Commando "COM-2D"
Call Sign: "High Roller"
Military History:
Xavier Rogers attended the Tamar War College and later briefly served in the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces with the Tamar Jagers, until he sustained injuries that left him unsuitable for active duty service and was honorably discharged. During his military career, he didn't participate in any extraordinary events or received any major awards, instead receiving standard "participation" awards and maintaining a rather clean record.
Physical Description:
Xavier appears to be of average height at 5'9, and weighs around 175 pounds, with blue eyes, pale white skin, and dark brown hair, trimmed short. His usual attire consists of a standard drab green jumpsuit, with pockets on the shoulders and lining his pant legs. A patch with his last name, "Rogers", is messily sewed on. On his jumpsuit, near his waist on the right side, is a holster, which contains a standard laser pistol. The pouches next to it contain two standard capacity magazines for the weapon. On the left side of his waist is a sheath containing a standard combat knife. He has a total of 60 C-Bills on his person.
Open Background:
Xavier Rogers was born into a well-off family who ran a multitude of factories, and worked alongside his siblings until he became of proper age to attend the Tamar War College, wanting to stray off the beaten path that the rest of his family so often took.
Once he graduated from the Tamar War College, he was assigned to a regiment of the Tamar Jagers as a scout, piloting the light Commando 2D instead of the common medium-class 'Mechs found amongst fellow MechWarriors of the Jagers.
The end of his military career came when a friendly Hunchback discharged it's right torso mounted AC/20 right as Rogers's 'Mech cut across the firing line to the target during a training session, causing extensive damage to the Commando's left torso and disabling the left arm, alongside knocking the 'Mech down with the sheer force of the projectile, which left Xavier with a multitude of injuries.
After a period of medical care, he was released and later honorably discharged from the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces due to his injuries making him "unsuitable" for active duty service.
He returned to his home planet, where he found his family still making a considerable living running factories and shops, and worked briefly before purchasing a Commando 2D using stockpiled family funds, similar to the one he used during his service, and plunged into the world of mercenary work.
Deep Background:
• The sound of the AC/20 is something that he still fears.
• Piloting light scout 'Mechs are essentially his only specialty regarding 'Mechs, as he has never been able to adjust to the slower speeds of bigger 'Mechs.

[dal10]

anyone else think professor xavier and captain america when they read the name?

[Thom Frankfurt]

LOL I didn't catch that.