454 replies to this topic

[Sloth901]

"Thanks, any help identifying it would be appretiated," Nathan caught sight of the dragoon in the corner of his eye, then he remembered. "I hear the Dragoons have some rarer star leauge mechs, maybe they can help" Nathan raised his voice. "So how about it Draco?" The Dragoon seemed suprised. "We never met in person on Bonette but i never forget a face. Will Andor, hes my best friend, and commander, He told me all about you, even showed me a picture and footage of you in battle. Very impressive, if a little reckless. Apparently you identified a strange mech there. A Behemoth was it? Maybe you can help me now"

[Thom Frankfurt]

[[The spelling in the dialoge is deliberate, Thom talks with an outragous Brooklyn accent.]]

Waits for his turn to see the datapad while he chewed on that tidbit of info. Hightech Bandits stomping some merc company's *** out in the Periphery. This was bad news, he wondered if there was some connection between this guy on the datapad and the rumors of small pirate kingdoms getting snuffed out. He thought it unlikely, but stranger things have been known to happen.

"Yo Nate. I know it sucks that you's lost comrades, but I think's it's safe to say that everyone here at dis tables lost someone... once or twice."

-Looks over the footage on the datapad with a critical eye.-

"If dis thing took out three mechs, one being a Vic no less, then dis things must mount some serious firepower. You's sure der was only one?"

Smiles as the bar wench finally shows up with some empty pint glasses and a couple of pitchers of the blackstuff. He tosses a crumpled C-note onto her serving tray.

"Keep it Gorgeous."

He then starts filling up pints for everyone.

"A toast!! to our fallen comrades!"

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 26 February 2012 - 05:56 PM.

[Damon Howe]

[[Will wait for another RPer to get in on this...a single back and forth between two peeps a RP does not make. Assume for right now I'm busy transferring info from datapad to datapad.]]

[[Edit: that was fast]]

Finished copying the data and passing it off to the Capellan across the table, Damon returned his datapad safely to his pocket.

Unsure, Damon declined a drink. "Sorry, I've had friends lose friends in the field, but I've been lucky thus far. I'm not sure if it would be appropriate."

While this was partially true...Damon had experienced some lost some units in his Company before, none were too close to him...he also didn't want to wash the few troubles he had - along with his consciousness - down the tubes with any more alcohol.

Edited by Damon Howe, 26 February 2012 - 06:00 PM.

[Listless Nomad]

[[Anyone up for a bar fight or something among randos? Maybe a drunken brawl we break up or something? I'm hoping graaf comes back soon so we can advance the plot without ruining anything.]]

[Damon Howe]

[[BAR FIGHTS FTW!!!! Could be cool...lets see what others think. ]]

Edited by Damon Howe, 26 February 2012 - 06:02 PM.

[Sloth901]

[[ill answer the other posts after i get a response from Guardian as i issued a question to him 1st. but im going for tonight (gotta love those time zones -.-) Im game for a Bar fight or something similar]]

[Listless Nomad]

[[I'm killing time for right now, so I apologize if my character's updates are somewhat boring. Let's see what Graaf has up his sleeve]]


The sounds coming from the datapad were unmistakable. Whatever was on the datapad was a battle, and it clearly was what had upset the Davion man. The mechwarrior who had saluted James earlier had now joined the crowded table, and appeared to be intently scanning the datapad. Whatever was going on with the datapad was none of James’ business, and he resisted the urge to go over and pester the Davion man. Clearly something had shaken him, and the last thing he needed was some other nosy stranger prying into his business.

Reaching into the pocket of his BDU pants, James pulled out his own datapad, and saw there was a message from his chief tech regarding the status of his mech. James tapped out a quick response and sent the reply back to his chief tech. His mech was now safely sequestered in a mechbay nearby to his dropship, and refitting was going smoothly. As he has been on a diplomatic mission, there were not a lot of repairs to do, mostly routine check ups and maintenance. There was also a message from Colonel Wade asking for a status report on his mission. Not in the mood or the state of mind to send a reply to his commanding officer, James filed the message away for later and moved on to read a few messages detailing Solaris VII match results.

[Grafvitnir]

[[Many apologies for my absence lately, been a bit busy, but I've been keeping tabs. Writing a long post, so bear with me for a minute.]]

Graaf lifts his stein in salute to fallen comrades, and then leans in close, breaking his long silence:
"My friends. I am telling an extremely memorable joke, so laugh when I've finished. The mercs behind us in red have been eyeing us for most of our conversation, and I believe they may bear us ill will. I was not sure until the leader turned to look up at the waitress, but they are carrying assault rifles. We are by far the most heavily armed guests here tonight, and we are all together. We cannot afford to look suspicious but --"

As if on queue, the roar of autocannon fire, muffled by the pub's thick wooden walls fills the room, and the Dalian Guards stand and brandish their rifles.
"My friends! Today may be a long day for you, so drink up. As I speak, my associates are locking down this town, and jamming all communication. My friend here will be coming around and collecting 'Mech startup codes, weapons, and any C-Bills or valuables you have. If any among you supply us with duress codes, or fail to inform us of tracking and retrieval devices, we will simply dismantle your 'Mech for parts and your life will be forfeit, along with the lives of others, as the mood takes us.
Once everything we desire has been loaded onto our dropship, we will depart, and you can go about your business; substantially poorer, perhaps, but with your lives."

The mercenary to the right flashes a grin, and begins to make his rounds of the room, as two more mercs enter through the door and cover the room, one carrying a compact handheld flamer, and the other an assault rifle of the same model the rest of the guards have been carrying.

[[On Nomad's excellent map, the Dalian guards were sitting just off the map to the right, while the door is in the upper left. Also, let's please avoid god-modding, no-one take any rash action that could get us all killed without some kind of clever plan. Let's all see each other's reactions before I update about the situation.
As always, I am available for GM information such as town layout, geography, etc. if you ask me OOC or PM me. Believe me, I've planned for (I hope) just about every possible route this could take.]]

Edited by Grafvitnir, 26 February 2012 - 06:34 PM.

[guardian wolf]

Give me a sec, getting a post together

[Damon Howe]

[[damn, S*** just got REAL..]]

Damon was so glad he decided to send off those messages to his secure computer back in the Militia Barracks. Now he didn't have to worry about losing it in whatever hell was going to rain down upon him.

...if he was going to get out alive that is.

He silently thanked his semi-sobriety and lack of identification as well. While it may seem obvious he was a mechwarrior, with no proof on him stating the obvious, he might scoot out lucky...and if he could make it back to the mech hangers where his freshly painted Jenner was waiting, he could give these...mercenaries...exactly what they deserved.

First though, he had to get out. Alive would be nice too.

Without any better idea in his head, Damon rose in his seat slightly and showed his palms, surrendering the fight with a heavy sigh. For now at least.

Edited by Damon Howe, 26 February 2012 - 06:49 PM.

[Listless Nomad]

“You have got to be joking me…” James thought to himself. The Dalian mercs who had been sitting quietly this entire time suddenly were no longer sitting and no longer very quiet. The assault rifles they were brandishing were real enough, and their new friend with the hand held flamer could make things..uncomfortable… to say the least. Concealed by his long leather overcoat, James quietly unclasped the catch on his thigh holster. Not a match for any of the larger weapons the mercs were packing, his anti-personnel flechette pistol could still do some nasty damage. None of the mercs appeared to be wearing body armor, which meant they were all vulnerable. Luckily for James, the mercs appeared to be focusing mostly on the large table of mechwarriors in front of him. James was suddenly thankful that he hadn’t been too interested in what was on the Davion man’s data pad.

The mercs began working their way around the room, hustling the townies for any money or codes they had, and were having a little trouble getting info out of some of them.

James saw the merc that had saluted him at the bar raise slowly, with his palms outward. This drew the attention of the mercs in the bar, and they began to close in on him, weapons raised. tightening his grip on the grip of his flechette pistol, James began to inch toward the door. He'd be damned if he was going to surrender to these pirates.

Edited by Listless Nomad, 26 February 2012 - 06:53 PM.

[guardian wolf]

Sloth901, on 26 February 2012 - 05:36 PM, said:

"Thanks, any help identifying it would be appretiated," Nathan caught sight of the dragoon in the corner of his eye, then he remembered. "I hear the Dragoons have some rarer star leauge mechs, maybe they can help" Nathan raised his voice. "So how about it Draco?" The Dragoon seemed suprised. "We never met in person on Bonette but i never forget a face. Will Andor, hes my best friend, and commander, He told me all about you, even showed me a picture and footage of you in battle. Very impressive, if a little reckless. Apparently you identified a strange mech there. A Behemoth was it? Maybe you can help me now"

Draco had looked over at the data pad, and visibly a chill went up his spine. He mumbled an old mandalorian curse, and then heard man's question. He had no choice now. Draco had by then finished his sandwich, so, he just got up, and carried his dark ale with him, as the water was gone as well. Nathan, from the Vulkaneers, it seemed, was knowing information that he had received from the 7th Kommando, and though Draco was on good terms with them, he knew that it was still need to know information. Draco sat down and stared at the picture real hard. It matched the description, a Summoner, most of the guys in the Kommando called it a Thor though. Draco glanced up and looked at Nathan.
"Where was this?"
"In the Periphery, why? You recognize it?"
"I have a hunch, but I need to confirm it, as that" he pointed down to the mech, "Is not Star-League era, in fact, I'll wager someone has been doing some R&D on a chassis to get that," he eluded that he knew more, and therefore, kept everyone looking at him, like salivating dogs.
"You said that it had an LRM launcher right?"
"Yes,"
"I'll wager that it also had to ACs, and some lasers right?"
"Yeah what are you getting at,"
Draco leaned in real close among the group, and he whispered so that only the people at the table could hear him.
"What I'm about to tell you, is known, by fewer than a hundred people, and not even any of the houses know about them. This is classified beyond top secret, and technically this conversation never happened,"
He looked directly at the Lyran, she was appearing to be nonchalant about this, but she visibly shivered when he stared her down.
"That means whatever I tell you, you have to swear, on your honor, and the blood of your children, this has to stay a secret, as if anyone else knows, mass panic will ensue. That mech is an advanced battlemech, called a Thor,"
Nathan was staring at Draco in disbelief, along with everyone else.
"It carries advanced technology, and is also better armored, not to mentioned armed. You want to kill this thing, you going to have to follow my plans to the letter,"
He leaned back, he would at least be fulfilling his obligation to the Kommando at least. He needed to stop this threat once and for all, so that way he could stop this threat to the inner sphere.

[Damon Howe]

[[....hmmm...the post is...out of place. idk...graf?]]

[Listless Nomad]

[[lol Guardian, I think that we now have more pressing matters at hand. Idk if you want to amend your post to an earlier time - or just update it, but its a little out of place right there haha. EDIT - beat me too it damon]]

Edited by Listless Nomad, 26 February 2012 - 06:58 PM.

[Grafvitnir]

[[Yeah, Wolf. Please keep to canon, you may be a wolf's dragoon, but knowledge about the clans is a pretty big event, universe-wise. In addition, I don't know if you have some agreement with Nathan or Lina, but it's frowned upon to RP another's part of the conversation otherwise; i.e. "everyone staring at him like hungry dogs". Please refrain from taking action on other's behalf, especially for the purpose of self-aggrandizement.]]

Edited by Grafvitnir, 26 February 2012 - 07:11 PM.

[Damon Howe]

[[for the record, I don't think any of us are intentionally ganging up on you Guardian...so don't take the criticism to heart please. ]]

[Damon Howe]

....

[[think it's safe to say that he won't be coming back for a while, so how about we just ignore his post? no offense of course...]]

[Grafvitnir]

Graaf saw the merc at the bar stand, and as James seemed ready to make for the door, he knew they'd need a plan, and fast.
As the Guard's eyes left his table, he began to tap each new friend with his boot in turn, rotating the handle of his mug to show each a different target.
To Thom, the merc moving around the room, collecting valuables and 'Mech codes.
To Lina, the merc by the door with the flamer.
To Azman, the merc by the door with the rifle.
He kicked Nathan harder, to grab his attention, and turned the handle towards the leader.
Graaf would take the one on the left to himself.

Here's hoping we're all good shots, he thought to himself.

[[Augh. Sorry for the name mix-ups, hopefully correct now.]]

Edited by Grafvitnir, 26 February 2012 - 07:45 PM.

[Lina Thoren]

...I really need to be more careful what I wish for, Lina thought, as the Delian Guard mercs drew down on the bar patrons, and made to start robbing them and the town. Of all the rotten ....

There was a time and a place to try and negotiate, but experience was telling her this wasn't it. Once they had everyone disarmed, there was little if any reason to to keep potential witnesses and/or vengeance-seekers alive. It they were feeling generous, they might ransom her back to the Commonwealth--with no guarantee there wouldn't be any "mishandling during transit," of course--but it would probably be more expedient to simply kill the lot of them. And she'd already had to stand by and watch one atrocity committed in the Republic on her watch. There wouldn't be a second.

No. Better to shoot it out...and hope for the best.

She met Graaf's eye, seeing he'd reached the same conclusion she had. On her first assignment, one of her lancemates had carried a flamer pistol much like the merc covering the door had, meaning she knew where to aim to hit the fuel. The resulting explosion wouldn't set off the ENTIRE bar (too small for that...so Lina hoped, anyway), but it would set him ablaze and hopefully might distract his fellows long enough for her companions to get their weapons out. Assuming she could hit the thing, of course.

As one of the mercs approached, presumably to relieve them of their valuables, Lina rose slowly to her feet, one hand raised in seeming compliance, the other going slowly behind her as if to hand over her cash and ComStar debit card, taking care to look every centimeter the timid social general. In reality, she was going for her revolver, holstered at the small of her back.

Here goes nothing...

Suddenly bursting into motion, she snapped the snub-nosed weapon up, squeezing the trigger the moment it's red-dot settled over the flamer's fuel tank. She gave no thought to ammo conservation: if she failed to get the tank before they got her, it was all over regardless.

Edited by Lina Thoren, 26 February 2012 - 07:57 PM.

[Damon Howe]

Damon was quick to notice the pilot buying the drinks signalling to the others, but it took him a couple seconds to realize what exactly the signals meant.

Luckily, he put two and two together by the time he finished, thanks in part to a soft 'thump' from underneath the table. Judging by the looks on everyone else's faces, he was the only one singled out of what might be happening in the next five minutes.

...not that he could blame the large man calling the shots. After all, nobody knew who he was, and it probably seemed suspicious that he only joined the group a moment before they made their move.

Still, with nothing better to go on, Damon kept his hands raised as the merc frisking the patrons came closer. If things were about to get nasty, he'd have to feint ignorance until the end...unless he saw a chance to turn things his way.

[[Edit: Consider this post as "just before" Lina's above post]]

Edited by Damon Howe, 26 February 2012 - 07:58 PM.