229 replies to this topic

[Thom Frankfurt]

Union class Dropship, Achilles' Pride
Barcelona, Spaceport
(City in need of a name)
T, 12:01 hours

Thom gabbed hold of the bulkhead to keep from falling over as the dropship's deck pitched up below him.

"Jesus! Damn's rookie drivers!!!" He exclaimed as the 'Pride touched down roughly upon the ferrocrete tarmac of Barcelona's only spaceport. If he was to grade the dropships crew they'd had gotten an 'A' for punciality, bud a 'D' for rough landing. He then looked up at his cousin/tech, Markus, who was non chalantly leaning back against their hover truck chuckling at Thom.

"Yo, funk you!" Thom flipped him the bird as he stood fully upright again gratefull to have the trip from the FRR finally done and over with.

"So... You's sure you's got everything's calibrated for dis rock's gravity? I's don't like da idea of da muscle's breaking again like it did on Pacifica..."

"First off cuz," the grease monkey held up a hand, "You didn't have a tech then, so that was all your own damned fault. I don't tell you how to do your job stompping the 'Thing around, you don't tell me how to do my job. Agreed?" The burly tech crossed his arms over his barrelchest in a definant pose that stood as a warning to the tall, lankey, mechwarrior. (even though he has put muscle on since WB Raven)

Thom held his hands up and patted the air in a jesture that said 'whoa there.'

"Sorry's man. Just making's sure everything's ready's, just incase. Can't's be too carefuls.' " The thuggish mechwarrior stated.

"Dude. You're fracken paranoid, but don't worry homie. I got you covered. While you were locking yourself away on the grav-deck trying to put on muscle," He chuckled again. "I was doing my job. The 'Thing is ready to go. T, if the Stiener-Davion's or Dalian Guard or ah, the Little Red Riding Hood for that matter, show up with an attitude, we'll be ready. Well ready as we'll ever be anyways." He shrugged after he shot back with that.

"Good's. I'll's go check in wit da authority's, den find a's garage."

And a bar.. He perked up at that. Thom then hefted his studded leather jacket and his rucksack of 'provisions.' then made way to where mechbay doors were yawning open, revealing the stormchoked sky of Barcelona as the ramp lowered to the ferrocrete tarmac.

Etch... more rain.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 22 July 2012 - 02:42 AM.

[Orcinus]

Barcelona, 17th Skye Ranger Base
T, 0530 hours

"Reporting for duty, sir."

Brennan stood face-to-face with his Major. Both of them were wearing raincoats as the Barcelona weather took a turn for the worse.

"Jeez. I give you leave for a week, then you come back as if nothing happened. You're early... as usual."

Brennan simply shrugged.

Spending the last week with his family allowed him to unwind and relax. Nevertheless, he was anxious to get back to work.

Before departing, he gave his wife one last embrace.

Clare spoke first. "Maeve and I will stay on-planet for another day, and then take the next transport home."

Brennan nodded. "I'll see you off at the spaceport."

He turned to Maeve, still asleep, and kissed her forehead. He waved goodbye to his wife and left the apartment, quietly closing the door behind him.

His Major put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"Alright, let's go inside. There are a few things to discuss."

Brennan followed him in, starting another ordinary work day.

[Thom Frankfurt]

(Damnit. Internet hiccuped on me and I lost everything I was working on. Now I don't feel like writing anymore, sleeping meds are finally kicking in)

[RogueSpear]

[[Ouch. Feel free to write anything you want right up to when you meet Spear and Will, I'll be getting the Sparks-runs-into-the-clan-recon post up ASAP]]

[Thom Frankfurt]

(Hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna add some flavor and give some things descriptions.)

Barcelona, Spaceport
(City in need of a name)
T, 12:20 hours


Thom stood in line at the port authority portion of the pathetic excuse for a spaceport. Long and rectangular the building stretched on with white plastered walls and white and powdered blue tiled floors. The roof of the building was ferro-glass which offered a great view of the sky, too bad the storm still raged and rain pelted down upon the glass. Here and there the blandness of the building was broken up by an billboard advertising some local manufactured product or a recruitment poster for the AFFC. He stood there glaring at a poster of some devilishly hansome boy in uniform with the silluette of a Zues behind him. In bold red letters the words 'Honor, Duty, Commitment' made up the entire left side of the poster.

"I can help you over here sir. The old customs offical said in a meek voice once the older couple he was helping moved along. Thom marched on over to the counter and wordlessly haneded the fossil of a man a slip of papers on the items he was declaring. The man looked over the papers, his eyes gradully widening as he read on. He then looked over Thoms indentification papers.

"So Mr. Frankfurt, what brings you to Barcelona? Buisness or pleasure?" The old hunched over man asked the classic question despite on how much of a cliche' it was.

"Buisness's" Thom simply replied and the old man set down the wrinkled papers and looked Thom square in the eye.

"Would you please elaberate?" The man asked and Thom could sence the mans unseen hand was hovering near an alarm button.

"I'm's atrying to's meet up wit da Dragoon's or Irregulars... I's a need's a job." He offered and the man visiblly relax.

"Ah a mercenary. But if you were trying to join a mercenary band, why didn't you head towards Galeta or Outreach?" The official arched a snowy eyebrow.

"I's ahave's some prior experience with deez guys. And Barcelona wuz a closer." The thuggish Warlockian said.

"Very well then. Welcome to Barcelona, Mr. Frankfurt. You'll find the Dragoon's up in the Castle, but you can find any of the mercs in any of the drinking holes in town." The man offered as he passed Thoms papers back to him.

"Thanks buddy." With that Thom made his way out of the spaceport and into the storm.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 26 July 2012 - 02:51 PM.

[guardian wolf]

((I see this going really bad really fast for Draco, he might be safer a Clan POW, than with all of you guys when the **** hits the fan.))

[Thom Frankfurt]

((why do you say that?))

[RogueSpear]

[[Because he's ugly, and nobody likes him]]

[Thom Frankfurt]

((Ah, well that explains a lot. ))

[RogueSpear]

[[I'm going to be in America until the 8th, so on the 9th...the terror begins.]]

[Thom Frankfurt]

((Bring it you Vat-Brat, test-tube babies!!! I'll kick you squarely in the Krenskies!! On a serious note, where again? Phoenix?))

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 01 August 2012 - 05:03 PM.

[RogueSpear]

[[Phoenix aye. I've now arrived.]]

[Thom Frankfurt]

[[hey my Bro-in-law said something about maybe going to AZ this weekend. I'll see if he needs a co-pilot.]]

[RogueSpear]

Little Morena Ranges, Barcelona.
T, 12:32 Hours,

"Fire Lady to Mantis, bank east-north-east for intercept with bandit."
"Copy Fire Lady. Blacksmith, marking Nav Pheta, head for it. Breaking formation and trying to catch up with this b*stard before he plugs any more holes in Fire Lady. Lady, any further confirmation on his weapons?"
"Negative Mantis, we're not even certain what it hit us with the first time. Definitely some form of AMS though, none of your LRMs are getting close."
Leutnant Gary Parks swore to himself in his Shadow Hawk.Fire Lady's Cyrano VTOL could be seen dimly in the distance, trailing heavy smoke from where the bandit had nearly taken her rotor clean off, but for an unexpected piece of turbulence. He pushed his Shadow Hawk away from Blacksmith's slow Enforcer, trying to catch up with the bandit as she confirmed his action.
He'd tried to lob some LRMs at the tiny bandit earlier, the mech showing up on his HUD due to Fire Lady's spot. The b*stard was obviously advanced though if he mounted one of the recently rediscovered Anti Missile Systems. Still, it was a lighter mech, and all he had to do was push it towards Nav Pheta for Blacksmith.
"Fire Lady to Mantis, enemy is accelerating to outclip you. Speed up over 90, heading for the hills two hundred metres east of Nav Pheta."
"Copy Fire Lady, I got him." Finally the chase was coming to an end.
Mantis had hit his top speed of 86.4km/h when he saw the dark green mech nudge out of cover. Quickly he triggered an unguided LRM launch, hoping to cheat the AMS and began lining up his AC5. His missiles swirled through the air, the enemy mech seeking to avoid them by charging into the open.
"Ha! Fool! Fire Lady, watch out, looks like this punk is looking to take someone out with him."
He decided to launch another flight of LRMs now he had lock, if just to throw off the other mech. Zooming in he saw three AMS on the mech's right arm tear into the small flight, wiping them all out. Cursing to himself again, he waited for the distance to close.
"At least this thing isn't kitted out for -" His comment about the diminutive mech's lack of range died on his lips as a bolt of green energy shot past him and the screams of Fire Lady's crew filled his comms. Nearly 700m away from the bandit, Fire Lady lost her roof as the spinning rotor blades whipped through the air. The bandit's second attack had carved through the same spot as the first and Mantis winced as the gunship crashed bodily into the ground. Turning back to face the bandit he fired another futile LRM burst in anger.
Finally his AC5 came into range and he thumped out a shot, but Fire Lady's murderer sidestepped it easily. The green beam lashed out again, lashing armour off his left arm. Warnings sounded in his cockpit as he fired again, the shot throwing dirt in front of the forest-shaded spectre as it slowed suddenly. The emerald beam reached out again, severing his left arm, and he began to panic.
"Dammit Blacksmith, where are you?" He shouted into his comms. "They got the Fire Lady!" He couldn't understand what was going on. The bandit was mounting a laser weapon that simply outranged any laser he'd ever seen. Even his LRMs with that shot that got the Lady. A chill ran down his spine as the thought of some elite House unit testing new equipment occurred to him. He fired another wave of missiles and autocannon fire, achieving the same lack of result.
With horror, he realized his foe was coming straight at him, and began backpeddling. He brought his medium laser into play, scoring a burn mark across the charging light mech's left torso, charcoal scarring the lush paint. His autocannon still found nothing but air as the bandit once more dodged with unerring skill. He thanked any deity that happened to be listening that the mech appeared to be running hot from it's weapon's silence.
Watching his recycle bar, Mantis aimed in front of the enemy, firing two SRMs and immediately twitching back, firing his AC5 at the scout. He was rewarded with a spray of armour from the mech's left torso again by fluke, but immediately punished two.
The ungodly green laser burned a hole through his left torso, a smaller flickering pulse laser joining in to flay even more armour from him. Dual machine guns began a rolling burr that vibrated his cockpit as sparks flew across his vision. He tried to throw up his mech's left arm, but remembered too late it was there no more. The pulse laser sank warped ripples into his mech's visor, the large laser burning armour from his centre torso. Blindly Mantis fired everything he had, desperately trying to do something to stop the sudden onslaught.
Twisting, he exposed his rear armour and took stock, trying to keep himself under control. His centre torso was nearly exposed, his left torso was wide open. A lucky or well aimed shot would ignite his useless LRMs. He swiftly dumped them as he remembered his jump jets. Buying himself a few seconds of time, he saw Blacksmith in the distance even as her voice echoed through his cockpit unheard.
Unheard as the unspeakable happened.
The bandit's laser lanced out once more, melting armour across the joint of his lower left leg actuator, fusing it in place midjump. It snapped out from under him like tinder when he landed.
He tried to shove his mech to it's feet, but the green demon was before him, crushing in the Shadow Hawk's chest as it ran over him. In hysterics he realized the Shadow Hawk's spine was broken. A shadow fell across his cockpit.
The hunchbacked mech stood above him. Birdlegged, he could see the bird of prey clasping a sword that was it's unit emblem clearly, emblazoned both sides of the forward mounted head.
He realized he had done nearly no damaged to it. He turned his mech's head to face it, firing both SRMs to explode against it, chipping armour away.
"A poor first blooding, stravag." Was the last word's he heard as the mech crushed his cockpit beneath it's clawed foot.

[Sparks Murphey]

Little Morena Ranges, Barcelona
T, 12:32 hours

It unfolded insanely fast.

Heather was working her way towards Nav Pheta, when a searing beam of green light erupted from behind cover, tearing into the VTOL and sending the large craft on a tormented spiral toward the ground.

What the h***? That shot had out-ranged even an ER PPC, and there was no way that thing was carrying one of those and going that fast. It was like some kind of super Panther. Unless it had virtually no armour on it.... She set it aside and focused on the situation. She had to get to Nav Pheta to cut the target off as Mantis drove it towards her.

“Dammit Blacksmith, where are you? They got Fire Lady!” Mantis called over the comms.

I’m heading to Nev Pheta, where you ordered me, you moron, she thought, as she mounted the ridge that would serve as her firing point. Her thumb and forefinger tensed, ready to loose a volley of energy at the fleeing bandit...

...only it wasn’t there. Against all reason, it hadn’t run from Mantis’ heavier ‘Mech, but had actually closed with him. Pulse laser bursts joined the rattle of machine gun fire, intermixed with the deadly blast of the super-charged large laser. She realised with shock that Mantis’ left arm was already off, and he was turning to face away from the bandit because, ironically, his rear armour was now the strongest on his ‘Mech. She watched him tense the ‘Mech, ready to make a jump...

“No! Not that way, jump behind him!” Heather shouted over the comms.

Whether she was just too late, or he didn’t hear her, she would never be sure. The Shadow Hawk jumped, but not far enough, and certainly not out of danger. The bandit’s laser caught him in the left leg, which snapped under him as he landed. Moments later, the bandit crushed his cockpit under foot.

Heather realised that she still hadn’t fired a shot.

The bandit was an easy target, apparently still not aware of her presence. She floated the targeting reticule across its torso, forcing herself to breathe and not tense up, then fired both her arm weapons at once.

The cockpit fans immediately went to high speed as heat flooded the Furnace. The large laser melted most of the remaining front armour off the bandit’s left torso, but the ER PPC’s bolt went a little wide, smashing into the right arm instead. She was already moving the instant the shots landed, driving the Furnace along the ridge at flank speed to make her harder to hit.

Greenish steam poured from the bandit’s damaged left torso as it whirled on her, it’s own laser tearing armour from her right arm. Heather returned fire with the large laser, careful to keep her machine from overheating, but the bandit accelerated effortlessly, so that her beam only briefly touched the deadly machine. It fired again and alarms went off, warning her that her PPC had just left the fight. She cursed, and stabbed at the trigger button, striving to land the laser’s beam in the weakened torso and sever this beast’s weapons, but it twisted and caught most of the blast on the right side instead. It raised its arm...

The heat in the cockpit spiked as the green beam slammed into the Furnace’s head. She heard something explode to her right, and covered her face with one arm as the beam crossed the front of the cockpit itself. The green light seemed to push past her arm, through her shut eyelids, becoming her very world. A world made of light, pain, and the smell of searing flesh. Then, darkness.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Barcelona, Spaceport
(City in need of a name)
T, 14:40 hours

Thom was soaked to the bone by the time he arrived at the foot of the 'Castle.' Pushing a long, wet purple strand of mohawk back out of his face he took a moment to reguard the ancient stronghold. Thom snickered at the intimidating gray granite fortress despite how battlemechs strolled atop the ramparts of the intimidating structure. And still chuckiling he thought about a line from one of his Uncle Po's books.

Fixed positions are monuments to the stupidity of man.

With that in mind he approached the fortress, hopefully it'd be dry inside.

[RogueSpear]

Little Morena Ranges, Barcelona.
T, 12:38 Hours.

Mechwarrior Jeffer Roshak of the Jade Falcon clan watched the Inner Sphere Freebirth fall. The Enforcer was damaged, it's right arm and PPC gone, it's cockpit smoking and warped. A much better combatant than the Shadow Hawk pilot he had so effortlessly crushed. He debated his next move for a moment. To confirm the death of the freebirth, finish them or claim them as bondsman if they lived, but he deferred. He had taken damage and his intelligence was vital to the Star Captain.
Probing the area, the Skye Rangers remained as expected from the information fed to them from Clan Wolf's spies, despite the age of the intelligence. The other units on the planet, amounting to an understrength battalion were Inner Sphere mercenaries. Food for the slaughter.
Though he noted the Skye Ranger had gone down much easier than the unmarked mercenary.
Part of the mercenary contingent was a unit of Wolf's Dragoons. He sneered. Distasteful as it was, he had no doubt the Star Captain would order the Dragoons to wipe out the mercenaries while the Falcons took the true foe in glorious battle. He would be running his preferred Alt B configuration for his Kit Fox then.
Though he had to admit the anti missile systems had proven most effective...perhaps he would keep one of them. He would need to decide after he returned to the dropship and had reported by link to the Star Captain.
With one last look at the smoking hulks of his first kills in the war to retake Terra, Jeffer Roshak accelerated to speed and began his return to the dropship.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Skye Rangers Command,
City In Need of a Name [[Seriously, someone get on this]],
Barcelona,
T, 12:38 Hours,

Kommandant Kreiger swore as the Vulkaneer mech lost connection. Damn bandit's had taken out two trained pilots in what appeared to be one light mech, with one antimech weapon, that hit like a gauss rifle.
The officers in his control room waited in silence for him to come to a decision.
It didn't take long.
"Get a salvage and medievac team out there with the Medium Strike Fighters. Get me Will Andor, this Colonel Felth, and that Dragoon that bought Castle. Anyone get his rank? Someone get his rank and call it in. But get me Andor first. He should know what happened to his pilot." His eyes narrowed. He struck an imposing figure in his pristine forest green dress uniform. He always wore it when in the command centre. It was dressier if anyone stopped by or they received more unscheduled communications he needed to reply to and looked impressive.
More importantly, it allowed him to wear a sword.
Slowly he drew the blade, holding it up in the light, watching it ripple along the blade. His knuckles burned white, his muscles could be seen through the heavy dress coat, trembling. His barrel chest barely moved. His blue eyes burned into the blade, reflecting his thick brown moustache.
Gently, and with great effort, he lay the blade flat across the top of his map table, turning his rage inward and compressed it in his core, where it could be used later.
Activity rushed back into the room. That was it then. The 17th Skye Rangers were at war, and would remain so until the Kommandant's sword was sheathed.
Two hours later they had found the bandit dropship. It lifted on a pillar of flame, harried by air superiority fighters, but their aerospace assets were too far away. As it broke atmosphere two miles above the the Little Morena Ranges, the planet's early warning radar, officially undergoing repairs, was brought online - just enough to function.
Just enough to see a jumpship disgorging dropships and fighters from the pirate point.

[Sparks Murphey]

[[By decree of the Everchanging Book of Names, let's call the city Dosasa. Unless someone can think of something better.]]

[guardian wolf]

[[I like it, Draco is now going to be informed. Also to clarify on Combat Ready Status, it is similiar to the American DefCon system, at CR 5, we are at peace, skeleton crew on patrols, all monitering stations manned (this is rarely if ever, reached), at CR 4, full patrol schedule, all posts manned, all unaccounted for visitors must have authorization papers, and be cleared. At CR 3, patrols are now having a radio check every hour, RR team is on call, all posts manned, all defensive positions manned. At CR 2, all personell report to battlestations, for routine checks, all infantry, tanks, and mechwarriors are to be ready to assemble, and go into battle, in five minutes, all fighter wings, when present, are launched. At CR 1, all units are to report to battlestations, all infantry teams, tanks, mechs, are deployed. Patrols recalled back to base, all units to await further orders from current commanding officer. Basically, the brink of war.]]

Barcelona
CASTLE Proving Grounds
T 12:45


Draco was watching the Dropship in the distance, had to be commercial, as they had not received any enemy fire, nor, did the dropship produce mechs. His radio cackled to life as CASTLE callsign "WOLF DEN" opened up the command channel.

"Wolf Den to Guardian, come in Guardian,"

"This is Guardian, sit rep," It was more of a command than a question.

"Sir, we just got a message from Lyran high command on planet, in the capitol city Dosasa, he seemed very pissed sir,"

"Alright, Lyrans don't get pissed for no reason, bring the base up to combat ready status 2,"

"Bring base to combat ready status 2, sir?"

"Yes Sergeant, whatever surprises may come our way, we need to be ready, have a Humvee ready when I arrive,"

"Yes sir,"

Draco paused Rick was getting closer to combat ready, but he was still raw. His mind thought to the cannon fodder that sometimes the enemy used, but immediately dismissed it. He had never left anyone behind, alive or dead. The Dragoons took care of their own, and he would as well.

"Rick head back to the base, and do your best to get your mech to combat ready status. I don't like this,"

Draco headed back to the base, and immediately exited 'Fang, grabbed his datachip from Solaris, and his datapad. Connors was waiting for him in the Humvee. As they drove off, Draco could already hear the yells of rage, and anger at his dishonesty. The looks he would receive as they all felt he was betrayed. The thing was, was that for once, he didn't want to admit to the truth. Without them, his unit, would be wiped out, the planet gone, and any hope of stalling the advance, dashed. He needed them more then they needed him, and the truth hurt. He to have done what he did, in order to try and help them, with what little data he had. No doubt had they been stuck with any other unit, they would have been immediately crushed, and destroyed. He hoped that at least they would give him the chance to explain himself. He didn't count on it though.

Edited by guardian wolf, 09 August 2012 - 06:30 AM.

[RogueSpear]

[[Timestamps GW, timestamps! Also, the Lyrans, the German/Scottish crossover faction doesn't get pissed off for no reason? That seems unlikely. I'll try and get hold of Sloth and drag him on for the convo between him and Spear, and have it interrupted with news of Heather getting mown down. I think it's safe to say she'll have some minor injuries and be out of action for a couple of days (Ie, until just before combat starts for us!), but will be able to move around and the like if Sparks needs her to, assuming no objections to that?]]