Name: Harold Bjornson
Alias: Juppy
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Disposition:

Cheerful, humorous, get 'er done!

He's the kind that stays 'in character', the one that loves laughing and provides something to either laugh at or tell to shut up, every time. And, while being that guy that you could pour your heart out to and get it in return- he's got a real heart of gold- he acknowledges the shittiness of the world, and gladly takes a paycheck to shoot it up. A morally right, honorable guy.

Harold is a man who has seen all manner of people, tried all manner of food, and has been beaten up by a great many people- so he's since then figured that every, regardless of nation, has just as good as bad, and it just depends on how they use it. He's a bit of an unforgiving guy, though, because he believes that if you do wrong, you decided to do it, and that's a great offense to him. He's well aware that some people are more violent, or will curse more- but act wrong and he'll not forget.

History:
A native Sodroyan, he's a blend of everyone from all over the world, his household being a great big multistyled house that expanded with the family- which now numbers in the dozens, in an oddly chaotic but routine lifestyle of sharing and caring. Amid lots of screaming.

Many questioned his reasons of going into fighting- quite simply, he didn't want to get beaten up on, and he had a talent for information- for command and control. He served in the military, joining up as soon as possible, and quickly found himself as a tactician and planner, an adviser to the more experienced officers. After the bureaucratic bullshit tired him, Harold quit the military, resigning within a week all of a sudden, and going out to buy a really nice mech- and started suiting it up when he realized that he didn't have all the funds.

And so he joined the Preying Panthers. ("Hehehe, the Pee-Pee. Sounds friggin odd, but I got my hope!")

Appearance: 2.bp.blogspot.com/-2rsVWJvoC3o/UmbEMjM..
5' 11", 185 lbs., green eyes, brown hair, brown/red beard. As muscly as a casual laborer is, but not thug-like or hulking.

Other: Does the history need to be written out beforehand or can I make it up as I go? Whatwith the "past doesn't matter, this is your new family" and all.

Name: Jupiter Grounded (ACS-3G Zaruga)
Manufacturer: Cradle Dynamics
Height: 4.1 meters
Weight: 5230 kg
Armor: 20 mm durasteel alloy
Speed (Walk): 65 kph
Speed (Skate): 91.6 kph
Sensor range: 5 km
Communication range: 25 km
Operating range: 600 km
Extra Systems: ECM suite, laser target designator
Power: 130
Weight: 80

Armaments:
(50 weight free; 10+24+2+5= 41 of 50 weight used)
- 1x Autocannon - GPR21
- 1x Bazooka - ATB140 "Bully"
- 1x Anti-infantry - MG27

- 1x C3 Imaging Suit
- 1x EVF “Chameleon” Active Camouflage

UNEQUIPED:
- 2x AT Missile - MGR-2A
- 1x Autocannon - AFC-40/L

Money:
First mission stats:
$+400,000 completion payment
$-132,000 for ATB140 and GPR21 and C3 and EVF
$+59,000 previous balance
Total: $+337,000

Beginning:
$+600,000 starter payment
$-541,000 for Zaruga, 2x MGR-2A, 1x AFC40L, and MG27
Total: $+59,000

Name: Isabella Leclerc
Age: 28
Gender: Female
Disposition: Bellicose, frenetic, results oriented, health nut.

Isabella is a person that finds it very difficult to sit still for any measurable period of time. If idle hands are the devil's playthings then Isabella has an archangel in her palms. If she isn't working then she is either exercising, training, or asleep. There still appears to be deep scarring left from her days before joining the Preying Panthers and that doesn't just include her face and body. If there is any impetus for her constant activity it appears to be a fear of being alone with her own thoughts, and so the few times she isn't throwing herself into some task she surrounds herself with others. She keeps to a very exacting regimen of exercise in order to keep her body in peak physical shape. According to Isabella, this is so she can get the most out of her augments as it doesn't matter if her arms are rated for 600 pounds of lifting capability when the bones and muscles they are anchored to will destroy themselves at half that. While on leave Isabella has a prodigious drinking habit and likes to always be the life of any party she can find, though she is doubly sure to burn off all those empty calories once the haze has worn off.

To her comrades she is jokingly called a robot both because of her Prostheses and refusal to remove herself from a task until she is finished, not that she is emotionally cold or distant. Quite the opposite in fact. People tend to be put off by her intensity and aggression more than anything else, and she is known for picking fights with strangers if the opportunity presents itself. While certainly an aggro individual she doesn't like to curse much, and will instead come up with creative alternatives to commonplace invective.

Background: Isabella was born to working class Sardonian parents who, like most working class blokes in a nation on the rise, were staunch patriots. This patriotism rubbed of on Isabella at a young age and stuck with her throughout her relatively uneventful childhood and adolescence. It led her to join the Sardonian Defense force at the age of 18 where her high scores in coordination and motor control landed her a spot in the nation's illustrious FRAME units. At the time when she finished basic and got assigned to a FRAME unit, the regions that would become the USK were still under the boot of the PU whose constant saber rattling resulted in a border war with the ISS. This would be Isabella's first taste of combat as her unit was quickly thrust to the front to stem the tide of a Perizian advance. Her early battles were against light infantry and infantry fighting vehicles and were therefore slaughters. They instilled in her a euphoric sense of invincibility that was to be short lived once proper PU armor was deployed to the region. While in transit between border towns, Isabella's squad were caught off guard by a prowling unit of Perizian MBTs. The first shot of what was to be a devastating fusillade blew out the front half of the cockpit of her FRAME, taking with it her arms, eye, and shredding her internals with white hot shrapnel. It appeared to be divine providence that she managed to survive the encounter at all as the others in her squad were not so lucky.

Considering the scope of the damage, many say she was lucky to be born Sardonian as both of her arms were ruined up to the shoulder, her eye and parts of her skull had been blown clean away, and her ribs were crushed. She would require extensive reconstructive surgery as well as the wholesale replacement of her arms with prostheses. Her replacement eye managed to cover up most of the facial scarring and reconstructive surgeries actually succeeded in restoring her mostly to her initial facial shape, but her body remains crosshatched with scores of scars from the initial attack and the dozens of surgeries needed to remove the bits of shrapnel and crushed bone from her torso. By the time she was discharged from the military hospital the border conflict had ended with the forming of the USK and a new battle was beginning for the survival of the fledgling nation had begun. She was given the option to re-enlist in the ISSDF but when she found that the ISS was not sending any ground troops to support the USK she declined, no point sitting on a military base with a thumb up her arse til she grew too old to be a FRAME jock. Instead she put herself on the market as a mercenary FRAME pilot in need of a job and a FRAME. She spent a few years jumping around between several low key companies operating in the USK/PU border region before eventually finding her way into the fold of the Preying Panthers. Her reputation as an armor hunter brought her to the attention of Captain Bentz, and having satiated her lust for vengeance, she signed on to the team having found a need for a stable income that didn't come standard to the life of a free agent.

Appearance: Isabella is an attractive women with slightly greater than shoulder length blonde hair(tied up during operations to not get in the way) which frames a face that looks out with a single gray eye. She stands at an impressive 5'10" and has an athletic build brought on by her line of work and borderline obsessive fitness routine. Her most notable features however are her cybernetics and extensive bodily scarring. A Near miss from a run in with a PU MBT blew out the front half of her cockpit, resulting most obviously in the loss of both arms and her right eye, though the damage extended internally as well. Her replacement arms are a new military design that more easily blends in with flesh, though close inspection reveals the are certainly mechanical, while her replacement eye is far more noticeable. Having decided that one way or another she was going to return to the field some day and found that a rugged and functional design would beat out looks any day. Her new eye has more in common with a FRAME's sensor and fire control suite than it does with any fleshy bit it was meant to replace and has the added bonus of making her look like a pirate, so overall a win-win there.
Inventory:
-10mm pistol (Sardonian Defense Force standard service pistol)
-anti-rejection medication
-Bomber Jacket bearing former unit insignia, "Harman's Harpies"

Funds: 276,160c

Name: MP21-AC Handau "Ghost Killer"
Manufacturer: Kelhei Manufacturing
Height: 4.3 meters
Weight: 6627 kg
Armor: 45 mm durasteel alloy
Speed (Walk): 42 kph
Speed (Skate): 72 kph
Sensor range: 2 km
Communication range: 10 km
Operating range: 500 km
Power: 140
Weight: 85
Price: 305,840c

Armaments:
-1x Autocannon(AFC-40/L) (8)
-2x Missile Launcher (MGR-2A) (40)
-1x AP Machine Gun (MG27) (2)

Name: Jason Smith
Alias: Adarc
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Disposition: Roudy

Apperance:

While he is not blood thirsty he is always ready for a fight. what someone might call a brawler.

History: Jason was a hellion in his younger years, and had some trouble with the law frequently receiving citations and days to weeks in juvenile detention. this went on for several years, until, a conflict between OSU and SL got too close to home and his home was destroyed and his family was killed while he was in juvenile detention. he was never sure which party was responsible for the loss of his home and family but he vowed to find those who where responsible and make them pay, even being aware that the chances of him ever attaining this goal is neigh impossible.

He tried to set aside his Hedonistic and roudy attitude and get a job like a normal person. perhaps save up some money for collage, which would empower him to earn some form of position that would allow him to pursue the killer of his family, this ended very poorly, with a short prison sentence for assault. a normal peaceful life was not something that appealed to Jason, apparently.

he tried to join the military, briefly, the experience was a very unfortunate chain of events that culminated in him receving a dishonorable discharge for assaulting a commanding officer. after a couple year of generally working on odd jobs and he saves up just enough to buy a FRAME suit. he then worked with a one or two mercenary jobs before trying to sign up with a real mercenary group to give him the chance to build a mighty mech and bring justice to his family, perhaps even give himself a decent life.

MP21-AC Handau (Iron Hide)
Manufacturer: Kelhei Manufacturing
Height: 4.3 meters
Weight: 6627 kg
Armor: 45 mm durasteel alloy
Speed (Walk): 42 kph
Speed (Skate): 72 kph
Sensor range: 2 km
Communication range: 10 km
Operating range: 500 km
Power: 140
Weight: 85
Price: 221,590c

Armament:
2x AFC-40/L Autocannon (dual Wielding)
MGR-2A Anti-tank Missile
Weight (19 spare)

Name: Bernard Felix "B.F.F" Emmerich

Age: 67

Gender: Male

Disposition: Reliable, Thorough, Protective, Evenhanded

The mercenary community knows him as a gruff man of few words, no wasted movements, and a penchant for cigarettes-- Bernard Felix Emmerich has been in the soldiering business for a long time. They say that if you have cash, he'll pull the trigger, if you have credit, he'll double-tap, make sure you have no room to complain about his service. It's a running gag that the man's been on battlefields for the almighty dollar since dollars were still legal tender. The other joke is his nickname, "B.F.F", best friend forever. It's certainly true that for the right price, Bernard has been the best friend of megacorps, PMC's, and rebel groups alike, never once breaking a deal. He's been around forever too; if anybody from the old days were still alive, they'd call him the perfect mercenary. But war has changed. In this age of FRAMEs and countries he doesn't bother to remember the names of, the best he can do is adjust.

Among comrades, he radiates safety and occasional dad jokes, among enemies, professionalism and headshots. He'll sometimes complain about how hard on his joints life in the cockpit is, but he barely actually leaves it. He chain smokes furiously and leaves trails of gunsmoke everywhere, he constantly extolls the virtues of extreme mobility, nonstandard movement patterns, patience, coordination. Essentially, the battlefield is his den, his mecha is his comfy chair, and his squad is his family. He's lost a lot of family over the years, but he'll be around forever.

Background:

His story starts on the battlefields of the early 2100's, in the heady days when territory squabbles between what is now known as the Emarran Council and its neighbors were commonplace. Bullet by bullet, he worked his way up a corporate ladder of corpses and chump change without knowing nor caring much about the political machine that drove him to the trench and the no man's land. Insulated was the word, obedient, satisfied. Sure, his daily meals were mixed with gunpowder, but he did get them daily. He grew up among corpses, and was often mistaken for one himself, before he climbed up out of the craters. He watched FRAMEs grow up from an infantryman's perspective, dismantled some violently on one or two occasions. Problem was, he'd often watch as these real war machines cut down the soldiers around him, mowing flesh like so much grass, leaving nausea in the air like Satan's parody of fresh rain. As he grew older, he became less insulated, less content, and as he grew old, he became ferocious in his determination to live, and to see others do the same. Luckily, a change in fortunes pulled him out of the dirt. Which is to say, he made a fortune.

It was a huge gamble to take that job across the border, a contract to fight against the military machine that was the Emarran State in the prime of its tyranny. Did it ever pay off though. He bounced between battlefields in his homeland, with war dogs from the UKE and the ISS. With their victories came the spoils of war, and with democracy came a chance for profit. His contacts and raw experience in the border wars gave him a lot of leverage when it came to picking and choosing how he, and eventually his men, were deployed in foreign conflicts where the former trio of enemies had an enemy in common. He established the Bernard and Felix Foundation, a paramilitary company that was easily the only choice for overseas during the postwar reconstruction of the Emarran Council. Eventually, Bernard's homeland stabilized, and the wave of funding slowed to a halt. The B.F.F was disbanded amicably enough for a group of hardened irregulars, and the "B.F.F." himself found himself puttering around with less work on the docket than he'd like. Eventually he ended up with a cool 600,000 CE in personal funds, and a tip that an up and coming company in his old neighborhood had some open positions.

Appearance:


An aging man with a stolid build, metal plates in and around his forehead, and a host of other prosthetics and hardware to boot. He is nothing else than solid, his knotted muscles like sleeping anacondas, and his mind still as sharp as their fangs. Behind the shine of his helmetlike apparatus, one can sense him watching, hungrily taking in everything surrounding him. When he walks, attention slips off of him, and he's had decades to get used to staying very, very still.

Inventory:

Antique M1911A1, .45 caliber pistol, roughly two centuries old. The feeding ramp has been polished to a mirror sheen, the front strap of the frame has been checkered to make it dig into the hand. The slide's been reinforced and etched with cocking serrations near the front, the interlock with the frame has been tightened for added precision. Original three dot sight system, extended thumb safety, long type trigger guard with non-slip grooves. It boasts a ring hammer, and a filed down trigger guard for a higher grip. What's more, the trigger pull is about a pound and a half lighter than normal, the magazine well has been widened to make magazines easier to feed under stressful conditions, and the magazine catch has been cut low to prevent pressing it by accident. Flat type mainspring housing to increase grip, with stepping to prevent too much jump from the recoil. Every part of this gun has been expertly crafted and customized.

Kabar knife

Cigarettes, smokes two packs a day

Codec System

Other:

Manufacturer: Kelhei Manufacturing
Height: 4.3 meters
Weight: 6627 kg
Armor: 45 mm durasteel alloy
Speed (Walk): 42 kph
Speed (Skate): 72 kph
Sensor range: 2 km
Communication range: 10 km
Operating range: 500 km
Power: 140
Weight: 106

Armament:
1x EVF “Chameleon” Active Camouflage (5)
1x LP-90 Light Rocket Launcher (24)
1x LBU-3 Heavy Machinegun (3)
1x GPR-21 Autocannon (10)
1x AFC-40/L Autocannon (8)

Inventory:
1x MGR-27 AP Machinegun (2)

Funds: 694,860 CE

Name: Cecilia Lang
Age: 31
Gender: Female
Disposition: Cecilia comes off as a harsh, no-nonsense enforcer, keeping the other pilots of the Preying Panthers in line and commanding them in the field. She radiates authority, carrying herself with a haughty demeanor and steely confidence. In public, she molds her image into the Panthers' stone-cold adjutant, although on the inside she is actually very reserved and apprehensive about herself. Of course, she makes no effort to reveal her softer side to her associates. When it comes to operations, results come first. Cecilia keeps a close eye on the rest of the team in the field, to better orchestrate the most successful outcome.

Background: Prior to joining the Preying Panthers, Cecilia was a security officer of the WhiteTower private security corporation. WhiteTower had a strong presence in the XCD, providing surveillance and protection to client businesses; most of which were arms manufacturers or FRAME companies. Cecilia in particular was assigned to Ceres Aeronautics. Originally a designer and manufacturer of aircraft, Ceres had just taken the leap into the FRAME market as well.

Ceres's entering the FRAME industry unnerved other local corporations, wary of the growing competition within the market. KellCorp was especially anxious when Ceres unveiled the XGM-24A Handou and lost a number of prospective clients to the upstart FRAME manufacturer. In response, KellCorp decided to put matters in its own hands and go on the offensive. It sent a mercenary unit to assault Ceres's FRAME manufacturing plant and send the message to stay out of the industry.

Cecilia was among the WhiteTower personnel assigned to the facility, who were caught off-guard by KellCorp's attack. The mercenaries mounted a sudden, powerful offense and hammered Cecilia's partners into submission before totaling the plant. Although she held out with a grim determination and downed a few FRAMEs, there were too many mercenaries for her to deal with, and she was forced to surrender after her machine had been disabled.

The incident prompted Ceres Industries to respond by hiring the same mercenaries that KellCorp had sent after them, enticing them with an extremely lucrative contract. Not only did this get KellCorp out of their hair momentarily, but it gave them a means to retaliate and replace the FRAMEs WhiteTower had lost. The mercenaries happened to be none other than the Preying Panthers, and after ruining KellCorp's chances of competing with Ceres, Richard Bentz convinced Cecilia to quit her job at WhiteTower and join his unit.

Appearance:


Inventory:

• Heavy calibre revolver w/ optional laser module/flashlight unit.
• Carbine-length adaptive battle rifle with standard electronic sight and under-barrel flashlight.
• Combat/survival knife
• Pilots' suit with ballistic armour and equipment harness
• Pilots' helmet
• Military-spec datapad strapped to right forearm

Funds: 492,417c

Other: TBD

Name: LBG-22 Kirin
Manufacturer: Canton
Height: 4.1 meters
Weight: 5100 kg
Armor: 40 mm armorplast alloy
Speed (Walk): 52 kph
Speed (Skate): 84.2 kph
Sensor range: 4 km
Communication range: 30 km
Operating range: 700 km
Extra Systems: ECM suite, laser target designator, backup sensors
Power: (game mechanic) 135
Weight (game mechanic): 70
Price: 389,333c

Equipped Armaments & Systems:

• C3 Imaging Suite (5 weight)
• MG27 Light Machinegun (2 weight)
• GPR-21 Autcannon (10 weight)
• MGR-2A Anti-tank Missile (20 weight)
• LP-90 Light Rocket Launcher (24 weight)

Storage:

• AFC-40/L Autocannon (8 weight)

Name:Edward "Phantom" Johanson

Age: 36

Gender: Male

Disposition: Does not like to stay in poorly ventilated rooms, Agility over Defense, Fond of hand to hand combat, Loyal to ones deserving of it, likes to add vanity and a name to his Frame.



Appearance: has a small beard, hair down to the shoulders and grey eyes, usually wearing a grey flat cap and his old jacket from the SSU army now sporting the PP emblem with olive green jeans. He measures at whopping 6'7" making him longer than most common people, also making it just that much harder to fit in a FRAME's cockpit.

Inventory: Knife, A small metal plate with "72" carved into it and a bottle of water.

Funds: 386,950c

Name: Revenant 72 (only a name for namesake so far)
Manufacturer: Cradle Dynamics
Height: 4.1 meters
Weight: 5230 kg
Armor: 20 mm durasteel alloy
Speed (Walk): 65 kph
Speed (Skate): 91.6 kph
Sensor range: 5 km
Communication range: 25 km
Operating range: 600 km
Extra Systems: ECM suite, laser target designator
Power: 130
Weight: 80
Free weight:
1/50

• Armaments:
  • 2 x GAM-51 Anti-Air Missile
  • 1 x AFC-40/L Autocannon
  • 1 x LBU-3 Heavy Machinegun
  
  Systems:
• 1 x C3 Imaging Suite
• 1 x EVF “Chameleon” Active Camouflage

Name: Ryder Octavio

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Disposition: Incisive, Guarded, Stoic, Pensive

Ryder was never one to be called outgoing. Throughout her short mercenary career, she has made little to no friends. No one has really discovered Ryder's driving force. Some have speculated she's got some family ties in the mercenary business, while others think she is in it solely for the money. She never cared to tell anyone. Ryder is a very guarded and cautious person, not opening up to anyone, but she has been known to show a little more respect and emotion around her commanders. Ryder focuses on her job and little to nothing else.

Around her fellow mercenaries in the Preying Panthers, she finds herself taking risks quite often, almost to the point of compromising missions for the sake of saving her teammates. Hannah has always put herself in harms way to protect another's life. That is one of her defining features that got her known around the mercenary community.

Ryder has been known to have quite radical political beliefs, but she is not one to vocalize them, so it is usually a mere rumor. She was raised with a belief that there would be a utopia had the Emarran Council remained the same before the conflict.

Background:

Originally from the Emarran Council, Ryder found herself in the midst of a small rebellious cell or cult as some called it, attempting to rise up against the newly reformed government. She was brought up to be one of them, training often with the simple military skills with the according anarchist beliefs. That was how she was raised for many years under the Emarran Council's reformed government. Her true parents were never known as the cell never really worried about that. It was all about "You are part of the cause," but Ryder knew the commander cared for her much more than the other children in the cell. She was treated well, given the best training, given the best food, and accommodations. It was as if Ryder was more special to the group as a whole and particularly the commander, who had the followers of the cell in his pocket. At the age of 17, Ryder found herself working in the cell to carry out menial sabotage missions at the side of her commander. This part of her life went on and on for the next two years. She never really questioned her superiors, it was her upbringing after all. That was until the 'Big Job' as her commander called it.

Ryder and her cell were to go after one of the Emarran Council's major military tech manufacturers. Inside their target was a large cache of military grade equipment of all varieties as well as the tech required to create it. The goal of the group was to cease any gear and tech that they could, damage the rest, and escape while causing as much havoc as possible along the way. For some odd reason, Ryder found herself paired with the commander, Edward, he called himself. The two of them went solo into a warehouse while numerous explosions rang around the compound as distractions by the others. The two of them rejoiced as they looked over the numerous vehicles, arms, and armors. Edward found himself an old ACS-3G Zaruga FRAME. It took him a while to get it working for him while Ryder stood watch, but soon enough he was ready to go. Of course, after the two of them had loaded all the stolen equipment up, the warehouse main doors flew open. One of the rebels was caught and gave the Military Police their plan. Thoughts of running were immediately crushed as the Military Police were gaining on them. Fighting was the only option in the panicked head of Ryder. Her commander skated off in his suit, leaving her for dead. The fight was short, ending with Ryder on the ground, an arm mangled behind her back and her body bruised and beaten from being deterred by the machine-clad enforcers.

Her eyes squinted to look upwards at the helmeted faces of the enforcers that leered down at her, weapons pointed every direction. As her eyes blinked in and out of consciousness, her last memory was the explosive yellow light from the roof of the warehouse. After that, Ryder woke up in some sort of hospital. Her arm felt different, her entire body felt different. After a groggy questioning session, she discovered that she was 'an innocent bystander' in the attack and an 'unknown benefactor' paid her bill so she was free to go within a few days. Her nurse led her out to where her belongings were store, and much to her disbelief, her 'belongings' contained the Zaruga FRAME as well as a large fund. She set out with what she had, fleeing the Emmaran Council under the cover of a mercenary for hire. It worked perfectly as a cover up and she made money too.

((The FRAME she acquired will of course be subtracted from her funds. So I will be paying for things as normal. This is just an explanation for why she learned about FRAMEs.))

Appearance:


Ryder has been known to always keep her appearance up. Even before missions, she is sometimes seen freshening herself up and pampering her mid length black hair. She often puts a dark purple colored dye in her hair that mixes with its natural jet black. As her appearance is a priority, she keeps her body in good shape and good appearance. Ryder stands at 5'6" with a lithe build and appears rather normal if not for her cybernetic enhancements. One of her arms, her right to be exact, is prosthetic and plated in metal.

Inventory:

Walther P38 Semi-Auto Pistol

C-4 Charges

Woven Undersuit Body Armor

Spotter-Rangefinder

Funds: 459,000
Other: N/A

Name: (ACS-3G Zaruga)
Manufacturer: Cradle Dynamics
Height: 4.1 meters
Weight: 5230 kilograms
Armor: 20 mm durasteel alloy
Speed (Walk): 65 kph
Speed (Skate): 91.6 kph
Sensor range: 5 km
Communication range: 25 km
Operating range: 600 km
Extra Systems: ECM suite, laser target designator
Power: 130
Weight: 80

Armaments:

AFC-40/L Autocannon
Manufacturer: Halabrad-Phell
Caliber: 25 mm
Effective range: 800 m
Penetration: 65 mm of vertical steel alloy
Rate of fire: 600 rds/min
Ammunition capacity: 60 rounds/magazine
Ammunition types: APDS-T, HEI-T
Mount: carried, one or two hands
Weight: 8
Price: 12,000c

MG27 Light Machinegun
Manufacturer: Radley Arms
Caliber: 7.62 mm
Effective Range: 400 m
Penetration: 15 mm of vertical steel alloy
Rate of fire: 650 rds/min
Ammunition capacity: 800 rounds
Mount: torso
Weight: 2
Price: 250c

EVF “Chameleon” Active Camouflage
Manufacturer: Various
Mount: N/A; internal systems & external coat
Weight: 5
Price: 35,000

Explosive Reactive Armor
Manufacturer: Various
Mount: external coat
Weight: 5
Price: 25,000

(30 Weight Free)

Name: Elaine Morgan
Age: 37
Gender: Female
Disposition:
Sharp-witted and sharp-tongued, Elaine is almost a classical example of the fiery redhead. While she may be small in stature, she makes up for it with a larger-than-life sense of (occasionally dark) humour. Despite this, she is a professional when it comes to her skill for reconnaissance and observation.
Her humour also serves as a skin of armour around her more fragile heart, marred by past experiences she doesn't dwell on and only shares with those who have been around long enough to get to know her, and vice versa. Despite her barbed sense of humour, she is always careful to make sure those around her know her jibes and insults are only meant in good humour, and are not intended to be taken seriously, and to make sure that any positive thoughts and feelings she has toward other people are felt first.
Elaine is mostly compassionate and quite moral when dealing with others and conducting her duties to the Panthers and their clients. She hates to see others suffer, and will ruthlessly and efficiently deal with those who prey on the weakness of others, and use them to their own advantage. However, she has little sympathy for those who are unwilling to defend themselves or others when they have the ability.

Background:
Born in the UKE, Elaine grew up in a family with a smattering of military service on her fathers' side. He served in the Royal Estovian Navy, as a Fleet Air Arm pilot at first, before moving into a more desk-based role after the birth of Elaine and her brother Thomas. Elaine's mother was - and still is - a journalist, who was reporting from the field during a peace-keeping and disaster relief operation where Elaine's dad was part of the multi-national force sent.

Elaine grew up fascinated and intrigued by stories from both her parents, and her joining the RKE military was a given. She signed on with the Land Forces, captivated by a parade and demonstration some short years ago by FRAMES, showing off their agility and capabilities in a variety of theatrical and daring stunts and manoeuvers.

Elaine quickly turned from an gangling, awkward teenager into a competent and attractive woman and one with a strong set of personal and professional dedications and skills. Earning respect among her comrades and peers, she served in a small-scale operation overseas, seeing short, but violent bursts of combat, as well as more complex moral and political conflicts up close. The experience kindled a turbulent mass of thoughts and emotions within her, before her rotation back to the RKE. She carried the things she had seen with her for a long time, and went through a very rough patch of hard-drinking and destructive behaviour for several months, before one of her older and more experienced colleagues bought her around with hsi own stories and experiences, as well as a few short, sharp lessons. Learning from his example, she cleaned herself up and turned into the soldier she had always wanted to be and admired. Her second and third tours of duty were, as a result, some of her finest work, and those that earned her the notice of her superiors outside of her unit, after using her reconnaissance expertise to pinpoint enemy movements and positions with great accuracy and refinement.

Around her 33rd year of age, news came to her that her father had been captured overseas, after the country he was working in as part of the embassy staff had been consumed by a violent uprising. Despite her urging and her moderate level of accomplishment and achievements, she could do nothing to spur any form of action. All too late the word came to launch an operation to recover those held hostage; late enough that she had to hold her mother and brother as her father was executed live, for all to see.
Disgusted, jaded, and hollow inside, she went AWOL for weeks, before finally being picked up after being found wandering some backwoods town, so drunk she didn't know where she was, or what was even happening. Embarassed by everything to do with the situation, the RKE land forces quietly paid her and her family off, and discharged Elaine.
Bitter and still burning inside with the need to do something, Elaine forced herself into a second round of clean-up and travelled for a while, trading on her skills as a pilot to do cash-in-hand construction or other mundane work. Over the months, she found herself missing the military life, and it was after one of these jobs she got talking with a pilot, who pointed her in the direction of Mercenary life. After a bit of quiet scouting, someone recognized her, and offered her a position with the Panthers.
She mused over it for a while, before - surprisingly - her brother and mother both pushed her gently toward the role, seeing that as much as she missed her father, there were other things missing in her life too.
That was three years ago, and she hasn't looked back since. She still carries memories of her father with her, and keeps in regular touch with her family, using them as a grounding point for herself to the 'real world' out there.

Appearance:


Short, at barely scraping 5' 3", Elaine is petite and slender. Despite her age, she has a youthful complexion and appearance, looking like someone several years younger than her. Her bright red hair has only a few streaks of grey-white in it, and the mass of freckles masks the lines of her face. Her eyes are particularly bright and piercing, marking her skill as an excellent observer.

Inventory:

• Combat/survival knife
• Pilots' suit with ballistic armour and equipment harness
• Pilots' helmet
• Military-spec datapad strapped to right forearm
• Dust/Glare Goggles
• SMG with holographic sight, laser module, flashlight and detachable suppressor (shares suppressor with pistol).
• Standard semi-automatic handgun with underbarrel flashlight and detachable suppressor

Funds: 88,750c

Other: TBA

FRAME Sheet

Name: ACS-3G Zaruga ('Raven')
Manufacturer: Cradle Dynamics
Height: 4.1 meters (13'5")
Weight: 5230 kg (5.76 tons)
Armor: 20 mm durasteel alloy
Speed (Walk): 65 kph (40.3mph)
Speed (Skate): 91.6 kph (56.91mph)
Sensor range: 5 km (3.1 miles)
Communication range: 25 km (15.5 miles)
Operating range: 600 km (372.8 miles)
Extra Systems: ECM suite, laser target designator
Power: 130/14
Weight: 80

Armaments:

• 2 x MG27 LMG (head mounted)
• 1 x AFC-40/L Autocannon (hand-carried)
• 1 x MGR-2A Anti-Tank Missile (Mounted on left shoulder)

Supplemental Equipment & Systems

Current Ledger Balance:
88,750c
14 weight/power remaining

Funds Received:
400,000c

New Transactions:

New Balance:
488,750c

Name: Cheryl Avice Azor
Age: 28
Gender: Female
Disposition: Cheryl, or Avice as she strongly prefers to be called, is the kind of woman who can throw her entire being behind a cause she cares about; the challenge and stimulation helps stave off the boredom and depression that would otherwise set in. Those she draws close to find her to be a woman of immense loyalty who is willing to fight to the death for those she cares for. Avice places value on being self-sufficient and looks down on those who are dependent and needy even while coming to their aid.

She feels most at ease in the wilderness, but at times feels the need to immerse herself in city life for short periods of time. The city reminds her of the life she once had and draws out facets of her personality she tries to hide. Under it all is a prim lady who cares how she looks and how others perceives her.
Background: As a child she was stuck between two worlds. In one she was Cheryl, the daughter of a fairly successful politician in the PU. In the other she was Avice, the granddaughter of what many saw as a crazed war veteran. Her father and mother raised her to be a “proper lady” who attended the parties of high society and took great care not to make her father look bad in public. Her grandfather, on the other hand, taught her how to handle a rifle and took her out on hunting expeditions. She cared greatly for her grandfather, PTSD and all, even while ignoring his rants about the inevitable war. In the end he was both right and the sole reason why Avice is still alive. When the USK first broke away from the PU Avice was out in the wilderness on a hunting trip with her grandfather. When the two returned from their trip they found their hometown to be a warzone; their family had been targeted and murdered by rebels.

Avice was quick to join the army, thoughts of revenge providing all the motivation she needed to get through basic training and endure the rigors of combat, for a time. She quickly proved herself to be a superior marksman and was given her platoon’s DMR. For four years she fought in that terrible war, witnessing things that would scar her for the rest of her life. By the end of her first tour she was done with the PU, her lust for revenge had long ago evaporated. She had come to the realization that while she still hated the rebels of the UKE she could at least see how they could justify their own actions in the face of the PU’s rather atrocious doctrines. And so she left the army in the hopes of living the rest of her life in peace. She struggled with ‘peace’ for half a year before giving up. She had been changed so much by the war; peace was no longer an option in her mind. She gathered what little wealth her family had left and, combining it with her pay from the army, bought a FRAME and sought work elsewhere.

Appearance: Standing at just under five foot six, Avice has an athletic build. Her appearance is well maintained, but an absolute minimum amount of makeup is used most of the time. Her hair is typically tied up in a ponytail or braided.
Inventory:
-G3B 7.62x51mm DMR
-9mm pistol with tactical holster
-Kukri utility knife
-Pilots' suit with ballistic armour and equipment harness
-Pilots' helmet
-Designated marksman patch, usually visible on the left shoulder of her outfit

Funds: 59,250c
Other: N/A

Name: ACS-3G Zaruga “Valkyrie”
Manufacturer: Cradle Dynamics
Height: 4.1 meters
Weight: 5230 kg
Armor: 20 mm durasteel alloy
Speed (Walk): 65 kph
Speed (Skate): 91.6 kph
Sensor range: 5 km
Communication range: 25 km
Operating range: 600 km
Extra Systems: ECM suite, laser target designator
Power: 130
Weight: 80
Price: 468,750c

Armaments:
-AFC-40/L Autocannon
-2x MGR-2A Anti-tank Missiles
(2 Spare weight)

Name: Maia Leventis
Age: 32
Gender: Female
Disposition: Two things are seen as an inevitability by Maia: that something bad will happen, and that she will be the one to clean it up.

Living a hardscrabble life, first as a refugee and then as a merc fighting her way to a better life, has caused Maia to take a generally dismal and bleak outlook on life. In order to keep from cracking under the negativity, she has a small list of mental defenses. The first being bad jokes, the second being hedonism, the third being anger. Anything past anger, and she starts to break down.

Living a desperate life tends to make you distance yourself from others. Maia has a hard time saying anything meaningful, or sharing anything personal, with anyone else. She doesn't mind working with others as long as they keep their distance, and respect her space. She'd rather not think of anyone that dies in the line of duty as a friend, if she can help it.

She is very sensitive to changes in her environment: noises (even if inaudible to others), bright light, and quick motions bother her.

She also has an addictive personality, and is rather irresponsible with her money.
Background: Even before the war, things weren't exactly great for the inhabitants of the PU's northern territories. Maia Leventis was born in a small mining town nearing the end of its mineral reserves. Once the mines dried up, the mining company rolled into town. They gave the townsfolk a few months to either find another vein, or be forcibly relocated to an industrial center. Maia's family chose neither. They chose to flee over the strait, into OSU territory. That was when the troubles really started.

Turns out the nice men that helped her family cross weren't so nice. They were used as free migrant labor in an underground narcotics manufacture for five years, until a raid by the local police ended their business. Maia was fourteen years old at the time.

She was made a ward of the state after the destruction of the drug den resulted in the deaths of her parents, since they couldn't find anyone to claim her in the PU. In spite of her rough past, she drove on, and eventually earned the right to call herself an Osbanian citizen. After a brief and hectic stint in the Osbanian military that ended up in her dishonorable discharge due to mental health, she became a freelance mercenary, working first as infantry for eight years, and eventually earning enough to afford her own FRAME. At her age, however, she's decided that being a freelancer is too little pay for too much risk. She's hoping that her stay with the Panthers will provide her with the financial security she needs.

After all, cigarettes, booze and video games won't buy themselves.
Appearance: 5'6, dark-skinned, with an aquiline nose, brown eyes, and sharp facial features with curly black hair and bushy black eyebrows. Her eyes have nigh-perpetual bags under them, and there are more wrinkles on her than her age would suggest. She has a muscular and reasonably toned frame, although an unhealthy lifestyle is definitely starting to take its toll on her waistline. She has a burn scar on her forehead, and a slash mark on her collar bone from a close call she'd rather not talk about.
Inventory:
.45 automatic handgun, "Certified Asshole" carved onto the slide.
Plain steel hipflask, usually containing the cheapest rotgut she can find.
Cigarettes. One pack a day.
Funds: 55750
Other: Suffering from undiagnosed post-tramatic stress disorder.

Name: ACS-3G Zaruga, "Mad Dog"
Height: 4.1 meters
Weight: 5230 kg
Armor: 20 mm durasteel alloy
Speed (Walk): 65 kph
Speed (Skate): 91.6 kph
Sensor range: 5 km
Communication range: 25 km
Operating range: 600 km
Extra Systems: ECM suite, laser target designator
Power: 130
Weight: 80

Armaments:

Equipped:
AFC-40/L Autocannon x2 (16)
MG27 Light Machinegun x2 (4)
LP-90 Light Rocket Launcher (24)
(6 spare weight)

Storage:
MGR-2A Anti-tank Missile (20)

Name: Sarah Duncan
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Disposition: Sunny...Really sunny. Teetering on insanity this woman is a grade A lunatic. Her joy in damn near everything is annoyingly infectious. Joy in battle, joy in victory, joy in defeat. She is the kind of person who seems to have luck tattooed to her ass. Something she was told so often she actually got it tattooed there. Along with the rear end of her frame. Rarely taking things seriously she is a bit of a loose cannon. However an effective one at that. Almost always willing to go on a suicide mission. It means little to her the risks involved she'll do it. Money isn't what she seeks, it's the thrill, Thanatos. Born from years of cybernetic testing. She is a hardcore smoker. One of the few luxuries her social position grants her, it is also one of the only times a non factitious reply will leave her lips
Background: Born in the OSU to the great-great-grandson of one of the most respected engineers in the country Valantino Duncan. His company had for the last couple hundred years produced the best engineers for the motherland making everything from weapons to toys. This didn't last long once the Socialists rose to power and his company was absorbed into the party machinery, a corporation in name only. She should have lived a comfortable life. However hostile takeovers are a little more than minor nuisances when compared to the regular cleansing in the party. Especially with the heat against the Sodroyan League, her father's father having lost his position, his son only rose so far in the incredibly plutocratic nepotist government. Her mother having died in a raid in their country house by the league. Daddy began to get more and more consumed in his work especially within the fields of Cybernetics. His mind having been torn by the loss of his wife he began testing on her at an early age hoping to use her to get revenge for his wife. Using prototypes and brutal means of testing, she's not sure how much of herself is even left. Her mind was tortured every day of her memorable childhood as the OSU sought to catch up in the arms race. The poor girls ears were ripped out at the age of 10 to be replaced with a new model of acoustic drums. It was painful bloody and hard to get used to but she managed. Human guinea pigs were not off the table, she has many scars from the surgeries she was subjected too. The worst being the fractal scars going along the sides of her eyes when her eyes were gouged out by a rather sadistic test of loyalty. Just another ruse to be used against her to test the latest in OSU optics. Her eyes look real, but are as far from real as they can get. Her mind was addled with constant doublethink to the point where her mind finally accepted it. By means of being happy, extraordinarily happy with whatever the situation was, it was truly irrelevant to her what the situation was. Having finally seen through the cloud of rubbish propaganda she finally snaps, snaps, and snaps her way through neck after neck trying to get out the facility. Getting out and being penniless she makes her way through the underworld before finding a contact who can put her name out their to mercenary groups who might be able to pay her way out the OSU. Working for rather piss all money before proving skill with a FRAME, that she already had. Just not the funds to acquire one. Eventually a friend she made during her work put her in contact with the panthers leader, which is where you find her today.
Appearance: bar fractal scarring around the eyes, red pupils and a rather garish protrusion from the back of her neck, used for uploading information from her eyes and ears.

Waking up from her long, long sleep. She found herself quite crippled, it must have been quite the amusing sight to her coworkers. At least the ones who knew her. Sarah having managed to burst her wounds on the information she was given by Marlene. Mr. Bubbles was totalled. His power system had fused to the shell rendering any meaningful repair redundant. However, that didn't stop her from using every means necessary to save Mr.B's OS. He would live on! The following year was hard for her. Being that the panthers had lost nearly all credibility. Mind you she didn't hesitate to use her more seedy contacts to try and find out more about the disaster that had killed her mech. She was livid, if she could, she'd tear their teeth out through their arse. It would be quite the impressive sight. One which would probably leave lasting scars on Cecilia. Mind you, not like she hasn't done that before.

It had been rather strange having to deal with the stigma the panthers had been facing since that attack. She mostly just refused to acknowledge it and had been in many the fist fight over the dignity of the Panthers. Many ending in hospital trips for herself and whomever was stuck on the otherside of her indignation. Sarah had been out of combat for the first few months, trying to load Mr.B into a brand spanking new LGB-21 Kirikin. As usual however with her botch jobs. She'd disabled and tweaked to the point where their wasn't anything recognizable about the Kirkins kernal. But Mr. B was resurrected and a totally 'voluntary' party was thrown for the celebration. Having finally healed she was ready, fully, to get back in the action. However, it might just be a good idea to keep her as uninformed as possible if the case may be to return to a little place called Osbania...
Inventory: Very little. She has a small pendant her mother gave her before she died and little else. She lives a fairly spartan lifestyle bar her cigarettes.
Funds: Non applicable? Soviet xD
Other: She is not stupid. No matter how frivolous or pointless her tasks may be.

Name: Mr. Bubbles Jr
Manufacturer: Canton
Height: 4.1 meters
Weight: 5100 kg
Armor: 40 mm armorplast alloy
Speed (Walk): 52 kph
Speed (Skate): 84.2 kph
Sensor range: 4 km
Communication range: 30 km
Operating range: 700 km
Weight: 2
Power: 3

Armaments:
1x BZ-35 Autocannon- 20mm light cannon with barrel magazine used by OSU special forces. Sacrifices range and power for capacity and firing rate. Range 400m, firing rate 900rds/min, rated to penetrate 50mm of armour, Magazine holds 100 rounds.
3x MG-27 Anti personnel machine guns. Mounted in trigonal pattern on machines head.
1x Bazooka- It's a bazooka... It kills things.

Name: Marlene Abdelkadar
Age: 19
Gender: Female

Disposition: Sly, intolerably persistent, very emotionally invested and motivated.

Background: Hailing from war-torn USK/PU borderlands, unlike Leclerc, her unit was issued with second-hand FRAMES after the PU was already well-equipped to deal with the threat. Constant supply-problems and frequent breakdowns from skating across sand-dunes meant her squad operated under-strength in guerilla-warfare, often the pilots functioned as light infantry while the few remaining FRAMES provided much-needed fire-support to their guerrilla campaign.

On more than one occasion, civilian-FRAMES were pressed into service either just to keep a few more frames running, or retained simply because their smaller size was better suited to the sort of operations they conducted.

When the war ended, their independence secured, there was a massive draw-down and disarmament of their forces as USK focused its resources on rebuilding and caring for their people, an act that quickly highlighted the difference between the PU and USK. Marlene's unit was one of the first to be scrapped, handing in many of their converted FRAMES for economic development, while nearly all their best FRAMES ended up being conglomerated into a single centralized unit.

Angered by her new vestigial purpose in the military, sitting behind a desk, she quit and purchased a surplus FRAME and hit the mercenary-market.



Inventory:
-AKSN-75U "Tanker's Krinkov" with infra-red scope and IR laser-sight/illuminator plus a 75 round drum because if she gets into a firefight out of her FRAME, it won't last long enough for her to get a chance to reload.

Funds: 312,210c

Other

Name: MP21-AC Handou "Yassir"
Manufacturer: Kelhei Manufacturing
Height: 4.3 meters
Weight: 6627 kg
Armor: 45 mm durasteel alloy
Speed (Walk): 42 kph
Speed (Skate): 72 kph
Sensor range: 2 km
Communication range: 10 km
Operating range: 500 km
Power: 140
Weight: 85
Price: 221,590c

Armaments:
4x LBU-3 HMG 1200c 12w
GPR-21 15kc 10w
BAD Light Guided Mortar - 20kc 20w

Extras:
EVF “Chameleon” Active Camouflage
35kc 5w