[OOC] Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

[Bork Lazer]

DISPOSABLE HERO ONESHOT: DAVID VERSUS GOLIATH PT 1

Year 3014, Loric

On the plains of Loric, blue grass and dirt were reduced into featureless mulch by tonnes of ferro-fibrous and plasteel as the column moved through the battlefield. Aroxy opened up the porthole and looked out from the turret at the devastation around him. It was an abattoir of rust. The Von Luckner rolled past the remnants of a Locust cockpit, stripped off its gangly legs and buried in the earth. Beyond that, he could still see smoldering steel wrecks, embers flickering His mouth was in a grim frown as he heard the sound of scavenger birds cawing in the distance. He sniffed the air and cringed. It was still thick with the smog of slaughter and he could still taste the iron tang of blood and cordite. Artillery and missiles had pummeled the hills into a flat expanse and there were only droplets of green in the mountains of grey and red.

All of this because some brotherly spat.

Aroxy took out his canister of Brace and inhaled it deep, letting the vapor wash away his stress. It was relatively silent. They were to meet with Kappa-5 at the LZ and launch an attack on a requisition outpost that the rebellion was using to stage its attack on Loric. They were there to sweep up whatever stragglers the Mechwarriors left behind. It wasn’t the most glamorous job but the men were glad to be alive and silence was preferable to the sound of SRMs whistling over his head and barking out commands every second.

Then, the lead tank in the column evaporated in a ball of molten steel and fire, causing the entire line to come to a halt.

“ Disperse! Disperse!,” Aroxy’s mind was laser-focused now as he barked out into the platoon comm. The column fractured, the tanks scattering like ants. Several more bright flashes erupted, black dots skittering across Aroxy’s vision even through his protective polarised goggles. It took several moments for him to determine the direction of fire. He turned his head to the foggy horizon and his breakfast nearly vacated out of his guts at the sight of the 25 foot tall metal behemoth that he saw.

“ It’s a Warhammer. I repeat, it’s a goddamn Warhammer!”

The comm chatter went silent for one second. Aroxy could almost hear the audible grinding of gears in the minds of the men around them. They were expecting a light class, maybe, a medium at most. Facing a Heavy-Class in a tank. Before Aroxy could continue, the radio chatter began to fill with panic and pure terror.

“ Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck”

“ Well, it’s been nice knowing you, gentlemen.”

“ Screw this. Marik doesn’t pay me enough C-Bills for this crap!”

Aroxy watched in dismal horror as the Scorpion to his left stalled and the crew began pouring out of its portholes like rats fleeing from a sinking ship.

They were so fucked.

[wikkit]

Dinner And A Show

3023 - Andiron, Circinus Federation - Outskirts of Redder's Haven, 14:30

If anyone was asking, Jim and Crocker were still manning the machine gun emplacement.

The two of them sat on the edge of a hill overlooking the devastation that today's battle had created. In Jim's hand was a long pipe, and under Crocker's rear was an ammunition bin filled with ice and cans of beer - the cheap local shit, of course. Infantrymen don't make enough money to afford imports. Despite what they would claim in the (very loose) after-action reports the Black Army insisted upon, they had left their post naught but twenty minutes after the fighting started.

You see, they were used to trying to shoot out waves of bandits armed with rocket launchers and sticks of dynamite. That came part and parcel with the territory of working within the Circinus Federation; it almost felt normal to engage in those boots-in-mud level fights that had barely evolved in the last thousand years of warfare. They'd sit in nest and do what their meagre pay told them to do.

When multiple dropships appeared overhead, bearing the bright red fist of the Lyran Commonwealth, though? They waited long enough to see battlemechs rolling off of the ramps before deciding it'd be better to just watch.

Smoke trailed up from the field below them as many vehicles now lay as pyres, mostly from Black Army garrison vehicles. Jim added to the miasma with his own puff, blowing rings into the air. "Reckon we should go back now?"

"Nah," Crocker shook his head and took his helmet off. "Give it until they're gone. Gotta act like we were held up by the Steiners, can't just get back home in one piece without an explanation."

"Well...ain't much time now." Jim held up a pair of binoculars, the original glass-on-glass kind, and squinted past the smudges. "See that 'mech in the field, 'bout a quarter mile out?"

"There's a lot of 'em, Jim."

"The Hunchback, one with the big gun on its shoulder."

"...Oh yeah." Crocker leaned forward to try and scope it out with his own vision. A broadly-built machine in the shape of a man, doubled over on its back and lying still in the dirt. Several large holes, still glowing red-hot, permeated its front side. "What about it?"

"Pretty sure that's the garrison commander's. Neely, the skin-and-bones guy."

Crocker briefly sputtered as a little beer went down the wrong pipe, but he conquered it and shook his head. "Maaaaan, Neely's a bastard! He owes me, like, 50 skulls. Great that he kicked--"

"No, no, he ain't bit it."

"He ain't?" Crocker leaned over to Jim's side, as if he'd get something more from his vantage point. "You sure about that?"

"I can see his pasty white ass right now. He's climbing out of the Hunchback." He passed the binos to his buddy for Crocker to confirm it. Hard to make out on a first glance as he fiddled with the focus, but there he was! Commander Gavin Neely, 52 years of age, his long and wiry limbs showing like a white flag of surrender as all he had on was a cooling vest and a pair of modest shorts. The commander was climbing down the top of his downed Hunchback like he was scaling a cliff, hands and feet stuck into gaps in the armor. He was taking his sweet time, too. Rather than just roll off into the mud, he clinged to the side of the Hunchback's head for dear life.

Crocker stiffled a chuckle. The rumors from his days in training must be true - the man they chose as a Mechwarrior was terrified of heights.

Jim nudged his side. "Pass 'em back. The scope on the MG's just as good." Crocker gave a sigh, but handed them back and went down to the dirt to watch the stupidity unfold. "Guess that the ejection seat don't work."

"Great, ain't it?" Crocker smiled as his face pressed to the ground.

"Shame we can't tell no one. We're supposed to be fightin' and dyin' out here."

Crocker shook his head. "Fuck, man. Nobody'd take him seriously if they saw him like this. I--"

"Hey. Hey. Look up."

Crocker did, his neck cracking a little as he strained to push his machine gun's butt into the ground further...before simply looking with the naked eye. From the smoke rose a much taller machine, its front side scored with laser fire, and Crocker had no fuckin' idea which one this was supposed to be. Outside of being able to tell a Locust and a Hunchback apart, he wasn't paid for threat identification like this. Still, the round, oval shape sitting between legs and long arms reminded him of an egg. Eggmech.

He figured much the same as Jim did - the pilot of the Eggmech was here to finish the job. Neely would be spared the humiliation of their story, one way or the other. He looked back down into his scope. The commander was still climbing so slowly that he might even be unaware! He could drop down just a few feet now and land on the jutting ammunition bin of the of the Hunchback without a problem. Even as the Eggmech was all but looming overhead, he still clung...

Crocker realized what he was holding and had an idea. He aimed a few feet above his commanding officer, accounting for drop, and sent a small burst in his direction.

"Jesus, Crock," the rebuke came immediately from Jim, who had jostled as the gun burst right in his ear. "The hell are you firing for?"

Crocker merely smiled and nodded. "He's off."

...Jim returned to his binoculars. The rattle of bullets must've finally scared the bastard off from his perch. He was on the ground! Barely conscious and certainly terrified now, but he had a fighting chance at escaping if he simply found some other battlefield husk to hide under. It'd only take the indiscretion of the Eggmech's pilot to...

"Hey, look up again. The Steiner's...kneeling?"

That it was. One servo-driven knee was planted into the dirt, one was braced against an arm, and the round mech rested still above the fallen Hunchback. A few seconds later, the two of them could only watch in silence as the hatch on top of the enemy machine opened. Its pilot - only Jim being able to tell it was a woman, as his binos were indeed better - climbed out in similar dress to their commander, tossing the bulky neurohelm down into the cockpit. She shouted something that was only audible as a whisper down at Neely. An insult? Usually these Lyran fuckers were far too proper and pompous to throw insults at one another.

With much less worry for her own self, Jim and Crocker watched as she made her way down the Eggmech's side in quick order. Touching down to the ground, she ran for the Hunchback's side where Neely was only just now climbing out of the mud. In her hands...

"...Hooo-leeee shit Jim, she's got a sword!"

"Did we get invaded by Dracs or something?"

"I don't fuckin' know, but--no, wait, she's got two of them!"

Against any good sense the Steiner pilot had run over, still shouting at the garrison commander in flight, and threw a sword at him. No, no, not at...to him? To him???

"...Crock..."

Jim's amazement slowly turned to glee.

"I think she...wants a goddamned sword duel with the commander."

Crocker looked up at Jim, jaw agape...before realizing that this was something far more special than an embarrassing story. This was a regiment legend in the making. His eye moved back to the scope, and wouldn't leave it for some time.

"Jim, I don't give a shit if we get in trouble." He fought back laughter. Neely grabbed the sword, shaking in his boots as he slowly turned to face the Steiner warrior. "Whether he wins or loses, we gotta tell the boys about this."

"Especially if he loses."

[Starlance]

All aboard the Oneshot train! Great idea @Bork Lazer.

Stage Fright

18th March 3029, 18:32 - Sartu system, Sartu c - Federated Suns

Strapped in, cooling vest working, neurohelmet linked. Don’t. Panic. Marit briefly consulted the clipboard with the cockpit’s layout she’d strapped to her thigh to make up for the lack of familiarity with the half-finished Dervish before firing it up. Nobody felt any need to rush the training, the repairs would’ve taken at least two weeks, and that’s after they found a new arm. Betty then came to life to inform Marit just how much of the ‘Mech was missing or not working, not doing her mental state any favors.

<Reactor: Online. Sensors: Online. Weapons: Error. Left arm: Destroyed.>
ERR: ML left arm - Disconnected.
ERR: SRM 2 left arm - Disconnected.
ERR: SRM 2 right arm - Igniter failure.
ERR: Center jump jet - Propellant feed failure.
LRM ammo: Right torso 0%.
SRM ammo: Left arm N/A.
SRM ammo: Right arm 0%.

“Yeah, I noticed.” She tried to be a smartass with the onboard computer as she dismissed the warnings taking up a good chunk of the display, only to find out her voice was trembling. Not a great start, and she was coming to regret the second bowl of Viili she had after breakfast, which was now looking to get back out due to the nerves.
“Deadstick ready. Up and at ‘em lads and lasses, Davions want their forgotten depot back.”
Then again, the Dervish wasn’t the only thing that wasn’t supposed to be in a fight yet. Most of the Sons agreed she shouldn’t have been there either. Wedge, Bear, Blaze. They were the ones who were supposed to be fighting.
“Half Pint, ready to atomize these fucks!”
Except Wedge was currently so high off her face on pain meds after the medic finished resetting her dislocated shoulder and five times broken arm back into place that all she could do was babble about shapes and colors, Blaze’s Locust was barely able to drag itself back to the pickup point and poor Bear was paste smeared across a mountainside after a failed ejection.
“Ghost, up and running. Marit, are you with us?”
She took a breath to steady her voice before replying to her mother’s inquiry, her heart racing as if trying to bash its way out of her ribcage. “Giggles, I am mobile.” She checked in, catching a glimpse of Half Pint’s Panther giving her a thumbs up.

“Bravo Lance, Kalevala. Alpha has pulled back to the depot. The hostiles have broken off pursuit, but I think they’ll be back soon. Proceed to grid square 327 Romeo 819 Juliet. Let Alpha draw them out of the rocks and into the open, we expect you to have a clear shot at their right flank once they commence their attack. Gods be with you.”
Then again, it could’ve been worse. They got over the initial surprise of unusually competent opposition, they had a good plan and she had her mother beside her and her father in her ear. The four Bravo pilots acknowledged as she subconsciously - well okay, it was intentional - kept her ‘Mech close to Idun’s Catapult.

Her BattleMech.

Despite her fear, the thought brought a warm smile to Marit’s face.

[Th3King0fChaos]

I'm sorry, I write too much.

Desperado

Tarak

Desperado

Physical Appearance:
Tarak is a 24 year old man with tanned skin, stands at 6'4, and weighs 265 pounds where it seems every ounce of that weight seems to be dedicated to his muscular physique. His body is much more like a worked machine running at top efficiency, he has low fat on his body and is quite prone to being cold. Tarak has short to medium-length black hair that he lets down more often than not. His eyes are these golden brown eyes that seem to always have a sharpness and almost shininess to them. He has many scars across his body, the most numerous being on his back, his torso, and on his legs, many of which look quite nasty as many were never properly treated but easily hidden by simple clothing, except for the one on his face the he received when he was younger.

Tarak is a simpler man, he has some money, but he spends very little of it on clothing. He has basic clothing at best, a tee shirt, black pants, some shorts, a jacket, and some thick and sturdy boots. Leaving to where Tarak has very little in the way of variety in clothing, to the point people will often think he has multiple sets of the same outfit, but sometimes he just forgets to clean some of his clothing and wears it, but nobody notices.

Character Archetype:
Hotshot with a haunting past

Character’s Guiding Motto:
Face forward and clench your fists, nothing comes to those who sit and wait.

Character’s Fatal Flaw:
Tarak is trying to do the best for those he has with him left. He tries to run from the things he has done, the enemies he's made, and the people he's lost. He tries his best to keep those who he has close from being lost, yet he is slowly noticing and fearing he is losing himself. Almost to the point where all he is his machine and the murder he causes is his existance.

Character’s Expertise:
Combat: Brawling, stealthy takedowns, and some Weapon training- Tarak lives to fight, his existance has always been in combat. May have it been inside the cockpit or out of it, he had always danced the Macabre Waltz with death. While out of a mech, Tarak's skills are exceptional yet improvised. He had never had any formal training, yet was taught to fight by life. He is as much a brawler as a Battle Mech pilot, he uses a variation of wild hits and precise efficent strikes while using stealth to deal with multiple opponents in a small area. Using improvised combinations, weapons, and the enviroment to deal with opponents quickly. Even with his most exceptional combat skills being in the form of brawling, he has been known to use many different weapons, firearms, and even heavier weapons such as machine guns, rockets, and other such things.

Tactics: Combat & Bounty/Pirate Hunting- Tarak's insight and instincts are beyond that of a normal person's. He is able to read deeper into most things as his intuition is that of a seasoned detective. His deductions skills were fostered from his years as a slave, a bounty/pirate hunter, and mercenary and these skills were honed especially when dealing with the many different people while being used by many different factions across the Galaxy. Yet his skills weren't just deduction and reading people to understand what they want and are thinking, it also a supernatural hunting instinct and combat intuition. His thoughts on their movement, how they'd react, and even where they are almost seem like he can read their mind. Yet this comes from years of experience from life or death experiences where a wrong move might mean he misses his mark, or worst, he becomes their prey.

Engineering: Scavenging & Field Repairs- During the years Tarak was a Mercenary and Bounty Hunter for hire, he had to spend much of his time away from base and anywhere to get proper repairs. So he to learn how to do repairs in the field to ensure he had a higher survival chance. After much time Tarak became quite good at doing quick repairs to Battle Mechs. Often spotting faults and make sure they are repaired, often the battle mechs when he first started looked as if they were scrap brawlers, using different pieces of strangely colored metal, rubber, and plastic that could be found to repair Mechs. As Tarak got better the Mechs began to become better looking, his repairs became more solid, to the point where one would never think he was using scraps. These skills came to great use when found in long solo missions, damages need to be repaired after battles and skrimishes, and often it can mean life and death if he is unable to keep his machine working, so he will scavenge what he can from other machines. Rigging broken systems to reroute power, jerry rigging operating systems and armor onto his Mech to complete the mission. This often leads to Tarak preferring Mechs that have hand actuators to take hold of things so he can actually repair things.

Nationality/Allegiance: Solaris 7/No allegiance.

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Background:

Tarak was an orphan born on Solaris 7, he was in a orphanage that abused them and one night after the Caretakers killed one of the orphans in the orphanage, Tarak killed them and burnt the Orphanage down. From there the rest of the Orpahns and him lived on the streets until they were picked up by a 'Stable' that wanted to give them a chance of a better life for working for them. Once there they realized that they were stuck there as now slaves to do the work of Technicians, Mechwarriors, and other such things with no hope of actual escape from the 'Stable'. Once they were trained enough they began to sent the Mechwarriors into underground battles to begin to rig games in their favor. Either having them take fall, or substituting them out with better pilots to always come out as winners.

One night after one of the kids decided to forfeit, he was killed. Making the rest of the Orphans now plan their freedom, as once Tarak was 15, they had planned enough for them to finally make an escape. First Tarak assassinated each of the guards on the base with the planned weapons and hideouts made for this night, and once they scrap yard was cleared, they took everything they could and sold it all. Yet they were given a few hours before the owners knew, so they sold anything they could, and traded their mech for a different one, losing a lot of value on a lot of their gear, yet they had enough. While in the escape Tarak was almost cornered and died, but by the grace of god and luck he was able to get away as another criminal group they made a deal with killed the other group.

Once in Free Worlds League territory, they began taking small jobs until they were finally able to get their first real job as pirate hunters. After teaming up with a few other rag tag groups of mercenaries, many decided to go their separate ways, yet it did give the Orphans a jumping off point. They began to continue their job search, taking jobs as Bounty hunters and Pirate hunters, acting like a scalpel Tarak made a name for himself not only as an exceptional Mechwarrior, but also as an exceptional Bounty Hunter. As after a few years as a small act, the Orphans were found by the Green Knights, with them all being nearly adult age at this point with Tarak being 20 by this point, they began working for the Green Knights, putting their skills to some real use. As the Green Knights gave them a better chance at fortune than what they had before. The next 4 years have been the most profitable they've seen, until they've hit this little snag with Espia, but the Orphans have gotten out of tough situations, this time won't be much different, as long as they have each other.

Extended Background, the reason why I didn't post any sooner

Orphanage

Tarak was born on Solaris 7, a planet known as the 'Game World' and very well known across the Galaxy for their 'Mech fights, Gambling rings, and the fortunes won and lost daily. Yet he was not born in such a luxurious position, he was not born into some amazing line of Mechwarriors, he was not destined to be picked up by a stable to become a famous technician, he was not promised anything. He was dealt a bad hand, he was born to a prostitue mother who died in child birth, and had a father who could have been any countless men. Tarak's hand was a losing one from the start, yet it seemed he had some luck, instead of being thrown to the wind the moment he was born, he was taken into an orphanage. Yet this orphanage was nothing one would considered to be nice, this is a place where most kids were treated like shit. Fed 1/4 rations, normally kids were starved to near death and then forced to work and panhandle just to be allowed to eat. As Tarak grew, he very quickly hated life here, many of these kids came here because they had nothing. Like Tarak they were dealt shit hands in life, so many of them treated each other like siblings, as most here were no older than 5-6 years old by the time he was 8 years old, was like a big brother as he was the one to steal for them, work harder for them, and even bleed for them when one of them was caught stealing.

Yet one night, Tarak was maybe 10 at the time, it seemed that the 'care takers' got carried away, they seemed to have snapped. The night smelt of booze, as when the 'care takers' came to the orphanage at night, they seemed to have been in a sour mood, some yelling about one of the games. As yelling started to occur, a bottle smashed as a scream was heard. Tarak jumped up from the bed and went down, to see something horrifying. One of the children were on the floor with blood and glass everywhere, as Tarak looked up to the 3 adults and all he saw was red.

A Devil Reveals Himself

He dashed up the stairs as they yelled for him, Tarak took a turn and hid away in a small nook near the top of the stairs, as he took hold to a creaky old floor board he waited a moment. As the first adult passed, then the second, Tarak waited but a moment longer for the third to finally come up as he jumped with as much force as he could to rip wood from the floor and tackled the person down the stairs. Tarak Clambered quickly as he drove the wood into the neck of the adult before he threw himself off of them and the rest of the way down the stairs. As the moment he made it down to the ground level his eyes landed on the kitchen, he lunged off towards the kitchen and over the glass as he threw himself into the kitchen. He knew they had no knives, they were told they couldn't afford it, but now Tarak understood, they wanted to make sure something like this could never happen. As his eyes landed on the spoons, he grabbed one and opened a cupboard and hid inside. Almost a moment later the other adults entered the kitchen they quickly moved. Tarak waited about half a minute after he first heard the kitchen door opened before he threw himself out of his hiding space and onto the counter. As he landed he was maybe about a foot away from his next target, as he threw himself at them. When he landed on them he quickly took hold of their shoulders and took the handle of the spoon and swung his hand wide to slam the end of the spoon into their eye and smacked the end of it to put it the rest of the way in and leapt off. Once he was moving the man who he just snuck up on finally fell to the ground and alarmed the other person. Tarak was riding a wave of adrenaline that made him a like a demon. Living in this area of villainy made children grow fast. With fighting other kids, teens, and even some young adults changed Tarak into an efficent fighter and killer, using his abnormal size for his age led to him being able to take on multiple people older than him quite easily. Fight or die was the motto of there orphans, gangs ran these streets and many younger folks either strutted their stuff or were made targets. Tarak dashed away, now going back into the commons area, as when he was about to near the glass, he hopped on to the couch and dove for the stairs. When he caught himself he began running back up to see the first man he killed laying still with the other kids finally up and seeing Tarak. They looked to him and were startled, yet he waved to them as he yelled, "Hide!". They all ran into different rooms as he ran down the hall, and for a moment he saw what he needed, a painting. As he grabbed it, and as he ran he flicked the light in the hallway off. As it was dark enough to make someone miss a small detail, Tarak hid in the door way of a room and lifted the painting to cover himself. As the man ran trying to find him, there was a split second he missed Tarak, and that was all he needed. At the moment he passed, he swung the painting down to hit him on the head. When the painting hit the canvas ripped and tore as Tarak yanked the frame back to bring the man down. Using the man's drunkenness and surprise dropped the man, and when this happened Tarak used the wooden frame as a place to hold as he set his feet on the mans neck and stomped as he pulled the frame up. Snapping the mans neck and crushing his throat in one lethal motion.

After it was done, Tarak was covered in blood, the orphanage was broken, and it was time to leave. As they all surrounded their fallen 'sibling', they had stopped breathing and tears began to well in their eyes, yet they needed to leave. As they wrapped them up, they all gathered what they could and left the orphanage, burning it down as they left for somewhere else. They made it a whole 3 days before they were found by some people that were up to no good.

Roman Gladiator

Tarak and his siblings were found by a group of people who offered them an escape from their lives. They can come work for them to escape their lives of destitution. All they needed to do was work as hard as they can for their Battle Mech Stable. Most saw this as an opprotunity of a life time, yet Tarak was wary. When they were brought into their new home, it was a literal scrap yard. They could see people scrounging through the materials, welding sparks flying, and what seems to be the skeleton of a BattleMech being made. As they were told, they would be clothed, fed, and given a place to sleep if they work for them. All accepted, yet Tarak was worried, he didn't know the aim, which made him uneasy. As They were settled in, they began learning the different jobs they will be passed through to see where they can work. Some had some aptitude in welding, others in management, some in talking skills, yet the one that Tarak showed exceptional skill in was as a Mechwarrior. When he enter the simulation, he seemed to have an almost comfortable feel in it as he did quite well for his first time ever touching the machine. So they assigned Tarak and the others who either showed skill as a Mechwarrior or who showed no other skills to become Mechwarriors. As they worked, the next few years seemed rough, they were yelled at if they failed or messed up, hit if they angered one of their superiors, or even if one of them were in a bad mood. Unlike in the orphanage, instead of some normal care takers, these men seemed to be strangely armed. Each of them carrying some gun and seemed all too eager to check someone, so many worked their hardest out of pure fear of death. At night was one of the few times they get time to themselves, they are all piled into one locked room with blankets and pillows in there for them. Night was when many broke down, crying in fear and wishing to leave, Tarak was always there to comfort them, cared for them, and did his best for them. Often he found moments to steal what he could to possibly to cheer some of them up, with whatever he could.

Finally Tarak had turned 14 his training was considered complete, him and many of the other kids here had been pitted against each other in BattleMechs that were being slowly formed in this 'Stable'. At this point, they were able to create and maintain 4 BattleMechs from the 'scraps' in this large scrap yard. Often times they were able to practice decently often, however in these conditions there have been plenty of accidents that occurred. Hundreds of injuries, some Mechs that were out of commission for some time, and even a few fatalities. Even if the children were mentally unstable the 'Stable' owners did not care, they were to move to their next phase, putting the kids to use. Normally you'd need to be 18 to participate as a Mechwarrior in games, however that only applies to games that were sanctioned by the Solaris Civic Council. The many underground matches that can happen across Solaris 7 however can be ran with any rules, regulations, or lack there of. Tarak's first match as his debut into the Underworld Solaris Games was something akin to what he was used to. The man infront of him was wanting to take whatever he has, his money or his life. Tarak was calm as always, they were being prepped as Tarak was given a quick run down: This will be his debut match, mattering on how he does will determine his career, and if he forfeits then he will be given an extra special punishment. Tarak had a feeling what it could mean, that could mean that they would do some form of horrifying things to him. Tarak just sat back and waited for them to be counted in. As the moment they were signaled to begin, Tarak boosted off like some deranged animal, as rounds flew Tarak shifted his body from side to side to have rounds hit nonessential armor, as the moment he meet his opponent Tarak began letting loose multiple close range shots as he began to use his Mechs body like a battering ram. Swinging his weight as he hits his opponents mech with his arms while he fires multiple shots into the opponent when the gun passes over them. Tarak using his speed and almost forcing his Mech to fall to dodge attacks and shift his position, making hitting him in such a range very difficult.

After a bout that lasted less than 2 minutes, Tarak showed his skills and ferosity in its full glory. His very frenetic and almost suicidal movements make his fighting almost seem like an animal in the ring. His swings were wild but the placement seemed calculated to force the opponent to react as he chose. To the point it almost seemed like he was in control of the fight from the start. After this amazing victory it filled many of his 'Siblings' with hope. As next came their matches, many lost their fights, only a handful at best won their fights. Everyone who were either in the support role, already fought, or were prepping to fight had to witness the reality of what occurs in these arenas. Multiple of their 'siblings' were either heavily, left mutilated from their fight, or even killed. As they had to watch, they felt a foreboding fear fall over them, this was the life they were to live. Many were given the same threat of capitulation, and all but one fought to the end. He was the weakest of will among the kids, and the fear of seeing all this happen and thinking it would happen to him, made him fearful enough to give up when the fight began. When that happened, the owners of the 'stable' promised him the punishment would occur that night. When the children were sent to their room, guards escorted them there and locked the doors. All but that one child was there, when they tried to leave the door was locked. When they called out all they heard was one of the men yell "Quiet!". As when they tried to call out again, they heard a quiet shriek of pain. All of them were startled as the took a moment and realized that was their 'sibling' crying out. As when they tried to yell the man yelled in, "If you don't shut up I'm capping one of you!" As in that moment it solidified the feelings within them, this was not their way out, no matter how hard they tried, this was worst than what they even imagined. There was no way out.

Spartacus

After that day, many felt more fearful, any mess up could lead to something horrifying happening to them. As the fear was compounded when they never saw their 'sibling' again, nothing changed. Tarak knew this, nothing changed, it was time for a plan to form. It was not going to be as easy as before, he needed to deal with armed men, sure Tarak was already 6'2 and was a head or so taller than most of them, yet they all had guns. A plan was going to be made, but they needed to survive during that time, with that, all the 'Mechwarriors, were given directives during their fights, many were set up to be the fall guys, they were to try and make the match look good but then get taken down. For Tarak, he was to learn each of the machines, sync with them, and he was to act as the sub for each of them. He was going to substitute out with each of the others to change the odds when it comes time, using his skills to rake in profits quickly. As over the next year, they did exactly this, many of the others became very good at taking a fall, while Tarak became very good at fighting in all different types of Mechs. Yet no matter how good the others were at taking a fall, accidents happen, often leaving where many are injured, mutilated, or killed while in these Underground arenas. All this time, Tarak was building a plan, a plan to take out their captors, and be free. Over the years, the group had slowly been stealing and hiding everything they needed: makeshift lockpicks, a properly hardened makeshift knife, an oil can made to be a suppressor, a few hiding spots around the scrap yard slowly made for them, and a small map to find it all. The only ting that is right now keeping them from reaching freedom is a 3 inch thick metal door. Yet Tarak had prepared for this moment himself, as he wrapped the small grave on the wall with the sheets, everyone of them took hold of the sheets and began to pull. The metal bent and creaked as it finally sheered and cracked under the strain.

Tarak grabbed the metal bars he looked to the edges that seemed to have been rusting and smirked. They gave them thin and rough blankets and they had to relieve themselves in the bucket in the corner. So they used the blankets to rough up the surface of the metal, and then they used their sweat, spit, and other bodily fluids to make the metal rust and weaken. They continued to do this for an entire year until finally it was time for them to escape, which was now. Tarak grabbed the metal and began to place multiple pieces in different areas of the door frame, as he bent them into the frame he began to shimmy them to where the lock would be, as once they moved it to place, he yanked them to force the lock to get shifted and slowly worked it open. Once he was done, the door was finally open, and it was time for their escape to commence. As Tarak left the room, he began to sneak about, once he left the others mode the metal and closed the door. The rain had became quite heavy at this point, making visibility poor, yet enough for him to see the lights of the guards, and the hunt began. The night was filled with blood, rain, and the silent sounds of bodies dropping. Tarak had thoroughly cleared the guards in the Scrapyard. Once it was clear, Tarak moved to where the kids were being held and opened the door and started getting them out. With clearing out the Scrap yard, they were able to move as they pleased, yet they needed to leave. The kids began grabbing the BattleMechs, tools they could, really anything and everything that could be either useful or used for money. As they left, each of the kids started to work their magic, some had used some of their time they had to set up some deals, other used their little time outside the scrapyard to find passages to be able to get off world. For them, they might at most have 24 hours, so they had to be gone by then.

Over the next 24 hours, they sold almost everything they had, keeping 2 BattleMechs, their Light Spider BattleMech that was one of the first to have gotten up and running and is known to be easily maintained, and a Phoenix Hawk that they were able to trade for one of their other larger and more well maintained Mechs. They traded their Heavy Mech frame for it to lighten their load while still keeping themselves with 2 Mechs, while the other Mech was sold for a criminally low price yet they needed it sold with no questions asked. Once they traded, bartered, and sold whatever they could, it was time to leave. Tarak was to pilot the Phoenix Hawk from one side of the city to the other where a transport ship will be taking them off world. As tarak left to get the Phoenix Hawk he was tipped off by the person who they made the trade with that there are men looking for them. Tarak knew if he was just to run to the ship, they could make it, however they needed the Mech. If they lost this Mech they'd be down to 1 and for them to do any work, it'd be suicide otherwise with such a light mech. The Spider is a really good Recon Mech, yet they needed some pushing power. Tarak took the gamble and took to piloting the Phoenix Hawk, he had to hope he sadly had no time to sync up with the Mech, so it was time to see Tarak's skills put to the test. The Neurohelmet was able to be replaced quite quickly with his own and he would have normally ran a diagnostics, yet Tarak needed to get moving. Tarak gave the man a thumbs up and started his rush to the ship. Yet it was never meant to be easy, as when he made it some of the more open area was when the trap was unleashed. Multiple Mechs began to let loose on Tarak, shooting lasers melting his armor quickly, as when he tried to return fire he realized his weapons were 'dead' and Tarak could not turn them on while in the cockpit. He cursed whatever god had forsaken him, as he had to now bear the punishment. While in this almost full sprint he was trying to intercept these attacks with his arms, using every pound of armor this thing had, as he franticly tried to figure out everything this mech had. As he found a button he was more than used to but never got to use, Jump Jets. The moment he flipped the button he flew, as he now needed to figure out flight, yet the onboard computer did it for him, as he flew his helmet told him his projected landing zone, as it was to be directly on top of one of his assailants. He set his legs to land down onto them as he deactivated the boosters at the end to allow his full weight to land on top of his target. When Tarak landed his Mech smashed straight into the mech and destroyed the cockpit of the other mech and smashed it into the ground.

Tarak was shaken by this landing, it was violent, one he was not fully ready for, but no matter, he had to move. As he ran forward, he felt his back side get slammed with missiles, lasers, and machine gun fire. Yet for Tarak he almost saw the world in slow motion, everything seemed dull, the world was beginning to stir, as he felt himself throw up in the cockpit. His mech became wobbly, it started losing balance as he was starting to lose his own balance, yet he needed to keep going. As maybe a moment after his other jump, he performed another one, sending him farther again, this time he allowed the computer to finish the full decent, not like he could have stopped it anyway. Tarak was not prepared for such an intense impact, which gave him whiplash and a concussion, making it where piloting became much more difficult, to the point where keeping the Mech standing was a miracle. Yet he had covered quite a bit of distance during this haze, as he Jumped as often as he could, yet it heated his BattleMech quite quickly, making it quite difficult to even stay awake. Yet the moment he made it to the a certain point, his pursuers almost seemed to dissappeared. As he made it to the ship, he noticed a few other Mechs there, as at first in his daze he was ready to fight, yet the moment when he was about to he noticed their other mech come out and stop him. Calling to him, but his communications were shot at this point, as they had to coax him out of his Mech where they went and laid him down to explain to him what happened. They made some sort of deal with another criminal group for protection they would pull out the remnants of this group into the open for them to be dealt with. Tarak laughed as he realized he was used to get them safety, this laugh led to him passing out.

Unchained

When he awoke, it had already been sometime and they were about to leave for the Free Worlds League to start a new life there. Once they entered new territory it was time to figure out what they wished to do, and Tarak brought up the idea of starting with bounty hunting, dealing with pirates, simple things to get them notice, and maybe get enough recognition to get better jobs. Once they found a planet to set up shop, they began to figure out what they could do. At first they were unable to find much, the technicians were able to offer their services to some of the BattleMechs on world, yet they were far and few between, many didn't believe in their skill, and many others didn't even need repairs as they haven't seen combat in a while. So they had to start planet hopping, taking up small jobs that they can do, hoping that they could catch a break. It was about another year of this before they were finally able to catch a break, when they caught wind of a bounty on the head of a small pirate band that has been raiding the area. They were small time yet enough of a threat that they needed someone to handle it. Tarak offered to assist and it seemed a few other smaller time groups were willing to hop in if a Mechwarrior was there. Many of them being small time mercenaries. Them having some of their more basic credentials, yet never could get good work. All of them decided to split the reward based upon what some brought, with Tarak bringing not only his mech, another mech, and a small crew on engineers. Using their stronger talkers, the Orphans were able to negotiate a 50% split, which was quite a decent bit of money for starting. As after some quick repairs and maitnence checks on the machines, it was off to hunt down pirates. They were able to track down the pirates to a lone planet, there they landed planet side a few miles out from where they pinpointed the Pirates would be. From there they began to use recon to find that they pirates were well armed with even a Heavy BattleMech of their own, yet they seemed to be very lax at the moment. As once they had their information they began to quickly build a plan, using a multi layered assault, they would have the Mechs lead the charge with multiple layers of fire coming from different angles, they'd barrage the BattleMech and other targets with bombardments. All the while their BattleMechs would be the spear head of the fight, cutting through their vehicles and dealing with the BattleMech.

Yet the Battle was anything than what it was hoped to be, many of these mercenaries were ill experienced and often missed many of their marks. Leaving to where Tarak and his brother piloting the Spider to do much of the work. They had to use their quick movements to deal with the smaller vehicles while dodging the BattleMech submerged in a large body of water. Yet as the mech seemed to 'get going' it began to let loose such vicious barrages of laser weapons and rockets that it tore apart the Spider within a few moments and destroying the legs quickly. The only thing that saved Tarak and his nearly dead brother was that the Mercenaries began to be to hit an unmoving target. As they bombarded the Mech, Tarak took the chance to line up a shot and fired his large laser straight through the cockpit of the Mech, killing the pilot in a single shot. Once all the pirates were dealt with, the groups reconvened and began talking about splitting loot. Tarak and the Orphans laid claim to the Mech, most of the others fought over it, yet Tarak set his foot down that not only did they have to clean up the mess they made, but also had serious damage dealt to them because they were unable to deal with the BattleMech because of all the other little fighters and the random fire that could hit them at any point. After this heated argument someone nearly lost their head actually as they tried going for a weapon. As weapons were drawn, Tarak stared them all down and gave a singular warning, "If you think you can beat us, you would have taken those Pirates on you own. We were confident in doing it". As before any blood could be shed, they calmed down and decided to just get their money and go their separate ways.

With this it started the story of the Orphans and their leader being a gunslinger willing to draw a gun 20 to 1. Tarak and the Orphans began having jobs become more consistent, as they travelled their name slowly moved with them. They began being able to find work with a bit more consistency, yet it was always for some of the hardest things: Bounty Hunting & Pirate Hunting. These normally aren't considered hard until you take into account they don't follow any forms or rules or engagment. What ever they need to do, what ever they can do, even if it is random armaments not normally found, using the enviroment, even local the locals will be used by these criminals. Often leading to Tarak has often needed to learn and adapt quite quickly to a situation, sometimes it can be something simple like their first pirate hunt, but sometimes it can be they made their home somewhere heavily fortified, they have taken part of a planet hostage, or maybe they are even working with the local planetary defense to raid places more easily. Every engagment often required a different set of mind, which often lead to Tarak needing to learn how to adapt to new enviroments, tactics, weapons, and even mindsets. As no one pirate is the same, yet often they can be predicted based upon the enviroment they are in, what they are known for, and even what area they are found in. Tarak fought in many different systems, worlds, and for different people. If they paid him, he would do the work, and good work he did.

Tarak made a name as a one man army, often expected of those from Solaris 7, some of the greatest gladiators had often been contracted as one man shows in comparison to buying out a mercenary group. He was often passed over for the big jobs like taking on bigger targets with larger rewards, after all they only had one true functioning Mechwarrior, their combat effectiveness in full scale war would be laughable at best, yet when dealing with people outside the reach of planets, and too troublesome to handle for a large millitary presence, Desperado is often strolling through town. The Orphans spent a good few years like this, slowly amassing some form of wealth, slowly got some new crew members, mostly people to operate a ship, keep some maitnence, and sometimes people who found themselves aligned someway with the group, they were doing okay for themselves. Yet their big break came when they heard the Green Knights were in the sector.

The group made contact with the Green Knights and offered their proverbial sword, they were a capable crew, a Good Mech pilot, and after their work, they came with their own ship.

---

---

Equipment:

Black Phoenix

https://www.sarna.net/wiki/Phoenix_Hawk

Model: PXH-1

Class: Medium (45 tons)

Appearance: Tarak's Mech was given its name based on the burnt exterior that mech had when he escaped the cusps of his captors. The Black Phoenix had however gotten a change in color pallet as of recent as white and grey are the new fashion Espia seems to sport. However, Tarak still keeps a bit of black showing underneath his Green Knight insignia on the shoulders and directly in the center of the torso. The hand actuators of the 'Mech are also a dark almost burnt black like that of its namesake. While the inside and outside of the fingers of the hand actuators seem to be stripped of the paint as if it is under constant use and wear.

Equipment:

Standing at 11 meters tall, the Phoenix Hawk was armed in such a way that it can be used in several different combat roles including command, reconnaissance, and front line duty. The primary weapon on board was a Harmon Large Laser carried in the right arm, giving the 'Mech a weapon which could strike at an enemy at a respectable distance. This was backed up by two Harmon Medium Lasers for close range combat, one in either forearm. Finally, to deter infantry attacks, the 'Mech carried two M100 Heavy Machine Guns, also split between either arm, with one ton of ammunition stored in the center torso.

Eight tons of armoring on the Phoenix Hawk gave it acceptable endurance for short combat actions, though not for any sustained brawling.

Eight tons of armoring on the Phoenix Hawk gave it acceptable endurance for short combat actions, though not for any sustained brawling. Just ten heat sinks meant the 'Mech had a relatively low heat threshold; green pilots were known to lose their 'Mechs by overtaxing this system overusing their heat-intensive weapons and jump jets.

With a 270-rated fusion engine also gave the Phoenix Hawk a solid top speed of 97.75 km/h, and the 'Mech could go from standing still to top speed within the span of 100 meters. Six jump jets split between right and left rear torsos provided a maximum jumping distance of 180 meters. These attributes helped make the 'Mech just as fast and maneuverable as its smaller brethren, the Stinger and Wasp.

It is the Phoenix Hawk's electronics, though, which truly helped it perform best as a command 'Mech for recon lances. Its Tru-Trak targeting computer was particularly accurate, while the heavily-shielded BattleCom system could overcome interfering radiation, whether ambient or man-made, that would've shut down other units. Unfortunately, Tarak was not lucky to have ever found a Tru-Trak targeting computer, so he still sticks with his Octagon Tactrac System C that he had always used.

Personal Equipment

SERE Kit- Tarak keeps a SERE(Survival Evasion Resistnace Escape) kit inside his cockpit incase he needs to eject and survive in the wilderness on his own for some time, he has a black hard polymer pack filled with MREs to last him a few days, a broken down Semi-automatic carbine with one 20 round magazine, a suppressed hand gun with one 20 round magazine, a flash light, a canteen filled with 1L of water, a knife, a trauma kit to stabilize wounds and set up broken bones, and a collapsible spade within it. This kit is attached to his seat to keep it from flying about and possibly causing damage while within the cockpit.

Combat Gear- Anytime Tarak enters his Mech, he is always ready for a combat scenario to occur when he is to leave it. So his normal combat gear includes some form of camo clothing fitting to the enviroment, a cooling vest able to take small arms fire and regulated his body temperature to allow for higher survivability inside and outside the cockpit, a pair of gloves, his boots, and some light armoring across his body to more easily take impacts and dampen blows. While on Espia, the armor is a white and grey with heavier layers to combat the cold. He wears this quite often even with the almost sauna like state inside the Mech.

Personal Cassette Player- Tarak loves to use his Personal cassette player, he uses it mostly to listen to music, especially while he is all alone or when on long recon missions. Tarak has a few favorite songs, yet anything that crosses his path are always a must listen to, especially now that they are stuck on a hostile planet, anything new is a god sent.

[AndyC]

ATTENTION, MECHWARRIORS, I-C IS LIVE! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, REPEAT, I-C IS LIVE!

Also, Desperado is APPROVED

[AndyC]

Mission briefing is up, y'all. If you want to participate in this outing, make sure to sound off or you'll get left behind.

[Bork Lazer]

BRIGADOR - ONE SHOT - PT 2
Aroxy gritted his teeth, eyes peeking out of the portcullis, as beams of ionized plasma flashed over his head. The Goliath’s reactor was audible at its distance as he heard its footsteps boom over in the distance. A searchlight scythed over their line hungrily, illuminating their figures for the mech to target and destroy. Once that was over, Aroxty swore as he heard what sounded like the cracks of lightning on his distance as a spray of lasers came from the Warhammer’s left torso. It was nothing a Von Luckner couldn’t stomach but the insides of the tank turned from sweltering to boiling at all the excess energy being poured into the interior.

The volley stopped and Aroxy watched cautiously as the Warhammer began to walk towards the right, towards where the remains of the paved roads were. Von Luckners were faster than most heavy mechs if they were on good tank country. Unfortunately, the artillery attacks from both the loyalists and rebels had reduced hard-packed soil into loose mulch that clogged up their treads. The difference between their speed was so miniscule that the Warhammer could outspeed them if the pilot bothered to break their reactors.

So, there were only two choices now.

Go down fighting or run away retreating.

The latter was unthinkable for his crew.

So, fighting it was.

“ Takka!” He barked into his crew’s comm channel. “ Fire an AP at its searchlight. If it’s running half-blind, at least, that’s better than nothing at all!”

He heard a momentary grunt of confirmation and the reracking of shells into the turret’s chamber. The turret jolted and Aroxy could see the cannon tilting upwards, accounting for the range. If there was one advantage of fighting a heavy mech, it was that they didn’t move much. Light mechs made ballistics calculations hard because they moved around like a chicken on meth. Heavy mechs like the Warhammer were sitting ducks. However, Aroxy questioned whether even Takka, who could hit a fly at 900 yards while drunk, could hit the mech’s searchlight at this range.

“ Up!,” Morven, the loader, shouted.

“ Fire!,” Aroxy commanded.

“ On the way!,” Takka screamed.

The cannon erupted and the enormous frame of the Warhammer tilted back, rocked by the power of the 125mm bore round. The searchlight flickered chaotically before turning dark one last time. The feeling of victory was short-lived as the Warhammer’s PPE let loose another beam, turning night into day. Aroxy’s heart stopped as he saw that the beam was coming towards them. Merry-Go-Round rocked back on her hull from the blasts, throwing Aroxy off his footing. Warning klaxons that he only heard during his training were blaring as the crew inside was shouting and swearing, fumbling around for tools like frenzied mice.

“ Shit. How bad is it?”

Takka pulled off his helmet and whatever he was looking at made his mouth open and close several times. He sputtered as if searching for the right words before replying in a haunted voice.

“ Our engine’s fucked. We’re moving slower than a turtle at this point, Aroxy.”

“ Dammit!” Aroxy slammed his fist on the inside of the Merry-Go-Round’s hull. He then looked up and saw the Warhammer walking towards their position in an uncoordinated manner. They were walking half-blind. It would be about 20 seconds before they would get pinged on its radar. “ Dammit. Alright. Aim for its left leg joint. We have to get that PPE off our tail.”

Aroxy heard the familiar sound of re-racking as the Merry-Go-Round prepared itself to fire another round.

“ Up!”

“ Fire!”

“ On the way!”

The Merry-Go-Round shuddered from the recoil. Through his telescope, Aroxy saw the round collide cleanly with the Warhammer’s leg. The mech paused, its movements now visibly slowed as it’s left arm-turret sank down, the ruined joint unable to compensate for its weight. Unfortunately, their fire gave off their position as the Warhammer readjusted its PPE and fired towards them.

Aroxy swore, ducked into the crew interior and heard the sound of metal shrieking from above.

“ Goddammit, our SRMs are hit. We only got our main turret left, chief.”

Aroxy was still seeing stars by the time he managed to get onto his two feet. He breathed out, ignoring the taste of blood in his cheek, and looked at Takka who had sweat pouring down his tense face.

“ Alright, aim below at the cockpit and fire an AP round. It won’t do diddly but we have to get that plating off.” Aroxy scrambled up onto the portcullis and waited for the cannon to finish readjust. “ On my command.”

“ Up!”

“ Fire!”

“ On the way!”

Another flash of fire, this time at the center of the Warhammer. The great war engine shuddered as its legs stalled for a moment. The end of its PPE began to glow an eerie blue, ready to send them all into oblivion.

“ Again!” Aroxy screamed, throat hoarse. “ HE this time!”

“ Up!”

“ Fire”

“ On the way!”

The third shell struck true and the Warhammer froze still. The smoke cleared and Aroxy peeked out through his telescope, switching to night vision. There was a rent hole, sputtering with oil, through the lower cockpit of the Warhammer. The great mech swayed on its hydraulic footing, slowly losing power throughout its subsystems from critical damage, before crashing down on the earth with such force that it raised a visible dust cloud in the dusky night.

THe tank crew paused for a moment, frangled nerves and shock outweighing any sense of achievement. Aroxy took the deepest breath he ever had before speaking into his radio.

“ Mech destroyed.”

[AndyC]

The OOC section has been updated to include a blurb about the dice mechanics. TL;DR, we're using dice, but don't freak out, it's chill. The GMs are doing all of the rolling and math stuff under the hood; the players themselves can continue to play as normal.

[Waylon]

@AndyC

This still open?

[AndyC]

@AndyC

This still open?

@Waylon

Yup!

[Waylon]

@AndyC

Since it looks like you're in between missions, I'm thinking of playing an IndustrialMech pilot who defects to the mercs from the FPA because his cell leader rubbed him the wrong way. What do you think?

[Letter Bee]

@AndyC

Since it looks like you're in between missions, I'm thinking of playing an IndustrialMech pilot who defects to the mercs from the FPA because his cell leader rubbed him the wrong way. What do you think?

@Waylon

Well, we might be forming an alliance with the FPA soon, or at least, my characters are angling for one...

[Waylon]

@Letter Bee

Yup, I'm aware of that. Might make things a little more interesting, don't you think? And the cell Andrew's in might not necessarily be in lockstep or even in constant communication with the cell I'm thinking of having my character leave, because this RP's lore describes the FPA as a "hodgepodge of cells"... Not to mention that so far it looks like the people running the rebellion are a bunch of jerks themselves anyway 😁

[AndyC]

I think the concept works. There's going to be a few "interlude" posts in between missions to introduce some of the outside factions and what they're up to, so that would be a good time to introduce new characters. We'll have to see the final CS before giving the go-ahead, of course.

[Letter Bee]

@Letter Bee

Yup, I'm aware of that. Might make things a little more interesting, don't you think? And the cell Andrew's in might not necessarily be in lockstep or even in constant communication with the cell I'm thinking of having my character leave, because this RP's lore describes the FPA as a "hodgepodge of cells"... Not to mention that so far it looks like the people running the rebellion are a bunch of jerks themselves anyway 😁

@Waylon

Pfft, true.

[Waylon]

@Letter Bee

Not to worry, I'm currently writing this subfaction of the rebels my character's from to possibly be at loggerheads with Andrew's in significant ways.

[Letter Bee]

@Letter Bee

Not to worry, I'm currently writing this subfaction of the rebels my character's from to possibly be at loggerheads with Andrew's in significant ways.

@Waylon

Nice! Wanna join the Discord Server, btw? I think there's a link to one in the OOC OP.

[Waylon]

Character Name:
Beauregard McKeough

Callsign:
Hugh (“You know what? Just call me by that handle anytime, I don't mind. Really sad that nobody calls me Beau anymore these days.”)

Character Archetype:
Good Old Boy

Character’s Guiding Motto:
“It's five o'clock somewhere – 'cept when it's raidin' time!”

Character’s Fatal Flaw:
Heavy drinker (“I'm responsible though... I swear!”)

Character’s Expertise:
Reconnaissance, Stealth, Survival

Nationality/Allegiance:
Capellan Confederation Supporter caste, loyalist (“I ain't a diehard patriot though, more like better the devil you know”)

Background:
When twelve-year-old Beau McKeough learned that he would be learning to pilot a 'Mech, he leapt in excitement right then and there, as rambunctious young boys are wont to do.

As soon as his father and older siblings told him what for exactly, however, that excitement quickly died down.

The reason he was to pilot a 'Mech, they told him, was twofold: for him to learn the family trade (for the McKeoughs owned and ran no less than the biggest timber company on Espia) as well as to render, in the words of the Ministry of Social Education, “some kind of volunteer work that can be interpreted as having made some contribution to the state,” which in the case of young Beau was to clear out swamps and forests using a Lumberjack gifted to him from the McKeoughs's fleet of IndustrialMechs.

Despite the dream having been turned into a chore, Beau nevertheless performed quite well at land clearing, even picking up a good deal of land surveying and speculating from the senior members of the government crew to which he was assigned. Upon turning 15, Beau passed his citizenship evaluation with flying colors and joined the older members of his family as a bona fide member of the Capellan Supporter caste, which counted among its number captains of industry and trade in addition to educators, economists, and members of the judiciary.

Such was Beau's performance in service of Espia that he was offered a spot at the Capella War College – which he promptly declined, stating that he knew that the chances of ever going home to one's home planet are slim to none should one become an officer, and that spending most of his boyhood day in and day out in the dank cockpit of his Lumberjack had left him burned-out and jaded as far as piloting was concerned. Desperate for a change of scenery, Beau matriculated at the University of Balya Gora (UBG), purportedly to major in civil engineering but actually to party like an animal and enjoy himself like he never did before. For not only was the “Bee Gee” Espia's number one institute for higher education, it was also the place where the best and the brightest from all over the planet got together to get drunk, get laid, and pursue a different kind of “higher learning” altogether. Nevertheless, in between the partying and the studying and the having to assist his siblings at the McKeough Timber Co. headquarters, Beau managed to graduate with honors and was given a sinecure by his father.

Beau had just completed his first year of graduate studies in geological engineering via distance learning with Sian University when news of the Capellan withdrawal broke out. Upon hearing this, Beau immediately rushed to the McKeough headquarters, where he found his parents, his siblings, their extended family, and their most trusted retainers and employees all gathered in the boardroom.

Steeling himself against the tears, Beau's father announced to all present that already he could sense where the wind was blowing, that he could feel it in his blood, for even on long-ago Terra the McKeoughs of ancient Ireland were no strangers to the never-ending cycles of calamity and upheaval. It was for this reason that the elder McKeough, in agreement with senior members of the family as well as members of the board, management, and the employees' union as well, decided to sell the company before the inevitable backlash from the increasingly-restive Servitor underclass would reduce everything they worked for into piles of worthless ash.

Before dismissing everyone for the final time, the patriarch added that while he would like nothing more during this difficult time than for his family and closest friends to accompany him to the Espian outback to lay low, perhaps it would be just as good for them, if they so wished, to go their separate ways and survive independently of one another to the best of their ability, for that was how the McKeoughs survived wars, famines, and genocides throughout the millennia; so long as a mere handful or even just one of them remained standing at the end of it all, the family could always begin anew.

With that final family reunion having adjourned as quickly as it had begun, Beau went over to his parents and informed them of his decision to find a way to stay and fight for his home, if not for the Confederation at large – but not the conspicuously unwieldly and corrupt planetary government, which as a university student he had grown to hate. After getting their blessing, Beau drove to the McKeough hangars out in the boondocks to retrieve his Lumberjack and got in touch with some politically-active loyalists he knew from university, who then put him in touch with a cell of the Capellan Citizens' Combine which during this time had not yet been subsumed into the Espian Free People's Movement.

To his horror, Beau found out that the leader running his cell was none other than Margaret Bo, an erstwhile UBG student council president. Hailing from the Directorship caste ("more like the Dictatorship caste, haha") and notorious for being a veritable Machiavellian queen bee even during their Bee Gee days, Bo didn't pass up the chance to poach him for her own cell, for he was the closest thing to a seasoned 'Mech pilot she could get from a pool of mostly civvies. Furthermore, she demanded that while serving under her, Beau should relinquish all claims to his first name, for there could only be one Bo/Beau in her cell – namely, herself.

With his first name taken from him and finding it irritating for others to either mispronounce his surname or lazily call him some variant of “Mac,” “Mackie,” or the slur-sounding “Mick,” the pilot eventually settled on just being called “you” by the others, which in time became “Hugh”: his callsign as well as the name he went by from that moment on.

Despite their working relationship having gotten off to a rocky start, the cell leader reluctantly agreed that in exchange for his unquestioning service to her excellency and as a hazard pay of sorts, as the cell's only pilot he was to be allowed to keep a moonshine still in his trailer as well as some grain and all the liquor looted from their raids in lieu of pay. After all, he reasoned, his job during raids and ambushes was to draw to himself as much enemy gunfire as he could take if they weren't close enough for him to hit with his chainsaw. “Booze helps to calm my nerves when we're not raiding, besides I'm literally a dead man walking now ain't I?” was his excuse to her. "I believe I'm entitled to that at the very least."

Margaret Bo was more of a bureaucrat than a field commander, but Hugh didn't mind her hogging all the credit each time they scored a win against the regime they both hated, so long as he got his agreed-upon share of the spoils and was permitted to drink to his heart's content in private. Bo, being uncompromisingly domineering and a teetotaler to boot, continued to secretly resent him for this; at the same time, the Capellan Citizens' Combine and the Espian Free People's Movement began to closely associate with one another.

Unfortunately for Hugh, Bo was also ambitious – so much so that after being told that she was considered for a higher position in the Free People's Army, she thought it would be a good idea to seal the deal by seizing the pilot's stash of alcohol to give to the FPA honchos as a gift, and as a grandiose show of authority, to subject him, her top (and only) pilot, to "long-overdue disciplinary action" – all the better to remind all concerned of the pecking order.

Hugh found out about this and reckoned that it was high time to get out of dodge. Later that night, he loaded into his cargo bay all the worldly possessions he still had with him, including his still, his stash of alcohol, and just to spite Margaret, an old jukebox from the cell's mess hall that he figured was a Bo family heirloom.

After convincing the guards that he was on a solo covert mission to take the stuff in his hold to some potential allies (which was still technically true, he told himself), Hugh hopped into the cockpit, powered up his Lumberjack, and strode off in search of the source of that exotic moonshine he got from the black market whose label was stamped with nothing but a green knight's helmet. That fine hooch had been on his mind ever since his first sip.

“Pretty sure it's those mercs from offworld who made that good shit,” Hugh thought to himself as an ancient Terran song* started to play on his stereo. “Gotta be.”

Battlemech:

Hugh pilots a dull-gray Lumberjack, originally an LM1/A, which with the grudging approval of Margaret Bo he paid the technologically-inclined members of their cell a significant amount of liquor to upgrade with looted weapons. The souped-up ForestryMech now sports an LRM-10 in place of one of the dumpers, additional armor, and machine guns instead of its signature lift hoist. Painted on the 'Mech's left chest plate is the iconic green Capellan Confederation emblem, now weathered. And in case anyone's wondering, it still rocks its chainsaw.

*The song

Jk, actually it's this one below if the last one wasn't good for your immersion:

[Waylon]

<Snipped quote by Waylon>

Nice! Wanna join the Discord Server, btw? I think there's a link to one in the OOC OP.

@Letter Bee

Tried the link but it doesn't seem to work for me. Even got the Discord app for this, and I'm more of a Telegram guy lol.

[Letter Bee]

<Snipped quote by Letter Bee>

Tried the link but it doesn't seem to work for me. Even got the Discord app for this, and I'm more of a Telegram guy lol.

@Waylon

I'll PM you the invite, then.