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Post by Captain Benjamin Maxwell on Oct 15, 2004 21:13:01 GMT -5
Your senses reel as you find yourself in a dark, grimy bar with a cooking pit sunk in the middle. In the pit a large, unidentifiable animal has been spitted, and is slowly turning over a bank of lasers running at low power. Squinting at the lasers, you recognize, under the grease, the armament of a Mark IV tramp freighter.
Suspended over the pit, in the middle of the room, is the bar itself. The barkeep, a morbidly overweight fellow bedecked with tattoos, has done a halfhearted job of stringing up a series of extremely harzardous Christmas lights in an effort to liven things up a bit. He leans on one arm, and ignores you as you walk in, instead observing the droids as they glide by, delivering food and drinks. A holovid screen over the bar blares assorted ComStar programming, and a knot of off-duty technicians yell and throw beer cans at it as they watch.
The décor here was once neo-western - a fashion that went out 350 years ago - but decades of neglect and fights have erased all but the most enduring features of the original decoration. At several tables patrons are gambling, though it's not clear what the stakes are, or even the game. A bank of holos across one wall is showing Elvis singing 'You ain't nothing but a Mad Dog.’ You wince at the volume and wonder whose idea it was to clone long dead singing stars.
As the crash of breaking dishes and shattering glassware mingles with the general rowdy atmosphere of the bar, a pallid youth with a cyberhacker haircut (shaved down the middle to take the receptor for a cranial jack) stares through you vacantly, jacked into a coin-op VR machine in the corner.
Most of the tables are taken, but there are a few vacancies.
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Quartermaster
Logistics Coordinator
LEGIONNAIRES
No guts, no glory, no universe!
Posts: 45
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Post by Quartermaster on Nov 2, 2004 17:30:06 GMT -5
I stumbled into the bar, my senses reeling, mostly from the overdose of RadAway I had enjoyed earlier.
RadAway...good stuff.
"BARKEEP! The USUAL!" I hollered as I pounded my fist on the bar. The barkeep gave me a vacant stare, then went back to watching his droids fly around. I climbed over the bar and helped meself to a bottle of green stuff and a plate of voodoo...the bartender wouldn't care...I'm a trustworthy sort.
As I climbed back over the bar, I took a good, long look around at the facilities. I had helped him decorate this place...me and me old mumsie, God rest her soul, and I was damn proud of me handywork.
I doused the voodoo with a good splash of green stuff, then set it abalze. Baked voodoo....goood. Beat the hell out of an exploded burrito any day. As the flames died down, I dug in.
Mmmm.
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Post by Captain Benjamin Maxwell on Apr 3, 2005 0:31:30 GMT -5
I walked into the darkened bar as the Quartermaster began shoveling his plate of voodoo into his mouth fistfuls at a time. I shuddered as entrails fell from his meaty grip and splattered to the floor with a sickening plop.
Maneuvering my way around several server droids, I slid into a booth and kicked my boots up on the edge of my table. Pulling a fresh pack of Yak 42s from my jacket pocket, I thumbed the igniter switch, and relaxed in the resulting aeromatic haze.
Glancing around, I noticed several familiar faces. Lieutenant Keith the Loon was stationed at the nearby bar, regaling several of the female barkeeps with tales of legendary death orgies, while General CRIPTO 2K and Captain Throw N Sparks hammered out a plan to coordinate staff meetings more effectively near a bank of holovid screens.
Off in a far, hazy corner of the bar was General Aegis Kleais, his short-cropped hair just visible over a massive holographic spreadsheet projected before him. Columns flickered across the hologrid as he immersed himself in the administrative processes of personnel management.
I sighed, thankful for my station as a Captain, and pulled the latest copy of the ComStar Times up on my BattlePOC as I watched the scenery.
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Post by Captain Adam "Gunman" Wolf on Apr 4, 2005 1:50:26 GMT -5
Stepping through the doorway into the dimly lit Cantina, I run my hand back through my hair and take note that Im about due for a haircut. Moving fairly quickly I make my way through the labrinth of tables, stumbling technicians and various service bots scurrying about.
Reaching the bar I order a glass of whatever the barkeep has on tap at the moment, and head off in search of an available table. Spotting Maxwell sitting at a table I head over there through yet another labrinth of bots and various patrons. Finally reaching my destination I take a seat on the opposite side of the booth from Ben and kick my feet up on the edge of the bench, leaning back against the wall.
Motioning towards the BattlePOC in his hand I ask, "Anything interesting today?"
Taking my glass and throwing back a good part of it, I almost gag on the rather unexpected strength and flavour wondering just what in the world the barkeep had gave me. Glancing over towards the bar I catch a rather disturbing grin on the barkeep's usually grim face and decide its better not to ask.
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Post by Captain Benjamin Maxwell on Apr 5, 2005 18:20:19 GMT -5
Stifling a bemused expression, I watched as Gunman struggled to keep his composure after inadvertantly slamming down a fifth of Olde Sleepy's Olde Peculiar. Looking sharply down at my datapad until I regained my usual nonchalant expression, I glanced around the bar and gestured at Aegis, still engrossed in his duties.
"Those MRBC guys really take this stuff seriously. How long you figure this audit's going to run?"
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Post by Captain Adam "Gunman" Wolf on Apr 5, 2005 21:59:02 GMT -5
Setting my drink down, and after several attempts to clear my throat I little, I finally was over the initial surprise I got from the drink, and turned over to take a look at Aegis as well, chuckling a little as I watched him pouring over various reports and files.
Turning back to Ben, I gently cleared my throat one last time and said, " Well Im not sure how long it'll be this time, last time they took nearly a month to get through everything, of course this bunch looks a bit more qualified than the last. They sure do take it seriously though, too seriously I'd say, but hey thats me." With that I leaned back a little farther in the booth and grabbed my drink again, about take another swig when I remembered the last time and stopped myself short, and took a more measured drink, that went down surprisingly well when your expecting it.
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Yeoman Hobson
Yeoman
Senior DropShip Pilot
DropShips...the only way to fly!
Posts: 18
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Post by Yeoman Hobson on Apr 5, 2005 22:08:15 GMT -5
"That'll be TEN CREDITS!" the barkeep bellowed, spraying my already revolting-looking excuse for a chili dog with putrid spit. I winced, and pulled my credit fob from its keeper, swiping it through the bar's reader. The reader chirped an acknowledgement, and I gathered up my "food," carrying it with me to a nearby table. As I sat down, I heard a loud "bang," followed by a scream of pain, and looked over to see Miyamoto rubbing his forehead and cursing in tounges at the hard ferrolumber table he had evidently just attempted to split in half with his noggin.
Apparently he had just reached his legal limit of alcoholic spirits for the evening.
I winced, partially at the display, and partially at the food, and dug in.
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Post by Lieutenant Kei-teh Kintaru on Apr 6, 2005 17:01:35 GMT -5
After walking into the bar as the cigarette curled around my ankles like fog at dawn, I make as many quick observations of the handful of apparent scruff scattered around the bar. Passing through the tightly squeezed pack of drunks and other mishap of young men experimenting with alcohol and what not, carefully deciding whom to give the “ass passes” and the “crotch passes” to, I notice some members of the “party” taking a fancy to the sheathed katana that I cautiously grip to. This weapon (simple named Ryu (Dragon)) had been a family air loom, passed down to each new born of the “Kintaru”. This was something these ruffians would only come into contact with should they cross my path…
I settle at the bar, the hood of my robe casting a shadow on my face making it hard to make out any distinct features. After casting a quick glance around the area, making observations of the more pleasant in apparel people enjoying the local “grog”, I raise a hand to the bar keep.
What do you want stranger?
Raising my head only to reveal my lips i reply:
"A bottle of your finest spirit good sir..." My tone steady and confident
May i see some ID please sir?
"Shit" I thought, remembering the sign on at the enterance clearly stated "21+". Having 19 years of age on my identification card was not going to ensure me of a fine drink. I make a vauge jesture with my hand infront of the bar keeps face and say in a contientious tone
"Theres no need to see my identification"
"Cute. Can i see that ID please sir?"
"Theres no need to see my identification" I repeat, doing the same jesture again
ID NOW! Bellowed the bar keep, silencing some drunken conversations within the bar
I sit there in the silence, the bar keep cracking his knuckles as he stairs at me with beady eyes
I make the same, pathetic jesture
"Right maggot! outta my BAR!!" Screamed the land lord as his dived over the bar table surrounding the verious alchole taps. Keeping my cool, i side step him, lightly tap him on the back. His mommentum and the added tap send him couriering into a table, interupting the sleep of one possible candidate for A.A.
You little punk! i'll tare you to peices!!!
I make a faint jesture with my hand infront of him and reply "There is no need to tare me to peices."
With that, the land lord clambered onto his feet, the fight continued....
More next time, what do you think? ^__^
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Post by General John "Aegis" Murlance on Apr 6, 2005 19:45:43 GMT -5
The louder-than-usual sound of shattering plates and furniture being violently displaced interrupted my train of thought as the hideously overweight bartender flew across his bar Matrix-style in a failed attack lunge toward a slender robed youth holding a bringt pink identification card, the universal color for "underage." The barkeep's attack missed, and he plowed into a series of tables, displacing drunkards and lowlifes in a cellulose-jiggling impact that was both morbid and fascinating all at the same time.
"There is no need for you to tear me to pieces," the youth murmered.
He was quite obviously deranged.
I stood up from my table, and strode toward the heart of the commotion. I could see Captains Gunman and Maxwell approaching from the other side of the hazy bar, looking cooly nonchalant.
This sort of thing was evidently commonplace around here.
The bartender landed a beefy punch in the kid's eye as I reached the scene of the commotion. Staggering backwards, the kid replied, "There is no need to black both my eyes," before ducking under a second jackhammer punch.
Shoving the bartender aside (which resulted in a second spectacular explosion of flatware and furnishings), I grabbed the kid by the back of his cloak and pulled him out of the melee. Flipping his hood back, I locked eyes with him.
"Who the hell do you think you are, kid? Obi-Wan Kenobi?"
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Post by Lieutenant Kei-teh Kintaru on Apr 7, 2005 11:03:33 GMT -5
“There’s no need for copy right infringement.” I reply, smirking while looking back into the eyes of the man who seemed more hardened than the other scum that attended this bar.
Switching my attention the landlord as he clambered to his feet, wiping some blood from the corner of his mouth, I notice his brandishes a small bladed weapon. Its appearance is similar to a knuckle duster, with one large blade placed in the centre of the object. The landlord stagers a little, perhaps a little “concussed” after the two tumbles.
“You lil’ bastargh…. st-stand still wah don’ yergh?…”
The landlord pulls himself together and charges towards myself and the gentleman grabbing my robe. I shrug him off and unsheathe “Ryu”. “Ryu” is strange in design, the actual sharpened edge of the blade is on the inside, facing myself. The side facing the landlord is blunt, yet still holds the traditional shape of a katana. I side step the charging bull that is the landlord, spinning around his back and ending with my arm outstretched, ducking as a martial artist would do in a movie. The Landlord is still for a moment, as if he is contemplating what has just happened. I then sheave “Ryu”, the final click of the hilt and the sheath signal the affects of the attack to take place. The landlord twists for a second, his face screws up like a fist and he collapses on the floor.
“What the hell did you do kid?” Said the well-presented gentleman as he starred in disbelief.
“Don’t threat, he’ll come to in an hour, feeling like he’s been through hell no doubt. There won’t be any permanent damage. The only thing that will take time to heal is his pride…” I reply, gentle assessing my own wounds with light finger presses.
“By the way, my name is Keith. Keith Kintaru, pleased to m—“
Suddenly, a voice from the crowd interrupted me
“There they are officers!!! The guy with the sword and the guy next to him attacked my husband!!”
Three local police officers approached the outside of the large circle that had enveloped the landlord’s battle and myself. Two brandished “Stun batons”, the other checking the counter on his “Laz pistol”.
“Sirs, drop any weapons u may have and place your hands behind your head!”
I take a step forward.
“There’s no need to drop my weapon” I reply, making the same gesture, however the hand I use delves into my robe…
“PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR—“
Just as the officer is about to finish, I throw a small glass ball. The glass shatters; the two chemicals within the ball mix and form a large amount of smoke. I grab the gentleman who grabbed me earlier and dived over the bar, searching for a trap door to the basement of this smoky land fill.
“What the hell?! Why are you involving in this crap?!” shouted the man.
“Aegis!!” a couple voices shouted over the various panicked screams and shouting within the darkness.
“Gunman?! Ben?! I’m behind the bar!” shouted Aegis, who was still scrambling to his knees after being pulled to the ground by me.
Two figures hopped over the top.
“Aegis! Are you ok? What the heck is going on?!” shouted one of the men.
At that moment, I pulled up a square of loose carpet and found the basement door. I yanked it open, took a look inside and noticed a large steel door, which would have been used for loading and unloading of goods. I turned to the three men, whilst holding open the door.
“Gentlemen. Sorry for ruining your drink…” I said giving an apologetic smile. “… but I have to make my exit. Your welcome to join me, I know a couple places that are safe…”
A few shots from the Laz pistol reamed over head.
"I think I see ‘em!” shouted one of the officers.
With that, I jumped down the basement door leaving the three men to decide their fate…<br> If you guys want to join in on this story ark feel free. Also tell me if u dont like etc i am new to this form of RPG ^__^
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Post by Captain Benjamin Maxwell on Apr 7, 2005 15:55:44 GMT -5
This had gone beyond intolerable. While attempts to purchase drinks by minors were a common sight in the Legionnaires' cantina, smoke grenades, local law enforcement, and archaic weapons being swung around most certainly were not. As mayhem erupted around me, the youth who had been the catalyst of the gladiator-esque combat, which now erupted out of control, ducked down into the bar's wine cellar, with MRBC auditor Aegis Kleais in hot pursuit. As Captain Gunman pulled himself to his feet and unsheathed his heirloom katana, he gave me a jaunty, frustrated smirk.
"Somehow, I don't think the MRBC's going to be giving us a "pass" this quarter."
Before I could respond, four points of Elemental battle armor, bearing the crest of the local militia, burst into the bar, knocking the door from its hinges as they fired their pulse lasers into the ceiling.
Silence reigned supreme...save for the 'thud' of an over-intoxicated drunk collapsing behind the bar, which puncutated the silence.
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Quartermaster
Logistics Coordinator
LEGIONNAIRES
No guts, no glory, no universe!
Posts: 45
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Post by Quartermaster on Apr 7, 2005 16:06:10 GMT -5
I don't know what happened. Honest. All's I know is that I'm sitting there, minding me business and eating me heapin' plate of Voodoo, when some bloke goes and sets off the bartender, and next thing ya know, it's uniforms and scrappers all in a tussle. Chairs flyin', feet kickin', it all happened so fast. I seen Captains Maxwell and Gunman jumpin' over the bar near some MRBC suit who got the wind knocked out of 'em, and next thing ya know, four monsters in power armor - looked to be Clan tech - come in wreckin' stuff and shootin' up the joint! It was horrific, mumsie, I tell ya. So I took off runnin' before things could get really ugly...found meself a nice hidey hole in the 'Mech bay where I could finish me voodoo in peace...and a bottle of spirits I "spirited" away in the midst of it all.
You always told me to eat up, mumsie. Well here's to you.
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Post by Captain Adam "Gunman" Wolf on Apr 8, 2005 15:57:58 GMT -5
After having gotten knocked over in the midst a seemingly royal rumble now taking place in what used to be the rather tranquil Cantina, I unsheathed my emerald gemmed family heirloom, and watched as the crowd quickly backed away from around me as the dim lighting glinted off the carbon steel blade of the katana, laced with reflective ferrosteel fibres. Glad that just the blade being out was enough to deter everyone around me from trying to fight me.
As the crowd moved back a little more I saw Captain Maxwell over to side near the edge of the circle around me, catching a glimpse of what I thought appeared to be an MRBC uniform dissappearing over the bar, I sighed and tried to give a non-chalant chuckle and smile towards Maxwell, even though my frustration was clearly showing through.
"Somehow, I don't think the MRBC's going to be giving us a "pass" this quarter."
No sooner were the words out of my mouth before the local militia busted through the door sending what was left of the old wooden style doors spiraling into the entrance in a rather dangerous cloud of shrapnel, their pulse lasers firing into the ceiling bringing instant silence into the room. In the short commotion that followed a rather large amount of debris falling from the ceiling onto one of the elementals, I resheathed my Katana, and pulled out the MAG-18 strapped at my hip. Holding it in a somewhat relaxed grip across my chest I make my way through the more or less frozen group of people towards the Elementals in a hope to explain the situation, or at least what I knew of it.
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Post by Elemental (Local Militia) on Apr 8, 2005 18:20:27 GMT -5
I watched as the meleeing stravag froze, like deer in the headlights of an oncoming mag-lev, as smoke rose from my pulse rifle's barrel. I swept my HUD across the room, scanning for active weapon signatures while the bar's patrons slowly picked themselves up off the floor and off each other, brushing plaster, dust and other assorted debris from their clothing in a feeble attempt to look dignified.
Two heads slowly appeared from behind the bar, one very youthful in appearence, the other slightly older with a coiff of reddish hair. Facial recognition scans identified them as WOLF, CAPT A., and MAXWELL, CAPT B. E., the mercenary unit's commanders.
Mercenaries...hiding from a fight. Pathetic.
The subjects pulled themselves to their feet and began moving about the bar. WOLF, CAPT A. made his way toward me, a projectile weapon in his hand. Scans revealed the damage the instrument was capable of was negligible, and my threat indicators remained quiet. I toggled my external comm unit open.
"WOLF, CAPT A. You are identified as commander of this installation. You are hereby charged with a violation of local law for harboring fugitive Kintaro, Keith. The individual is wanted in connection with numerous violations of planetary law. Please produce the fugitive immediately or face disciplinary action."
My sensors detected the Captain's muscles tensing. I armed my SRM launchers.
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Post by MechWarrior Sergei Zhukov on Apr 8, 2005 18:51:08 GMT -5
As the dust settled, I saw the markings on the side of the Elemental. I recognized the insignia and made my way over to defuse a situation that is already out of control.
Hey, I know you. Your that Corporal's kid right? Oh what's his name...
The Elemental turned slightly and faced me. Hopefully he recognized me as not only a former NCO of the militia, but as someone he could trust which might help my Captain out to explain things.
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