MechWarrior Alex Thorn
Regular
LEGIONNAIRES
"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat." - Winston Churchill
Posts: 176
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Post by MechWarrior Alex Thorn on Nov 23, 2005 22:44:52 GMT -5
The doctor quickly finished with me and the men. She got up and smiled and helped me up.
Thanks Doc. You probably need to go help the others. I'll help get the others out.
She nodded and went the MASH vehicle and drove off towards the battle. I smiled as I admired her bravery in the thick of battle. After a few seconds I turned and organized the men to help the other get out of the camp. We were soon out of the camp.
As I walked down the street I looked at the carnage that the WoB had brought. I shook my head. I soon found a helmet on the ground. I bent down and wiped the soot off of it. It once belonged to a Legionnaire. I reluctantly put it on and switched on the comm. It still worked.
This is Thorn. I'm back in action. What do you need me to do?
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Post by Gen Miyamoto on Nov 24, 2005 2:02:04 GMT -5
Slowly, very slowly, I approached the center of Gallen Hieghts. The sounds of heavy weapons fire could be heard everywhere. Explosions were near constant. From what I could tell the Blakists were expecting some kind of counter offensive. Giant barriacades were established between giant skyscrapers. A mobile turret grid was deployed, along with anti-vehical mines and from somewhere in the city there was light artillery support. Though the Word had gathered a lot of heavy armor, mostly repaired and recovered from their previous battle, they didn't have hardly any mech forces. I was thankfull for that. By the numbers I had heard and seen, you'd think the entire Jihad was dropped on Sheraton.
I watched as the first rounds of the static defenses began flying at the Comgaurds, and I decided that it would be wise for me to attempt a less noticed approach. My ECM was functioning properly, amazingly, and I could probably apprach more unnoticed if I was alone. I turned right, down a comfortably wide roadway and slowly slogged over the spongy asphalt. As I circled the barriacade in search of weakness, I saw a quick flash of artillery tracer coming from a few blocks ahead. Following the trail, I quickly located a lone Longtom piece shooting as fast as a spotter could okay it. The driver didn't try much, turning and in reverse, but I suppose they realized thier fate before they even began fighting back. A string of missles and short blast of laser sent the crew and Longtom careening backwards in a firey explosion. There may have been more artillery elsewhere, infact it was likley, but the HPG was far more valuable.
Once back on track, I found the Blakist fortifications and sadly there were no back entrances to sneak through. I was going to have to go through the meat grinder if I wanted in. I rounded a corner to join in the attack on the east gate when an enormous missle arced in and blew wide the bivouacs. Some mech mounted ARROW IV had easily saved us tons of lesser ammunitions and the excitment was almost visible as 'mechs poured into the compound, thier guns blazing. A Schiltron was giving some initial trouble but with four other 'mechs in the opening, itwas quickly silenced. The comstar soldiers were quick to anihilate the defenders, I destroyed what I could; command vehicals, a hover, and a mobile turret control transmitter. At last we reached our goal, the HPG. Too my surprise though, the Comstar boys just destroyed it's APUs. It seemed wise to save an HPG when you just lost an HPG, espcially when you have to pay for a new one. In no time there were VTOLS circling overhead bringing in troops to protect thier prize from suicide attackers.
With the communications with other worlds gone the WOB, on Sheraton at least, was surely doomed.
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Post by Dr. Jessica Saturina on Nov 24, 2005 12:09:43 GMT -5
Finally getting done patching up all the guys we had found holed up in the one building, we were able to go look for others in the complex. In one building I found Kazansky and Tetsuhara locked in separate rooms. When I tried to talk to them they were unresponsive for the most part, both of them just kept mumbling Blakist mantras. It was obvious that they had been through some of the brain washing techniques the Blakists use to conform people to their ways. I was going to have to enlist the help of the longinus team to secure them, so I could sedate them and safely get them in the MASH and keep them sedated till we could undo the brainwashing they had been through.
I went outside and found some of the Longinus team. I ordered four of them to come with me. Once back in the building, I explained to them what I wanted them to do. I made it very clear they were not to hurt them only secure them so I could administer a shot that would put them out. Then they were to carry them to the MASH unit.
The whole thing was easier said then done. They both fought the Longinus guys, but with two of them on each guy it didn't take long to subdue them. I quickly administered the drugs. The team then carried them over to the MASH with me right behind them. We brought them in and laid them both on a bed. I order Adams and Wyatt to strap them down and to keep them under until we could get them back to normal.
I had to do the technique on other people that had been brainwashed by the WOB, so I was acquainted with it. It would take all of my attention though and I didn't think it would be possible during the battle. I would just have to wait and see how things developed.
Now that I had Kazansky and Tetsuhara, and the other guys were patched up and most of them more then able to fight, we left the camp on our way closer to the battle. We needed to be close in case we were needed.
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Post by Jason McRamm on Nov 24, 2005 18:55:30 GMT -5
I’m not going in there…
“All right McRamm, you’re up. Should be a breeze, Kazansky could barely move.”
Yeah, but Kazansky wasn’t a 140 kilo killing machine…
Reluctantly I opened the cell door—it had to be the first time the light had reached the room in days. Turning on my suit’s thermal sensors I peered through the darkness, discerning no heat forms. Stepping into the room I looked around again, but Tetsuhara was nowhere to be seen. I was about to report a no-contact to the Sergeant, but as I turned around some sense made me look up. With my thermal vision engaged, I saw a cool blue ceiling with a hot red splotch in the corner—the splotch was getting bigger. Tetsuhara hit me with all of his weight, sending me, even in BattleArmor to the floor. Falling on my back the Panther was upon me, raising his gigantic fist to strike. With more power than I thought possible from a man, Tetsuhara drove his fist into the center of my Battlearmor’s chest knocking the wind out of me and piercing my chest with metal shards. The metal hadn’t cut deep, but as he raised his fist again I wondered if the battle-damaged armor would finally give way to the forces assailing it. Finally, I was able to get my left arm up, grabbing Tetsuhara’s wrist in my Longinus’s claw. Despite the man’s strength he could not combat the servo-myomer power of my arm. But, with his right arm locked in a losing contest of strength he shifted his focus to his left—and I had no limb to counter him. With maniacal zealotry, the Panther smashed his fist down into my chest once more, causing me to cough as ribs began to crack. I was fairly certain that one of my lungs had already been punctured earlier in the battle, and in a moment I’d be without either. As his fist rose for the last time, I felt embarrassment—an unarmed man had defeated me… a Battlearmored soldier, in combat. I tried to roll to the side, to deflect the blow, but it was pointless—the blow never game. I didn’t hear the hyposyringe’s distinctive hiss as it sent sedatives into the Panther’s back through my thick helmet, but I felt the added weight upon me as Tetsuhara collapsed forwards. Disabling my thermal vision I saw Saturina looking over me, a syringe pressed deeply in Tetsuhara’s back. With concern in her eyes, she tried to see mine through my helemt’s thick visor—but by then I’d closed them—the battle was over for me today.
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Post by Captain Adam "Gunman" Wolf on Nov 24, 2005 21:20:34 GMT -5
I know, there is no need to repeat those orders. As you can see I am already doing just that.
Before I had a chance to reply to Morgan's rather blunt communication, which could be heard clearly now that the ECM coverage had fully dissipated, Morgan stopped his 'mech cold. Then, jumping through the air back the way he came, he twisted the Zeus around to face the direction he had originally been going, while barking orders over the comm.
Contacts!! Two Blakist 'mechs on my eight o'clock. Engage! Engage!
Dammit Morgan, Fall in! ... You can't take them alone.
Frustrated I pounded the dash before swinging my torso over to look at the Crayven Securities forces, adding the last part as my computer picked up the 2 enemy units Morgan's Zeus was now charging, both of which registered at 100 tons. Another glance at the friendly forces engaged to our right flank showed a Daishi pulling itself to its feet as the Akuma, presumably responsible for the Daishi's stumble, was engulfed in the fiery torment of countless missiles streaming from the friendly Catapult. Toggling the comm a few times I sent orders and updates while I swung my torso back forward and began to accelerate.
Rook-3, looks like General Maxwell has things under control, move to support Rook-2 at maximum speed.
General, it seems you have things in hand, Rook lance is moving to engage 2 Assault 'mechs believed to be the rest of the Level II Commander Garland spotted.
Knight-1, this is Rook-1, negate that last comm. Rook-2 is coherent and following orders precisely, but doesn't seem to recognize use other than we are friendly, he must be disillusioned or something. Rook-3 and I are moving to support him against 2 100-tonners. Rook Lance out.
With the comm work done I slammed down on the throttle and engaged the supercharger, Shinzui leapt forward in a great lunge as the myomer muscles propelled the 60-ton war machine forwards at over 100 km/h. The clawed 3-toed feet tearing into the ground, ripping up earth and small debris while I maneouvered around a heavy patch of trees that were strewn with unidentifiable wreckage. The Mech Dealer's jump capable Griffin soared with ease over the obstacle, but my land bound Vulture lost precious moments traversing around it. Moments before rounding the corner of the trees and surrounding terrain the sound of weapons fire exploded like a shockwave from through the now thinning trees. Turning off the supercharger just as it was building dangerously high pressure within the engine, I spotted the 2 enemy units coming to a halt on my radar, apparently Morgan had gotten their attention. Targetting information flooded my HUD and working sub monitors as information was fed into the command console. Rounding the corner I was forced to bring my 'mech to a sudden halt to avoid slamming into one of the 100-ton monsters.
Standing before me was the hulking giant of an Atlas, a true King of the battlefield, outclassing my 'mech by 40 tons and sporting two and a half times more tonnage in weaponry and nearly 9 tons more armour, it was more than intimidating enough, but the paint scheme just made the Atlas even more menancing. Towering several meters taller than my Vulture the Atlas seemed almost demonic as it stood glaring at me with its death skull cockpit, seemingly blood running from its mouth. A beep from the targetting computer and the steady tone of a target lock snapped me back to reality, standing before me was not some devil incarnate, it was just a humanoid war machine which, although difficult to do, could be taken down.
Squeezing down on every trigger I could, I sent a complete Alpha Strike blasting point blank into the belly of the beast. The Vulture's torso rocking rather violently as 32 warheads rocketed from their launchers in near unison, the cockpit and entire front of Shinzui lit up like the sun before the smokey exhaust plumes billowed out engulfing the space between the two Battlemechs. Green globs of pure energy burnt through the dissipating smoke as ghostly explosions flashed back to my cockpit through fog-like air. It was hard to tell the premature explosions from the actual hits due to the close proximity, but the tracer rounds of the AMS were unmistakable as they ripped holes into the swarm of missiles. Machine gun fire rang out from the quad barrels, their muzzle flashes blazing out into the crisp air, brightening the war torn armour on my 'mechs arm pods.
A sudden concussion sound broke out above all my weapons fire, the still present cloud of smoke from the missile exhaust parting wide to allow the passage of a rather large nickel-ferrous slug. The shock of the impact was surprisingly light, the torso wrenched to the left a little, but no more than 10 degrees, it wasn't until the warning Klaxons went off that I realized the gauss round had just sheared off my left arm. Slamming my 'mech to the right as fast as I could I tried to circle around the behemoth machine, but the torso was violently shoved down towards the ground as the twin large lasers ripped into the center and right torso armour. With my Vulture finally moving again I was able to circle the Atlas to the left side, out of the field of fire of the gauss rifle. As I quickly assessed the situation from my sauna-like cockpit I noticed that the Atlas was the AS7-K model, according to the targetting computer it had 1 Gauss Rifle, 1 LRM-20, 2 ER Large Lasers, 2 Medium Pulse Lasers, AMS, and CASE, as well as an XL engine. According to the command console targetting computer, and my own personal knowledge, if I could take out the left torso, the giant Atlas would be down for the count. Unfortunately my Vulture wasn't quite agile enough to slip behind the Atlas to its vulnerable rear armour, fortunately the Atlas wasn't nimble enough to bring its full weaponry to bear on me. As such I was forced to have to contend with its left arm and AMS system, slowly I peppered the giant's thick hide with twin medium pulse lasers and the two remaining light machine guns. A bluish haze washed up over the Blakists right shoulder signifying a PPC hit, the Mech Dealer's Griffin was seen standing off a bit as the Blakist and I continued our slow dance of death, seemingly my eventualy death at this rate. The PPC round distracted the Atlas just enough to allow Shinzui to slip behind the enemy and open fire into its rear, only to have my 'mech bathed in a wash of emerald pulses. Twin rear mounted medium pulse lasers protected the back side of the metallic monster with reckless abandon as I tried to squeeze off a few shots without taking too much return fire. Pulling back and away from the rear after getting only a few measly shots in, I took stock of the situation from within the confines of my savaged Vulture. I had maybe 40% of my armour left, an arm pod completely missing, and only 20 standard LRMs left, 1 complete salvo, although the 'mech still contained 1 ton of Swarm and 1 ton of Smoke munitions. An idea hit me as the Mech Dealer's Griffin unleashed another azure orb of energy from its Particle Projection Cannon, I didnt see where it hit but saw the eletric-like arcing of the EMP effect as it spread across the torso. Unleashing a hailstorm of medium pulse lasers I backed away from the Atlas, if my plan was going to work I needed a little extra room. Glancing to my side I saw Morgan's Zeus dancing with a large Vanquisher, slabs of armour being blown and melted off of each 'mech, it was hard to tell which was taking the worst of it. I just hoped that Morgan could hold out until either help arrived or else we brought the Atlas down.
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Post by Commander Garrett Garland on Nov 25, 2005 2:12:55 GMT -5
Thump thump Thump thump Thump…All around, birds took flight as Savior crashed through the plains, ripping mounds of dirt from the earth as the Battlemech’s multi-ton feet connected with the ground and then lifted again. With all of my skill I could barely manage to keep the ‘mech upright at its blisteringly fast 97.2 kilometers per hour. In my wake followed the remnants of Knight and Rook lances along with General Maxwell’s Lance. I’d heard that Aliesha had fallen and the whereabouts of Rook-3 where unknown, but despite our losses we had to press on—if we failed here then everything would have been for nothing. Checking my cockpit’s monitors I saw Rhode’s Battlearmor laden Verfolger in my wake, but I was slowly outpacing him. Ordinarily, Saburo’s Owens would have taken lead, but actuator damage had forced him to stay behind with the slower ‘mechs—I was all on my own. At last I heard my radar ping with positive contacts—the enemy lance was up ahead, I’d already bypassed their first set of ‘mechs now engaging Rook lance.
Looming above the plains stood the great dam, its floodgates slightly open, fueling the small Gellen River. Peering forward I could make out the silhouettes of Battlemechs; they’d be in range of my LRMs soon—they’d be in range of the dam soon too. Using my thumb, I flicked open the firing stud cover on the left joystick. Following suit, the cover over my LRM-20 popped open, revealing twenty primed missiles. At last I heard the sweet trill of a target lock, my target a 100-ton Vanquisher a kilometer away. Depressing the firing stud, I heard the rocket motors ignite as the twenty missiles jettisoned from their launch tubes towards the enemy. With his back turned to me, the enemy MechWarrior had no response—but then again my attacks were mere annoyances to the Vanquisher’s thick hide, and when on a suicidal mission one rarely paused to deal with annoyances.
At 700 meters I unleashed my UAC5, sending the 50 mm rounds towards the enemy at a furious rate, spray and pray. While running at full speed, and firing a non-variable shoulder based weapon one couldn’t expect to make too many hits—I just happened to make none on my first burst. I continued forwards though—what other choice did I have?
At four-hundred meters I raised my ‘mech’s right arm—the still functioning arm, and peppered the Vanquisher’s back with searing hot laser darts. Perhaps the heat finally got to him, because Lloyd Truman, ponderously turned his leviathan ‘mech to face me, its mass and firepower nearly twice my own. At 250 meters I unleashed my SRM-2 packs, their smoky contrails blurring my vision. At the same moment I brought my ‘mech to a halt—I needed to be stable to do this.
Not in a million years could I, in my battered Shadow Hawk, take on the almost fresh Assault-Class Vanquisher before me. This left only one option, a risky and unlikely one: a cockpit shot. With the enemy almost completing his turn, I brought my UAC5 to bear, lining my crosshairs right with Truman’s cockpit. Finishing his turn, the Blakist had just signed his death warrant. Pressing down on my right-joystick’s firing stud I unleashed my Ultra Autocannon’s fury.
I didn’t know what caused it—an LRM or a SRM, but just as I fired my Battlemech’s most precise weapon my crosshair shifted slightly as my ‘mech took the hit. Hit high in the back from a member of the Blakist Precentor’s Command Lance, my ‘mech dipped ever so slightly forward, sending the rounds into the equivalent of Truman’s neck. On a human being, the shot would still have been fatal, but if you’ve ever seen a Vanquisher you’d know just how armored its neck is. Traveling at supersonic speeds, I didn’t even hear the thunderclap of the gauss round before it ripped through my Battlemech’s head, shearing away my controls, canopy, and left arm—my left arm. With my neuro-helmet’s visor shattered from shrapnel and every exposed part of my flesh torn from metal fragments I dangled from my harness as my ‘mech fell forward. Savior’s Autocannon bent and burrowed into ground, leaving the ‘mechs’ chest suspended above the ground by a few meters. Screaming in pain, I unlatched my harness, falling to the ground on broken legs. Only the sides and back of my head were unharmed from the attack—even my cooling vest hadn’t stopped all of the shrapnel. Laying on the ground I could feel the poisonous fluids from ruptured cooling tubes drip into my open wounds, but there was nothing I could do. Only able to tilt my head up I saw what I’d feared most—my death now didn’t mater, we were all dead.
High above, the first round hit the dam, sending ferrorcrete fragments flying, then another and another. With the onslaught of twin gauss slugs, the ferrocrete structure holding back countless fluid tons of water burst.
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Post by G.C.I. Charles E. Maxwell on Nov 25, 2005 21:23:55 GMT -5
My autocannons and shoulder-mounted missile launcher belched forth a firey volley that hammered the Akuma's increasingly tormented hide. From the west, sixty medium range missiles tore into the diabolical-looking machination, further savaging its already twisted chassis. The Akuma returned a weak salvo, retaliating in a near-apologetic fashion that elicited a bemused chuckle from me.
Lances of coherent emerald light spat from my Daishi's arms, reducing the Akuma's madly grinning face to a dripping, superheated visage of molten slag. The gargantuan 'Mech staggered backward, its pilot momentarily blinded by the energy blast. As my weapons cycled, a low rumble began to reverberate through my BattleMech's legs, and I pitched my torso from side to side in an attempt to determine the source. My first thought was that the Akuma had begun to go critical, and I instinctively reversed my Daishi to escape the blast radius.
At that moment, time slowed to a crawl. As my 'Mech trudged backwards, a solid wall of water, where the dam had once been, came into my field of view. I stared in disbelief, watching as the mammoth torrent of water surged in slow motion toward me.
Shit!
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Post by L.C. Robert MacArthur on Nov 25, 2005 21:31:27 GMT -5
My Catapult was literally blown apart by the impact of the tidal surge, uncalculable gallons of water slamming into my BattleMech with the force of a thousand LRMs, setting off a massive chain-detonation of my MRMs. As my 'Mech was torn asunder, my ejection pod rocketed skyward, carrying me clear of the carnage unforlding below. As I spiraled skyward, the grainy external feed afforded by the pod's single exterior camera conveyed a scene of utter destruction as the Gellen River cascaded toward the city, tossing BattleMechs aside like rag dolls, and consuming buildings whole.
The Blakists had done it. We had failed.
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Post by Captain Benjamin Maxwell on Nov 25, 2005 21:40:42 GMT -5
With the force of a DropShip firing its fusion drives directly at my BattleMech, the Gellen River exploded forth from the breached dam. Lance Commander Martinez's Kingfisher was thrown against my Daishi, and with a terrific jolt, accompanied by the scream of overstressed metal, both 'Mechs were slammed to the earth. The roar of rushing water filled my cockpit, along with an occasional crash as myraid debris thundered past. I fought against my controls, attempting to right my stricken Daishi as the sea roared past. I toggled open my comm unit in an attempt to summon the Dreams of Avarice, but was met with a blast of static. The world had been swept away.
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MechWarrior Alex Thorn
Regular
LEGIONNAIRES
"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat." - Winston Churchill
Posts: 176
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Post by MechWarrior Alex Thorn on Nov 26, 2005 15:21:00 GMT -5
I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a distant rumble. The WoB had made it to the dam. With eyes wide I ran to the nearest skyscraper. I bolted in the door and ran up the flights of stairs, taking the steps three at a time. I neared the top but to my dismay the water rushed in through the windows of the building. Desperately I tried to reach the roof. Soon I found myself swimming trying deperately to reach the top. Finally I gave up and dove under the water. I pushed off a wall hard and swam out the nearest window. Then I pushed upward to the top. The water had reached within a foot of the roof. I grabbed hold and pulled myself up. I rolled over and heaved a sigh and breathed deeply.
Soon my thoughts turned to the other Legionnaires. I knew the 'Mechs might survive but what about those on the ground. Doctor. How would they survive? I keyed my radio.
Attention all Legionnaires. Does anyone copy? This is Thorn. I repeat. Does anyone copy?
I was only greeted with static. I clinched my fist and pounded the roof. What would happen now?
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Morgan Blake
Logistics Coordinator
LEGIONNAIRES - Elite
Posts: 122
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Post by Morgan Blake on Nov 26, 2005 17:01:51 GMT -5
I had surprised the two Blakist heathens, but it wouldn't last for long. Individually they out weighed me, combined I was a dead man walking.
I shouldered the Atlas aside, catching it unawares and sending it stumbling. The Vanquisher received the gentle ministrations of my remaining weapons, a PPC and two medium lasers. Rocked by the energy blasts, the Vanquisher was pitched sideways, but it's stubby legs were able to quickly steady it before it could crash to the ground.
Turning the Vanquisher unleashed hell in my direction, firing with all it had. My Zeus was being shredded to pieces. Already irreplaceable components had been destroyed, weapons and support systems shattered, armour and structure alike, melted or blasted to bits. As long as the Eisensturm held though I would fight these devil worshipers with all my being, avenging Aliesha and sentencing her murderers to whatever death I could procure for them.
Autocannon shells blasted away armour, leaving an ever increasing number of rents streaming smoke and joints seeping coolant fluid and lubricants. The bath of emerald laser beams did nothing to cauterize these woulds, instead leaving great gashes of molten armour across my hide. Pitifully I replied with my own weapons, causing a fraction of the damage I just received back at my latest crusade.
Eisensturm's cockpit was surrounded by hardened armour, affording me twice the protection normally guarding each mechwarrior's life. But the ferro-plastic canopy affording me a direct view outside the mech was still the same material as every other mechs' and just as vulnerable. More so on the Zeus as it had a rather large canopy area. One of those rapid firing Autocannon shells from the Vanquisher bored through the canopy to bury itself in the rare second command console that had been specially installed in Eisensturm. Had this mech been used by a commander and his pilot, the commander would certainly be dead now. As it was, there was a gaping, ragged hole in the canopy, letting in a decidedly refreshing cool breeze and another destroyed specialty system I could could ill-afford to replace.
The Vanquisher was losing slabs of armour to my fire, in return I was losing my mech to the Vanquisher's fire. My left arm with it's PPC, my major weapon was torn from the Zeus by a savage barrage. Whether it came from the Vanquisher or the Atlas, which must have recovered by now I didn't see, but regardless of the source of the damage, Eisensturm was now critically wounded. Without the PPC my chances of inflicting crippling damage to either of these leviathans was effectively nil.
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Post by Commander Garrett Garland on Nov 26, 2005 20:56:27 GMT -5
With a cleansing fury the Blakists could never hope to match, the water burst from the dam—the sword of Damocles had fallen. Yet as the water continued to flow, I saw that this sword was neither as large nor sharp as originally imaged. Many nearby Battlemechs were cast to the ground by the torrent of water that was once the docile Gellen River, but those which had stayed far enough away from the now rushing rapids found that at the very worst they were standing on damp ground. For a moment, the river did flood over; sending a great volume of water towards the city, but most of it was absorbed in the ground before reaching Gellen’s Heights, doing far less damage than the battle which had just transpired there minutes before. In fact, as the city’s outskirts flooded the hiss of steam could be heard from far away—the waters were quenching the city’s fires. Barley able to tilt up my head, I saw that the water had stopped short of my downed Battlemech, but something else was approaching.
Behind me I could hear the gigantic wheels sloshing mud as the MASH neared Savior’s final resting place. Like myself, my Shadow Hawk was missing its left hand, and was equally peppered with shrapnel. But as the ‘mech fell, it’d taken a fatal hit somewhere in the chest from the enemy Vanquisher’s second gauss rifle; where had Savior’s savior been?
At last the MASH had come to a halt and I could hear the footsteps of medical personal running towards me. The stinging pain of the vest coolant was already beginning to subside as it saturated my body, sending me into shock, but the sharp pain was brought back as I was placed on a stretcher, being whisked away towards the MASH. Looking up I could see the brunette strands of Doctor Saturina’s hair falling over her shoulders but she didn’t look at me—I wasn’t a pretty sight. Looking past her into the sky I could see a VTOL flying overhead, I didn’t know there were any still functional on the planet.
Setting me down in the MASH the medics began to remove my cooling vest and neuro-helmet, careful not to cut my face with the helmet’s cracked and broken visor. Turning my head to the left I found myself looking at a bloody stump, ending half-way down my forearm. Strangely enough, I felt as if I could still use my fingers and hand, envisioning my fingers wiggle as my eyes closed—whether or not they’d open again I didn’t know.
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Post by G.C.I. Charles E. Maxwell on Nov 27, 2005 11:41:54 GMT -5
"Attention all Legionnaires. Does anyone copy? This is Thorn. I repeat. Does anyone copy?"
Thorn's voice was the first I heard as my Daishi dragged itself to its feet, the icy waters of the Gellen River rushing out of its heat sinks and gun ports as the BattleMech righted itself. A thin frost glazed over my cockpit's ferroglass canopy, causing the sunlight which poured in through the tinted glass to diffuse into multiple lances of coherent rainbow light. I toggled the forward defroster, and threw open the comm channel.
"Thorn - this is General Charles Maxwell, of the Crayven Corporation, supporting the forces of the Legionnaires. We've taken some damage, but - " I scanned my sensors, performing a quick count of the friendly signatures that presented themselves. "it looks like almost everyone came through in one piece. What's your status?"
While I awaited Thorn's response, I toggled my Daishi's automated emergency transponder, sending a distress call to the Dreams of Avarice. The task of assessing whether we had, in fact, come out victors was now upon me.
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MechWarrior Alex Thorn
Regular
LEGIONNAIRES
"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat." - Winston Churchill
Posts: 176
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Post by MechWarrior Alex Thorn on Nov 27, 2005 20:57:38 GMT -5
"Thorn - this is General Charles Maxwell, of the Crayven Corporation, supporting the forces of the Legionnaires. We've taken some damage, but -it looks like almost everyone came through in one piece. What's your status?"
I'm alright for now General. I'm on foot though. The Doctor liberated me from a Word of Blake concentration camp. All I have with me are a used neuro helmet, an assault rifle, and my Desert Eagle. Any suggestions of what I should do or where I should meet you?
As I waited for his reply I climbed down the building. The water had completely receded leaving a mushy ground below. I found a street bike and climbed on. To my luck the owner had left the key in the ignition. I turned it and the bike roared to life.
Yes. At least I'm more mobile now.
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Post by Lance Commander William Rhodes on Nov 27, 2005 22:16:33 GMT -5
William's helmet slammed back against the headrest of his Verfolger as the wall of unleashed water from the dam slammed into his Mech. The gyro screamed in protest as the onboard computers struggled to compensate for the massive amount of force impacting on the forward armor plate, just as if a high caliber round or missile salvo had hit. William was sure he was a gonner as Bucephalus fell over onto its back and waves of water and mud washed over his cockpit viewscreen. A Mech was sealed to survive in an underwater environment but if any of the seals broke, Rhodes was in trouble.
The Word of Blake has won again! Will the Inner Sphere ever be free of this plague of locusts! Or will we all end up in a re-education camp somewhere, spouting the party line as mindless drones...
Despair almost overwhelmed Rhodes then and there. It seemed like everything he had fought and bleed for over the years as a mercenary and a FedCom MechWarrior was literarlly being washed away in the flood waters.
Then, as if in response to his sinking feelings, a rogue shaft of sunlight penetrated his cockpit canopy and the waters began to recede. Instead of tumbling across the floodplain in a torrent of rushing water, William found that Bucephalus was mired in a morass of deep mud. Finding his movement systems operational, William carefully brought the sixty-five ton Mech back to its feet and peered around.
The deluge of flood water had been much less than anticipated. In fact, it seemed to actually help out with the fires in the city suburbs down below.
How is that possible? Damocles Lake should have buried Gellen's Heights...
Feeling like the biblical Noah after the flood waters had receded, William moved his own version of the Ark towards the regrouping members of Knight Lance, thankful to still be alive.
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