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Post by Captain Adam "Gunman" Wolf on Oct 19, 2005 20:05:01 GMT -5
The 'mech I found waiting for me was hardly what I expected, although I wasn't altogether completely surprised as it was from a private 'mech dealer. The 70-ton behemoth war machine that was powered down before me was from the early years of the Great Houses, a Warhammer, WHM-6D to be exact. I was actually surprised to see that they still had this model in circulation, dating back to at least 3025 this BattleMech, let alone the model itself, had survived the test of time quite well. WarHammers were still in popular use even to this day, although usually with updated tech. As I climbed into the somewhat cramped cockpit of the WarHammer I noticed that this particular machine still had all its original tech. It would take a little getting used to, I was so accustomed to having all the fancy new gadgets that came with new technology, but the upside was that nothing in this baby was delicate.
Powering up the ancient Fusion reactor, a low gentle hum could be heard thudding away deep from within the belly of the beast, the standard engine was much more stable and took up less space than the newer XL models, despite it weighing more, a kind of oxymoron I never figured out, the WarHammer was still able to get about 65km/h top speed out of the engine. Strapping myself in I hooked in the neurohelmet and was met with a breif splitting headache before it subsided and was replaced with the usual strange feelings of keeping a giant machine upright using your own sense of balance. A little unfamilar with this particular model I waited for the OS to finish starting up and perform a system scan to make sure everything was operational, afterwards I watched as the outdated HUD filled over 1/3 of my view with various readouts and status indications. Along the upper right corner read the weapons status, the 2 column display showed that I had 2 standard I.S. PPCs one in each arm, a pair of Medium Lasers and a pair of Small Lasers, 1 each in the left and right torso.
Take a hold of the control sticks I fingered the buttons and triggers lightly before sending my 'mech forward at full speed, having a clear path ahead of me I easily shot the old BattleMech up to its full speed of 65 km/h, listening to the heavy 13.5 tons of armour shift, creak and groan against the well aged chassis. As I reached the outer wall of the base I raised both PPC toting arms and scanned for a target, the original O/P 1500 ARB targetting computer still fully functional and providing exceptional scanning range for what would be considered a 1st generation BattleMech, or level 1 depending on who you talked to.
This is Guardian-4, I've just had the priveledge of changing up 'mechs due to some unexpected generosity from Morgan Blake's Mech Dealer. Seems we've got ourselves a couple new 'mechs on the way not counting my own here. I'm moving into position now and awaiting orders, my 'mech may be old, but she's just as deadly as ever.
Positioning my 'mech along the South Western edge of the new formation I took a few extra steps forward and twisted my 'mech down towards the left to peer down along our formation of 'mechs and various military vehicles. Beginning a slow patrol going from west to east along the southern edge of the mass of units, I continously scanned the radar for any sign of enemy presence. Although I was piloting a 70 ton BattleMech it was still outgunned by many of the Blakist 'mechs, but what it lacked in the way of the single shot punch that most modern 'mechs had, it made up for in being able to maintain heavy fire from nearly all its weapons for a very long period of time. Of course using nearly obsolete Single Heat Sinks took up precious weight, fortunately energy weapons weren't too heavy on the tonnage.
Along my patrol I came across a unit of friendly Cavalier Battle Armour, the had an unidentified, at least to me at the time, POW down on the ground and secured with a Blakist APC rolled over a few yards away. Toggling my com I maneouvered my 'mech into a crouch position to try and get a better look as my HUD did not have the newer Optical Zoom feature.
Recon-6, this is Guardian-4, please report your status.
Guardian-4, we have Clanner Aisa Thastus in our custody and are awaiting direction from Commander Garland.
Copy that Recon-6, Commander Garland is a little occupied at the moment to deal with trivial matters, I'm Captain Adam Wolf, and I'd request that you escort Thastus to the 'mech bay on Site 187 so she may acquire her 'mech.
After a rather long pause and some rough movements from the Clanner currently watching over Thastus, I figured the Clanner had heard our communication and gave a rather rude remark to the Elementals, somewhat expected from a Clanner though. Contacting Recon-6 again I continued.
Recon-6, please ignore Thastus' remarks, seeing as how she's a Clanner she'll probably insult you the whole way to her 'mech, just the same I'd appreciate it if you would escort her there immediately, we need all the assests we can get right now.
Another pause, but no accompanied motions on the part of Thastus or the Elementals. Finally a response came moments before I was going to hit the comm for a third time.
..... Very well Captain Wolf, we will escort her .... but we will not tolerate her insults, Clanner or not.
Thank you Recon-6, and Thastus, if you can hear this, try to restrain yourself from hurling too many Stravag insults if you can.
As the squad of Cavaliers headed off towards the base with Thastus as far as they could, I continued my patrol patiently awaiting further instructions from Commander Garland as he rallied the troops.
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Post by Aliesha on Oct 19, 2005 20:25:56 GMT -5
I did not like being in such close confinement with this little stravag pig. As soon as Morgan called me to come I went. I was in the company of this abhorrent creature because he had some mechs to give to the Legionnaires and I was going to get to pilot one of them. I could hardly wait to get my hands on it.
The ride was rough. He was going as fast as he could make the little jeep go. I kept a sharp eye out for any enemy. That also went for the enemy inside the jeep. I did not consider this person a friendly, I knew he could not be trusted and that if any trouble did arise I would be on my own. I was not worried at all. I had been in worse positions. Besides, it would be an honor to die fighting. I was ready for some action.
This ride seem to be lasting an eternity. Where were these darn mechs anyway. I had my pistol and knife with me, I had gotten from the Quartermaster. If this guy was leading me on a wild goose chase I would skin him alive and leave him for the wild animals to feast upon.
"Where are these Mechs? You better not be lying or you will not like the consequences."
"I'm not lying. We'll be there soon girlie. Don't bother me."
I glared at this disgusting piece of freebirth vomit, with a look that told him he better not be messing around.
"For your sake, we better arrive at our destination soon or they will not even be able to find your remains."
The freeborn idiot gave me a look that was a mixture of fear and disbelief.
"Do you think your boss would be happy that you are speaking to me in such a manner?"
"He said I had to go with you. He said nothing of babysitting you or making sure of your safe return."
I gave him a steely look with a half smirk, as I ran my hand over my pistol. I could tell he believed me. This stravag did not have any honor or guts.
"Don't worry we'll be there soon, I promise."
I sat back in my seat keeping one eye on him. I would give this a little while longer.
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Post by Commander Garrett Garland on Oct 19, 2005 21:03:42 GMT -5
I should have seen it coming—how could I forget how fanatical these Blakists were? So far, I’d been treating them like any enemy force—I expected them to behave rationally, to try and preserve their assets while whittling away at mine. At least the bridges had blown, but I knew that their ‘mechs could ford the river—if they were willing to take those kind of casualties. But even with the base cut off for the moment I feared that all was lost—sure we’d gained a few warriors, but aside from that we were in a bad way—without the Calliopes and our wall breached we were in trouble. The Blakist AeroJock which had taken out the control tower had done more damage than he knew—he’d also cut off the majority of our communications. Having routed my own comm through the control tower I was cut off. Running though debris and around assembling warriors I raced back towards my ‘mech. I saw that the astechs were just closing the ammo-reload hatches as I approached—to bad they didn’t make it to the armor. The ‘mech bay was filled with the smell of smoke and solder—the astechs were welding is if there was no tomorrow—indirectly their lives depended on their repair jobs. Climbing my Shadow Hawk’s chain link ladder I entered my cockpit—running start up diagnostics and systems check-ups. Turning on my radio I realized how much I’d missed. The channels were saturated with traffic—the militia was busy trying to integrate itself into the Legionnaires and it seemed that new warriors had joined our ranks.
“Miyamoto, the game plan is that we defend this base or die, quite simply. You are now Guardian-6, I want you watching that wall breach. Thorn, is your ‘mech ready?”
After a short pause Guardian-3 responded, “Yes sir, I’m locked and loaded.”
“Very good Guardian-3, please join up with Guardian-6, we’ll need your ‘mech’s firepower at the breach.”
Just I finished my communiqué I noticed a before unseen blinking light—I was receiving a comm on the local emergency channel. “Recon-6 to any Legionnaire assets receiving this message...we have Clanner Aisa Thastus in our custody and are requesting direction. Please respond.”
“Recon-6—are you on the western or eastern side of the river?”
“The eastern side sir.”
“Well then soldier I hope your suit is equipped with JumpJets because you’re going to need to make a little hop. If possible, please bring Ms. Thastus with you—hopefully she won’t alter your flight trajectory too much.”
With my ‘mech fully initialized I piloted out of the MechBay—my Shadow Hawk’s footsteps light in comparison to that of Thorn’s Fafnir’s which was rendezvousing with myself and Miyamoto at the breach. The Captain and Morgan Blake seemed to be preparing themselves elsewhere but I still hadn’t spoken to Rhodes.
“Garland to Rhodes—I need you to act as our liaison officer to the militia—besides I hear that you're already well acquainted with one of their officers.”
I could almost hear Rhode’s cheeks redden through the comm—funny that such a little thing would redden one’s cheeks during battle.
Slowing my ‘mech’s footfalls I pulled into the wall-breach, I was first on the scene. Looking out across the river I saw a small band of BattleArmor jump across the river, landing cleanly on the other side—hopefully they’d brought the clanner with them. As I watched the BattleArmor reach their respective trajectory apexes—they were all nearly synchronized, I caught movement on my ‘mech’s 360 degree viewing screen. Like in all ‘mechs, BattleArmor, and many commando suites, a 360 degree view of the surrounding area was projected and condensed into a 160 degree arc on screen above the cockpit. My particular screen was configured so that the zero point was my direct rear, and the eighty and negative eighty points both represented the forward cameras. I had caught movement at about negative 15 degrees, representing something about 33 degree to my right. Taking away my eyes from the descending BattleArmor I looked out onto the plains leading up to river. Small dots bobbed up and down on the horizon—the dots suddenly enlarging. There had to be at least 10 if not more. Using my ‘mech’s optical zoom I got a clearer picture of what I was looking at—the top of Battlemechs—Blakist Battlemechs. Before their full torsos had even been revealed by the slope I knew that we didn’t have a chance—there were at least eighteen Battlemechs approaching. I could tell that some were ones we’d previously engaged, but it looked like at least a company’s worth were fresh. They were still over two kilometers out, but soon we’d be playing with fire. As the ‘mech’s feet began to become visible I saw that they were accompanied by many flat objects—so this was their main combined arms force—they might even have additional air support—even artillery…
As if on cue two things happened. Firstly, an artillery shell landed on a cluster of Legionnaire technicians, blasting them to bits. Secondly, Tom Kazansky decided to strafe the enemy line—he’d just finished off an entire wing of enemy AeroSpace fighters and was obviously feeling over-confident. I saw the artillery shell’s flash reflect off my cockpit window but my eyes were fixated on the Eisensturm unleashing a savage attack upon the enemy forces below. Although I was too far away to see any specific damage I had seen an explosion low to the ground, he must have taken out a tank. As he pulled out of his strafe an enemy ‘mech followed his pass to target him; Kazansky’s luck, or skill as he’d say, had finally run out.
It was unfortunate whenever an AeroSpace fighter encounter a Rifleman, perhaps the best recognized anti-air ‘mech. It was more unfortunate, however, when an AeroSpace fighter encountered the Rifleman’s big brother, the Bulldog. Like birdshot, the Bulldog unleashed a torrent of LBX-5s right up Kazansky’s thrusters, causing both to explode in a cacophony of fire. I didn’t see an ejection, just the fighter plowing into the dirt several kilometers away from the enemy position. So this was it I thought—no air support, no missile defense, and no wall.
Toggling my comm once again I made my most heavy-hearted communiqué yet. “Doctor, this is Commander Garland—if you would, please begin to set up your patients for transport and assemble all non-combat Legionnaire personal for immediate evacuation—I can give you ten minutes. Those who can’t be transported…”
I let my voice trail off as I thumbed off the comm—I’d give her ten minutes at least. This was going to be one hell of a fight. Piloting my ‘mech through the breach I waited for the onslaught as the rest of Guardian lance joined me—I couldn't help but think of the Charge of the Light Brigade.
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Post by Lance Commander William Rhodes on Oct 19, 2005 22:48:24 GMT -5
Garland to Rhodes—I need you to act as our liaison officer to the militia—besides I hear that you're already well acquainted with one of their officers.
William felt his cheeks flush at the reference to his date with Leftenant Mirado.
Blake's blood, why am I blushing? It's not like I'm a little kid caught playing doctor!
William turned to the Sewer Rats' command frequency, hoping there was something left of the militia battalion.
Rat One this is Guardian 5, what's your Sit Rep, over?
This is Rat Two, Rat One is down for the count. My name is Captain Roger Finnley. I have a mixed company of armor and infantry here at Site 187.
What about Puma Squad?
Last we heard they were still on the other side of the river.
William felt a cold ache in the pit of his stomach.
I hope she's okay.
Rat Two, I want you to form a mobile reserve behind the breach in our walls. If anything gets through, you're to plug the hole. And watch out for their AeroTech!
Roger, Guardian Five. Good luck.
William moved his Verfolger into position along side the other Mechs of Guardian Lance. His hands sweated on the plastic control sticks as he gazed across the river to see the approaching line of white BattleMechs. Among their striding legs rolled tanks and APCs. The remnants of the Planetary Militia formed up behind him, led by Captain Finnley in a Musketeer hovercraft with a massive rotary autocannon.
Once more into the breach...
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Post by Dr. Jessica Saturina on Oct 20, 2005 12:59:17 GMT -5
Things were getting worse. Medical supplies were low. Injured people were still coming in. Some we were able to just patch up and let them leave. Others had to stay with us. Things were not looking well. Then a radio tranmission came through that made things even worse.
“Doctor, this is Commander Garland—if you would, please begin to set up your patients for transport and assemble all non-combat Legionnaire personal for immediate evacuation—I can give you ten minutes. Those who can’t be transported
I looked around my infirmary. Injured people everywhere. My staff worked beyond their capacity. Now we had to evacuate injured and non combat personel. I sighed deeply. This would be an enormous undertaking. I had to do it though. Somehow we had to find a way to proceed.
Not wanting to panic the patients,I went around to my staff individually, letting them know what was in store for us next. Everyone looked worried, but we knew if the Commander said it needed to be done, we didn't question it.
We began getting everyone ready for transport. I wouldn't leave anyone behind. It was better to take the risk moving them then to leave them behind with no one to help them.
We began moving those that were stable to the MIT and other ground vehicles.
"Archangel to Guardian 1 transport of all injured and non combat personal underway. Moving things as fast as we can."
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Post by Elizabeth Evers on Oct 20, 2005 15:42:02 GMT -5
With a last hail of lasers from my nose weapon bay I finished the Main Gauche I had been pursuing. Its core exploding and rending the tank into fragments. A near miss of a Regulator's gauss rifle prompted me to withdraw from the enemy side of the chasm. I backed away and swung to the left, trying to outpace the turret's rotation when a flight of LRM missles collided with me. A terrible jarring shook my craft about in the air and sent me spinning in the opposite direction. I corrected quickly and attempted to lose the 'mech's attention.
I hovered low now, backing into the center of the Legionnaire base. A lot of communications were being shot around from mech to mech and the radio was abuzz with reports and orders. Suddenly I caught wind of some local militia had gotten trapped on the other side. I knew what had to be done.
"Gaurdian 5, this is Evers. I'm flying the Pinto and I can get that squad back. Just give me all the cover you can and they'll be this side of the river in no time!"
"Affirmative, We'll do what we can."
With that I quickly pushed up the throttle and made a bee line for the Puma Squad. I was going to have to make several trips if those battle armors were as heavy as I remembered.
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Post by Captain Adam "Gunman" Wolf on Oct 20, 2005 21:48:37 GMT -5
As I continued my patrol I maneouvered my plodding machine of destruction along at its slow pace of 43km/h, no need to force the metal giant into a run, my radar suddenly lit up with contacts. I had just barely come into range of picking up the front most few 'mechs of the Blakist company that was now fording the river. I immediately threw my 'mech into reverse and began to back pedal away at the same 43km/h pace, the maximum reverse speed the 'mech was capable of. After the control tower had gone done my 'mechs communication range was severely limited, as such I was on the very outer edge of my comm range when I had contact with the Blakists, the old transmitter and reciever located within the confines of the cockpit hadn't survived the test of time quite as well as the rest of the 'mech and as such their range was limited to 1.5 km at best without some sort of a booster, and I couldn't hear anything intelligible coming through the speakers until I hit the 1km mark. A problem I would simply have to deal with for the time being. As soon as I hit the 1km mark I caught the end of a couple different communications not many making much sense to me though.
Archangel to Guardian 1 transport of all injured and non combat personal underway. Moving things as fast as we can.
Gaurdian 5, this is Evers. I'm flying the Pinto and I can get that squad back. Just give me all the cover you can and they'll be this side of the river in no time!
Affirmative, We'll do what we can.
As well as several communications from within the Militia forces and various other groups at the base. For some unexplained reason my comm wasn't filtering any messages at the moment, after a few repeated heavy blows from my fist to the side of the machine it once again began filtering messages properly so I wasn't floaded with unnecessary information.
From what I had heard though it sounded like Garland was aware of the incoming threat, and that the medical teams were preparing for an evac, also our newly arrived VTOL pilot, as in just a day maybe two before this lovely fiasco, was about to go on a suicidal rescue mission, which if she pulled off would be one of the best damned resume's for a job I'd ever seen. Toggling my comm I radiod Commander Garland to inform him of what I knew just in case.
Guardian-1 this is Guardian-4, I've just had a positive radar contact of 4 Blakist 'mechs and visual contact with at least 10-14 more, currently fording the river along the SouthEastern front. I'm still about 600m south of your position along with Morgan Blake and his Zeus, and awaiting your instructions.
Copy that Guardian-4, I have visual confirmation of approximately 18 Blakist BattleMechs as well as several tanks and various support vehicles, it appears to be their main combined arms company and they have artillery support.
As the Commander finished up, a second artillery round exploded on impact with the ground, this one landing outside the base perimeter approximately 340m to the NE of my position, harmlessly leaving a crater and mushroom cloud of dirt blasted upwards into the air. It looked like they were still ranging their shots so we should be alright for a few more rounds, depending on the skill of their gunners. After that though, .... well all hell would break loose and then some.
Turning my 'mech back around to face towards the oncoming Blakists, I once again performed a systems check, more out of habit and instict than anything else, just to confirm that every system was operational, a resounding *beep* confirmed that everything was good to go. Slowing stepping backwards beside Blake's Zeus we made our way back closer to the base perimeter at a very slow 22km/h keeping our sights level and true, aimed directly at the approaching whiteish line of destruction fanning out from the river.
Here we go again,... I said as I fingered the firing triggers, wondering just how far I could push Bengosha the old I.S. Warhammer.
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Post by Lance Commander William Rhodes on Oct 20, 2005 22:00:17 GMT -5
Rhodes heard the voice of Saburo over the com-net, so similar to Keith's yet so different.
Two sides of the same coin, maybe?
William had never gotten to known Keith very well, but had a deep respect for the sacrifice he had made for the unit. His brother, Saburo sounded...well, mad. At what, William had no idea.
Reaper 1 this is Guardian 5. We have a Pinto VTOL going out to pick up some Puma troopers stuck on the other side of the river. Can you hop aboard and lend a hand?
William was impressed with the bravery of Pilot Evers. VTOLs were fragile machines, especially their lightly armored rotors. One hit there and the chopper was finished, not to mention its crew.
But he was relieved that Elizabeth was going after Emma's squad. The Infiltrator suits were good at hiding, but it couldn't have been easy stuck on the other side of the river with the Word of Blake crawling everywhere.
Fortunately the Sheratan Militia had a few air assets of their own.
Hawk 1 and 2, you are to give cover to our friend in the Pinto while she retrieves some of our grunts.
Roger, Guardian 5. Hawk 1 and 2 inbound.
A pair of 25-ton Hawk Moth Gunships sped off from the base landing pad after the Pinto. Each of the attack helicopters was armed with an Imperator light gauss rifle that packed plenty of punch and would supplement the medium lasers and LRMs on the Pinto nicely.
God speed, rotorheads...
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Emma Mirado
Regular
Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster - Nietzche
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Post by Emma Mirado on Oct 20, 2005 22:23:17 GMT -5
The squad of three Puma troopers crouched by the eastern bank of the Gellen river watching the Word of Blake forces ford across to the other side. The NAIS designed electronic counter-measures in the Infiltrator Mk. II shielded the three Sewer Rats from the enemy sensors.
Looks like the Legionnaires have got a serious fight on their hands, observed Sergeant Carver.
That’s for sure.
Emma counted eighteen white BattleMechs with armor and infantry support. Com Star and its splinter group, the Word of Blake, used a different system of organization from the rest of the Inner Sphere. Instead of four Mechs to a lance, they had six.
A Level III unit was the equivalent of an Inner Sphere battalion. Intercepted radio communiqués had identified the attackers as a reinforced Level III called “Unfiltered Truth.” The Word, being a quasi-religious organization, was fond of names with spiritual or mystical connotations.
Emma spotted a squad of Longinus battle-armor approaching her position. The Longinus was a Free Worlds League design, a nation that historically had close ties to the Word of Blake, and was one of the few Inner Sphere suits to sport a backpack SRM launcher as well as an arm-mounted small laser.
The Longinus squad hadn’t seen the Pumas yet, since they were crouching behind a jumble of large boulders. The Blakists had the advantage in firepower, and Emma’s squad was down a man, but the Pumas were faster, more agile, and had the element of surprise. A Longinus suit couldn’t even jump until it jettisoned its missile pack.
Let’s give these Blakist bastards some of their own “Truth.”
Three Magshot gauss rifles fired, each hurling a nickel-ferrous slug at hypersonic speeds. One gauss round ripped the backpack off one of the Longinus suits, knocking the trooper flat on his face. Another tore off the armored-encased weapon arm of a second Longinus at the shoulder. Lacking the advanced Har-Gel sealant of Clan Elementals, bright red blood fountained from the horrible wound like a geyser. The third shot went wide, splashing into the river.
Two of the Longinus suits spun around and fired their missile packs, sending four short range missiles toward the Pumas’ last position, but Emma and her mates had already taken to the sky. The missile salvo hit a boulder, blasting it to pieces and sending chunks of rock flying.
Missed me!
The Pumas vaulted over the Longinus squad, landing behind the Blakists before they could chuck their missile tubes and use their jets.
Emma’s next gauss round punched through the faceplate of the enemy squad leader, shattering his skull and splattering brains all over the inside of his helmet.
The Longinus trooper who had his backpack shot off, attempted to rise to a standing position, but Carver and Richards pumped nickel-ferrous into his rear torso armor, knocking him flat again, this time permanently.
The last Blakist decided that discretion was the better part of valor, blasting into the air on pillars of flame. He didn’t make it all the way across the river, instead splashing down a little past midway. He didn’t surface again, probably making his way along the river bottom to a safer emergence point.
Emma’s squad didn’t wait to find out. The weapons fire had alerted nearby enemy forces and they were running out of time. Dashing north along the river bank, they searched for a spot narrow enough to jump as weapons fire sparked at their heels.
Just then, Emma heard the thump of approaching rotors…
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Post by Elizabeth Evers on Oct 21, 2005 5:18:25 GMT -5
I asked for cover and was it ever delivered. A pair of freshly reloaded Hawkmoth gunships had formed on my wings and were escorting me on the rescue mission. The Hawkmoths were agile craft and we were quickly in position for an evacuation attempt. As I lowered to ground level I could see, at a half-click out, a contingent of vehicals inbound. A Chevalier was on its way to investigate, and following at a few hundred meters more; a pair of Main Gauche support tanks. We were matched for fire power however I would have to depart and return which left the gunships to face our foe unaided.
I touched down near the Infiltrator team, stuck my hand out the window, and gave a wide gesture of one finger followed by driving my thumb towards the cargo bay. My subtle request was understood and an obliging soldier clambered into the bay. The gunships opened fire on the incoming armor and blew the Chevalier off the ground in an impressive display of force.
I quickly raced back to the opposite bank and deposited the battle armor on the otherside. All the while my heart beat wildly. The tenseness was deafining and a kind of tunnel vision took over, only to be interupted by the legato roar of artillery falling to earth. A nearby exploding bivouac gave me a start before I swung in for a quick landing.
On my return approach for another ton of heavily armored soldier, I witnessed the grim death of a crippled Hawkmoth being blown apart, vis a vis gauss round to the rotor. I lined up a guesswork shot and dumbfired a modest hail of LRM 5s which cought the Main Gauche unaware and set it ablaze, prompting its crew to abandon her. I was nearly a hundred meters from the ground when the next evacuee lept up and onboard with jump jets.
I urged the lone Hawkmoth to hang on as I tore at overthrust back to the dropoff. I had nearly completed my second run when the Hawkmoth pilot announced thier dissengagment. A critical hit to its only weapon system had rendered it useless and it was beating a swift retreat.
The second soldier had repeated the measure of jumping from high altitude, shaving several second off my time and perhaps making the difference in saving the life of the final soldier. I ran my reactor hot with the herculean force I pushed through the rotor just trying to get back in time.
When I reached the far shore for the last run, I was surprised to see that rather than attempt to finish the battlearmor as I had feared, the Main Gauche had instead chosen to line up an easy kill on me. Before I could take evasive action, a large calibur round was wedged into the armored neck of my craft, narrowly having missed the cockpit. I closed to quickly return fire when support came from a surprising source. The last of the stranded battle armor had made use of discarded SRM tubes and thier equipped gauss rifle to deal a felling blow to the vehical. What's more the gallant warrior was now rocketing high over watery depths to meet my approach.
"This one is near suicidal!" I said in disbelief. It was close, but I had managed to swing the Pinto's bay close enough to the airborn warrior for them to land inside. I happily keyed the radio, "We're clear! All battle armor has been recovered!"
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Post by Gen Miyamoto on Oct 21, 2005 18:39:13 GMT -5
I joined my comrades at the breach where we would stand our ground against the Blakists. Garland was there in his dominutive Shadowhawk. Rhodes was manning the lumbering Verfolger, it was in moderate shape still. Wolf had hopped in a fresh Warhammer. Thorn had even made it with the ungainly Fafnir, in all its enormous grandieur.
I inwardly regretted my left arm's awkwardness. I suppose I wasn't feeling very optomistic, my slipping performance was just icing to the cake. I eased my sights over onto a front-running Gurkha. It would be mere seconds before they were in range of my LRMs. Then there would be no turning back, there could be no escape.
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Post by Elemental (Local Militia) on Oct 21, 2005 19:16:30 GMT -5
As Captain Wolf's orders crackled in my helmet, I nodded to the squad holding Thastus at gunpoint. The Cavaliers lowered their weapons to a somewhat less guarded stance, but kept a watchful, mistrusting eye on the Clanner. I made my way toward our captive, kicking her antique firearm into a nearby stand of bushes as I stopped to tower over her. The Clanner knelt in the snow, glowering at me with a fiery rage in her emerald eyes.
"Get up." I hissed, my words sounding sharp and filtered through my armor's rebreather.
The Clanner rose to her feet in a single, catlike maneuver, knocking her white duster free of snow with an angry swipe of a gloved hand. Her unflinching, imperious glare never wavered as I stepped to within inches of her.
"Captain Wolf has ordered that you be escorted…to your BattleMech." I growled, my words dripping with as much contempt as I could possibly muster. I hated Clanners. I wanted Thastus to feel my hatred. "Apparently, your new Captain is as…short-sighted as Maxwell was. He should be relieved of his command."
An expression of rage washed over Thastus' face.
"You honorless dezgra toad! Speak poorly of my commander again and I assure you, I will relieve you of your life!"
The sound of multiple firearm safeties being disengaged, accompanied by the barrel of an assault rifle being pressed firmly into the side of the Clanner's neck, punctuated the statement in a comical fashion.
"I don't think so, Clanner. I make the rules around here. Now you listen - things've gotten ugly outside the Legionnaire compound. Simple passage across the bridges isn't going to be possible," I smirked, knowing that the intentional over-abundance of improper grammar I was using was coming off as highly offensive to Thastus, "so we're gonna have to take a short-cut."
The Clanner clung tightly to my armor, with a vise-like grip that belied her slender frame, as I fired my jump-jets, sending both of us arcing skyward on a column of fire. Around me, the Cavaliers which comprised the reconnaissance squad were doing likewise, falling into a hasty formation as they made landfall on the far side of the Gellen River.
After soaring high above the slush-filled, semi-frozen body, Thastus and I touched down with a distinct 'crunch' on its frozen shoreline, a hardened mix of ice and snow compacting beneath my boots. Before I had time to find my footing, the Clanner let go her steely hold, sending me into a stagger as I attempted to regain my balance. The former bondsman smirked at me as I flailed about, adjusting her longcoat with a cold indifference that reminded me why I loathed these quasi-humans with such a passion. My right fist shot out, reaching for Thastus' throat, but was stopped short in a massive, brick-wall impact with the palm of the Clanner's hand.
"Keep those reflexes sharp, stravag. Test me again, and you'll need them." I snarled. "The only reason you're even still alive is because your Captain wishes it."
Thastus smirked.
"Likewise, I am certain."
The brief ride to the interior of Site 187 aboard a battered Condor hovertank was spent in stoic silence. I had grown tired of tormenting the Clanner, and now simply wished to be rid of her. As the heavy lift system dropped us into the main vehicle hangar, I breathed an audible sigh of relief.
"As soon as this tank stops, I want you out."
"I am happy to comply."
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Post by Commander Garrett Garland on Oct 21, 2005 21:38:16 GMT -5
The goliath foot came down, sinking into the darkness beneath. The foot’s structure created small eddies in the slowly moving river, refuse piling against the Battlemech’s foot. Slowly a second foot entered the water, creating another splash and breaking through more of waste on the river’s side. Gellen’s Heights may have been a beautiful city—but it kept its beauty by dumping its waste elsewhere. Suddenly, the water at the ‘mech’s feet began to boil, the bubbles erupting into steam with each pop. Ten meters up a small prayer was said as the pilot checked to see if his laser barrage had indeed been a hit; it was. With zealous fervor the pilot pushed on into the river, his sins washing away with the currents flowing beneath him. Opposite the Blakist another prayer was said, but this one of a different nature. The prayer was quite simple: for the survival of himself and those under him.
Looking down at my damage display I saw that a good portion of my chest armor had burnt away, the enemy pilot was good. He’d hit me with every laser he’d got and had hardly suffered the consequences of firing such a barrage—his heat was dissipated in the dark water. Bringing my weapons to bare I fired my long range missiles, twenty streaking out before me. For a moment my vision was clouded by the missile contrails but as their distance increased my screen cleared. Looking forward I saw that they were indeed on target—the Blakist would receive as he gave. To my dismay missiles began to pop and explode as they neared the enemy warrior; his Battlemech was equipped with an anti-missile system. But even the best AMS couldn’t stop a full flight of missiles—eleven continued onwards with at least eight hits. Unstable in the muddy water, the ‘mech staggered under each explosion—unable to return fire. Targeting the Blakist ‘mech’s main torso I unleashed the combined firepower of my AutoCannon and pulse laser, the stream of projectiles ripping through the laser heated armor. To my dismay the enemy kept coming, trudging slowly through the simmering water. Although I’d taken out a few of his lasers his next attack was equally devastating—he’d closed within SRM range. Six snakes of smoke burst out from his short range missile launcher, their trails leading right towards me. Augmenting his missiles with laser fire, the BCN-3R pushed onwards—it’s specially placed heat sinks eliminating all of the lasers’ waste heat.
As I saw the missiles arcing towards me everything went into slow motion. Visualizing myself dropping to the left, I worked my ‘mech’s controls letting my neurohelmet take care of the details. As envisioned, my ‘mech dropped to the left, bracing itself with it’s unarmed arm. Using my arm to aim my ‘mech’s torso by pushing off the ground I fired my AutoCannon right at the enemy BattleMech’s torso, once again ripping into the ever dwindling armor cover there. Like my own ‘mech in many ways, the Buccaneer was equipped with considerable armor for a medium ‘mech, but even so the ‘mech was not designed to take so much direct fire—he’d go down soon. Unfortunately, also like my 55-ton Shadow Hawk the Buccaneer was fast and equipped with something that I currently dreaded more than anything else in my position: a giant depleted uranium hatchet.
Clearing the river’s edge the Blakist brought his ‘mech to full speed, nearly 100 kilometer per hour. Wielding his axe like a Norse warrior of old the Buccaneer pushed forward. I knew that I was stuck—I didn’t have time to right my ‘mech and if I stayed on the ground it was almost as if I were inviting him to perform a beheading. Saying one last prayer, closer to the Blakist’s than my one before I raised my ‘mech’s right arm bringing the pulse laser to bare. Squeezing my right joystick’s primary trigger I filled the enemy’s chest with burning blue light, the darts superheating internal structure and components—but even then he still came. Raising his axe high above his hand in a double grip the Blakist prepared to give a death blow. With his internals dripping out of its torso like a mortally wounded beast the Battlemech prepared for the downswing. Pulling my left joystick’s primary trigger I fired the only thing I could—my often forgotten twin streak missile launchers. Like hawks seeing their pray in the distance the missiles shot forwards exploding in the gut of the Blakist ‘mech. I rolled my ‘mech to the side as the enemy fell forwards, its gyro spinning itself into oblivion. Checking my infrared scanners I saw that the ‘mech was not cooling—it was heating uncontrollably. Flipping my ‘mech over I used my arms to steady myself as I right my ‘mech, arguably one of the hardest feats for a MechWarrior. Knowing that my ‘mech couldn’t accelerate quickly enough I pressed down of both jump petals before the ‘mech had even righted itself, shooting forward in a low arc. Plowing into the dirt with my Shadow Hawk’s arms outstretched I felt the massive explosion of a runaway reactor behind me. Righting myself once again I looked beyond the smoking ruin of the Buccaneer to the rest of Guardian lance—the battle was not going well.
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Post by The 'Mech Dealer on Oct 22, 2005 2:49:55 GMT -5
Who the hell did this arrogant bitch think she was ? I had just offered these mercenaries the free use of 20 million C-Bills worth of equipment and this bitch was threatening me. Not for the last time I considered swinging the jeep wide in order to throw her from her seat, out into the snow.
Luckily for her, I needed her and these fickle mercenaries. If we ran into any Blakists after we got the mechs, well she would be in the heavier and slower mech. I'd let her act as the rear guard, while I made good my escape in the faster Griffin. Even if the Archer got scrapped, soaking up enemy fire and deflecting it from me was even better than having extra armour. It'd give me precious minutes to make good my own escape.
We had been near the mechs' positions for some minutes now, but after her last threat I thought it best to stop trying to confuse their location and head straight for them. Dead was dead, whether by the Blakists or this bitch didn't make any difference. Time to get some more protection around me.
Dashing into what seamed like a solid stand of pine trees, we emerged into one of my storage locations. The trees nearer the center had been thinned out to allow mechs to move about without the need to needlessly crash though trees, but not so much as to easily reveal them to aerial reconnaissance. Standing there patiently waiting for the human pilots who gave them life were a Archer ARC-4M battlemech and a Griffin GRF-6S battlemech. Donning our mech piloting garb and neurohelmet, we each headed for our respective mechs.
Still watching her carefully to ensure that she didn't get any sudden notions of carrying out any of her earlier threats, I couldn't but help admiring her physique. As she stripped down out of her fatigues to just her undergarments, several thoughts, some indecent, crossed my mind. Not the least of which was that she would most likely try and kill me if I so much as even gave her a compliment. Still her long shapely legs, even in those ungainly combat boots, were perfectly proportioned. Pushing these thoughts from my mind, I headed for the Griffin. There were many more, equally beautiful and much less dangerous girls out there to dally with. Even so, this Aliesha was certainly alluring.
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Post by Lance Commander William Rhodes on Oct 22, 2005 13:07:59 GMT -5
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. "Henry V" (5.3.44-51)
William watched as the white BattleMechs of the Word of Blake emerged from the Gellen river, dripping water like sea monsters out of a B science-fiction movie. Instantly the air was filled with the bright beams of lasers, the tracers of autocannon fire, and the smokey contrails of missile barrages. Guardian Lance stood in the shattered breach of Site 187’s outer wall, blocking the funnel through which the attackers would have to pass through.
The HUD was covered with red target icons and the crosshairs flashed gold with target lock. Holding nothing back, William unleashed the power of the Verfolger, flinging man-made lightning and clouds of explosive submunitions at the advancing Blakists. He tied in his trio of medium lasers into his main firing trigger, stabbing emerald beams at the fanatics. The heat levels rose in his cockpit drenching him in sweat and forcing his cooling vest to work overtime. The AMS unit in his Mech’s head buzzed like a rattlesnake, spraying brightly colored tracers to impact with incoming enemy warheads.
Ordinance crashed down all around him, flinging up geysers of exploding dirt and shattered stone. Sparks and smoke filled the air and armor melted off his BattleMech like butter under a hair drier. Mechs not equipped with Ferro-Fibrous had two layers of armor plating, an outer layer composed of alligned crystal-steel for stopping lasers and particle beam weapons and an inner layer of boron nitride impregnanted with diamond monofilament for high explosive armor piercing (HEAP) rounds. Both were taking a serious beating under the Blakist onslaught. It wouldn’t be long before the delicate internal structure of his machine was at risk.
We can’t take much more of this!
The Militia added their firepower to that of the Legionnaires, and the slope in front of the wall was littered with armor fragments, melting strands of myomer fibers, and autocannon shell casings. Impact craters pockmarked the banks of the river and visual scanners were clouded by burning ash. Dante’s Inferno had come to life at Site 187.
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