The Cantina was dark, grimy, and presented a forboding atmosphere that sent a cold shiver down my spine as I walked into its battered interior. Making my way through the rowdy crowd, I arrived at the bar, where several obviously-intoxicated customers, as well as a Legionnaire pilot, sat watching the Solaris VII games on a set of battered holoscreens.
"What've you got on tap here?"
"What've you got on tap here?"
My head snapped up as I saw Winston approach the bar. I had heard tales of his exploits within the Legionnaires, and figured that if there was anyone worth introducing myself to, it would be him. Sliding off my barstool, I muscled my way through the crowd, making my way toward the lanky pilot. He appeared to be consumed in thought, and didn't notice my approach. I gingerly cleared my throat.
&
&
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as I read over the mission overview and waited for Major Wolf and Captain Garland to kick off the briefing. Part of the discomfort came from the massive amount of enemy assets predicted to be present once we made planetfall. The other part came from working with a unit I knew nothing about.
General Maxwell had 'loaned' me to the Legionnaires to fill a vacancy on the roster, a decision tha
General Maxwell had 'loaned' me to the Legionnaires to fill a vacancy on the roster, a decision tha
Legionnaires' compound Camelot
15 March 3069 - 1257 Hours G.S.T.
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The mess hall was crowded with the sum total of the staff that had gathered for the briefing, only to be turned away for an hour while Captain Garland scrambled to rectify the sudden, and unexpected, staffing crisis.
I maneuvered my way through the crush of people present who were attempting to get one fin
15 March 3069 - 1257 Hours G.S.T.
_____________________________
The mess hall was crowded with the sum total of the staff that had gathered for the briefing, only to be turned away for an hour while Captain Garland scrambled to rectify the sudden, and unexpected, staffing crisis.
I maneuvered my way through the crush of people present who were attempting to get one fin
My Catapult stomped toward the encircled vehicle, its missile launchers primed and lasers hot. I didn't like relying on shadowy contacts to get crucial mission objectives achieved, and I liked relying on mystics even less. I nudged my 60-ton 'Mech up to the closest safe distance from the smallish crawler, and maneuvered the massive war machine into a crouch. From the point of view of the vehicle's occupants, the Catapul
The quad-legged Scorpion BattleMech stood little chance against my oncoming Catapult as I hurled sixty high-powered medium range missiles and twin lances of coherent pulse energy at the boxy, spider-like 'Mech. The force of the weapon impacts sent the Scorpion lurching backwards, pitching wildly on its four spindy legs as armor slagged off and critical systems were compromised. As the 55-ton 'Mech regained its co
The Pegasus scout tanks hammering away at me didn't stand a chance as sixty MRMs slammed into their laughably thin armor, blowing the tracked crawlers to hell and back with a dazzling pyrotechnic display.
Yeah. Take on a Catapult in tanks. Real smart. Geniuses.
The sound of machine gun rounds pelting my stout Battl
Yeah. Take on a Catapult in tanks. Real smart. Geniuses.
The sound of machine gun rounds pelting my stout Battl
Thunder rolled across the mossy highlands of Mission de la Cascada as ominous storm clouds began to blot out the morning sun. There were those who would take this sudden change in weather as a sign from the gods - a sign to be feared, perhaps warning of impending doom. I took it as a minor nuisance.
"How's Talon holding up there, Freeman?"
"How's Talon holding up there, Freeman?"
"Damocles Two, can you handle the two Tessens?"
Two blazing fast, fifty-ton bipeds, armed with PPCs and medium pulse lasers, against one sixty-five ton, slow-as-shit Catapult? I like those odds.
"I'll do what I can, sir."
"Nice save, Damocles-1. Thanks for the assist."
With his wingman dispatched, I was now able to lavish my undivided attentions on the already-savaged Tessen which stood before me. The battered Kuritan 'Mech didn't have much life left in it - with scorch marks across its body, and an ugly, gaping wound in its
Two blazing fast, fifty-ton bipeds, armed with PPCs and medium pulse lasers, against one sixty-five ton, slow-as-shit Catapult? I like those odds.
"I'll do what I can, sir."
"Nice save, Damocles-1. Thanks for the assist."
With his wingman dispatched, I was now able to lavish my undivided attentions on the already-savaged Tessen which stood before me. The battered Kuritan 'Mech didn't have much life left in it - with scorch marks across its body, and an ugly, gaping wound in its
Having exchanged my Catapult and its advanced loadout for a slightly less-advanced suit of body armor and a fifty-caliber assault weapon, I made my way over to Lieutenant Rhodes and Major Maxwell, the latter of whom appeared to be clenching his teeth slightly, while self-consciously cradling his right arm against his side.
"You alright, Major?"
"You alright, Major?"
As the commando reached for his facemask, I instinctively whipped my SPAS-12 shotgun upward, training it on the hulking figure and wrapping my finger around the weapon's dual triggers. The Major had been kind enough to allocate me a number of his Enforcer rounds. If the DESTie tried anything stupid, he would have two craters in his torso to show for it.
Last time I checked, the Army used insignia as well, not numbers. 
After spending weeks in the infirmary on the trip back from Delacruz, I was anxious to test my mettle in the simulator before going back into battle. A grade 'B' concussion was nothing to laugh about, and I wanted to ensure that my piloting skills were still up to par. As I walked into the simulator, I noticed that Corporal Lourde and Sergeant Hobson were already present. I wondered what the DropShip pilot intended to field in this t
I slid the memory stick containing the Marauder II upgrade design into my BattlePod's USB port. The lights dimmed, and for several seconds, the blue-green hue of my 'Mech's control panel was offset only by a blinking green cursor indicating the load process. Then, the pod gave a slight lurch as the physics model finished its load, and I found myself staring through the octagonal viewport of a 100-ton Marauder IIC, i
After waiting approximately five minutes for a response, I checked the simulation's main menu, and found that Lourde had dropped from the match. Sighing, I shut down my battle pod, and headed for the cafeteria.
The diminutive Assassin, woefully outclassed by my CPLT-K5-A Catapult, was nearly torn asunder as thirty short-range missiles ripped into its torso, causing massive amounts of explosive-force damage as their warheads sheared off several tons of the antiquated biped's armor. The smaller 'Mech counterattacked with a burst of pulse laser fire which glanced past my cockpit, landing in the thick forward armor above and behin
The scream of sixteen LRM carriers establishing a hard missile lock on my Catapult filled the confines of my cockpit with an electronic cacaphony as our lances drew close to the Seeker-Class DropShip standing between us and our mission objective. I slammed my BattleMech into a hard evasive maneuver, breaking formation as I attempted to draw a bead on the entrenched vehicles. Ahead of me, Colonel Reese's Deimos waded
Sixteen missile carriers, targeted by twin MRM-30 launchers with MultiTrac support, meant that there were plenty of medium-range missiles to go around - three highly-explosive warheads to each carrier - more than enough to rip through the ground-pounders' thick hides and detonate the warheads stored within. As LeSalle drew the fire of the entrenched artillery, I opened fire, my Catapult thundering inbound even as an overwhelming a
Hermes Lance, with reckless abandon, skated across an uncharted minefield, causing the pursuing Regulators to skid to a halt on its outskirts. One of the tanks reacted too late, sliding into the booby-trapped expanse and exploding in a spectacular fireball. Our lance began to tighten the noose, flanking closer to the remaining three Regulators. Where the Saladin had ended up was anyone's guess - it had either been de
Elsewhere...
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With a heavy 'whump,' my Cougar X, affectionately nicknamed 'Beowulf,' hit the dirt of Saffel, coming to rest between Corporal Schuster's Kit Fox and Alex Thorn's massive Marauder. I was fond of Clan technology, and it warmed my heart to know that three out of the four 'Mechs in what now constituted a lan
_____________________________________________________
With a heavy 'whump,' my Cougar X, affectionately nicknamed 'Beowulf,' hit the dirt of Saffel, coming to rest between Corporal Schuster's Kit Fox and Alex Thorn's massive Marauder. I was fond of Clan technology, and it warmed my heart to know that three out of the four 'Mechs in what now constituted a lan