Joined: Sun Aug 10, 2008 3:17 pm Posts: 5882 Location: Winnipeg, Manitoba
It is the year 2907, the inhabitants of earth have long since begun there voyages into space. From its earliest missions to its own moon, to the colonization of Mars and the surrounding habitable planets, mankind has been creating faster and more efficient ways to traverse the vast lengths of space. The development of the Tachyon particle accelerator flux revolutionized space travel, with only one minor draw-back, it process requires two jump stations to work safely. Large space stations harbouring these Tachyon accelerators cause authorized ships to essentially slingshot themselves faster than light to its sister station, slowing it down safely to resume travel. One can use a jump station with the intentions of not stopping at a jump station, and ending up in known space, and thus the “travelers” were born. Adventure seekers and ambitious scientists take the risk of being thrown into a planet or star to see if they can chart a new solar system or habitable planet. With estimates of 500 billion planets in our galaxy, and 500 of those are recorded to be in the habitable zone of the parent star, only 46 have been colonized, and many want to stake their claim as a planetary founder. The Republic of Earth governs these 46 planets, and some are better off than others. A new habitable planet has not been found in over 100 years, and the first colonized planet was 700 years ago. The “Outer Rim” planets have been suffering under a negligent rule of Earth for over 70 years, and it seems that civil war was the only option. This split between the planets has caused roughly 22 planets to turn to the Rebels cause, essentially splitting the Republic in half. While the Rebels may not be as up to date as the Republic, they have a large portion of the TPK, the Terran Peace Keepers turned to their cause, because of their border status, had a larger garrison of troops. Outnumbered, the TPK must rely on their slightly more advanced weaponry and supplies to combat the numerically superior troops of the ORPLA (Outer Rim People’s Liberation Army). A set of well executed assault plans have set many of the border planets that span the difference between the Republic and the ORPLA have come under assault, spreading the TPK’s forces to its breaking point, at the moment the tides of battle are at an even stage, and as the wars wage, the Republic is undergoing a massive recruitment program, offering hefty incentives to join the TPK and preserve their way of life. Many seek to profit off the new civil war, arms dealers, and mercenaries, even construction companies looking to make a few bucks working for one side or the other. During the time of colonization, many planets have developed their own languages and customs, some, having been colonized for 600 years, have its inhabitants looking far different from the Humans of earth. While they are all humanoid, if someone from the past were to gaze on these beings, they would surely call them alien (that is directly for you babies who wanted “other races” it’s the best you will get from me). Who will you be? A courageous member of the TPK fighting to quell the upstart rebels, an ORPLA soldier valiantly fighting for equal treatment, a conniving arms dealer profiting from both sides, a mercenary looking for some quick cash or just a leader of a ship’s crew out for adventure caught up in this galactic struggle?
The Questionnaire Eliminator 9000: Okay, so, here is the deal. These are some parameters for the universe that I am creating, I am going to give some rough guidelines that I would appreciate everyone follows so there is theme consistency within the setting. Okay, so let’s start off with the basic, straight forward stuff. No Lasers, No Laser like weapons or armour, no “magic” powers like being psychic or telekinesis, No being Jedi’s/siths, No commanding more than 10 people, no mutations that are unreasonable or provide stupid powers, the technology is relative, no super duper awesome gun durr durr stuff, The technology should be at least relatively feasible, NO ALIEN CIVILIZATIONS. If you have any other questions after reading that just post it anyways, just please don’t try and convince me to work around one the rules.
Name: Varis Age: 31 Height: 6"1 Weight: 189 lbs. Home Planet: Malastar Physical appearance: Tall, Well built due to training, green eyes, dark brown hair. Shortly cut hair. Sharp cheek bones. Personality: Slow to anger, Varis is usually calm and cool headed under pressure, but is prone to lashing out once angered. Occupation: Bounty hunter. Goal: To earn money from the War. Strengths: Getting close to an enemy and fighting them there. (Mid to close range) Weaknesses: Melee combat, and Longer ranged combat. Clothes/armour: http://toroz.com.au/wp-content/uploads/ ... ooper4.jpg (Heh.) Also a cloak. Equipment: Locator beacon, Jetpack, communications devices. Weapons: Wrist mounted Rockets and Wrist mounted flame thrower (Opposite wrists), Two highly modified pistols that fire electrified rounds (Basically, slightly longer ranged Tasers) And other various Equipment (Nets, Grenades etc) Miscellaneous items: Ammo/fuel for his weapons on his belt, Collection of other bounty hunters dog tags on a chain around his neck (Currently at 6). Allegiance: Neutral, whoever has the biggest amount of cash. Feelings on the war: Easy money. Biography: After fighting for local crime lords on his home planet for most of his life, Varis has finally managed to find a crew who he can trust, and get him off world. With the recent War breaking out, and finally reaching Malastar, Varis has seized the opportunity, and has become a gun for hire for whoever promises the most pay by the end of the job.
Joined: Thu Apr 15, 2010 7:19 pm Posts: 7616 Location: Star-side
Ribbons Earned: Mods, please no more ribbons for me. They break!
Name: Marcus Renze
Height: 6 foot 3 inches
Weight: 215 (estimated, it's been awhile since he's checked)
Home Planet: Nagga Prime
Physical appearance: Built like an infantry soldier. Scar over his face, covering his left eye, also making him blind out of it. Super short black hair, like buzz cut. Tanned skin.
Personality: Lives in the moment (essentially if in a fight, he gets his act up, if hes on vacation he'll make the most of it)
Occupation: Soldier of Fortune (Mercenary)
Goal: Make enough money to retire for the rest of his life.
Strengths: Guns, leading (He was a sergeant in the TPK), survival.
Weaknesses: Seeing things (blind in left eye), fist fights, cooking.
Clothes/armour: Urban Combat vest, and leggings (light weight plates protecting the front of his legs). Urban camo pants, combat boots dirty brown t shirt.
Equipment: Ammo, some survival items (fire starter, water, rations)
Weapons: MA1 Assault rifle (7 clips of 30), auto pistol (5 clips of 12), combat knife (12" long blade, black handle, sharp edge), and two grenades.
Miscellaneous items: Old dog tags from his time in the TPK, cigars.
Allegiance: Who ever pays the most, though when it comes down to highest bidder, he'll side with the TPK.
Feelings on the war: Cha-ching!
Biography: Born and raised on Nagga Prime as an only child and his father died at a young age. When he was 18 he joined the TPK and went on several tours to neighboring planets. When there was a small fire fight clearing a small town from rebels on his last tour, a piece of shrapnel caused the scar. After his last tour and a month of keeping it easy he left the TPK. When Nagga Prime was taken by the ORPLA and retaken by the TPK several times (back and forth), Marcus helped the TPK for credits, sabotaging missions, and killing enemy personal. When he was offered more credits by the ORPLA, he sided with them and realized he could make a profit from the war. After Nagga Prime had been claimed by the ORPLA for the final time, he left the planet with six others who had been hired at the time by the ORPLA. Marcus thought the seven of them should work together and now call them selves "Rainbow Squad". Each one has a specific job, scouting, heavy, sniper, explosive, field medic, leading, and hacking.
They were able to pool their credits for a small ship capable of storing their equipment, and trophies while getting them to new planets.
Weaknesses: headstrong, stubborn, cares too much individual then community,
Clothes/armour: red beanie, standard flak armor, sleeveless shirt.
Equipment: comms, flashlight
Weapons: pistol, large machine gun, tazer
Miscellaneous items: a wedding ring and a locket
Allegiance: pro-outer rim
Feelings on the war: the republic is corrupt and has to change quickly
Biography: Jeremiah was born in the outer rim. He lived a rag tag childhood, living in the less wealthy life style. He received a mediocre education. At ate 20 he married an old friend, Eden. They had one child and lived a quiet life. Three years after marriage, Jeremiah signed up for the army when government relief never came. He spent the next eight years fighting nearby planets. When his home planet was attacked, Jeremiah led a huge assault on his home city. He successfully conquered it back, only to find his family dead and his house burnt down. Forced to leave to infiltrate another city, Jeremiah only saved his wife's wedding ring and a small photograph of his son. Once the successful re-claiming of the planet, Jeremiah was promoted to Lieutenant. Tortured by nightmares of his family, Jeremiah spends the majority of his time aboard a vessel, developing brutal strategies. He doesn't enjoy the company of others, yet values the people who still live greatly. He is under the command of General Lee Win and Captain Nathaniel. He is part of a 5 man squad (even though he has a higher ranking then most soldiers in the battalion) set for brutal and crude methods of fighting, yet also trained in the skill of infiltration.
_________________ Realize every dark cloud is a smoke screen meant to blind us from the truth, and the truth is whether we see them or not - the sun and moon are still there and always there is light.
Joined: Sun Aug 10, 2008 3:17 pm Posts: 5882 Location: Winnipeg, Manitoba
Name: Ruel Hallen
Weight: 205 lbs
Home Planet: Mars
Physical appearance: Average looking fellow, fit, short brown hair, brown eyes, mechanically augmented right arm from the shoulder down, multitude of wear and tear scars of battle, tanned skin.
Personality: Orderly, tenacious, jovial.
Occupation: TPK Commando
Goal: Fight for the Republic and restore order.
Strengths: Strength and Endurance from Soldier training, Advanced Commando training.
Weaknesses: No vehicle training, phantom pains from arm loss.
Clothes/armour: TPK Commando armour( light, flexible, excellent blast protection, good projectile resistance, IUI, face plate and neck shield. Left shoulder has a firing shield to protect user while firing (Think the big shoulder pad on a Tau Firewarrior but less bulky)).
Equipment: Stim-paks, medical supplies, ammunition and composite and liquid explosives.
Weapons: ATH 440 Assault rifle ( 40 round magazine, Tungsten AP rounds, synced to IUI), Commando issue Knife (Fused ceramic blade, super light and holds edge for a long time), Colt 2899 TPA (Sidearm, an homage to the 1911, but futuristic, doesn't really resemble the original gun aside from general shape).
Miscellaneous items: Neodymium magnetic energy cells for powering his suit, a few trophies from past conflicts.
Feelings on the war: Those upstart rebels should not be so quick to bite the hand that feeds them!
Biography: Born on Mars, Ruel Enlisted at the age of 18, he trained on Earth and was shipped out on many pacifying missions to outer worlds and unrest on inhabited planets. During one such of these missions was the Boreon rebellion, he was severely injured, and lost the use of his right arm, and was thus replaced by an augmented mechanical one. It has been 7 years since the indecent, and he has become quite used to it, and uses it to his advantage in some situations. He has since been stationed on Mars when the ORPLA began its rebellion and split the Republic in half, he and the rest of the TPK were being marshaled into battle groups to defend the border planets. He was stationed in a Deployment station in orbit of a neighboring planet waiting to be called into action.
EDIT** This is what the Commando armour looks like:
_________________ Regardez l'aventure àvenir Esse Eximius Ad Invicem Bad Company, till the day I die.
Last edited by Jason on Fri Dec 23, 2011 6:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Joined: Mon Jan 11, 2010 11:17 am Posts: 792 Location: Helsinki, Finland
Name: Ren Locios, "Mockingbird" Age: Exact age unknown, somewhere between 25 and 30 Earth years. Height: 6'4 Weight:137 lbs Home Planet: Birth planet unknown, and no permanent home planet. Physical appearance: Tall, yet lightly built, long brown hair, Pale skin. Notably lengthy legs. Personality: Unpredictable, slightly mad and ever an optimist. A slight mocking smile is ever-present. Occupation: Smuggler, thief. Goal: Doesn't believe in goals. Strengths: An excellent pilot and an infiltrator, also a rather good shot with light weaponry. Always has a trick on his sleeve. Weaknesses: Prone to rushed decisions, doesn't trust others Clothes/armour: A gunner's lens covering the right eye (A devise to incorporate data and targeting systems into normal eyesight. Causes a lot of headache to untrained users.), A leather jacket, the rest of the clothing any modest pilot would have. Equipment: Data decrypter (Used to bypass digital locks and to access protected data. In other words, a portable hacking device.), bunch of fake identity papers, power cells. Oh, and a small spaceship, small enough for one man to pilot, but large enough for a few passengers and some cargo. Weapons: A heavily modified R-628 revolver (Don't Google it, I made it up) with a laser sight Miscellaneous items:A golden watch, various tools used to maintain a small spacecraft. Allegiance: Cash Feelings on the war: There's always violence to be found, why brand some of it righteous and call it war? Might as well turn profit of it. Biography: Found stealing food on a large freighter, Ren Locios grew up traveling space and living off the mercy of the crewmen of various ships, or their lack of vigilance. After finally managing to somehow swindle himself a spaceship, he started smuggling goods all across the outer rim. Soon he grew tired of such relatively risk free lifestyle, and begun to operate as a "gatherer of extravagantly rare goods", and soon earned himself a nickname of Mockingbird, as time and time again he fooled the guards protecting his quarry, be it valuable ship parts or important war records.
Joined: Tue Feb 08, 2011 4:47 am Posts: 2052 Location: 'Straya mate!
Name: Charles Reedy Age: 53 Height: 190cm (Quite tall) Weight: 65kg (Very thin) Home Planet: Earth Physical appearance: Unkempt white hair, gaunt features, pale, blue eyes, glasses Personality: Timid, shy, a bit crazy, easily scared Occupation: Weapons scientist Goal: To make a weapon so powerful it will bring ultimate peace to the galaxy Strengths: Thinking, problem solving, shooting Weaknesses: Combat (All kinds), being social (Especially with girls), Clothes/armour: White lab coat, black jeans, black shirt under lab coat. Equipment: In his lab: Microscope, gun equipment, gunpowder, experimental bullets etc. On himself: Flashlight, 4 clips for his rifle (10 shots per clip) 10 clips for his pistol (5 shots per clip) Weapons: High calibre pistol, high power rifle. Miscellaneous items: Glasses case Allegiance: Republic Feelings on the war: Annoying waste of time but good for money Biography: Became a scientist at age 20 and moved onto being a weapon scientist at age 33. He hasn’t seen any real war before and one has spent most of his life inside his laboratory and the firing range testing weapons. Long periods of time testing weapons has made him a good shooter but he is scared of killing.
_________________ I feel like my one ribbon really represents who I am as a person...
Quit changing your avatar/names people! It's so hard to keep track of!
Name: Christopher "Crow" Romero Age: 27 Height: 6'5 Weight: 190 pounds (Earth measurements) Home Planet: Earth Physical appearance: Tall, lanky, unshaven, devilish, angular features, smokey blue eyes, pale, black hair, greasy short cut, gritty, worn, multiple scars across his wrists and acne scars on his face. Personality: Laid back, Usually quite, spikes of anger. Occupation: Mercenary. Member of "Talon Legion" a loosely organized band of mercenaries used as support by TPK and City Police forces at very high pay. Goal: Live his life to the farthest extent, secretly wishes to settle down some day Strengths: Marksmanship, good with a knife, calming attitude, very independent. Weaknesses: Addicted to multiple drugs, easily toyed with. Clothes/armour: Urban Camouflaged Short Sleeve shirt, Urban Camo Boonie hat, Black tactical vest, Urban Camo tactical pants, Combat boots, ultra light urban ghillie suit, tactical belt and pack. Equipment: A few weeks rations, surplus of ammunition, urban veil, multiple flashlights and lasers. Weapons:M156 LAW (Long-range Attack Weapon), Internaly Silenced M26 Bushmaster, Combat Knife. Miscellaneous items: Bloody picture of his childhood sweat heart, flask, multiple syringes. Allegiance: The highest paying side. Feelings on the war: Feels the more he fights for one side, the quicker it will end. Biography: Born on Earth to a pair of young lovers, Christopher was put up for adoption and was adopted by another young couple. He was then moved from Earth to the miniature planet of Varus. Sitting on the boarder of the Inner and Outer rims, Varus was a large center for trade in the republic, it's space stations serving as an artificial continent after the miniscule patch of land of Varus was covered in a sprawling city. Christopher was raised in the space station where he lived a happy and care free life. He was a football star on his station, and was living in his prime. He fell in love and was preparing to get married until one faithful day his entire life was changed. An explosion ripped through half of the station after a large hydrogen explosion in the station's life support system. Half of the population of the station were killed instantly, others suffered a slow and more painful death, leaving Christopher one of seven, survivors. He moved onto the nearest station where he was given a free boarding house for a while. It was he spiraled into a deep and dark depression, resorting to alcoholism, Slaught abuse (similar to morphine), and self mutilation. It wasn't until a Talon recruiting officer knocked on his door on an anonymous tip, did Christopher get out of the house.
Quickly the Talon's recruited Christopher, or by his nickname "Crow", because of his unnatural talent for combat at almost any range. He began serving in tours around the systems at the young age of nineteen. Him and the Talons assisting in TPK peace keeping efforts before the rebellion.
Once the Rebellion started however, the Talons returned to Varus, to find a planet at war. The ORPLA quickly overwhelmed the meager space defenses of the TPK forces stationed in Varus, and now deployed up to three divisions to the planet surface to finish off the TPK resistance in the system. The Talons evaded the ORPLA blockade and now find themselves fighting a back against the wall battle along side a battalion of TPK Mechanized Infantry and the large remainder of the VCPD (Varus City Police Department). Hoping to win some sort of decisive victory, the order to hold at all cost has been given, and a tooth and nail battle for Varus has began.
Physical appearance: Unkempt black hair down to her shoulders, relativly fit, blue eyes with red pigmentation on the edges(fake of course), Pale skin
Personality: Messy, Fun loving, happy
Occupation: Traveling Arms dealer, generally in her starship flying around or orbiting a planet.
Goal: Make money by keeping the mercenaries weapons in working order and supplying them with ammunition.
Strengths: Good aim with firearms, negotiation, fixing handheld and ship based weapons, Good pilot
Weaknesses: Close combat, sometimes over trusting, makes un rachional decisions without thinking when under pressure.
Clothes/armour: Tattered brown sweats and T-shirt, long black trechcoat containing her favorite pistol and some ammo, Rather long black boots.
Equipment: Pistol ammuniton, repair kit, communicator, ship auto pilot controler.
Weapons: A-971 high powered pistol with an infared scope and flashlight, small pocket knife.
Miscellaneous items: old pistol from before humanity went into space, fake identity documents.
Allegiance: Whoever is her current employer
Feelings on the war: unnnecissary but good for business.
Biography: Ever since Feran was born she had been traveling, her parents wre smugglers that brought illegal weapons to diffrant locations on the black market. When Feran turned 14 she got her first starship and immediatly took to flying it, she spent all the money she earned until her 18th birthday on her ship making one of the most stealthy and effective smuggling ships in its class. On her 19th birthday Feran`s parents were shot out of the sky after being mistaken for a rebel infiltration squad, By now Feran had begun to excell at reparing weapons and was already able to provide for herself. On her 20th birthday the war started and she has been making more and more money ever since.
"We got a runner here" Varis spoke clearly, the communication system in his helmet transmitted his voice into his crews ship which flew a few hundred feet above the city hub he was in.
"Rodger that Boss, Bag 'em and Tab 'em, Cray and Jax are en route with the bikes now." Dortmund replied, the ships pilot. He was slightly older than Varis, but much smaller and built around a heavy frame of layered fat and muscle. Born on Mars, he had become a pilot for commercial freighters until he took a job offer from Varis, a bounty hunter on the planet Malastar.
"Tell them to take there time, I'm going to have fun with this one." Varis replied, grinning.
Activating his jet-pack, he launched himself into the air above the cities slums and began searching for his target. A Sergeant in the Rebel army was his target, after being given a job by the TPK in the area. Varis scanned the alley's and backstreets as he flew, spotting a man sprinting down an alleyway. He used his helmets optical functions and zoomed in on the man. He recognized him as the Soldier instantly, and changed course to intercept him. Hovering twenty or so feet in front of the man's path, Varis landed and blocked his escape.
"Please, please just let me go! I'm just a Soldier, I haven't done anything!" The Sergeant pleaded, tears rolling down his bloodied face.
Varis launched himself forward with the thrust from his jetpack, causing the Soldier to try and leap sideways to avoid him. Flying past him, Varis raised his wrist and fired. The net flew toward the fallen man and expanded, wrapping around him. The Sergeant cried out as the netting encased him and tightened. Pressing a button on his wrist, the net surged with electricity, causing the man to convulse and yell through a locked jaw. Quiet mmmphs and yearrghs occasionally escaped from the man, but after a few moments, he had passed out, his pain barrier smashed and broken. Pressing the same button on his wrist mount, the electricity ceased.
"Target down, Come get him." Varis sighed, the soldier submitting far to easily for his liking. Three of the crews lancer type bikes hovered into the alleyway, with Cray and Jax riding them.
" Good to see you boss, Lets get him back to the TPK." Cray smiled, lifting the body onto the back of his bike.
Climbing aboard his Bike, Varis set off back toward the TPK compound, with the two other bikes in tow.
The TPK compound was slightly over the horizon if you were looking at it from the city. Flying over the desert sands of the planet, the Lancer bikes kicked up dust behind them as they hovered low over the dunes. As Varis flew over the sands, time seemed to slow. His helmet's warning systems flickered into life, and the scream of a anti personnel missile echoed through his ears. The faulty missile flew overhead, missing the group of Bikes by a good three meters.
" Damn it! Rebel assault team, circle back and take em out. We can earn a bit more cash by taking their Tags to the compound. Cray, continue to the compound and warn them that there are assault troops moving in." Varis spoke calmly to the group. "Dortmund, were being attacked. Come to my position and provide support. Understood?"
"Yes boss" All the others replied, beginning to head out to complete his orders.
Swinging his Bike around, Varis and Jax set off toward the area the missile was fired from. Flying a good 10 meters from the ground, Varis aimed the prow downward and thumbed the activation triggers on his bike. A small vehicle moved slowly across the sands, complete with Rebels in the back, with what appeared to be a mounted Anti personnel missile launcher located on the back. Another missile screamed under the pair of bikes, slamming into the ground behind them. Usually, the Rebels had tech that at least aloud them to lock onto a moving target vehicle, but this group seemed to be as Tech ed up as a group of farmers. The under mounted machine gun barrels on the bike whirred into life, and a hail of large bullets kicked up the sand around the vehicle. The Rebels threw themselves back inside the crawler, hoping the thin metal would keep the rain of shells out. Taking another pass, Varis opened up again, round after round slamming into the side of the crawler. A red mist spurted from the side of the crippled vehicle, cries of pain being picked up by Varis's helmet's audio systems. Signalling for Jax to finish them off, Varis pulled up, and began heading to the compound. Jax swooped his bike in low, leveling up a few feet from the floor. A pair of missiles launched from underneath the bike, slamming into the side of the crippled vehicle and incinerating all inside and around it. Turning back to look at his work, Varis smiled to himself. Nothing but flames, and the sand which had now been turned to glass due to the intense heat from a Thermite-missile.
"Boss, It seems we won't be collecting any of their Tags?" Jax laughed, pulling alongside Varis's bike.
"There will be plenty to take during the assault, don't worry about that Jax" Varis laughed back, revving his bike and speeding away toward the compound.
Joined: Tue Jan 11, 2011 6:55 pm Posts: 73 Location: LI, NY
Name: Paul Vorbeck
Height: 5' 11"
Weight: 176 pounds
Home Planet: Mars
Physical appearance: Green-brown eyes, medium-length brown hair, light skin;
Personality: Somewhat quiet; when in combat, he is calm and composed
Occupation: TPK reservist; works at a local restaurant in his hometown on Mars
Goal: Do his part and go home
Strengths: Marksmanship and endurance/stamina
Weaknesses: Mathematics and commanding
Clothes/armour: Basic dark green infantry combat armor & helmet
Equipment: 4 M94 fragmentation grenades, several blocks of C-4, short-range radio in helmet
Weapons: A27 Assault Rifle (35 cartridges per magazine), M12 .45 pistol (10 rounds per clip), Close Combat Knife, 7-inch
Miscellaneous items: Flares, basic medical equipment
Allegiance: Terran Peace Keepers; Republic of Earth
Feelings on the war: A serious matter but not his concern
Biography: Born into a middle-class family on the quiet "Red Planet", Paul grew up an avid self-proclaimed historian and long-distance runner. He joined the TPK Reserve at the age of 20 and shortly after acquired a job at a local restaurant. When he heard his father was killed while making a long-range business trip to a planet on the Outer Rim, he became resolved to some day change the situation on these far-away, neglected planets. Now, having been called up to fight in the spreading civil war in the Outer Rim, Paul is determined to do his duty and get home as soon as he can.
"Just remember to keep your head, guys."
Yeah, right. "I always do."
The door gently closed with a loud hiss, steam issued to the exterior of the craft. The craft was dark for a moment; then, red lights blinked on. Eerie. Too eerie.
Paul Vorbeck was a corporal in the 4th Battalion of the Terran Peace Keepers. Called up from the reserve just several months ago, he traveled to Ganymede - a major training station and boot camp for soldiers of the Republic - and re-invigorated himself, along with 400 other men who were in a similar position.
Now, aboard the cruiser Referendum, they were about to go on patrol.
The men had not been briefed adequately; they had been told that they were to search the city below for any hostiles, any rebels, anyone trying to disturb the peace, anyone speaking in the name of the Liberation Army. Word had passed through the ranks of the men that recently the rebels had, on a border planet far beyond anywhere Paul had ever been, burned to the ground a village that was apparently innocent and believed to harbor troops of the Republic. According to the reports, over 1,000 people died.
They were only rumors, of course.
And God knows what they're feeding us now that a full-blown war has broken out.
There was a thump, and a throbbing, a loud hum that grew into a roar as the engines aboard the landing craft brought the heavy vehicle into the air. The landing gear was retrieved into the fuselage, the craft turned, and flew out of the hangar.
All around them was blackness - the white and blue stars against a completely empty background of black, black, and, surprisingly, more black. The pilot was gaining speed without increasing the engine throttle - a gentle roll as the craft descended into orbit. Paul took a deep breath, staring forward, emotionless.
The other thirteen men with him were the men of his squad. The rest of the platoon - a full twenty-eight other men - were resting in their bunks aboard Referendum. Paul's particular squad had been chosen to carry out the patrol for the day.
Paul had been in combat but once. Barely a week after completing training and being inducted as a full infantryman of the TPK, he was sent on patrol through a busy city street on the planet Teruvia, in the far "Inner Rim" and one of the closer planets to Earth. As his platoon moved through the streets, they were ambushed by a number of terrorists and gangs. The small ambush turned into a full-heated battle between the largest gang on the planet - having gone unsuppressed for decades - and the police and TPK. Over 100 people died in just two hours of fighting. One of these men were killed by Paul himself. He was moving down the sidewalk, hunched in an attempt to avoid fire, when, while moving by an alley he thought secure, he was jumped by a gang member armed with a large knife. Having dropped his main gun, and unable to use his own sidearm, Paul had drawn his own 7-inch combat blade and had killed the man with five stabs to the abdomen.
He could see the man's surprise, his reaction to the sudden pain. He had dropped his weapon, stumbled back, a ragged breath leaving his lips. Blood had seeped down his side and he clutched at the wounds in a vain attempt to stop the pain and the slow draining of his life. He had looked him in the eyes as he fell to his knees and collapsed in front of him.
It had haunted his dreams since. Almost every night for eleven years.
Several more minutes passed. The blackness outside turned to gray, then purple, and then a light blue. They finally descended with a loud thump as the craft landed. The door clanged open, and the sudden brightness from outside shone into the fuselage, a blinding sight. It soon evaporated, and men began shuffling out. Paul checked his rifle, rolled his neck on his shoulder, and stepped out into the light.
_________________ "Sir, I must inform you that you've both won my heart and the Off Topic." - The Airman
Crow leaned back in his chair and took a swig of his flask. He stared at the cement ceiling of his hideout. It's rough exterior was fitting for the young but grizzled veteran. A maintenance room in the Varus City sewers was his temporary home. Living there for the past week, he was pushed farther and farther behind enemy lines as the ORPLA forces pushed slowly into the heart of the city. He was now positioned a good three hundred yards from the main battle lines. Dust would swirl in the sewers as explosives pounded the city above, and the walls shook with every blast. The lantern that hung from the ceiling spun back and forth as the battle continued, and illuminated the sad sight that was Crow.
Still in full battle dress he leaned against the cold concrete wall and sighed deeply to himself. He tied a torn rag around his left forearm and knotted it tightly. Taking in another long and deep breath he pulled out a syringe filled with Slaught. He bit his bottom lip ignoring the scars on his left wrist and hovered the needle over his skin.
Suddenly he jumped as his hand radio crackled to life,
"Crow!" Crow fell forward in his chair, and recapped the needle, "We're going to need you to assist in Overwatch for an ambush for the VCPD. Two blocks west of your position in the blown out tower you'll meet our contact for the op. I have three other Talons conforming on this assault, so whatever it is these guys are planning is high risk. Double time Crow."
Crow dusted himself off and huffed as he slung his Sniper Rifle of his chest, and fitted his Bushmaster to his back. Throwing on his Boonie, and throwing aside his ghillie. He quickly threw aside the door into the sewers and slammed it back shut. Making a sharp turn he caught a steel bar to the ladder up to the city. Stopping himself at the top, he secured his footing, and using one hand lifted the sewer cap and slowly probed with his rifle.
Once feeling secure he crawled out of his hideaway and under the large chunk of rubble that concealed it. Laying prone in the shadows, he scanned the area for any ORPLA patrols. Suddenly, even to himself, he made a mad dash for a nearby ally way, almost diving into the cover of the shadows in paranoia. Hugging the cover of the wall he shuffled down the alleyway and across one of the rubble concealed streets. Scanning back and forth with his weapon, constantly snapping it into a firing position. It was now where he came across the second road to cross he faced his first challenge. A single ORPLA rifleman stood at the end of the alleyway enjoying a nice long smoke. His camouflage like most of the ORPLA soldiers was a bright wight with a random stripe of grey or two, contrasting majorly with the dark blue and black uniforms that the TPK were using.
Crow crouched behind an overturned dumpster and waited for the perfect opportunity to make his move. Suddenly an explosion sounded somewhere down the road, catching the mans attention, Crow reached forward to strike. One hand empty, the other holding the serrated edge of his combat knife. Covering the mans mouth with his free hand, Crow in one swift and silent motion jerked the jagged side of the knife through the man's throat and covertly dragged him back into the darkness of the alleyway.
Sheathing his blade, Crow hastily made his way across the street, his head on a swivel as he went. Once reaching the tower he believed Io was talking about, he climbed inside through the window, and ran up the crumbling remnants of a spiral staircase. Once he reached the top he was greeted by two men crouched under cover both wearing VCPD uniforms.
"Ey Talon boy, nice of you to show up eh?" Said the one in the right corner, a captain's patch painted onto his helmet, and a short red beard poking out from under his blast shield.
Crow nodded and slumped himself in the corner nearest the stairs.
"Here's what we need you to do boy-o." The commander said pointing out of the window. We've laid a trap for these sorry bastards. All we need you to do kid is over watch from that corner building across this courtyard. Once we spring the trap, we need you to pen fire and nab as many of them as possible. We have boys set up all around the court, so it'll be like fish in a barrel."
Crow nodded, "And how will I be getting to this position?"
"There's a back way between the buildings to our left here, squeeze in through there, and you'll be all set." The Captain replied ducking his head back down.
Crow took a few steps down the stairs and looked back up to the captain,
"And how do you know they're coming?"
"You sure do like asking questions don't you." The captain snapped, "Once all my boys are ready, we're going to set off an ORPLA emergency flare, they'll come swarming in like ants. Now get going!"
Crow solemnly nodded and made his way down the stairs, ignoring how the other officer was staring mouth almost agape at his scars. It was normal for Crow, he wasn't the prettiest of sights.
Feran was sitting in the cockpit of her ship listenign to some music and fiddling with her old pistol from the old times, suddenly her Communication system flickered to life as another vessel, probably mercenary, approacehd from her right side. "This is the Weapon Sales and repair ship Freedom, who are you and what is your business here" She called over the comm to the other vessel
"Hello, this is the mercenary ship Prinis, we took severe damage to our main cannon in the last battle we were in, we will pay handsomly for it to be repaired." was the response that crackled over the intercomm
A few hours later Feran had already replaced all the broken parts on the ships weapons and had already collected her payment, the Mercenary ship was leaving and so she went back to fiddling with her old pistol.