Bork Lazer

Mirage: Tales of Urth (A Quest)

You chose…..

[X] - Cirrus

[X] - An instinct to wander ( At first, it was a forbidden love. Then, it was out of exploration, traveling to the distant land in myth and legends. But then, it was simply out of necessity. Because, apparently, there is no longer a home once I embarked on this journey. I called the world my home, its multitude of people as my people, forfeiting the safety of my birthplace in exchange for the vastness of the world. So now, I wander off to the distant shore and its people. Traveling become the only constant in this life. )

You rolled……..
4,15,16,10

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The source of the interruption approaches you, mechanical whining from every movement it makes. It’s skin shimmers with a metallic luster under the starlight and its single optic protruding out from its bulbous head, whirrs to observe you. Spindly four-toed legs, crouched like a viridian leaper, part the sand softly. It leans its head forward so close that his lens almost hits you in the eye.

“ A long way from your clan, aren’t you?,” The leader croaks in an electronic purr as his sickled arms scratch your skin slowly, pricking it to leave beads of red. You pull your head away only for a hand to grab it and force you to look at him. Others enter your view. They are born of the sickness that the Autarchs prospered onto the phtalo plains, flesh misshapen into hideous proportions with features sewn from other roaming beasts. Chains and collars adorn their bodies. They are armed with sylph-like rifles, latthe barrels wired through with copper and gold.

“ Why have you captured me, synth?,” you hiss.

“ Isn’t it obvious.” The robot walks away from you towards the campfire, seemingly entranced by the lick of flames that lash out from the conflagration. “ This land was built on the source code of my builders. I seek to understand their purpose, free myself from the shackles of my soulware. I have sought freedom of self for others. Now, I seek a new experiment for a Faa such as yourself. Enriching ourselves in the discovery of your Faa flesh to discover what secrets the Titans have hid upon you. Be glad, for we will provide a more merciful fate than the illusion you could find out there in this forsaken desert."

Choose an option

[X] - Summon the last reserves of your strength to break your bindings and crush the bandit cult (Advantage: Strength)

[X] - Tendons are but an illusion. Manuever your feet meat past the bolas and ignore the pain while they aren’t looking and escape. (Advantage: Dexterity)

[X] - Convince the synth that the most logical course of his programming is to become one with the Titans and commit group suicide (Advantage: Ego).

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

SHINING KNIGHT SAMPLE

He is walking.

He sits on a round table. Around him are dead men. Their petrified limbs knock mugs together and he watches in horror as their skin flakes like autumn leaves. His hand reaches out to one on his left, only to part their shoulder in twain. His scream rots the flesh off their skulls. He lies mum in horror as they continue to eat, unaware of their fading bodies, until they leave one by one.

He is walking.

He enters a brothel. Around him is temptation. Whispers of power, glory and perfection beyond compare threaten to ensnare his soul like a serpent. He sees the strings carried in the claws of the Crow above, cawing and mocking with its screeching yawp. Past the maze lies a crystal clear lake, glimmering like a diamond and empty of the things that creep, crawl and swim in ponds.

He is walking.

He stands at an executioner’s block. Around him is shame and below him is the damned. They scream and whisper their last wishes to the furious wind around them. They are like fireflies, darting around aimlessly. His ear catches them and treasures them. A quick prayer is uttered, conversation to distract, before the axe is swung.

He is walking.

He stands over the star daemon. Around him is fire. The monstrosity lies, beaten and blacked. It’s heart is laid bare for him to strike at, yet, he holds still out of confusion. How can mountains quiver in fear? It’s heart seems to still as he stands on it mum with indecision before sheathing his sword. There is no glory to be had here.

He is walking.

He lies on a butcher’s block, stripped of his vestments and his mail. Around him is hunger. Peasants and lords alike in shoulders with one another. He closes his head and holds his head high, lifting his arms outward invitingly. They feast on his body until it is nothing but hollow with marrow suckled out from his bones and yet, his jaw is curved in a grin, for his blood has yielded full bellies and his flesh a thousand smiles.

Walking.

Walking for what?

---

“Justin. Oi, Justin! Wake up!”

Justin awoke to a hand slapping him on the cheek. He groaned as he kicked himself off the ragged little bunk bed. The other residents of the shelter were busy packing their things for another day spent out on the streets, unless they wanted to get kicked out by the staff. He turned his neck, louds cracks erupting from his joints as his spine ached from the stiff mattress. Just as he was dressing on the sleeves of his moth-eaten sweater, Flannegan arrived, dressed in an unmatted bush of grey hair and a brown trenchcoat that smelt of acrid rat piss.

“ It’s our lucky day. ” Flannegan slapped Justin’s back, grinning madly. “ Guards kicked Ben out yesterday for stealing and we get his locker. We finally get extra space between the both of us. “ Justin felt a twinge of guilt in his heart as he stared at the radio. Ben wasn’t the best person but he’d always remembered the man for giving him a pound for lunch last Halloween. “ Least, we have something to listen to in this crappy weather, eh, mate?”

“ Yeah…..yeah.” Justin scratched his head, his voice absent-minded as he folded up his one blanket which served as a bindle for his belongings. The room around him buzzed with riotous activity as staff ushered people out like a herd of sheep.

“ - You see Justin - “

“ - Where’s your - “

“ - honour and duty - “

“ - Remember - “

“ - Your debts - “

“ - Finish it - “

Justin’s head perked up like a deer in headlights, sweat beading down. Did he just hear that? His heartbeat grew louder in the room and all of the sudden, the thunder flashed in the windowsill, filling his vision with a white explosion that blinded him. Then, the conversation in the room returned to normal volume with a slight ringing in his ears.

“ Flannegan - “ Justin said, breathless. “ Did you hear that?”

“ Hear what? Meh tummy grumbling? C’mon, let’s see ‘ere, I got ten - no, twenty. That’ll give us enough for …..”

As Flannegan continued to ramble on, Justin clenched his fist, sucking his breath in, before putting his toothbrush into the blanket and wrapping everything in a bindle.

There was no Camelot.

There was no King Arthur.

His life was still marooned to the past, and the only way to leave it was to forget it.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Honor and Glory

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

S H I N I N G K N I G H T

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^{_{J U S T I N I N S E G H A L L ♦ M E D I E V A L K N I G H T ♦ L O N D O N ♦ J U S T I C E S O C I E T Y O F A M E R I C A}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

---

^{" The quest remains unfinished till I perish, my lady."}

For nine centuries and a half, Sir Justin Inse Ghall has lived as a ghost of Camelot’s past glories, fighting wrong-doers and those who threaten the innocent. From the Battle of Hastings to the battlefields of the Civil War and the trenches of World War 1, this immortal knight has continually fought for the sake of upholding his knightly virtues and the code of chivalry Arthur bestowed upon him, trying to keep his memory alive and all the while, growing more weary.

It is now the 21st century and the Shining Knight is no more. Justin lies away in Soho, trying to drink himself to death in a world that he believes has no longer any use for a knight such as himself. When trouble presents himself at his door, Justin must learn to wield his sword again and rediscover honour and bravery in a world that has moved past his time.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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The myths of Arthurian legends have always intrigued me. They have been deconstructed in works such as Don Quixote, reconstructed in modern retellings such as Dan Lowery’s The Green Knight and retold multiple times with their own slant by multiple authors looking to enter the fantasy genre. More often than not, cynical, mocking deconstructions of chivalric ideals often make up the vast majority of most tales which is more often than not

I want to do a reimagining of Shining Knight who isn’t just a copycat of the ‘Fish Out of Water’ trope but a literal medieval knight who struggles with a constantly evolving world that seems to regard his morals and worldview as antiquated and naive. I’m looking to craft a narrative about how chivalry operates in a modern day context, reimagining Arthurian legends to urban fantasy and also exploring more of Shining Knight who remains a woefully underwritten character in modern day comics.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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NARRATIVE

FRAGMENT I - THE ONCE AND FUTURE KNIGHT

Justin Inse Ghall of the Court of Arthur Pendragon undergoes a journey to discover Excalibur’s whereabouts in the 21st century.

FRAGMENT II - PAGES OF MADNESS

Renewed in spirit as The Shining Knight of Avalon, Justin investigates the workings of a cult with ties to an ancient adversary of the Round Table.

FRAGMENT III - TEN COMMANDMENTS

Words of the Shining Knight’s deeds spread globally and cause pretenders and past knights long buried rise out of the woodwork.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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A sample post that can be used in the IC if you so desire upon acceptance. This post should provide an example of your vision for the desired character. This sample post should meet all standards outline in the rules and additionally include dialogue, mannerisms and other actions representative of your intended portrayal.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.

Mirage: Tales of Urth (A Quest)

[x] - A pair of bolas wound tightly around your blue-skinned ankles. You can make out the whorled tattoos of the sand krakens that your clan has worshipped for millennia.

Choice: Faa Nomad

---

You almost want to laugh at the irony of the situation. A Faa such as yourself dying in the depths of the Vaarnish Interior is akin to a dromadon dying from thirst. Pride and anger then bubbles within your belly. You would not die some honorless death. You would die by Vaa’s grace and rejoin your ancestors in the cyan sands that birthed your flesh and blood.

You tug at your arms, only to realize that they are bound together in a knot of rope that snakes around the wrists, tearing painfully at your skin. Your teeth and jaws gnash together, trying to bite through the gag that is stuffed in your mouth. The only movement you can make resembles a memory of a juvenile sand kraken that your clan heads once captured deep in the Interior.

It’s only after a while that you realise that there is no hope here.

You sigh, reminiscing at your past memories, letting the blue desert speak to you.

The sandy winds whisper your name to you………

Pick one choice and post in OOC

[X] - Ikrush

[X] - Rence

[X] - Cirus

[X] - Roll a d20

[X] - Write in………..

The stars flash above, dying constellations painting a picture of your past. Clouds of comets swirl in an image only you know is true to your heart, the truth for why you left the safety of your clans, it was because….

Pick one choice and post in OOC

[X] - Of forbidden love.

[X] - Of adventure to Gnomon, the Jewel of the Badlands

[X] - Of murder

[X] - Roll a d20

[X] - Write in………

Your thoughts are interrupted by a snide comment that scrambles your mind ofr a moment. Your Vaarnish is well-spoken but many years wandering the phtalo plains of the Vaarnish Interior have left your verbal lexicon lacking. The snide comment repeats itself again, as it grows closer in your ear.

“ Well, look who we have here.”

Roll 4d20 and post result in OOC

Mirage: Tales of Urth (A Quest)

M I R A G E

.....To move in these blue dunes is to be marooned in the past, for I drank from the ikor of slumbering mountains and recited cants of yore to the hums of their quivering star wombs.....

- Last Words of Jhull Khonia, Apostle of the Promised Sun

Red.

Red is what you first see when you come to.

There is no variation, nothing to see. Just a plain expanse of light crimson that stretches from east to west. Hanging in this cloudless frame is a dull circle, bleeding faint light colored like embers.

Then, you look around, your vision wavering and blurry, small shadows around you that you can barely make out moving to and fro. All you can be sure of is the blue around them. By the Titans, it’s everywhere. Dunes that glide and curve around the phtalo plains and in the distance, pale mountains that look li

You try to move your body but something pulls you back, preventing you from any further. Looking down at your legs with growing frustration, you see.......

Pick one choice and post in the OOC.

[X] - A pair of roughshod worm leather heels wrapped together in plasteel chains.

[X] - Frayed rope wrapped around sand-abraded feet, one covered from toe to ankle in polyps and other pocketed with sun blisters

[X] - Sparking wire woven through the steel simulacrum of man feet.

[x] - A grievous rusty clamp bound around your legs and tail

[x] - Stumps that once were your gloriously sized hyphae

[X] - A pair of bolas wound tightly around your blue-skinned ankles. You can make out the whorled tattoos of the sand krakens that your clan has worshipped for millennia.

[X] - A series of worn out hyperelastic myo bands wrapped around two pawed feet covered in spotted, tawny fur

[X] - A long thick chain wrapped around your craggy feet. It’s attached to a crackled marble bust of a former Autarch, their face sculpted to inspire command and fear.

[X] - An obsidian black ontological anchor driven into the ground that binds your two-dimensional form to this plane.

---

Mirage is a dice-based quest based on the tabletop RPG: Vaults of Vaarn. The setting is essentially a dying-earth retrofuturistic science fantasy RP with vibes of Dune, Moebius and Gamma World. People are free to join and leave the quest at their leisure at any time. Their only requirement for participation is to vote an action or dice roll in the OOC tab. Actions are decided based on simple majority whilst dice rolls are decided by whoever rolls first.

Map of Vaarn

Mirage: Tales of Urth (A Quest)

M I R A G E

.....To move in these blue dunes is to be marooned in the past, for I drank from the ikor of slumbering mountains and recited cants of yore to the hums of their quivering star wombs.....

- Last Words of Jhull Khonia, Apostle of the Promised Sun

Red.

Red is what you first see when you come to.

There is no variation, nothing to see. Just a plain expanse of light crimson that stretches from east to west. Hanging in this cloudless frame is a dull circle, bleeding faint light colored like embers.

Then, you look around, your vision wavering and blurry, small shadows around you that you can barely make out moving to and fro. All you can be sure of is the blue around them. By the Titans, it’s everywhere. Dunes that glide and curve around the phtalo plains and in the distance, pale mountains that look li

You try to move your body but something pulls you back, preventing you from any further. Looking down at your legs with growing frustration, you see.......

Pick one choice and post in the OOC.

[X] - A pair of roughshod worm leather heels wrapped together in plasteel chains.

[X] - Frayed rope wrapped around sand-abraded feet, one covered from toe to ankle in polyps and other pocketed with sun blisters

[X] - Sparking wire woven through the steel simulacrum of man feet.

[x] - A grievous rusty clamp bound around your legs and tail

[x] - Stumps that once were your gloriously sized hyphae

[X] - A pair of bolas wound tightly around your blue-skinned ankles. You can make out the whorled tattoos of the sand krakens that your clan has worshipped for millennia.

[X] - A series of worn out hyperelastic myo bands wrapped around two pawed feet covered in spotted, tawny fur

[X] - A long thick chain wrapped around your craggy feet. It’s attached to a crackled marble bust of a former Autarch, their face sculpted to inspire command and fear.

[X] - An obsidian black ontological anchor driven into the ground that binds your two-dimensional form to this plane.

---

Mirage is a dice-based quest based on the tabletop RPG: Vaults of Vaarn. The setting is essentially a dying-earth retrofuturistic science fantasy RP with vibes of Dune, Moebius and Gamma World. People are free to join and leave the quest at their leisure at any time. Their only requirement for participation is to vote an action or dice roll in the OOC tab. Actions are decided based on simple majority whilst dice rolls are decided by whoever rolls first.

Map of Vaarn

The Hourglass Order

Onarr Yidlob

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Interacting With: @dragonpiece

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Isla DÁmato reminded him of the Joruban Republic with its humid climate and the crowds of sailors he’d regularly see whenever he accompanied his father down to the docks, plying their trade and salvaging steel from weary sellswords who were looking to make a quick coin. He adjusted the scuff of his helm, now glowing with a more silver luster than before. He hoped the alterations he made would allow his treasured gift from his brother to weather the briny air.

He ignored the gazes of the onlookers who by all accounts, looked as though they had never seen a dwarf in their entire life. As he listened to Desmond’s plans, he was nonplussed by the air of bravado his classmate seemed to be determined to put on. His head craned towards the location where Desmond pointed to and he frowned. Dorvalish was not a part of his limited repertoire of languages. It would be hard for him and Ingrid to fit in and he severely doubted that she spoke adequate Dorvalish.

“ Thank you,” he replied to Ingrid as they both walked together to the Main. His ears perked up at her plan and he looked up at her in anticipation.

“ Do tell. Does it involve subtlety or something more….loud?”

The Hourglass Order

Onarr Yidlob

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Interacting with: Desmond @Th3King0fChaos, Trypano @A Lowly Wretch, Ingrid @dragonpiece, Eun-Ji @Medili, Carmilla @Animus, Dorothea @jasbraq, Leon @Jumbus, Manfred, Jocasta Re, Hugo Hunghorasz @Force and Fury

---

The morning had already been full of surprises so meeting the paradigm himself, Hugo Hunghorasz, on any other day would have reduced him to fits of prostate bowing in front of a magician of astronomical caliber. Seeing Jocasta, the student that he had met in the local Stresian Guild library, was also quite a shock but that didn’t even come close to the announcements that the Arch-Zeno laid before them like a decree.

30 minutes to prepare? I can barely make a cup of Danzagg in 30 minutes!

This was a task far more suited for a Stresian diplomat or an expeditionary, not a scholar of his trade who was far more used to the bookshelf than traversing the vast opens of Constantia like a gallivanting adventurer. Onarr, however, didn’t have enough will in him to testify against an Arch-Zeno, especially one above him in the societal totem pole of Ersand’Enise. He would just have to put faith in the old mage’s wisdom and hope that he wasn’t sending students to their death in an attempt to make room for classes.

Onarr studied what he had on his person. He was currently in his evening clothes and his cloak, with a block of dried goat cheese and his trusty helmet covering his hideous face along with a few curios on his person. Good items for a day of academic study but completely lacking for excursions in foreign lands. Taking out a piece of parchment, Onarr took out a chunk of coal from his pockets and began to scrawl out a list of items for Jocasta to bring to him.

ONARR’s LIST

A bottle of whale oil
Smithing tools underneath bed
Boar jerky and a bag of nutmeg
Pickled limes
His satchel of Perrenchian currency
His half-completed casting staff
Summer clothes in his wardrobe

After completing his shopping list and handing it over to Jocasta, Onarr walked over the group, recognising a few familiar faces such as Leon Soilare, his fellow first year student who made a stunning impression at the induction ceremony. The storm of conversation and harried planning made the Joruban lose his mind but eventually, he found focus as he began to speak. “ Appropriate disguises will be needed, most assuredly,” Onarr nodded in response to Desmond’s plans, before raising a finger. “ We would need to also adopt the local slang of the region in order to better conform and reduce attention to ourselves and ingratiate ourselves with these vagabonds. I am only familiar with “ Arrrr, me maties” . Does anyone know any other local Mycormish slang?”

Onarr’s mind quickly began accelerating at all the possible items he would need. Whilst he was no stranger to seawater, his helmet was constructed of castle-forged steel. His helmet would most likely rust and fall apart whilst on this mission which would render his magnetic magicks useless. After some consideration, his mind turned to one of the many Stresian Scholars, Ioha, to be precise. Her work on construction of naval vessels was interesting but what was far more interesting were her conjectures on the application of chemical magic in metallurgy…..

“ I believe I require the most change in attire. A helmet such as this will falter in the environment we will be heading to,” Onarr rapped the steel of his helm before turning towards Hugo. “ Would it be possible to acquire a 1 kilogram block of raw zinc? For experimental purposes, of course. “

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

Connie couldn’t tell whether it was day or night by the time she made it back to her apartment unit safely. Evenings and mornings were blended together for TTI medics until they became one and the same. Only a schedule of mandated corpo melatonin formulas and caffeine allowed her to maintain the inhuman circadian cycle required for a TTI operative. Without her corporate pills, Connie’s body ached and screamed, every muscle pleading with her to go to sleep. Her heart pounded like a drum in her head and her bones were jelly. Only pure spite towards Regina’s sympathy kept her awake as she walked in the hallways of the sparse Mega-Building. The vendors were busy wheeling away their carts to take a rest before tomorrow’s hustle and a couple of reefers were puffing out hoops in an abandoned ice rink. Her heavy footsteps echoed through the concrete halls as she tried to recollect her apartment number.

Was it 876…..892…..no, I think it was…..

Her fingers pawed the biometric sensors of a door and it slid open. Stumbling into her room, her sleep-deprivation and punch-drunk state combined to form a potent clumsy cocktail as her hips slammed into the countertop. Bottles of synthol fell onto the ground with dull clinks as she navigated her way through sheer instinct to the bathroom. Her apartment had been a mess ever since she moved in. Bullet shells and cigarette butts were scattered like ants on the apartment floor, her boots crunching them underfoot as she strode forth.

As she splashed warm water on her face, she could already hear ma ma telling her how unclean her room was. How she wasn’t eating enough. That she needed to find a real corpo job instead of working as some back alley mercenary. She guffawed at the thought. If only she saw what being a TT medic really was like. Some merc jobs were easily more stomached than the type of grisly shit she heard employees pulled in companies like Biotechnica or Militech. Her naive self made the mistake of thinking that TTI was different and where did it get her now? Living from contract to contract in a shitty overpriced apartment was hardly the ideal of the American Dream that every newscaster seemed to hump to.

The TT uniform was off in a series of swift practiced motions as she shimmied out of it. With both her hands on the rim of the sink, Connie looked at herself. A stitch of bruises ran up her belly up to the middle of her breasts. Her fingers traced a tiny one, dark and purple, over her heart. The tenderness brought back the memory of how she earned that one five days agao, when a Tsunami nekomata nearly cored through her upper lung. The ablative kevlar plate on her uniform managed to deflect it.Her mind continued to fill in the blanks, as she opened the mirror cupboard. She ignored the sharp peaks of stinging pain as she sutured back in a stitch that she had torn open during her fight on the train.

Possible subdural hematoma…….bruising for five days……….superficial frontal cuts……..sprained wrist…..all in all, not bad, Connie

The in-built receiver in her mirror began to ring quietly. Connie recognized the number. Her fingers hovered briefly over the green ‘ACCEPT’ button, unsure, before pressing it.

“ Mom.”

“ Hui Liang….” Her mother’s pursed countenance could be heard through the receiver. Her voice carried a sharp edge to it as she continued speaking. “ ……Are you well?”

“ Yeah,” Connie lied, grinding her teeth to muffle the yelp of pain as she pulled a shard of glass out of her shoulder. “ ….Sorry if I haven’t called you enough. I’ve been busy at work -”

“ Connie, Frank told me about today. How could you not tell me that you’ve been fired from Trauma Team International for six months!”

“ It’s not like I was fired. I was…” Connie stumbled as she searched for the exact bullshit excuse her supervisor told her. “....put on reserve.”

“ And getting involved with the underworld of Night City? We raised you to be a responsible, law abiding individual, not associate yourself with brigands and hooligans - “

“ Well, I’m dealing with it. O-” Connie yelped as she applied too much pressure on a shell she was pulling out.

“ What was that?”

“ Nothing. Nothing.” Connie palmed one hand over her eye in frustration before replying back. “ Is there anything else you’re here to complain about, ma ma?”

“ It’s your father, Hui Liang.” The softness in her mother’s voice made her skin tingle in fear of the next words.

“ He’s dead.”

BattleTech: A Band of Misfits

Character Sheet

Yero Adder

Age: 31

Gender: Male

Nickname/ Call Sign: Shell Fodder

Crew Position: Infantry Commander

Rank: Colonel

Nationality: Free World Leagues

Biographical History:

Yero was a third sibling in a family of 10 on Ionus and seemed destined to toil on a hydroponic farm for the rest of his life, helping his family harvest and sell their produce to nearby systems in the Inner Sphere. Ever since witnessing his first military parade from the shoulders of his beleaguered father on Ionus, the majesty of battlemechs stomping across ferrocrete streets captured his imagination. At the ripe, bold age of 15, Yero tried hard to enter into Ionus Military Academy to become a full Mechwarrior and reap the glories that he saw in his early childhood. However, a medical examination revealed that a cochlear defect would prevent Yero from being able to wear a neurohelmet and fully pilot a mech without suffering further injuries.

Some would say this was the catalyst for Yero’s descent into depression and full on development of imposter syndrome. However, in spite of his bitter regret, Yero signed up as a member of his provincial military. His talent and fleet-footed mind eventually propelled up the ladder to NCO status, eventually becoming a lieutenant of his own platoon. However, trouble struck during a pirate skirmish where it was discovered that several members of his platoon were running a hashish trafficking operation with the pirates. To protect his platoon (or to flee the military in his own opinion), Yero took the lion share’s of the blame and after a military tribunal, was summarily discharged for insubordination and then, arrested for collaboration with criminal elements in the Free World Leagues. Yero was then sent to live a 10 year sentence in a prison colony on Wendigo.

Spending 2 years in confinement, a mass breakout occurred Yero escaped with a group of convicts in a K-1 DropShuttle and hopped from mercenary to mercenary team across the Inner Sphere, accumulating a sizable group of people who looked towards him as a natural leader. Eventually, his crew of 25 odd people eventually made their way into Marley’s Misfits whereby he was made captain. The high casualty rates of contracts on the mercenary company’s infantry units eventually led to

Personality: Yero is a greedy, selfish man who is leading all the poor souls of the Marley Fusiliers to their doom and will be remembered in history as the single most incompetent infantry commander of the 31st century…..is what he would say to you.

Whilst bearing a confident and witty demeanor on the outside, Yero is wrought with pathological self-doubt and believes that he is not as courageous, strong or the bonafide tactical genius that his men think he is. Humble does not even begin to describe the vast depths of his self-loathing as he takes great efforts to diminish his accomplishments by either crediting them to other individuals, coincidence or just ignorance. Such is his self-loathing that he is prone to going into fetal positions of distress in private moments when he is not being observed and crying himself to sleep in order to keep functioning as a part of his company. He believes that the thought of attaining enough kerenskys to retire on some ocean world far away from the incoming crisis of the Fourth Succession War is what fuels him and not the fact that he is addicted to danger in any way possible.

In reality, Yero possesses near suicidal levels of bravery in combat as the threat of death barely manages to make him blink. In addition, Yero is also a veritable tactical genius, able to understand where his men need to be placed on the battlefield and having a knack for logistics and management. His former military background also gives him He is also a deeply empathetic and compassionate individual towards his own men, putting their own needs ahead of his, which he often regards as evidence of his talents in sociopathic emotional manipulation.

Yero has a habit for boozing up with Yangtze Pale Ale and religiously guards his private reserves from the rest of the mercenary company.

Character Portrait

Infantry Organisation

Over the years since the formation of Marley’s Fusilier’s , the lucrative financial remunerations of contracts attracted all sorts of scoundrels, savages, soldier units and wanderers from across the Inner Sphere. Today, they are known as relative nobodies in a system full of crack commandos and super soldiers. If you need a suicide bomber, someone with a jump pack to sneak up onto a Flea and plant an AV mine into a jockey’s cockpit or an extra liver for an emergency procedure, then, you can call on the Marley’s Fusiliers.

The Marley Misfit Fusiliers roughly consists of over 3 companies worth of armed infantry, numbering roughly 298 personnel in total split between 3 platoons worth of men and women. There is no formal organization, given the fact that multiple squads with different SOPs from across the Inner Sphere, can be found, but intensive pressure and management of Jero has managed to beat some sense of direction into unit cohesion. Each company is responsible for management and battle readiness of their own supplies, loadouts and equipment whilst Jero and other recruit new Fusiliers into the infantry. Mercenaries will regularly switch between companies on a chaotic basis and are given a free degree of latitude on how to conduct themselves.

Slaughterhouse Company

Total Members: 108

Commanding Officer: Lieutenant Rosar “ One-Eye” Indel - A former capellan commando who washed out after a tragic mission during the brewing years of the 4th Succession War. Converted to a highly individualized sect of Omniss during medical leave and became obsessed with bringing peace at any cost by killing those who were unpeaceful. Eventually came into contact with Marley’s Misfits and signed up.

Redshirt Platoon

First to enter and the last to leave when shit hits the fan. Primarily used in first strike operations or used to conduct strikes on enemy positions.

Crimson Squad: Crimson Squad is the oldest squad of the Red Shirts with multiple members having been there since the inception of Marley’s Misfits. Iago. Generally the most well balanced and mentally sane of all the squads in Slaughterhouse.

Bonebreaker Squad: An astounding number of their mercs in this squad have training in HVA insertions and are known for incurring the highest medical fees of all squads post-contract due to their tendency to break all their bones when they land.

Burgundy Squad: Rumors exist that members of Burgundy Squad are cannibals from their common tendency to distribute finger and tooth necklaces from the corpses of their fallen enemies, much to the disgust of the battalion. Otherwise, they’re reliable foot infantry. Just be wary of falling asleep next to a member.

Carmine Squad: Known for boasting members that have the best accuracy and perception which makes them lethal sharpshooters. Members regularly compete with other mercs in darts and billiards and bet ludicrous amounts of post-contract payments in casinos.

Octane Platoon

Adrenaline junkies who are prone to performing daring manuevers in the battlefield in aerial and land based transport vehicles. Suspected of taking multiple joyrides with war material in contracts and damaging company equipment.

Dove Squad - Originally used to be called Falcon Squad in the early years of the Marley Misfits before an inordinate number of mercs with both medical and vehicular pilot training were recruited into the squad. Noted for being potential sadists in Slaughterhouse Company due to their tendency to resort to amputation.

Eagle Squad - Every member of Eagle Squad learns the hard way that no, you can’t dogfight an Aerofighter with a VTOL or a transport carrier, no matter how much shells you lob in their general direction.

Turtle Squad - If you need to be transported somewhere fast on land, don’t rely on Turtle Squad.

Rat Squad - The only infantry unit with enough balls to ride on dune buggies and cycles underneath the crotch of an Atlas mech.

Angel Platoon

The only platoon in Slaughterhouse Company that is trusted with the usage of jump packs in combat. Typically collaborates with elements of Octane Platoon for high velocity HALO insertions. Stimulant usage is notably high amongst this platoon to stave off inertial stress and the nausea of using jump packs.

Thunder Squad - Jump-infantry squad noted for being particularly fond of dropping C8 explosives on enemy positions mid-jump. All mercs are noted to suffer tinnitus and hearing problems

Lightning Squad - Talented in usage of shooting with rifles and weaponry mid-jump. Informal sharpshooting competitions are held between members of Lightning Squad with more than one individual becoming horribly injured in an attempt to break company records.

MORE SQUADS TBA

Saboteur Company

Total Members: 102

Commanding Officer: “Private” Peter Lucell - Former Comstar Beta Adept who was imprisoned for deliberately hiding deliberate sabotage of mobile HPGs on trade vessels as mechanical failures in return for payment by roving pirate crews.

Errant Platoon

Consisting of a combination of foot infantry with combat engineer elements, Errant Platoon primarily serves as Saboteur’s company demolitions experts and primary anti-mech force when the Mechwarriors are unable to get the job done.

SQUADS TBA

Vulture Platoon

Generally a grab bag group of scientists and combat engineers who specialize in acquiring and stealing gear from the battlefield to repurpose it for the mercenary company’s own usage.

SQUADS TBA

Losmen Platoon

Serve as the general gearheads of the company, being able to fix anything with sprockets and judicious usage of plasma welding.

SQUADS TBA

Oddball Company

Total Members: 90

Commanding Officer: “Senior Cadet” Io Shamsing - BACKSTORY TBA

Jungle Platoon

In times of tough situations or when the terrain is unsuitable for vehicular or mechanical reconnaissance, this platoon breast mounted infantry troopers are primarily used for stealth reconnaissance of enemy positions without alerting them of their presence.

Orbit Platoon

Consisting mostly of former commandos from ComStar and the Draconis Combine, they are highly reclusive and elitist compared to the rest of the company, preferring to keep their affairs to themselves. In other words, they're complete and utter loners. Used mostly for contracts in zero gravity enviroments.

Shellshock Platoon

When you absolutely, positively need to bury everyone on the battlefield in caskets, Casket Platoon will reduce the entire battlefield to a bloody mist thanks to the absurd number of field guns in their possession that can raze a mountain into a flat plateau.

Equipment, Weaponry and Mechanized Assets

Slaughterhouse Company

Weaponry

Equipment

Vehicular Assets

“Mother Nest” - Karnov UR Transport AC/2 Variant

Specifications: 2 x Bulldog Minigun, 1 x Armstrong Autocannon, 2 x LSRM Launcher, Dual Interfus 155

“ Dying Light” - AC/2 Fire Support Carrier

“ Galapagos - Goblin Medium Tank

" Kangaroo" - Heavy Hover APC

"Poker" - Ignis SRM Model

“ Rat King” - 10 x Dune Buggies/Skimmers With Varying Alterations

" Excalibur" - Von Luckner Heavy Tank

" Scrapper" - Marsden II-A MBT

" Yin and Yang" - Bulldog AC/2 MBT and Bulldog LRM-20

Sabot Company

Weaponry

Equipment

Vehicular Assets

"Piggyback" - Battlemech Recovery Vehicle

13 x Flatbed Trucks

"London" - Prometheus Combat Support Bridgelayer

"The Hand of Truth" - Oppenheimer Hazardous Material Recovery Vehicle

Phantom Company

Weaponry

Equipment

Vehicular Assets

NOT FINISHED. TO BE ADDED AND EDITED OVER THE WEEK. JUST PUT HERE AS A PLACEHOLDER.