Bork Lazer

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

The plan was impressively thought out, Aroxy admitted. Securing resources was important to even begin attempting their other objectives. He honed in on the projector, his mind listing out chokepoints, points of egress, ambush positions and potential nerve centers to cripple before pausing. They weren’t on the offense. They were retreating. Aroxy readjusted his positions and began thinking of other tactics before his crewmates began to have a different say on the matter.

“ The fucking FPA, Raven?!” Morven shouted out loud. “ They were one of the many reasons we got into this mess in the first place. We could have been more prepared for the Espian Guard stabbing us in the backs if we weren’t distracted by their protest pageant show! Besides, all they’re good for is stinging the bum of the Espian Military or the Crimson Fists before skittering off. Any of them so much as look at them for more than a few seconds and they’re nothing but a greasy spot on the pavement. We don’t need the help of some guerilla layabouts.”

“ Lotta bravado for someone who belongs to the last tank crew in this company, Morven.” Helma groused sarcastically in a slouched slump “ We’re a walking slug compared to every IFV on this planet and our infantry support is nil, man. I’d be open to negotiations with them.”

Morven shook his head in frustration, taking the fuming cigar out of his mouth, and stamping it on the ground with the heel of his boot.

“ I’m just saying - “ Morven’s mouth clamped shut upon Aroxy, sending a pointed glare towards him and the other members of the crew. Aroxy’s gaze softened as he regarded Raven with a measured voice.

“ Pilot Rivers.Whilst I do sympathize with your positions and agree that our capacity for force projection is less than satisfactory, we must consider two facts before we commit to finding new clientele on this planet.”

Aroxy leaned forward and lifted up one finger.

“ Firstly, for six months before the planetary coup, we assisted the Espian Guard in maintaining House Liao’s supremacy against their enemies, including the Espian Free People Movement. They are a coalition of multiple factions and thus, we should consider that they would be in most likelihood antagonistic towards the possibility of diplomacy or being our clients, gentlemen. Enemies of our enemies will still be our enemies in most circumstances, gentlemen. Thus, I recommend we prioritize diplomacy with the remnants of the Governor’s forces before we consider associating with the Espian Free People Movement”

“ Next - “ The second finger was lifted as he looked directly at the colonel. “ - our primary clientele is the Capellan Confederation and no doubt, any contract that assists with the goals of the FPA or the Espian Free People’s Movement would run agrounds against the relationship we have with them. I advise that our main priority should be to evacuate our own assets and not get tangled up in this quagmire. ”

“ However, Lieutenant Morven and Pilot Rivers have brought up a valid point. The FPA or the Heavenly Sword, god forbid, does present an uncontrolled variable towards our operations on Espia and the success of our evacuation.” Aroxy steepled his hands together, awaiting a reply from the colonel. “ What rules of engagement apply to these elements if we encounter them during this operation, colonel?”

“ Shoot and rob their asses the first chance we get - “

“ Quiet, Morven,” Aroxy muttered.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

BRIGADOR - ONE SHOT - PT 2
Aroxy gritted his teeth, eyes peeking out of the portcullis, as beams of ionized plasma flashed over his head. The Goliath’s reactor was audible at its distance as he heard its footsteps boom over in the distance. A searchlight scythed over their line hungrily, illuminating their figures for the mech to target and destroy. Once that was over, Aroxty swore as he heard what sounded like the cracks of lightning on his distance as a spray of lasers came from the Warhammer’s left torso. It was nothing a Von Luckner couldn’t stomach but the insides of the tank turned from sweltering to boiling at all the excess energy being poured into the interior.

The volley stopped and Aroxy watched cautiously as the Warhammer began to walk towards the right, towards where the remains of the paved roads were. Von Luckners were faster than most heavy mechs if they were on good tank country. Unfortunately, the artillery attacks from both the loyalists and rebels had reduced hard-packed soil into loose mulch that clogged up their treads. The difference between their speed was so miniscule that the Warhammer could outspeed them if the pilot bothered to break their reactors.

So, there were only two choices now.

Go down fighting or run away retreating.

The latter was unthinkable for his crew.

So, fighting it was.

“ Takka!” He barked into his crew’s comm channel. “ Fire an AP at its searchlight. If it’s running half-blind, at least, that’s better than nothing at all!”

He heard a momentary grunt of confirmation and the reracking of shells into the turret’s chamber. The turret jolted and Aroxy could see the cannon tilting upwards, accounting for the range. If there was one advantage of fighting a heavy mech, it was that they didn’t move much. Light mechs made ballistics calculations hard because they moved around like a chicken on meth. Heavy mechs like the Warhammer were sitting ducks. However, Aroxy questioned whether even Takka, who could hit a fly at 900 yards while drunk, could hit the mech’s searchlight at this range.

“ Up!,” Morven, the loader, shouted.

“ Fire!,” Aroxy commanded.

“ On the way!,” Takka screamed.

The cannon erupted and the enormous frame of the Warhammer tilted back, rocked by the power of the 125mm bore round. The searchlight flickered chaotically before turning dark one last time. The feeling of victory was short-lived as the Warhammer’s PPE let loose another beam, turning night into day. Aroxy’s heart stopped as he saw that the beam was coming towards them. Merry-Go-Round rocked back on her hull from the blasts, throwing Aroxy off his footing. Warning klaxons that he only heard during his training were blaring as the crew inside was shouting and swearing, fumbling around for tools like frenzied mice.

“ Shit. How bad is it?”

Takka pulled off his helmet and whatever he was looking at made his mouth open and close several times. He sputtered as if searching for the right words before replying in a haunted voice.

“ Our engine’s fucked. We’re moving slower than a turtle at this point, Aroxy.”

“ Dammit!” Aroxy slammed his fist on the inside of the Merry-Go-Round’s hull. He then looked up and saw the Warhammer walking towards their position in an uncoordinated manner. They were walking half-blind. It would be about 20 seconds before they would get pinged on its radar. “ Dammit. Alright. Aim for its left leg joint. We have to get that PPE off our tail.”

Aroxy heard the familiar sound of re-racking as the Merry-Go-Round prepared itself to fire another round.

“ Up!”

“ Fire!”

“ On the way!”

The Merry-Go-Round shuddered from the recoil. Through his telescope, Aroxy saw the round collide cleanly with the Warhammer’s leg. The mech paused, its movements now visibly slowed as it’s left arm-turret sank down, the ruined joint unable to compensate for its weight. Unfortunately, their fire gave off their position as the Warhammer readjusted its PPE and fired towards them.

Aroxy swore, ducked into the crew interior and heard the sound of metal shrieking from above.

“ Goddammit, our SRMs are hit. We only got our main turret left, chief.”

Aroxy was still seeing stars by the time he managed to get onto his two feet. He breathed out, ignoring the taste of blood in his cheek, and looked at Takka who had sweat pouring down his tense face.

“ Alright, aim below at the cockpit and fire an AP round. It won’t do diddly but we have to get that plating off.” Aroxy scrambled up onto the portcullis and waited for the cannon to finish readjust. “ On my command.”

“ Up!”

“ Fire!”

“ On the way!”

Another flash of fire, this time at the center of the Warhammer. The great war engine shuddered as its legs stalled for a moment. The end of its PPE began to glow an eerie blue, ready to send them all into oblivion.

“ Again!” Aroxy screamed, throat hoarse. “ HE this time!”

“ Up!”

“ Fire”

“ On the way!”

The third shell struck true and the Warhammer froze still. The smoke cleared and Aroxy peeked out through his telescope, switching to night vision. There was a rent hole, sputtering with oil, through the lower cockpit of the Warhammer. The great mech swayed on its hydraulic footing, slowly losing power throughout its subsystems from critical damage, before crashing down on the earth with such force that it raised a visible dust cloud in the dusky night.

THe tank crew paused for a moment, frangled nerves and shock outweighing any sense of achievement. Aroxy took the deepest breath he ever had before speaking into his radio.

“ Mech destroyed.”

Melsborow Nights II- A sequel to an interactive horror story

>Reading Motortrend magazine.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

“ He’s quite an enthusiastic chap, isn’t he?,” Galahad spoke amusedly as his newest steed continued licking him in the face. The foal was stick-thin and smaller compared to his other brethren. His legs were reedy and there was not an ounce of fat under his alabaster coat. The rearer said that the foal would die by winter’s end.

Justin contended that he would be a late bloomer. Justin rubbed his mane with gusto before reaching down towards his mouth to give him a bite of carrot he’d snuck in from the kitchens.

“ So, what are you going to call him, squire?” Galahad leaned down next to him, patting his newest steed gently on the fur.

“ You can name your horse?,” Justin questioned. Horses were killed in almost every campaign. It was a miracle if a knight could make it out of a campaign with one remaining only for it to serve as calvary fodder in the next.

“ Proper knights do,” Galahad cheekily replied as he tapped the green crest on his breastplate and on top of the green paint was a red wyvern snarling at Justin. Justin looked at it with a mixture of wonder and jealousy. What would his sigil be?

“ The seers say it provides good tidings for victory,” Galahad said with a smirk. Justin rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure if

Justin blinked, thinking for a while, before smiling back.

“ I think you’ve just given me an idea….”

---

SHINING KNIGHT

Fellowship 2.2.1

---

The paddock was childlishly easy to infiltrate. Justin had seen farming villages that were more fortified than whatever security had been afforded for. It was midnight and the parking lot was filtering out of the latest race, crowds of people abuzz with the mood of conversation and alcohol in the air. Tightening the hood around his head, Justin filtered out of the crowd and spotted a series of chain link fences around a squat square building. He hears the sound of loud neighing and the pungent scent of horse scat and hay. The odor brings him back to days when he used to replace horseshoes as one of his daily tasks as a squire. It’d taken nearly half a noon and by the time he was done, his attending knight’s steed had nearly taken his head off had he not been attentive.

He took a deep breath, stretching his arms out, before crawling on the fence and vaulting over to avoid the cut of the fragmented shards of glass that had been glued on top. He landed on the top soil ungracefully, the mud squelching underneath his weight.

“ Buaidh.” Justin’s timbre was low, a rough burr in his voice. “ Buaidh?”
Only one stable room was lit. He slowly stepped into the light and his breath was taken away. There, underneath the shadow of a flickering incandescent lamp, was Victory. The horse didn’t look as though he had aged a day but the condition he was in disgusted Justin. His mane was uncombed. His fur was covered in flecks of dirt and Justin could see faded skin that were scars from mortar fire or shrapnel Victory had taken during their flight over Verdun. Over his thigh, the number “24” had been painted on with white acrylic.

“ Victory - “ The horse’s ears perked up at his name. “ Victory. It’s me. Justin. I’ve come to get you out of here.”

Victory just looked at him for several seconds and then, snorted disdainfully before returning back to his rest.

“ What?” Confusion was evident in Justin’s voice. This wasn’t the reunion he’d imagined. His steps became slower. “ Didn’t you hear what I said? I’ve come to get you out of here - “

Victory reared his head back, squinting his eyes as if he were insulted, before shuffling away and laying his head on the ground again, his ears twitching in annoyance.

“ You were meant for greater things than this.”Justin had sat on a wooden stool that had been placed in the stable. His once proud steed just inched his body away, as if his presence repulsed him. “ We were friends. We were comrades on the field of war. Does any of that matter to you?”

He then pointed towards two patches of scarred skin on Victory’s back.

“ How could you let them clip your wings?,” He asked quietly.

Victory didn’t bother replying, still pretending to sleep.

“ So, this is the life you have chosen?” Still no response. Justin continued to spur him on, feigning disbelief in his voice. “ Being a simple jousting steed appeals to you? Even a mule sowing a field would be more dignified than - “

Justin managed to duck in time as twin hooves shot up towards his head like bullets. The oak post behind him fractured into a spray of wooden splinters that sprayed on his skin painfully. The entire stable shuddered as strips of the post peeled off it. Justin looked at the remains of the post and then, at Victory as the horse slowly stood up on his fours and stared at him with livid rage.

“ I don’t want to fight you. I came here to talk.”

Victory simply huffed, lowered his head down and brushed the stable floor with his hooves, ready to charge at him. With a pained expression, Justin signed and raised his arms up,

“ Fine. Let us talk in a language we’re both familiar with.”

The Hourglass Order

Onarr prepared to follow the rest of the group to jump the ship. He began shifting magnetic energy under his soles and began to follow behind Ingrid, stepping behind her as rivers of lightning poured out from his foot and burnt away the water, buoying him upwards.

Well, that was what should have happened. Instead, Onarr felt the charge beneath his feet disappear like a drop of water on a hot summer’s day. His boots waggled in the air, trying to grab on for purchase, before he looked around and balked at what he was seeing.

Everything around him was frozen, their expressions transfixed. The oceans around him were still, the lurching waves crested like serpents waiting to strike. Onarr moved his hand around and then, pinched himself to see whether or not he was hallucinating from prolonged underwater asphyxiation. The sharp stab of pain confirmed his hypothesis. Onarr bit his lip, looking nervously around him before a tap on his shoulder interrupted his thought process.

“ By Shune’s saggy nethers, what -” Onarr couldn’t complete his sentence as the spitting image of his brother appeared before him. He had a violet shawl around his neck and his cow-licked blonde hair was roughly cut but a puckish smile under his green eyes made Onarr’s heart skip a beat. He slowly reached his hand out to graze his brother’s cheek as he spoke breathlessly.

“ Karl. How are you here?” He looked down at his brother’s feet which were leather-shod with thick castle-forged bracing around the knees. “ Your legs….you can walk again and is this temporal magic? How- ?

“ A long and fascinating one but that doesn’t matter.” Karl firmly grabbed Onarr’s shoulder and silenced his older sibling’s mumblings with a hug. “ How are you, arakun?”

“ Well - “ Onarr gently removed himself from his brother’s grip, his curiosity overcoming his relief. “ - I don’t understand. Why have you journeyed all the way to the other side of the world?”

“ I need your help. Well, not me.” Karl looked down with guilt, chewing his inner cheek for a few seconds, before staring at Onarr in the eyes. “ There’s no easy way to say this but our parents need help.”

Onarr felt as though he had bitten into a lemon. His head leaned back for a moment to consider the revelation before nodding for his brother to continue.

“ Explain.”

“ Our mother was arrested on grounds of sedition and heresy by the Stresian Guild and our father too by association. I managed to escape from the family homestead before they….they….”

Karl stammered and then took a short breath to recompose himself. His pain-stricken face made Onarr guilty. He had to leave his little brother all alone in Joru to deal with it by himself. He should have been there, but he was more alarmed with what Karl had told him. He could count the number of excommunicated and arrested members on his two hands and even then, his mother had openly denounced herself of the Guild. To arrest former members was to set new and worrying precedents.

“ They set it all on fire. There’s nothing left, Onarr. Nothing.”

“ That’s a lie. The Guild wouldn’t - “

“ Whether it was the Guild or not, one thing is for certain.” Karl’s gaze was now firm as steel, conviction boiling under his eyes. “ Things have changed in Joru ever since you entered Ersand’Enise. I tried to investigate it but to no avail.”

Karl snapped his fingers and before Onarr could react, a transparent sphere appeared to their right. It reminded Onarr of a beaker with how he could see the ocean bending through it. However, he shifted his head to the right and he could see a flicker of green and then, the yellow tufts of the Joru plains. His brother had somehow managed to opened a space-time portal with the same amount of effort it would take to butter a piece of bread.

“The portal won’t hold for long, brother.” Karl gritted out, his tone measured. “ You need to make your decision now.”

Onarr looked at the portal contemplatively and then, towards his brother.

“ You’re asking me to leave Ersand’Enise. With the news you told me, what is left for us in Joru?”

“ Only what we make of it, arakun.” His brother grunted as a drop of blood slid out of his nose. “ We cannot tarry for much longer. What is your choice?”

“ You, of course.” Onarr then scratched his chin before taking out a piece of coal. “ But could you break the fabric of reality long enough for me to finish writing this note?”

---

As you looked around for Onarr, the Joruban dwarf was mysteriously nowhere to be seen, once there and now gone. Then, you noticed something within your pocket. Taking it out, it appeared to be a message hastily written in charcoal.

Dear compatriots,

I’m afraid that duty has compelled me to return back to my homelands. Trouble has come onto my doorstep and I must confront what I tried to leave behind in my past. I wish you all fortune in your quest and may you become great mages.

May happenstance favor us to meet again in good tidings.

Onarr Yidlob.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Once you enter a tank, there is no bailing.

You accept the reality that you are encased in a plasteel sarcophagus that could explode at any moment . Every second spent on the battlefield could be your last. You accept the fact that statistically, you have a 67.5% chance of dying on the battlefield when you enter the cupola. You accept the fate that your life is now tied to your crew in a symbiotic relationship. There is no you. There is only the crew.

That is the creed of a tanker.

---

“ Hey, watch it! Watch it! You’re going to ruin the rifling if you push that down my baby like that!”

“ Fuck off, Helma. Remember who was the one who shot down that Locust while you were trying to unjam your gun?”

Aroxty groaned at the morning call of arguments that incidentally acted as an alarm. As much as he wanted to discourage it, silence was never a strong factor of discipline in his crew. The sudden bout of commotion made him stand up too fast, causing his head to collide with a coolant pipe. His forehead aching, Aroxty grumbled as he scratched his itchy butt in the cramped confines of the Von Luckner before slowly taking out a canister of Brace and taking a whiff. The stimulant ignited the nerves in his brain as he slowly recollected where he was.

They were on Espia.

Correction.

They were on Espia and were the only tanker crew left remaining in the Green Knights.

God, what a shitshow.

Aroxy opened his lapel pocket and took out a scruffy old photo . It had been taken during a campaign Noxus where the Green Knights assisted the local planetary governor in defending their transport from pirates that sought to steal their agricultural produce. The other tankers had insisted on taking a group photo after they had downed a squad of Atlas’s in an ambush. All of them together were standing on top of a cockpit of a downed Atlas.

Montgomery was the seven foot blonde to his right with a big grin. Aroxy only remembered his screams of pain on the radio when the Fists had napalmed his prized Bulldog with him on the inside.

Ludmila’s scowl under her thick bush of ginger hair made his heart twinge with pain. The last he saw of her was seeing her Manticore being swallowed in a shower of artillery fire.

Lastly was Gregor. The poor four-eyed bastard made the mistake of opening his hatch only for an enemy Mech to turn his upper torso into mincemeat.

Aroxy sighed, burying the grief in favor of stoicism, as he refolded the photo and put it back into his pocket with a longing gaze.

“ You motherfucker. That was my favorite wrench!”

“ Hey, stop that! Let go, you bitch!”

Of course, his crew had to ruin the ambiance. Aroxy stood up, brushed a wisp of hair off his brow before climbing out of the porthole and inspecting just what the hell was causing all the ruckus.

Merry-Go-Round, their crew’s Von Luckner, was parked on the periphery of the camp, near the edge of the cave where most of the Green Knights were hiding or what was left of them. Helma Etom, the crew’s engineer, and the Morven, the crew’s gunner, were engaged in a scuffle whilst Takka, the assistant loader, was leaning on the Merry-Go-Round’s side with an amused smile. Helma had her teeth buried in Morven’s hair, rabidly trying to rip it out whilst Morven was busy trying to aim his fist towards the engineer’s throat. Both parties paused as soon as they saw Aroxy exiting the tank and immediately tried to begin disentangling each of their limbs from one another like earthworms.

“ Ladies,” He nodded towards Helma who was currently spitting out strands of Morven’s hair. “ Gentlemen.” Morven had an expression of embarrassment on his face as he stepped away from Helma.

“ I see you’ve been busy while I was trying to take a nice nap.” Aroxy slammed his fist on the driveguard affectionately as if the old war machine was a dog. “Give me a sitrep.”

Takka stepped forward, his hands squeezed together, as he regarded his commander coolly.

“ Well, sir, do you want the bad news or the good news?”

“ Let’s start with the bad.”

“ Well…” Takka looked down at his clipboard. “ ….our last engagement with the Fists shook us up pretty bad, sir. We’re missing half of our frontal plating and a quarter on our sides. We’ve had to make due with replacement armor.”

Aroxy raised an eyebrow.

“ Define replacement.”

This time, Helma piped up, raising her hand with a sheepish look.

“ Well, sir, we had to requisition the mobile cafeteria and break it down.”

Aroxy blinked several times in disbelief before looking at the Merry-Go-Round closely. The plasteel and ferrocrete armor had sheets of steel bolted on it from which Aroxy could still read a few words that had been painted on which were “ FREE FOOD” and “ RATIONS.”

“ So, what you’re saying is that you broke down the company’s only active Growler into ablative armor?”

There was an audible five second silence before Takka spoke up nonchalantly.

“ Yes.”

“ Well, second-lieutenant - “ Aroxy gave a laser-pointed stare towards Helma who shrank under his gaze.
I don’t know whether to praise you for your ingenuity or your idiocy. What’s the rest of the bad news?”

Takka continued reading out the list boredly which was in direct odds to the severity of the damage report. Aroxy internally cringed as he wondered how the hell the Colonel was expecting them to take on a single mech, much less an infantry squad, with the condition the Merry-Go-Round was in.

“ …And that’s not even counting the hit to the engine. I’ll be surprised if she makes it for the next 50 klicks or so without blowing a gasket.”

“ I’m surprised there’s still some good news left after all you said to me.”

“ Well, we’ve got some good news, sir.” Takka raised two fingers up. “ Our armaments are still active and our SRM pods are miraculously intact.”

“ Which I would be grateful for if only we didn’t have enough ammunition to barely smoke out an infantry platoon.” Aroxy nodded for Takka to continue. “ And what’s the next piece of good news?”

“ The tea machine isn’t broken.”

“ Well, that’s reassuring.”

Their discussion was then stopped short by the familiar sound of the Colonel’s shout echoing off the cave walls. The camp around them began to assemble towards the briefing area. Aroxy rolled his shoulders as he beckoned his crew to line up and follow him.

“ C’mon, lads. Let’s hear about what suicide mission the Colonel has for us this time.”

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

DISPOSABLE HERO ONESHOT: DAVID VERSUS GOLIATH PT 1

Year 3014, Loric

On the plains of Loric, blue grass and dirt were reduced into featureless mulch by tonnes of ferro-fibrous and plasteel as the column moved through the battlefield. Aroxy opened up the porthole and looked out from the turret at the devastation around him. It was an abattoir of rust. The Von Luckner rolled past the remnants of a Locust cockpit, stripped off its gangly legs and buried in the earth. Beyond that, he could still see smoldering steel wrecks, embers flickering His mouth was in a grim frown as he heard the sound of scavenger birds cawing in the distance. He sniffed the air and cringed. It was still thick with the smog of slaughter and he could still taste the iron tang of blood and cordite. Artillery and missiles had pummeled the hills into a flat expanse and there were only droplets of green in the mountains of grey and red.

All of this because some brotherly spat.

Aroxy took out his canister of Brace and inhaled it deep, letting the vapor wash away his stress. It was relatively silent. They were to meet with Kappa-5 at the LZ and launch an attack on a requisition outpost that the rebellion was using to stage its attack on Loric. They were there to sweep up whatever stragglers the Mechwarriors left behind. It wasn’t the most glamorous job but the men were glad to be alive and silence was preferable to the sound of SRMs whistling over his head and barking out commands every second.

Then, the lead tank in the column evaporated in a ball of molten steel and fire, causing the entire line to come to a halt.

“ Disperse! Disperse!,” Aroxy’s mind was laser-focused now as he barked out into the platoon comm. The column fractured, the tanks scattering like ants. Several more bright flashes erupted, black dots skittering across Aroxy’s vision even through his protective polarised goggles. It took several moments for him to determine the direction of fire. He turned his head to the foggy horizon and his breakfast nearly vacated out of his guts at the sight of the 25 foot tall metal behemoth that he saw.

“ It’s a Warhammer. I repeat, it’s a goddamn Warhammer!”

The comm chatter went silent for one second. Aroxy could almost hear the audible grinding of gears in the minds of the men around them. They were expecting a light class, maybe, a medium at most. Facing a Heavy-Class in a tank. Before Aroxy could continue, the radio chatter began to fill with panic and pure terror.

“ Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck”

“ Well, it’s been nice knowing you, gentlemen.”

“ Screw this. Marik doesn’t pay me enough C-Bills for this crap!”

Aroxy watched in dismal horror as the Scorpion to his left stalled and the crew began pouring out of its portholes like rats fleeing from a sinking ship.

They were so fucked.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Character Sheet

Character Name: Aroxty Sameve

Callsign: Steel Rain

Character Archetype: Consummate Professional

Character’s Guiding Motto: " Have a plan to kill everyone you meet."

Character’s Fatal Flaw: Egoistical

Character’s Expertise: Engineering, Stealth, Strategy

Nationality/Allegiance: Free World Leagues / Disillusioned Expatriate

Background: Born in a middle class merchant family, Aroxty's dreams of pursuing academic study in LosTech archaeology were dashed by the civil war bringing strife to the Free Worlds League. Initially conscripted as an infantry, Aroxty eventually rose up to the ranks to becoming a tank commander in charge of his very own crew of oddballs, misfits (and cannibals). Upon conclusion of the civil war in 3015 and with nowhere else left to go, Aroxty and his crew left the Free World Leagues and pursued mercenary work until they came into contact with Gawain's Green Knights.

Vehicle: " Merry-Go-Round" - Von Luckner MBT

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Character Sheet

Character Name: Aroxty Sameve

Callsign: Steel Rain

Character Archetype: Consummate Professional

Character’s Guiding Motto: " Have a plan to kill everyone you meet."

Character’s Fatal Flaw: Egoistical

Character’s Expertise: Engineering, Stealth, Strategy

Nationality/Allegiance: Free World Leagues / Disillusioned Expatriate

Background: Born in a middle class merchant family, Aroxty's dreams of pursuing academic study in LosTech archaeology were dashed by the civil war bringing strife to the Free Worlds League. Initially conscripted as an infantry, Aroxty eventually rose up to the ranks to becoming a tank commander in charge of his very own crew of oddballs, misfits (and cannibals). Upon conclusion of the civil war in 3015 and with nowhere else left to go, Aroxty and his crew left the Free World Leagues and pursued mercenary work until they came into contact with Gawain's Green Knights.

Vehicle: " Merry-Go-Round" - Von Luckner MBT

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Verdun is on fire.

Smoke rises out of great pits rent in the earth, strewn with bodies,bullet shells and ashes. Mass graves don’t even begin to describe the scale of the carnage Justin sees as he whips the reins forward. His steed neighs nervously, hooves coming to a crawl in front of the shelled neighborhood.

“ Easy there, my companion,” Justin rubs the horse’s cheek affectionately, trying to calm him down. The trotting becomes faster from its once inexorable pace. Good. They had to get there in time before the Germans -

The sound of the air screeching is the only warning he has before he is sent flying off his horse along with the entire block being leveled to a pulp. He hears the sound of frantic whinnying. He tries to move but his ribs dig into his chest like spears when he tries to raise himself up. His ears are ringing and -

---

SHINING KNIGHT - FELLOWSHIP 2.1.2

---

“ - Oi, Justin. Wake up! I said, wake up!”

Flannegan’s hand slapped his back heartily. The sounds of bustling conversation and faded pop music combined to awake Justin from his slumber. Wiping away the drool on his lip, Justin realized much to his embarrassment that he’d fallen asleep on the bar counter. Flanagan had invited him to a night out in the pub to celebrate his new promotion. He accepted the invitation in spite of the fact that alcohol and deep drinking had lost its effect on him in the 19th century.

He downed the last dredges of ale in his tankard before observing the television above that everyone paid rapt attention to. The reception was horrible, resulting in grainy images that were cut off by bursts of static randomly. Justin could make out a racing track as the camera zoomed in on a line of eight horses with their riders on the back. The sound of gunshot erupted and Justin’s ear nearly bled at the roar of excitement in the bar, cash held in white knuckled grips as attendants were both praying and gnashing their teeth at the animals they had bet their entire life’s fortune on.

“ Beggar’s Chance is coming fast behind with London’s Bridge behind her. We’re rounding around the last turn now. And, what’s this!” The announcer’s voice became ecstatic as if he had witnessed a miracle in front of him “ Winged Victory is leading! I can’t believe it. Another tally in the twenty year long streak - “

It was a white palomino horse that broke through the line, outstripping the other horses. Whilst the other bar attendants were busy alternatively celebrating their wins or mourning their losses, Justin stood up and observed the winner of the race. He noticed something odd that others didn’t. The rider wasn’t in control of the horse. He was a spectator, merely making an illusion that he was controlling the horse, pulling the rein in unnatural ways and spurring the horse onwards when it didn’t need to.

“ Flannegan, who’s that?”

“ Winged Victory? Crowd favorite. He’s been on the scene for about two decades at this point. “ Flannegan quirked his eyebrow in thought and took a long drag from his beer. “ Surprising he hasn’t retired yet. Most horses retire at 10. Bless his trainer for maintaining that stallion as long as he did.”

Justin considered Flannegan’s words for a silent minute before sliding his bar tab forward and pushing himself off the stool. The trainer wasn’t responsible for that horse’s long life. Something else was.

“ Where are you going?,” Flannegan called out.

“ To find an old friend,” Justin replied back, pushing through the crowd and buttoning his trenchcoat to wander into the cold night.