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  1. Posted 26 Jan 2016 - 1709

    "Look alive, Ladies... we hit the DZ in two minutes." The pilot states over the comms system. Mareth takes his headset off and heads to the door, Tsarg following suit. All of a sudden, Mareth feels a vibration in his suit, then the plane begins to shake a bit.

     

    "Hey, no cell phones on this flight!" the pilot yells to the back. Mareth quickly reached through his suit and disabled the call, then waved up to the front of the plane. The plane started to ease up and steady out. The pilot looked back and yelled. "One minute to jump!"

     

    Mareth looked back at Tsarg and winked like, "Aww yeah, I live for this shit." then looked to the door and opened it. A yellow light turned on signifying there was thirty seconds to jump. Mareth knew who the phone call was from. He knew Julie knew something was up. She normally didn't call this much while he was on assignment. Mareth took a deep breath to clear his thoughts and to focus on the mission.

     

    Green Light.

     

    Mareth flung himself out of the door and into the sunrise over the New York City skyline, Tsarg following in behind him. The air was cold, freezing to be exact. Mareth continued his freefall until his altometer alarm went off and he pulled his primary rip cord.

     

    Nothing.

     

    Mareth continued in freefall "That hasn't ever happened before." he thought, as he pulled his secondary

     

    Again, nothing.

     

    "Oh shit."

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    blog-0275712001494337247.jpg

    Set Bonus Ideas: http://elderscrollsonline.wiki.fextralife.com/Heavy+Armor+Sets

     

    Alessia's Bulwark Set

    set_line.jpg

    LEVEL 50 champion.png CHAMPION 160

    (2 items) Adds 1935 Physical Resistance

    (3 items) Adds 1064 Max Health

    (4 items) Adds 1935 Physical Resistance

    (5 items) When you take damage from a melee attack, you have a 15% chance to reduce attacker's Weapon Damage by 10% for 5 seconds

     

    Night Mother's Gaze Set

    set_line.jpg

    LEVEL 50 champion.png CHAMPION 160

    (2 items) Adds 688 Weapon Critical

    (3 items) Adds 129 Weapon Damage

    (4 items) Adds 688 Weapon Critical

    (5 items) Critical attacks also reduce the target's Physical Resistance by 2580 for 6 seconds.

     

    Hunding's Rage Set

    set_line.jpg

    LEVEL 50 champion.png CHAMPION 160

    (2 items) Adds 688 Weapon Critical

    (3 items) Adds 967 Max Stamina

    (4 items) Adds 688 Weapon Critical

    (5 items) Increase Weapon Damage by 299.

     

    Ashen Grip Set

    set_line.jpg

    LEVEL 50 champion.png CHAMPION 160

    (2 items) Adds 1064 Max Health

    (3 items) Adds 129 Weapon Damage

    (4 items) Adds 688 Weapon Critical

    (5 items) When you deal diret melee damage, you have a 10% chance to breath fire to all enemies in front of you for 1544 Flame Damage. This effect can occur once every 4 seconds.

  2. As the broken static-y sound laced with a base metallic whoosh that overwhelmed my ears subsides, I'm left with silence. Eerie silence....suddenly I found myself trying to scream, but no sound came that I could hear. I looked around and saw nothing but could tell I was moving. I felt no breeze... heard no sounds...

     

    "So this is what it is like to die," I thought, as the sudden realization hit me. I looked around and relaxed taking in the silence. After I listened for what seemed to be a long time, I began to think back about my life.

     

    "Pretty sad existence I chose to incarnate in it seems. What was it that caused me to die I wonder...." as I closed my eyes. Images of my ship and crew throughout time came flashing into my head,.. all those little events that no one really too much notice of didn't seem so ordinary anymore. I smiled so broad it hurt.

     

    My eyes sprung open, "wait, I thought to myself, I can't hurt if I'm dead" I thought to myself. I saw light coming from behind me and began to actually panic.

     

    A slap of a firm grip took my arm, that jolted me in a terrific scare. just as my head jerked around I saw an odd lighted shape near me in the darkness that said,"I'm here Mother, wherever you go, I go...because I want to. You are family, and I see now." The dark shape pulled me closer and I recognized him in his assassin form.

     

    I wanted to cry at the care I heard in his voice masked by the robotics. I held close to him as he wrapped his body around me wondering if he was going to stop. "If I am do die by a hand, I would rather it be yours" I thought to myself as I slammed my eyes shut tight overwhelmed and confused.

     

    "I will protect you Mother, it will be okay. It's my turn to save you, like you did me so many times."

     

    "So many times..." I thought confused again just as I was starting to sort things out. "I just bought a robot that I saw potential in and gave you the chance to make up your mind"

     

    "It took many ordinary moments do that and more Mother."

     

    "Right! I forgot I can communicate with him with my thoughts for some strange reason and told him, "That's what....

     

    ....Family is for," he finished.

     

    Looking through the cracks between the parts that were holding me, "Do you know where....."

  3. mutly
    Latest Entry

    2340-<REDACTED>

     

    <REDACTED>

     

    *@)$&^%!

     

    <FURTHER REDACTION OVERRIDDEN>

     

    >Sorry Janice. It had to be done. I know you can change it on your end, and it would save you some grief. I wont tell if you wont. This is mostly for this crews sake. I will be sticking to secrecy protocols in this, well as best I can. I like to think I learn from previous mistakes. but we will see.

     

    Where to start. My updates have been, well lets call it delayed, for many reasons. One of which I am still trying to work out. May have to dig into some of my old Psych texts to try to help me work out. always good to have reference material on hand. anyway. travel as usual. minor home coming of departed crew. minor reminiscing, restocking and back out into the black. First blow for me personally, new crew member with fatal illness unknown to them. it was like an echo from the past that damn near knocked me out. but in some ways I think it may of helped me be ready for what followed. While I was tearing apart every scrap of information I had on mechalus, life on this boat continued as normal. I had the puzzle of, what I have been calling electroportation, show up and keep me from obsessing over the same unhelpful facts. minor irritant to ship and crew, helpful balance and light to my mountain of dark. Well he was. First humanitarian mission complete. We dropped a sub-commander off on her home world. Stopped by a system of death that just ended up being an abandoned looking prison planet of some sort. We may want to look into that if we havnt already, by the way.

     

    Then the last humanitarian mission, done while exploring a number of the crews ideas, mine included, went pear-shaped.

     

    Basic summery. I cant yet focus on the numbers. About half of the surviving crew of a forgotten frigate derelict were rescued from said derelict. rest presumably vaporized or collected by the "overseers" of the system. Not before they ripped us a few new orifices. There was, who knows how long, the torturous moments knowing there is absolutely nothing but the rush of air violently trying to equalize with the the entirety of the vacuum of space between you and that same vacuum. And no, it doesnt get any easier with repetition if anyone was wondering. But even that wasnt my tipping point. Nor were the moments I had to walk past those that were obviously outside of my ability to save. Some kind of psychic bondo that I assume was done by the captain is what allowed me to switch between those two moments by the way. A sacrifice for absolute strangers. The smarter move that most I have flown under would of, and yes have taken, was to seal off the effected area and damn those on the wrong side. Having been one of those who have somehow gotten to emerge from the hell that is held back by a few inches of steel, I have to say I approve. The dissidents argument, a few more might of lived if she had sealed the door the moment of breech. Maybe, but what if I again had found my self on the wrong side of the divide from heaven, which even a raging inferno would be compared to the cold black. If only it was once that I have almost died, envious of fire, at least IT can breath. My scars should prove to you my belief on the subject.

     

    Back to the dissidents argument. After the stabilizing of the atmosphere, among the broken and failing forms, I was able to pick out six husks I thought I might be able to revive. looking now at my supplies list, I eased more "last moments" than I realized. Anyway. Five more lives were saved this time, and even one more death easier for the dieing is worth it.

     

    Here I go rambling again. I really need to work on this.

     

    In the chaos of decompression and bodies, I dont remember the exacts of what was said, I said something along the lines of not waiting to see if we can make it to the gate, lets get the hell out of here. We sidestepped, and got sucked in by some psych eating planet. Giant bugs, projections of the captain, and crystals that appear to siphon psy power. Oh yes, and exploding picks. I need to find a sesheyan expert and see if this accident proneness is a racial trait or just one specific to this one, but of the crew he is the one on my table the most, and he isnt the one dieing of a medical condition!

     

    We found enough raw materials to make repairs to the ship and the professor was able to calculate our reverse trajectory to get back to where we came from. Before sidestepping back the captain saved our coordinates to the computer which I have added along with the professors calculations as an attachment to this file. The main reason for this is the fact that once we hit drive space, the captain and her bot both disappeared from the bridge in a flash of static. True they could be atomized and spread in our wake through drive space, but with the pull that planet seemed to have, it is just as likely in my uneducated but experienced opinion, that they were psychically puled back there.

     

    A handful of our survivors as I have been calling them decided to stay behind on the planet. another couple handfuls have joined the crew. It also sounds like some are going to want off when we next make port. we will see what happens there. I gained two assistants. Both appear to be very knowledgeable in the basics. In this case I believe their lack of technological knowledge will actually come in handy with how things end up around here. While I was buried in mechalus blueprints, issues with Thoth came up again. When asked by my assistants, I really should write down their names somewhere, which of them should go I just blurted out "the uglier one". When I next came up for air from my terminal I saw that they had somehow worked out between themselves which one that was. Neither of them is what I would call ugly, specially compared to me. But they way she dealt with Thoth very much was so. I admit. I loved it. I even think she likes her new nickname. we will see how long it is till I get tranqed I guess.

     

    Speaking of the mechalus, Yargblat has command of the ship at moment. I was ready to step into the position if needed, but I would of been lieing if I said I was looking forward to it. He has a ship being built. so I may have to do so in a matter of weeks. Overall crew acceptance with more than was expected touchiness, specially from quarters it was not expected. That will all show up in my continued reports.

     

    chronometer indicates that, if my guess is right, we should be leaving drive space soon. headed for bridge. will report more when I can.<

     

    <EoF>

     

    <supplemental>

     

    >Lets see. Sidestep worked. We came out in the debris field of the frigate. The was a chunk of ship left, we couldnt see any signs of life before we detected ships from planet on approach, so we left. only incident on way to El Cancri was us docking without permission. Glad the bay was empty.

     

    I took a chance and invited "the uglier one" with me to see the local doc whom Yargblat had dropped off deceased mechalus he had come across. and to visit a brothel after. Figured if nothing else it would add to the image I am building. We bought everything the coroner was selling, I believe one time even paying more than he asked. So hopefully we have everything, and even more hopefully I can find something in all that data to help. As usual, the "brothel" ended up being a public terminal to upload these encoded reports to the grid. I cant tell if "the uglier ones" grin is relief at the lack of previously mentioned pack animal and mute at the brothel, or if maybe she thinks I am joking about what I do around here.

     

    Now, in summery. I will continue my reports. That is what I agreed to do. But my primary focus, which does align for the most part with what was asked of me, is to keep this crew and this ship as held together as I can for its captains return. As it stands, we can not go back for her, she may not be able to come back to us, and you now know where she would probably be if she is still alive. For the first part, I overheard a good idea and will try to help Augie look into finding a way to manually over ride or control the normally psi activated functions of the ship. For the second thing, I will try to keep the ship and crew whole, and maybe she will find a way back with her link to it. Lastly, the reason for the filter override. If I die in the attempt to help with the first two, and nothing has been done by you, they will know of it.

     

    That is all, back to work I go.<

     

    <EoF>

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    This is a thank you for the great experience.

    It was the first time Dragon GM'd a game,

    First time all of us ever played the pathfinder system,

    And the first time I have ever done anything of a true hybrid class,

    and the first time for all of us trying to deal with the technicalities of crazy ass systems that don't always fit.

    We all learned together and had a blast.

     

    I might put some of our journey's here in the future but for now just wanted to thank the group for a great time and great lesson that there is still hope in this world that people work together to help each other and bend together. Most of my gaming blog time goes to Alternity. But if this type of thing keeps up, I might have to split the time up a bit.

     

    It was an amazing experience and a great life reminder it still exists.

     

    ~ ish (Karma Healshot)

  4. A body in motion remains in motion until acted upon by an equal and opposite force. But what if that motion is more of a slow shuffle followed by a hunched lumber? What is equal and opposite of a slow shuffle? How about a deadly disease? YES!!! I am well aware of the concept of self-fulfilling prophecies and psychosomatic aggravation of minor conditions...but I've also melded with a LOT of shady items. In retrospect, my hands are like little dirty whores. Whores who are long overdue for their checkup and now have to pay the fiddler. I don't know how it happened, but it did. This flesh is dying. I've contracted some type of terminal disease and now have just over a year before this flesh fails me. Again? What once may have been a notion, or another random fleeting thought is now solidified. The deal is sealed. I have 15 months to prepare Leroy to be the new me.

     

    He's going to need some serious upgrades in the processing department. I can handle upgrading the mechanical elements once he's me, or I'm him, or we are one...or something. Oooooh!! What about a smaller, detachable entity that may be more ship-friendly that can hook up to Leroy for external operations!!! Yes! Well, I've got a while til my ship is ready and the Walker will be doing some travelling, so this gives me time to draft a plan for my new body and get Leroy calibrated and make the necessary adjustments to his frame.

     

    A tiny part of me hoped this wouldn't be a necessity, but it is what it is. This may not be quite the dramatic conclusion my ancestors came up with, but hey, it's just me out here. There's no Mechalus gestalt taking place anywhere nearby and, if there is, I didn't get the memo. No great racial counsel or scientific thinktank on the Progression of our Proud Race, no bipartisan committee. It's just me. So fuck it. Here "we" go.

  5. blog-0453513001437005829.png

    DAY 1

    Sam just got me to join this crew of miss fits when I made it to engineering I started my normal scans of the hull this ship maybe old but it is in great condition its strange to see that. went digging threw the had drives found junk but i'm not sure what type so I will save it for now. Engines seam to be in great condition as well we have a gravity well for the engines.

     

    DAY 1 personal notes

    The captain sent me and Sam to talk to the station manager I think she wanted me on shore leave to stop my tail from hitting anymore of her things. The station manager had no real work for us but they need more food and metals to make repairs. Also I felt somewhat insulted by her, she said that she didn't want to let me touch any part of her station but she did give me a good explanation why.

     

    DAY 2-4

    While we are on 5 day trip I decided to see if the ship had some sort of v.i. or a.i. that could help with jobs on the ship I didn't find anything.

     

    DAY 2-4 personal notes

    To tell you the truth I had no clue what I was looking when for the v.i/a.i. but I will find it one day. on a side note on all of this i got some good sleep while we where going threw that gate

     

    DAY 5

    We have arrived at the Procyon system I saw Sam run a few scans and I got to help with it we found nothing and the asteroid belt was just as bad.

     

    DAY 5 personal notes

    Tucker over shot the gate by 5 days all I have to say about that is what the fuck

     

    DAY 6-7

    Nothing in engineering has happened yet so I guess the ship must be in really good condition seance we made a first jump threw the gates with no problem at all.

     

    DAY 6-7 personal notes

    On this jump I have nothing to do I have to much pent up energy i'm bouncing off the walls

     

    DAY 8-9

    Engineering is still all clear

     

    DAY 8-9 personal notes

    I'm going crazy I hope none of the other crew mates sees that.

     

    DAY 10

    We just got out of the gate jump engineering is still all good and I tried to find the v.i/a.i. with still no success

     

    DAY 10 personal notes

    I am soooo happy to be out of warp my mind is just wound so tight that I can't sleep all that well I think I am starting to twitch I think that might be a bad sign.

  6. Mareth made his way through the terminal to the Barber shop. He sat his duffel down inside of the door as he passed by the Red and white striped pole. This was the only place that he’s ever seen a Barber Shop that had one. It gave it a very old-time feel.

    “What’ll it be, buddy?” The Barber looked at him and said.

    “I need a High and Tight with a clean shave. It’s been way too long since I’ve had either.” Mareth replied.

    “Have a seat in the chair,” the barber replied. “There’s no wait.”

    Mareth sat down in the seat and the barber grabbed a set of clippers and went to work. Mareth hadn’t had a haircut in months, so the mounds of hair fell like puddles of oil in the shipyards. His hair, a deep, dark black with hints of silver and gray, fall with every passing swipe of the barbers’ shears. It was peaceful. The barber finally cut every long whisker from his face and began fading up the sides and back.

     

    “You want it blocked or rounded?” He asked Mareth.

    “Blocked is fine.” Mareth replied. “Do you do straight razor shaves?”

    “The only way to get a good shave, in my opinion. There’s only so much you can do with a power shaver, ya know? You can’t get as close as you need, and the stubble comes back within the day. For you military types, that’s no good.”

     

    Mareth kind of raised an eyebrow. “Who said I was military?”

     

    The barber chuckled. “You kiddin’? I saw how you walked in here, all sure of yourself with a duffle bag like that. I know a lot of people like the high and tight look, but how you carry yourself is a dead giveaway. I know a Veteran when I see one. You ain’t the only head of hair I’ve cut from someone coming off of leave.”

    Mareth smiled and gave a slight nod. He leaned back into the chair as the barber started to lather his face up for the shave. He had forgotten what it was like to have a clean-shaven face. He had kept a beard for so long, but he normally kept it trimmed and neat. The Barber took the straight razor and began to strop the blade on a piece of leather. He went over to Mareth and began to shave down the side of his face and wiping the lather onto a towel. He took great care into getting every space that once had facial hare. After he finished, he wiped Mareth’s face off with a wet towel, then with a dry towel, and the barber handed him a hand mirror. “How’s that look to ya?”

    “Like an old friend.” Mareth replied. “How much do I owe ya?”

    “A cut and shave’s 50 creds, pal.” The barber replied. “It’s what happens when you don’t be come a citizen, you gotta keep the lights on, ya know?”

    Mareth nods and starts to punch in some numbers to his wrist comm.”I’ll throw in an extra 25 creds, since you did such a good job.”

     

    “Hey, thanks pal!” The barber elated. “I haven’t had a tip in years. Most citizens just pay the fee and go about their way.”

     

    “I’ll be sure to tell my friends about you, and to tip well.” Mareth finished up. He grabbed his duffle bag and headed out the door. “Thanks again.”

    The barber waved and Mareth walked out the door towards the private terminals. When he approached his ship, he found two legionaries standing at the bay door, dressed the same as one before.

    “Halt!” one of the Legionaries exclaimed. “Identify yourself.”

     

    “You’re in my way.” Mareth responded. “That’s my ship.”

    “This ship is property of the 47th Legion, sir.” The Legionary replied.

    “Excuse me?” Mareth snapped back.

     

    He went to his wrist comm and punched in a few commands. The Aurora LN fired up and began cycling lights for maintenance checks.

     

    Mareth looked at the Legionary with a wide, steely-eyed look. “If it belonged to you, then I wouldn’t have been able to do that. Now, I suggest you move.”

    The Legionary didn’t move. Mareth took a look around on his uniform, and found an insignia with only one stripe on a sword. “Sent the low man on the pole to do the dirty work, huh? Listen Private…”

    “Miles. It’s Miles, Sir.”

     

    “Private Miles,” Mareth continued.

     

    “No, Sir.. my RANK is Miles.”

     

    “Look. YOU.” Mareth stating putting a knifehand to the Legionary’s face. “That’s my ship. You’re in my way. If I wasn’t on my way to see Centurion Cavadus, I’d stomp a mudhole in your behind and be done with it.”

     

    "Wait, you're going to see Centurion Cavadus? Are you Mareth Lightfoot?"

     

    "Yeah, I am. At any rate, it's none of your fucking business who I am, Miles. The only business you have is getting out of the way between me and my ship. You copy? Now, you take your happy ass back to post, and you tell your CENTURION that I'll be there soon."

     

    Mareth pushed through the Legionaries and made his way to his ship. One of the Legionaries looked to the other. "I can't wait until he puts some Tiro rank on. I'm going to run him into the ground."

     

    Mareth heard him, and replied "You better pack a lunch, son. You're gonna need it."

     

    Mareth opened the cockpit and climbed in, commencing his pre-flight checks. Just as he was about to initiate takeoff, he received a call on his MobiGlas. "This is Optio Campbell of the 47th Legion. How are you today, Mareth?"

     

    "I'd be a lot better if your lackeys didn't block the walkway to my ship. I about sent one of your Miles' back with a new mudhole in his ass."

     

    "He was just following his orders. We told them to make sure your ship was safe." Campbell replied.

     

    "Under the guise that it belonged to you all? Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumber seemed to be under the impression that the ship wasn't mine."

     

    "Well, I don't know who told him that. It didn't come from me." Campbell quipped.

     

    "Well, I'm heading that way." Mareth said. "I'll be there soon."

     

    "You'll be reporting to me. Centurion Cavadus won't be ready to speak to you once you get here. We have to get you through supply and get your issue handled first."

     

    "Fine. I'm on my way." Mareth said, after he closed the channel. He began to lift off, and took off into the Terran sky.

  7. Greetings Defiance Colleagues,

     

    Its been several months since my last blog on 47th.info and there has been so many changes over the past three months. I have been stopping by The Crater off and on since my last blog but nothing has ever turned out on my last report on Blueblood's trip to visit the Pied Piper. I was stopping by The Crater daily, then slowed down to every other day and now I'm lucky to log in once a week. Nothing, nobody had any information. I rarely see any legionnaires around and haven't seen them in formation in weeks. I'm surrounded by all new faces when I stop into The Crater and nobody knows nothing.

     

    Just the other night, while tipping back on some monarch juice, it dawned on me that I haven't heard the hammer drop on the pin of a wolfhound in months, nor I have I heard the clicks of an empty clip on a Tach Mag Pulser. As much as I cared less about VBI's monopoly on weapons, I found myself thinking about the past. All these new weapons make me have to say farewell to the past.

     

  8. Brutus
    Latest Entry

    Thunderclaps smacked across the landscape and the occasional flash of lightning threatened to expose the crawling trooper. "Fuckin' A..!" the man mentally cursed as he pulled himself across a fallen log. It had taken him 45 minutes just to get up the hill. He was way behind the schedule and he knew it. Fourth Delta was moving in and he was not in position. The unexpected bandit camp he encountered had cost him valuable time and put him behind the eight ball. His squad was on the move and had no overwatch...

     

    Five minutes later, he reached his assigned spot and laid his rifle upon the soaking wet ground. A quick look through the scope confirmed his worst expectations... Fourth Delta was engaging the enemy and he was too late. Biker and Dragon both were engaged in hand to hand with the sentries. Djinfyre, with blade in hand, moved in to assist his squad leader. "Get him Jeannie.." the soldier thought as he scanned the area. It didn't take long for the two of them to made short work of the poor bastard.

     

    Biker had his situation under control as well..wrapping his arm around his targets throat, he slide his blade deep within the bandits vital parts. The man twitched several time before finally passing on to the great beyond. "Jesus tits Margret..!" the man thought as he spotted the Blaster upon the roof. His first target moved to the railing and pulled the rpg he carried up to his shoulder. CRACK... sounded across the battlefield momentarily before the enemy executed a half flip across the railing and fell to the ground. "About time.." quipped Biker as he moved to his next target.

     

    A second blaster ran across the platform and started to draw a beed upon Dragon and Djinfyre. "Not today bitch!" muttered the sniper as he sent a round down range. "Damn, I love my job!".. the man thought immediately after the tangos head exploded. "Glad to see you decide to join the fight!" Dragon said. "Sorry boss.. was on a soda run!.."Brutus replied.

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  9. Well the time has come, Bealin's platoon has received their orders and will be shipping out in the morning. This will be the unit's first mission and one Bealin will have a very hard time trying to forget.

     

    Army intelligence received intel on a high priority target, a very high ranking official has been kidnapped and is being held hostage in a remote location in Afghanistan. Bealin's unit is to extract the target, and eliminate all hostiles on site. Stealth is a major factor in this mission, if any alarms are raised they may kill the target before extraction. This will be a night time raid, with night vision being utilized, as well as weapon suppressors in case firearms are required. The unit will be dropped a few miles from the location and will proceed on foot. There is no information about what to expect at this compound, the number of hostiles is unknown and the exact location of the target is unknown. Once the unit has located and secured the target they will be able to call in gunship support for extraction.

     

    0500 hits and the unit starts to prepare for their first mission, none of them knowing what it will be or where they are going. As they will not be given any details until they are en route to the mission objective. So the unit preps all their gear and heads out to the plane for deployment. While flying to Afghanistan the unit is briefed on their orders and what is required of them for this missions success. They are given some rough schematics of the compounds infrastructure to plan their approach and discuss options. Army intelligence has offered up the best possible locations they are holding the target, so these will be the first areas to check.

     

    The unit arrives in Afghanistan at the army HQ base, from here they will be escorted to their drop off location with helicopters, the extraction gunships will be prepped and ready for the call, they will escort to the drop location where they will wait for extraction orders. The unit has 5 hours until the mission begins, they will use this time to work out any further mission details and ease any concerns unit members have.

     

    The mission begins at 0100....

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    blog-0665528001379525992.jpg"Carian Spurius, was SIGINT able to dig up the personnel files and home-of-record information on the joes I requested?"

     

    "Roger that, sir. I've already e-mailed'em over to you."

     

    "Roger, carian. How many do we have here now?"

     

    After a small delay, "Ahhh, just one, sir."

     

    Max swiveled his rusty office chair around. His computer had gone to sleep and required some random interaction to wake up. He tapped the menu key and it got stuck.

     

    This fucking key.

     

    He pulled open the drawer and went digging around for his mulit-tool and proceeded to pop it off. He always seemed to fat-finger it at the most inopportune times.

     

    With his computer awake and ready to roll Max checked his mail and found around thirty e-mails each with a military service record, a few photos, and the last known home of record.

     

    Perusing the list brought back quite a few memories of his past service.

     

    I thought he was dead.

     

    She died in a roller accident a few years ago? Damn shame.

     

    This joker deserved to die. Damn shame he's still alive.

     

    He's got too large of a family.

     

    Ah, there he is.

     

    Formerly a commander in the Earth Military Coalition and later a lieutenant colonel in the Earth Republic, a lot had happened to Max in the past ten years. All of his current efforts were on building a new organization at the behest of, well, he didn't even know. He didn't even care.

     

    Goddam does it feel good to wear a uniform again.

     

    The E-Rep's dossier included information about current whereabouts. After resigning his commission, reasons redacted of course, Cavadus had opted to join up with DynCorp, the only pre-Pale War private military contractor left on Terra as far as Max knew. Cavadus's last recorded area of activity was the Topeka Badlands.

     

    DynCorp asked for way-the-fuck too much to buy Cavadus out of his contract but he's disillusioned enough. I think. Did he even like or respect me? I barely remember the guy. Definitely not Primus Pilus material at the moment. Or maybe he is. Nevermind.

     

    Max pressed down the intercom, "Send him in, carian." "Send him in, carian." "Carian, send him i--."

     

    Oh, for fuck's sake.

     

    "SEND HIM IN!" shouted an irritated Max.

     

    In stepped a man somewhere slightly north of thirty-five years old, somewhat larger than average build, a bit over 1.8 meters, with a full beard.

     

    That beard: completely unprofessional.

     

    "They let you keep that thing in DynCorp?" barked Max.

     

    "Ummm, the beard?" responded a completely caught-off-guard Gaius.

     

    "Yeah, the beard."

     

    "You know how it is once you get out, sir. It's nice to give the face a break."

     

    Max was amused at the effect he was having on Gaius. "Well captain, what the hell have you been up to?"

     

    "Payin' bills, sir."

     

    "Y'know, you never struck me as the type."

     

    "Respectfully, sir, you hardly knew me."

     

    "I heard a lot about that fucked up sense of humor you have."

     

    Gaius had to chuckle at that. Max was right on the money.

     

    "Anyways," Max prepared to launch into it when Gaius interjected.

     

    "Colonel, I know why I'm here."

     

    "It's legate now, " Max corrected him.

     

    "I'm in."

     

    Now Max was the one caught off guard.

     

    "Captain, you don't know shit about this operation, what we're fighting for, or who supports us."

     

    If anyone supports us, Max worried.

     

    "Sir, you may barely remember me but I remember you. I remember that chicken shit posting out in bumfuck Storm Divide. I remember how you were treated the first few years after we all transitioned from the EMC to the E-Rep. And I have kept up on the news about you. Hell, had I been near Columbia at the time I'd have voted for you under the Terra Prima party."

     

    Max winced. He hated the memory of the Terra Prima movement. Or, to be concise, at the distorted memory fed to the public and it's treatment and suppression by the E-Rep.

     

    Fuckin' fuckers, Max thought to himself.

     

    Max drew a deep breath, "Captain, I'd rather throw a saddle on a gift horse than look it in the mouth. I'm currently building an independent military united called the 47th Legion. You're familiar with Terra Prima, we're not mercs, and we're hear to kick some E-Rep ass. All told I need roughly four-thousand warm bodies to get to maximum strength. There isn't a helluva lot of talent laying around to be picked up so I won't mask the desperation and it doesn't seem like I have to."

     

    Max continued.

     

    "It's not the premiere post but I have a leadership position open for you. I've got a section lead position available."

     

    Max could see the insult's effect and the bewildered look on Gaius' face.

     

    Wait for it...

     

    "I'm just fuckin' with ya, captain. At ease. Commanding officer post for a century but," and there's always a but, thought Gaius, "you'll need to XO for few weeks under a centurion to get acclimated."

     

    Gaius was curious, "So I assume a centurion is equivalent to a captain but what exactly is a century equivalent to, sir?"

     

    "You were originally cavalry, correct?"

     

    "You ain't cav, you ain't shit, sir,! beamed Gaius.

     

    Max rolled his eyes.

     

    Those cavalry assholes are worse than jarheads.

     

    "Anyways, same difference as a troop. Cohort is a squadron. Legion could be best described as a brigade combat team," explained Max.

     

    That was about what Gaius expected.

     

    "Got it, sir."

     

    He's ready, Max thought to himself.

     

    "Report to Vexillarian Campbell. He'll get you up to speed and, assuming you both perform to standard, you two will be taking over 3rd Century together."

     

    Gaius was ready to leave this office.

     

    "Anything else you need from me, sir?"

     

    Smiling, Max quickly replied, "Yeah, shave that rug off your face. That's an order, optio," and with that Gaius stood up at attention. Before leaving Max offered a handshake, Gaius took it, and left the room.

     

    Legate Maximillian Labienus, veteran of the Pale War, commander in the EMC, lieutenant colonel in the E-Rep, mashed the intercom button down.

     

    "Carian Spurius, Gaius Cavadus is in. Complete his in-processing. He'll be entering at optio but only for train-up. We need him as a century lead pronto."

     

    Silence. Max mashed the transmit button down again.

     

    "Carian Spurius...?"

     

    I've got a crate of EGO implants but can't even get a working intercom. What the fuck, thought Max.

     

    "SPURIUS!"

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