FATE - Battletech 2950 Playtest Campaign [Closed] (Inactive)

Game Master Tareth

Setting up Gameplay...

To dot or not to dot, that is the question....

Alarms screeched as armor peeled away from Major Bucky Bowman’s GRF-1N Griffin. Slapping the override he dropped the targeting reticule over the enemy Shadow Hawk and unleashed a blast of super charged plasma. The heat in his cockpit skyrockets and more alarms prattle in his ears as the blast from his Fusigon PPC slams into the shoulder of the enemy rocking it back as armor melts and gives way under the assault.

”Bloody hells! Where are you Halderman?” Captain Bowman yells into his comm. ”You’re supposed to be watching our flank.”

An explosion erupts off to Bucky’s right. Mira’s Crusader is down. The cockpit nothing more than a shattered mass of metal and blood after a fatal strike from the combined firepower of two more bandit mech’s charging over the ridge. Another Shadow Hawk and a HBK-4G Hunchback. Smoke still poured from the massive Big Bore Autocannon mounted on the Hunchback’s shoulder.

”S^$t! S$%t!” Bowman says, sweat soaking every stitch of his lightweight shirt and shorts. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Captain Bucky Bowman, leader of Bucky’s Brigade thought to himself. A simple drop. Route some poorly armed pirates and then pull back out was want their Illyrian contact had promised. Instead they’d run into a full company, better armed than the Brigade. What an utter cock up. ”That’s it….we’re pulling out! Command lance, fire lance. Drop back to the LZ. Recon Group get to the secondary drop and we’ll pick you up there.”

As he speaks, Bowman ignites the Griffin’s jump jets sending the 55 ton beast high into the air and away from it’s onrushing assailants. The whistle of projectiles streaming from the pair of Shadow Hawk’s zip past his mech, but fortunately none land. He sees Trudaeu and Franklin start to drop back each providing cover fire for the other. With practiced skill he drops the big mech back to the ground behind a copse of trees. They weren’t much, but they offered at bit of cover.

Suddenly ruby beams of laser light strike Franklin’s Wolverine in the back.

”What the…” Is all that escape Bowman’s lips before the several missiles pummel the hapless Wolverine sending the mech tumbling to the ground as the mech’s cockpit splits open ejecting the pilot. ”How did they get behind us! Halderman! Where the blazes are you?”

”Right here Captain.” The grating voice of his second in command, Reginald Halderman, comes across the comm link. ”Been a change of plans…and a change of leadership.”

His words are punctuated by warnings of incoming missiles as Halderman unleashes a barrage of warheads from his Luxor missile pod. Several of the explosive warheads blast through the lightly armored rear of the Griffin knocking out the mechs jump capacity and sending his gyroscopic systems off balance. Blood trickles from a cut in his forehead as Bucky is slammed about first by the explosive assault and then as he struggles to keep his mech upright. For several seconds the massive warmachine staggers around like a dock worker on a weekend binge but eventually he manages to right the mech and turn it enough to see Halderman’s Centurion bringing his remaining weapons into line.

Trudeau’s mech erupts in a fireball as Halderman’s lancemates crack the shielding on the old Rifleman’s reactor. The explosive wave washes across the battlefield.

”Damn you to all the hells Halderman, you’ll pay for this treachery!” Bowman screams into the comm.

”That’s where you’re wrong Bucky. For once I’m actually getting paid, which is more than I can say working for your sorry hide for the last two years. Mira and the others are gone. And those greenies in recon are too far and too stupid to save you. You’ve no one left to prop up your incompetence anymore. Believe me the Periphery is better off without you.”

Bowman slings the Griffin hard to the right, myomer muscles strain and groan but they hold as he launches a counter barrage of missiles at the unscathed Centurian. He had the satisfaction of seeing half of the warheads batter the mech before the flash of the autocannon filled his vision. Seconds later the Griffin was engulfed in wave of metal and energy that left little else behind but a smoldering mountain of worthless scrap.

Pillars of Prosperity Wilderness
Reykjavik, Illyrian Palitinate
22 February, 2950.

"And those greenies in recon are too far and too stupid to save you. You’ve no one left to prop up your incompetence anymore. Believe me the Periphery is better off without you." The static garbled words fill the cockpit of your mechs and then the channel goes dead a few seconds later.

There's a crash of metal grinding on metal as Powers' Urbanmech stomps through another empty quonset hut. The entire facility, Tertiary Target Gamma, according to the briefing you received prior to being dropped into this hot mess of a mission, is nothing but abandoned junk. A wild goose chase. Obviously meant to get you and your lance mates out of the way while Halderman and his mutineers iced the boss and took off with the dropship and your pay. Leaving you lot here to rot.

Here being Reykjavik IV, little more than a wart of a planet stuck to the backside of inhabited space. Technically it is part of the Illyrian Palitinate. A jumped up name for a handful of planets run by a few families with more money than they know what to do with, but a whole lot less than the real powers of the inner sphere, or even the big players out here in the Periphery. But C-Bills are C-Bills. And trade with the Free Worlds League was booming as Captain-General Thaddeus Marik recently announced plans for a big push against the Lyrans. Of course there was the usual push back from Parliament, but when had that ever stopped a Marik. So the oligarchs of the Palitinate, flush with Marik cash, decided to expand their mercenary forces.

Enter Bucky Bowman and Bucky's Brigade. The captain signed each of you on, no questions asked. Promised a solid payday with this new contract. It was good money. And the contract was supposed to be just a simple raid to clear out a group of pirates that had been operating inside Palitinate space. Bucky and the Command Lance backed by Halderman with the Fire Lance would deal with the handful of ramshackle mechs the bandits could deploy and then push through to capture their hideout tucked in the mountain riddled outskirts of Akranes, the planets third largest city. Which put it at a population of about five thousand poor souls. Mostly laborers working the mines, smelters, and foundries that generated the iron and steel the Captain-General needed to prosecute his war efforts.

The drop was a disaster from the beginning. First, the right leg of Carlton's nimble Stinger simply gave out during a training run the day before. The only other mech left to him was an Urbanmech that Bucky brought out of mothballs.

"Don't worry lads, this'll be a cakewalk. Sure it's a bit slow, but this little mech packs a punch and we won't be running across the whole planet." Bucky said during the briefing. "Drop you right on target, secure the facility and then we pick you up. Easy."

As each of you start to pull up maps of the planet, there is a certain amount of irony, and bitter cursing toward your now former, employer because the nearest Starport was about half way around the planet at the capital, Dalvik.

And Rekyjavik IV wasn't exactly a pleasure planet. Orbiting toward the far side of the habitable zone of its K Class star. The orange light of Rekyjavik shines bright over the patchy snow fields and simmering hot springs of the bog lined valleys and jutting hills that mark the area surrounding the abandoned storage facility. Average temperature 40 degrees along the equator. Colder in the temperate zones and deadly cold anywhere else. Settlements use the numerous hot springs and volcanic vents for geothermal power and heat.

There is barely time to register the reality of your new found situation when alarms begin to prattle inside your neurohelmets. It looks like you aren't all alone after all.

Nilelane knuckled the rocker switch of the Sensor Reconfiguration toggle, making sure what she was seeing was no mistake. The CommPanel's polarized viewscreen flickered, as if the steady current from the fusion engine needed a smoothing calibration...but there was no time for that now.

Her sweaty thighs stuck annoyingly to the faux-leather command chair as she reached far over to disengage the safety on the waldo gloves. Nothing was even near her yet, but she liked having it ready. Finally, she removed her IFF transponder, blew the dust out, and reinserted it tightly before resting a hand on the throttle.

She wore short cloth boy shorts that barely extended below her waist, and nestled her bare feet on the axial control pedals. Her top was little more than a sports bra strapped across her tight lean figure, the Tortugan scorpion tatoo on her neck seemingly emerging for a gasp of air. Meanwhile her nearly white blond hairs stuck wet to a deep tanned face under the crackling and beeping neurohelm. It was hot as hell in the cockpit despite the crisp frigid conditions outside, and she was worried it was a problem with the actual heat dampeners rather than the less severe climate controls.

"Everyone else seeing the 'cakewalk' we got coming? Was that Bucky got blasted??" she sputtered in an informal transmission.

Nilelane sighed, missing the luxuries of the bandit kingdoms. In another life she might've kicked on the auto-pilot and relaxed with a martini as her well-geared outlaw companions obliterated everything. This crew was much smaller though, she might actually have to participate! She started to question the wisdom of her clan leader sending her out this far as an intelligence agent...now the whole thing was f#&%ed, she had already burned through most of her supplies and payday seemed less likely than her own survival.

Of course, there was always larceny...

*I've never been in a cake walk, but I can imagine that a combination of cake and walking is the precise diametric opposite of what this is,* Jack replies on the comm, turning his heavy scout, the Quick Death, around and picking up his visual scanning, looking for the source of the alarms.

He was already regretting agreeing to the supposed 'upgrade' to the Jenner. He'd finally gotten his long-term javelin, WyldFyre, just how he wanted it. Once you strip out the missiles and focus on double large lasers, it might be an okay mech.

But no, this thing had come up and he'd agreed. Why? Sure he'd had time to put the jumpjets back on the Wyld, but he hadn't time to get to this thing. "How about I just chop off one arm and make it better?" he'd quipped back, only half serious. Never mind the obliviousness the original engineers had to the heat buildup, but the BK-309 targeting system just couldn't keep up.

*You heard the man, turn toward secondary Lima Zulu and, well, let's see how this goes.*

This is Alula Australi all over again, Carlton thought with alarm. He was frustrated with the slow pace of the Urbanmech, frustrated at what just happened, but absolutely aggravated that his sensors were starting to light up. Plus this thing has such a tiny engine, I'm actually cold! He pulled at the cooling vest, usually rated for the Stinger, moving it away from his chilled skin.

**Affirmative, primo! We had a few cakewalks raising money for the lacrosse team and let me be clear: this is not one!**

He still was not used to the user interface of the slow heap. "Yeah, I get it, I hear you, got it!" Carlton sneered at the computer voice echoing warnings right in his ear. He whacked the heavy neurohelmet against the back of the bulkhead and growled. "Ah! There you are!" He smacked the alarm-silence button.

**Hey N? You see those bogies? What can you tell us?**

Alright so bear with me, I'll roll Sensors to Create Advantage invoking the Lyran Ambush Specialist aspect of my mech. The idea is to use positioning/terrain to turn the tables quickly where we can catch them off guard instead of walking right into it. +3 for my Sensors skill, +2 for invoking aspect. Success means a new aspect is created? Any of that make slightest sense? :)

Sensors: 4d3 - 8 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (2, 2, 3, 1) - 8 + 3 + 2 = 5

Pillars of Prosperity Wilderness
Reykjavik, Illyrian Palitinate
22 February, 2950.

The Pillars of Prosperity, were named after the scattering of large stone formations that jut out of the hills and bogs of the area. Some stretch as high as two to three hundred feet in the air and are wide enough to hide a good sized mini-mart. Others are narrow bands of gray basalt that reach up in odd almost finger like formations like a giant trying to claw its way free of a frozen grave. So the pillar part makes sense. Prosperity on the other hand...well that was just someone's sick joke or delusional dream judging from the snowy waste surrounding the tiny group of aluminum huts.

But prosperous or not, the pillars do provide some ample cover, especially when Nilelane immediately starts fiddling with her standard TharHes Crystal Flower RG-2 comms array and identifies a helpful magnetic anomaly within one of the larger formations. Within moments she amplifies the interference and sensor screens in the nearby area are suddenly blanketed with enough white noise and static to make picking out your small group of recon mechs much, much harder.

The first sign of the new arrivals are the wispy clouds of snow kicked up from a pair of battered hovercraft. Both zip along across the fairly flat open ground to the east of the abandoned facility. They are coming in fast as if expecting trouble. That trouble is confirmed when striding along behind is a single PNT-9R Panther. The barrel of the big Lord's Light PPC glittering in the midday sun as the mech lopes along a hundred meters behind the two tanks.

Current Aspects: Pillars of Stone, Hidden Hot Springs, Long Abandoned Warehouse Facility, Taking Cover from Prying Eyes (2 Free Invokes)

All enemies are coming from the East and are currently just beyond Extreme Range (Zone 6)

*Coming online now...hold it, think I've got something. This commando's got some sort of Lyran guerrilla subroutine...the hell? A few clicks northeast, its a...geomagnetic anomaly.* She paused a second and reran the search algorithm to be sure *If we can get there it'll scatter our fusion sigs, might be enough to catch them off guard...better than sitting ducks! Transmitting navpoints...*

Taking Cover from Prying Eyes aspect with 2 free invokes now in play for you guys. edit: and ninja'd

Jack and Carlton, you may act if you want.

With the new data of the Alley Cat, Jack ran through the technical schematics of all the mechs.

*Okay, we're out-ranged here. It's PPC is the big dog since me and Nile only have close in stuff, and it even out-ranges your AutoCannon, Carlton.

Then, Carlton, you provide fire-support while Nile and I rush it. We gotta try and get inside the minimum range of the PPC as fast as we can. While getting there, let's try and keep behind these pillars until we can shoot it in the face with guns.*

alright lets try this. I wanna use my piloting to try and leapfrog forward from cover to cover so the Panther can't get a clear shot at me/us.
Using a FATE point to Invoke Pillars of Stone.

Piloting!: 4d3 - 8 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (2, 2, 1, 1) - 8 + 2 + 2 = 2

**I'll try and grab its attention, but I'm worried those hovers will run circles around us. Primo, you might need to get there attention if they get here too far ahead of the Panther.**

Carlton moves the Urbanmech in and out of the large jutting rocks, making a stutter step and twisting like a runningback avoiding a tackle. He switches his comms to send on an open channel. **Attention incoming hostiles, we are ready to discuss your surrender!** He grins and flips the mic back to the encrypted channel.

Just trying to use my Piloting stunt for Athletics to Dodge (going to obviously be a go-to for me), do I need to roll a defend action now or wait until something actually tries to shoot me? This might take a few scenes to get the rules, lol.

Rodney 'the Roach' Resnick cursed the flickering snow clouding his sensors as he brought his Panther over the low rise and into range of the lonely line of huts and wire fencing.

*We know they're here somewhere. Wasn't no Ice Rabbit that triggered the alarms. Nick you take north, Guntar south. Circle around in a fast pass and see if you can break through this noise.* He orders the two hovertank pilots who'd been ordered to accompany him on this round up. There was some big deal in the works. He'd overheard Squid talkin' bout it at the Miner's Lament last night. Course the bas$#%d wouldn't let him on the big secret. Said it was for 'command staff' only.

A snort escapes the wide nostrils of Resnick's wide nose. An ugly, bent beak that had seen more than its share of bar brawl breaks. It wasn't often one ran into a large mechwarrior, especially piloting a light mech, but The Roach was the exception to the rule. Sweat already soaked the flimsy, filthy shirt covering his rotund form. But that didn't seem to bother the man as he popped the last remnant of a jelly doughnut into his mouth as he peers across the rock and snow fields looking for something to shoot.

*Attention incoming hostiles, we are ready to discuss your surrender!*/ Carlton's voice echoes across an open channel as a UMR60-Urbanmech breaks cover and starts walking forward. The slow moving urban fighter ducked back and forth like a drunk dodging midnight traffic clearly hoping to avoid coming under the crosshairs of his own PPC.

*Eat lightning ya walkin' trashcan!* He growls back in response. *You're trespassin' on land belonging to Kane's Corsairs and there's only one penalty for poking your noses where they ain't wanted.* He shoves the sticky control stick forward and the 35 ton mech starts to stride forward quickly chewing up ground. A bright electric glow grows within the barrel of the PPC as he brings the weapon up.

*Boss...we've got another bogey!* Nick announces over the secure channel. Static still scratching away forcing him to concentrate to make out the actual words being sent by the pilot of the old Edgar Hovertank. *Jenner pushing along the rocks parallel to the other.

*Well, move in and do your job. The two of you keep him tied up while I deal with his little buddy.* He orders and then closes the channel to give his ears a bit of relief from the blasted white noise.

The mech's strides eat up more ground and suddenly his targeting computer dings to announce he is within range of the staggering Urbanmech. With a feral grin his presses the trigger, a blast of heat surges through the cramped, smelly cockpit as a blast of man made lightning is unleashed and screeches through the cold air toward the smaller mech.

Attack vs Urbanmech: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (2, 3, 2, 2) - 8 + 2 = 3

Moments later one of the hover tanks starts to weave its way forward toward Jack Elroy's position in the rocks. The fast moving hovertank eats up ground as the heat from its Leenex Fusion engine blooms to life on the thermal sensors. As the tank swoops into range it snaps off a shot sending a single ruby beam lashing out toward the mech.

Attack vs Jenner: 4d3 - 8 + 1 ⇒ (1, 3, 2, 1) - 8 + 1 = 0

Carlton: You can Defend against a +3 PPC Attack

Jack: You can Defend against a +0 Medium Laser Attack

Panther walks forward 1 Zone putting it at Zone 4 vs Jack and Carlton. Zone 5 for Zilelane.

Edgar tank races forward 3 zones putting it in Zone 2 for Jack and Carlton. Zone 3 for Zilalane.

Defend!: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (3, 1, 3, 2) - 8 + 2 = 3

*Psh. Hovies. If they wanted to be dangerous they'd be piloting mechs. Or attacking infantry. Gotta pick one or the other, chummer,* Jack spits contemptuously as he dodges behind a convenient pillar, the medium laser beam blasting harmlessly against it.

"Here's how you shoot." He considers an Alpha strike, just to make a statement, but decides against wasting good plasma against mere hovies.

Walk forward 1, 0 heat, SRM and 1 laser. 4-2 = 2 heat.

SRM 4!: 4d3 - 8 + 3 ⇒ (2, 2, 1, 1) - 8 + 3 = 1

Frickin laser BEEMS!!: 4d3 - 8 + 3 ⇒ (3, 2, 3, 2) - 8 + 3 = 5

The ruby beam from the old Edgar hovertank sends shards of rock scattering into the air as Jack slips behind the protective pillar only to emerge on the other and with a clear shot at the fast moving hovercraft. Realizing his mistake the pilot desperately slams the control stick left and right several times in quick succession. The zigzagging movement manages to foil the aim of Jack's missile barrage. The explosive warheads do little more than send several layers of partially frozen topsoil shooting into the air is great geysers of explosive fury.

Cursing the missed opportunity of the missiles, Jack Elroy takes a single extra heart beat to track the wiggling hovertank. The pilot of the vehicle isn't bad, but he's a bit too predictable and Jack has found the rhythm. A ruby beam stabs out melting the thin rear armor of the tank and driving further into the bowels of the craft. Smoke billows from the round wound and the SRM launcher as the hovertank jukes hard to the east to try and put another set of rocks between it and the Jenner

Hovertank Defend vs. SRM: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (3, 3, 1, 2) - 8 + 2 = 3

Hovertank Defend vs. Med Laser Attack: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (2, 3, 1, 1) - 8 + 2 = 1

Jack: Defend Boost vs Edgar 1: Got the Drivers Number

Defend: 4d3 - 8 + 4 ⇒ (3, 2, 3, 2) - 8 + 4 = 6

The unpainted Urbanmech relects a purple glow as the artificial lightning passes by. Had he been a few seconds slower, the shot would have nailed him.

He flip back to the open channel. **So that's a no on the surrender then? How about we try getting to know one another instead? Who is your boss, and do they have autocannon ammunition?**

He surveys the field and sees the tank is at optimal range, but hesitates knowing that once his cannon is empty all his 'mech has left is the small laser. He growls as his crosshairs flash but elects not to take a shot.

**Hover's all yours, primo. I'm going to make for that warehouse, see if I can't lure the Panther into a spot more up this trashcan's alley.** He breaks into a full run to crash through the warehouses large doors

Looking at more of a lateral move, staying in the same zone. Hopefully I did this right lol.

Roach curses as somehow, the little Urbanmech manages to twist away from the azure destruction of his PPC at the very last moment. Not only that, the pilot manages to slip among the warehouses and lose himself between the buildings and the sensor static that still blankets the area.

*Guntar! Find the source of that blasted sensor snow. Can't get a blasted lock on anything with all of that interference.*

*Aye. You're the boss* The pilot of the second J. Edgar Hovertank acknowledges over the channel turning his machine to sweep around the south side of the warehouse facility.

Carlton: Gains a Defend Boost, Hidden Among the Buildings

Jack defended then attacked. Carlton defended and ducked into the buildings, but still has a regular Action for this round. Nilelane, you are up as well.

Current Aspects: Pillars of Stone, Hidden Hot Springs, Long Abandoned Warehouse Facility, Taking Cover from Prying Eyes (2 Free Invokes)

The Panther and the second Edgar Hovertank are in Zone 5 for Nilelane, Zone 4 for Jack and Carlton. The first Edgar Hovertank is Zone 2 for Jack and Carlton, Zone 3 for Nilelane.

Nilelane had held her position long enough, although each step was driving the cockpit higher and higher towards madness on the Kelvin scale. She had an old Bakelite bound, laminated cardstock instruction manual open on her lap. Quite mildewed and torn, but it was still legible in parts with Handy Helpful Tips(tm) from centuries ago...the writing style was extremely anachronistic and more like an advertisement or bubble gum comic most of the time.

"Howdy, Blackjack!" one read "Pesky Kuritan on your heels? Just remember SCAB!" detailing a mnemonic for remembering the console sequence to dump the onboard potty contents from the rear exhaust port and set it on fire.

Another had "Welcome back, Blackjack! While emergency ejection with 2000 lbs of hydraulic pressure can be fun, never leave your athletic cup behind!" A small cartoon wrench accompanied the text on some pages, speaking these little nuggets of wisdom lost to time. In this case, the helpful wrench character (Private Spanner) was getting obliterated in the gonads from his own ejection seat as his mech exploded.

Whatever locker-room humor the author was going for didn't seem to survive the intervening 500 years, for Nilelane simply flicked past one after the other of such diagrams with increasing confusion rather than entertainment.

Finally one was actually pertinent from Nilelane's current perspective. "Pop Quiz, Blackjack! You've just started a casual march and not fired a single shot, but its 380 K in the cockpit. Did someone order tamales?? How can you turn this desert storm into a tiki bar?" Luckily at the bottom of the page the riddle's answer was written (albeit upside down with a smaller font) 'Toggle Incendiary Mode to vent the buildup.'

"Incendiary..?" she whispered to herself. Son of b&*@!, it made sense. This commando had a special mode to draw heat into its SRM payload. If the solid explosive were brought above a certain threshold, a chemical reaction was designed to turn the warhead into a paste like napalm. A frictional gyro was kept in low spin mode while not in use, and obviously it had been spinning so long it was now diffusing its abundance of thermal energy into the cockpit.

Following the schematic, Nilelane traced the path to the toggle panel, but the plastic switch had long ago broken off. She had to wedge her fingernail down inside the much too small lever to finally engage the vent, and the relief was immediate as her arsenal glowed a whitish blue.

She could almost hear the tips of her missiles bubbling above like magma, a pirate in the planet's core.

Advance a zone using Walk. Dumping both SRM 4 and SRM 6 on the closest hovertank (heat (2+3) - 2 reduction =3), using Incendiary Warheads stunt of my commando to target Heat Stress instead of Armor Stress on the SRM 6. Using a free invoke of Taking Cover from Prying Eyes to represent a surprise attack from the cover of the sensor static.

Gunnery, SRM 4: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (1, 3, 2, 3) - 8 + 2 = 3 Normal
Gunnery, SRM 6: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (3, 2, 3, 2) - 8 + 2 = 4 Incendiary for rest of encounter

Nilelane emerges from her hiding spot among the farthest quonset huts and manages to completely catch the pilot of the already damaged J. Edgar completely by surprise. Two flights of missiles streak out to slam into the hover tank. The driver tries to slide the tank away, but the already damaged vehicle responds just a bit too slow. The first flight of explosive warheads detonate in a cascade of destruction that blows through the remaining remnants of flimsy armor and deep into the bowels of the tank. The gunner is killed almost instantly as the main power coupler for the turret he is manning is severed in the blast. The jagged, foot long piece of titanium severs his body in half and sends it flying from the dying vehicle. The quick death is probably a blessing, for what comes next is something that every mechwarrior fears.

Even though most of the missiles end up missing the vehicle as its knocked about by the first set of explosive concussions. A pair of the six pack slam into the cracked open tank. They burst with a wave of supercharged napalm that simply cooks the pilot almost instantly and sets off the tanks own missile ammunition stores. The entire thing goes up in a flaming ball of fiery fury that sends pieces of the doomed vehicle clattering off of your mechs as it is scattered across the battlefield.

"S$%t!" Resnick curses as he sees the Commando burst from hiding to incinerate Nick's hovertank. Three to one ain't good odds mate. There wasn't supposed to anyone out here but a couple of rooks in broken down scout mechs. He thumbs the secure link to Guntar.

*Guntar, change of plans...make a pass at the Jenner and then bug out. Someone's set us up and I ain't interested in stickin' around to play the fool.*

*Sounds like bloody smart thinkin' Roach. One pass and we're outta here.* Crackles the reply from the pilot of the second hovertank.

As Guntar starts his run, Resnick pivots and takes aim at the Commando. "You won't be barbecuing me ya little b$%@&$%d." He whispers to himself pressing the trigger once again on his PPC before backpedaling away.

Moments later Guntar zips within range of Jack Elroy's Jenner. Ruby red laser fire zips out toward the mech along with a pair of standard short range missiles.

One J. Edgar Hovertank destroyed.

Nilelane: Defend vs a PPC Attack at +2

Jack: Defend vs a Medium Laser Attack at +1
Jack: Defend vs an SRM2 Attack at +0

Current Aspects: Pillars of Stone, Hidden Hot Springs, Long Abandoned Warehouse Facility, Taking Cover from Prying Eyes (1 Free Invoke)

Nilelane is now is the same zone as Jack and Carlton. The Panther retreats one zone after firing. It is now Zone 5. The second hovertank moved up to Zone 2.

Edgar Pilot Defend vs SRM4: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (1, 2, 3, 2) - 8 + 2 = 2
Edgar Pilot Defend vs SRM6: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (2, 2, 2, 1) - 8 + 2 = 1

SRM 4 Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 4
SRM 6 Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 2

Panthar PPC Attack vs Commando: 4d3 - 8 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (1, 1, 3, 1) - 8 + 2 + 2 = 2
Spend a Fate Point to Invoke Best Shot of the Crew Aspect.

Edgar Laser vs Jenner: 4d3 - 8 + 1 ⇒ (2, 3, 2, 1) - 8 + 1 = 1
Edgar SRM2 vs Jenner: 4d3 - 8 + 1 ⇒ (1, 2, 1, 3) - 8 + 1 = 0

The charged particles inherent to the state of matter called plasma (formally known as J. Edgar Hovertank) reacted naturally with the geomagnetic storm blanketing the area. They followed the field lines in great loops like shoelaces, twisting and bursting in imitation of solar prominences. Nilelane's sensor readout was a glitchy mess, and she hoped it was enough to confuse the distant mech's targeting...

Using last free invoke of Taking Cover from Prying Eyes for +2. Want to use the massive heat signature she just created as cover from the PPC.

Piloting: 4d3 - 8 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (1, 1, 3, 3) - 8 + 1 + 2 = 3

I'd like to use both my Got the Drivers Number boosts to Defend now.

Defend Lasers!: 4d3 - 8 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (3, 2, 2, 2) - 8 + 2 + 2 = 5
Defend SRM!: 4d3 - 8 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (1, 1, 2, 1) - 8 + 2 + 2 = 1

Having just gone against one of the J. Edgars, his mind was fresh with the capabilities of the ground-skimmer. With it's Harvester SRM, and Diverse Optics Laser (which should be Martel. They all should be Martel.) he had already seen what they could do, so he wasn't surprised when this one packed no surprises.

Deftly dodging, he turned the maneuver into an attack, again lining up a single laser shot along with the reliable SRM-4 pack.

Heat 2. Walking forward 0 + laser 2 + SRM 2 - 2 = Ht 4.

Attack Laser!: 4d3 - 8 + 3 ⇒ (3, 2, 1, 1) - 8 + 3 = 2
Attack SRM!: 4d3 - 8 + 3 ⇒ (2, 2, 1, 3) - 8 + 3 = 3

Resnick curses as the azure beam of his PPC slides past the Commando. The only upside is that his sensors suddenly clear a bit clearly revealing the three enemy mech's arrayed against his single Panther. Sweat was pouring from his body, due to the heat from two rapid firings of his PPC and also from the thought of being set up and severely out gunned.

This was all that Halderman's doing. Getting rid of dead weight, he probably said. More like getting rid of anyone who didn't hop and bow and scrape at his feet. He thinks as he does his best to drop back into a bit of cover while his heat sinks did their best to cool his overheating machine.

As he retreats, he watches Guntar make his pass at the Jenner. He had to hand it to the pilot of the Edgar, the man actually followed the order. Not sure I'd've done the same thing facing a trio of mechs in that pile of scrap.

The nimble Jenner bobs away from the poorly aimed shots. Moments later it stabs back with its own counter fire of laser and missile.

Resnick grunts in surprise as the little hovertank manages to dip and dodge away from both beam and missile, but the maneuver cost Guntar speed and bogged his tank down in a narrow corridor between two rock formations.

Jack Gains 2 Boosts: Got the Enemy Pinned Down and Slowed You Down

Carlton still has a turn.

Edgar Defend vs MLaser: 4d3 - 8 + 1 ⇒ (3, 1, 3, 3) - 8 + 1 = 3
Edgar Defend vs SRM4: 4d3 - 8 + 1 ⇒ (2, 2, 3, 3) - 8 + 1 = 3

AC/10 vs Panther: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (1, 2, 2, 1) - 8 + 2 = 0

Carlton moves to a window filled with broken panes of glass and rusted metal frames. From the corner of his eye he watches missiles tear open a tank. He ignores it and tries to train the cannon on his target: the Panther.

The reticle flashes red for a moment, but Carlton fumbles the control stick when a secondary explosion rocks the tank and causes him to become momentarily distracted. He curses and hits the firing stud too late.

He at least finds himself able to appreciate the sudden beauty of the remains of the massive window shattering from conclusive force and gas as the cannon discharges. For half-second the shards and splinters are brilliantly illuminated by the muzzle flash, twinkling in a way that makes the particles seem suspended in the air.

Panther Defend vs Carlton: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (3, 3, 2, 3) - 8 + 2 = 5

A tingle ran down the Roach's spine as he ducked away from the Jenner and the Commando. He'd lost track of the blasted Urbanmech. Overweight, lazy, crude, were all things Roach had been called that he would easily agree were fair and accurate. But he'd survived among the harsh realities of being a bandit mechwarrior in the Periphery for more than a few years. And one didn't do that without a little talent. Roach's picked the right time to kick in. His keen eyes catch the gleam of iron in orange sunlight just as the little urban fighter pokes the long barrel of its Imperator-B Autocannon through the wreckage of one of the warehouses.

The Panther pilot is already slamming his mech hard to the right when the muzzle of the autocannon flashes its deadly warning in the cold Reykjavik air. The move is perfectly timed and the massive shells slam into the rock, snow, and dirt unleashing a cloud of debris that obscures the mech from eyes and sensors for several seconds.

Using the few precious seconds of cover, Resnick ducks behind one of the bigger rock formations. Although not perfect, the big stones do offer a bit more protection and distance as he lets the heat sinks siphon off inferno of heat caused by his rapid blasts with the PPC.

*Guntar, pull out. You stick and you're toast.*

*Aye Roach. Hitting the jets.* Comes the static filled reply.

A heartbeat later the whine of the J. Edgar's hoverfans ramps up substantially as the little tank quickly surpasses 160kph as it zigzag's a path back to the east where they first came from.

Current Aspects: Pillars of Stone, Hidden Hot Springs, Long Abandoned Warehouse Facility, Taking Cover from Prying Eyes.

Panther moves back one zone putting back in Zone 4 for Jack and Carlton, Zone 5 for Nilelane. The Edgar moves 3 Zones also putting it at Zone 4 for Jack and Carlton, Zone 5 for Nilelane.

Panther Piloting for Advantage: 4d3 - 8 ⇒ (2, 2, 1, 2) - 8 = -1 Spend a Fate point, Invoke Pillars of Stone to get a reroll.
Panther Piloting for Advantage: 4d3 - 8 ⇒ (1, 3, 3, 3) - 8 = 2 Boost gained. A Bit More Cover

Edgar Piloting to Create Advantage: 4d3 - 8 ⇒ (2, 3, 3, 3) - 8 = 3 Aspect created. High Tailing it Outta Here. One free Invoke.

As the field cleared, Nilelane edged closer to the flaming hovertank *Gonna secure this mudskidder's BattleROM, might have a log worth scanning...* kicking some snow over the flames. The space pirate had picked through enough wreckage to know the juiciest treasure could sometimes be the bits recorded in the bombproof solid state devices.

From an outside perspective, the balance was jerky and unfamiliar...her commando not really built for melee maneuvers or snow shoveling. Not deterred, and the waldo gloves beckoning to her mischievous side, she slipped a hand within.

The COM-2D actuators were tridactyl by design, yet the gloves made for a human of course had 4 fingers. So, inside the cockpit she had the strange appearance of a rich snob gripping a glass of champagne with a useless pinky extended far out...meanwhile her mech tore into the wreckage.

Investigate?: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (1, 1, 3, 1) - 8 + 2 = 0

I assume that fails, but applying heat reduction of 2.

edit: Meh screw it, I just blew this f$&@er away and will now steal his secrets. Spending FATE and invoking There's Always Larceny: 'Growing up among high-tech sector raiders taught you that the fastest way to get ahead was to put someone else behind' for reroll...

Investigate?: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (2, 1, 2, 3) - 8 + 2 = 2

Taking advantage of the Panther's retreat, Nilelane ducks her little Commando over to the wreckage of the first tank. At first nothing of interest or use shows up on her scan of the debris except for the bright heat signature of the still burning hovertank.

Not one to give up on a possible bit of bloodily gathered intelligence information, the mercenary mechwarrior, shifts her over to her mag-detectors and runs a tight beam scan of the wreckage. Her determination is rewarded as the scan picks up hardened, ferro-titanium cube of the tank's BattleROM recorder and comp core. With a bit of dainty and deft piloting that takes the mech out of the immediate firefight for several seconds, Nilelane manages to pick the core out of the wreckage. Dropping it safely into her mech's other hand she's then able to wrap a fist around the find to keep it relatively safe until there is a chance to actually analyze what might have survived the blast.

Nilelane: You succeed it finding and acquiring the core.

Jack and Carlton still have Actions if you wish to pursue the enemy.

**I can't keep up with him, Primo. I can make this suckered move, but the engine can only give so much. I figure they're going to be leaving some easy tracks for a while, though. If I had my Stinger...** Carlton swore under his breath. Not only marooned out here, but they took my 'mech!

Growling in frustration he deftly maneuvers out of the factory to rejoin Nilelane. **Anything interesting?**

Pursue. In an urbanmech. We better just hope for a rematch, lol.

Pillars of Prosperity Wilderness
Reykjavik, Illyrian Palitinate
22 February, 2950.

The Panther continues to retreat back to the east. The pilot keeping the big PPC trained in your general direction until he's well out of pursuit range. Zipping past the slower mech, the hovertank quickly disappears over the ridge kicking up a cloud of dry snow and dirt as it goes.

Just as the enemy mech reaches the top of the ridge everyone picks up the distant rumble of a dropship lifting off. Turning back toward the southwest you each seeing the sunlight sparkling off the massive ferro titanium hull of the Purple Rose. Great geysers of fusion produced heat flows from the engines as they power the 3,500 tons of your former home up into the afternoon sky. Slowly and then with gaining speed the big Union class dropship climbs higher and higher into the sky until it finally disappears from sight leaving nothing but a thin, drifting contrail in its wake.

*Haha! Was that your ride boys?* The static filled transmission echoes in each of your headsets. *Glad to know I'm not the only one playin' the fool today. Welcome to the armpit of the inner sphere. Last one off the planet, please turn out the lights. Haha!* The connection then cuts out as the bandit pushes his mech into a run and lumbers down the ridge and out of sight.

A cold wind blows across the abandoned warehouse compound, clearing some of the smoke from the still burning Edgar. The field, for what it is worth, is yours.

*Well, we drove them off, so, yay?* Jack lacklusterly offers over the comms, watching the spot where their ride just vacated orbit.

Where a normal person might start to immediately panic and worry about minor details like not starving to death, Jack's mind usually looks for the next shiny object to take apart.

It's quest is rewarded by the smoking hulk of the hovercraft. *Hey, um, it looks like the sum total of our planetary goods are our mechs, and, uh, that smoking wreck right there. Um, I'm gonna check it out . You keep haXXorZing that core and I'll see if anything is still useable.*

Jack is -pretty- sure he couldn't repair the tank. Probably. Still, anything that can still be used, repaired or sold would be good. Right?

He walks his Jenner over and start to look at the thing to see what can be salvaged.

Pillars of Prosperity Wilderness
Reykjavik, Illyrian Palitinate
22 February, 2950.

Jack runs a scan of the destroyed hovertank, but there's really only one way to figure out what can be salvaged and what is little more than scrap. And so the Mechwarrior initiates his Jenner's external fire suppression system otherwise known as getting Nilelane's hand equipped Commando to dump a bunch of icy water from a nearby seep onto the smoldering wreckage. With the fires sufficiently out and the metal cooled, the tech savvy mech pilot begins crawling over and around and inside the remains of the hover tank.

Upon filling her fire suppression duties Nilelane is able to recover the tanks black box and plug it into her mechs comp. Her first discovery is that the memory core and BattleROM are still intact and functioning. Her second discovery is that both are protected with standard security measures.

Carlton stoically stands watch splitting his time between staring at another blank scanner sweep and keeping an eye on Jack as he scrambles about the savaged tank.

After an hour that seems more like a week, a soot covered Jack emerges from the wreck. As suspected, the tank is beyond any hope of actual repair, but with a little work the Diverse Optics 50mm Laser could be salvaged along with a pair of the forward mounted heat sinks. Unfortunately the trusty Harvester missile launcher is nothing but melted scrap and all of the ammunition went up when the inferno warheads struck. But with a little work and luck he might be able to pull the RCA Instatrac Targeting system. Although not worth much, every C-Bill might count in trying to buy a ride.

Jack, you can salvage the laser and heat sinks two hours of work. The targeting system will take an Overcome(Tech) action vs a passive resistance of +3 to remove it without damaging it beyond use or repair.

Sliding open the external interface panel, Nilelane finger dived for the ancient rj11 jack inside and clicked it into the side of the lukewarm, sulphurous smelling BattleROM. A rotary dial functioned as the decoder, like an electronic rotary lock. Finding the cipher code by chance was mathematically impossible, but the odds could be fluffed with a good ear and a light touch...

System Shock: 4d3 - 8 ⇒ (3, 2, 2, 2) - 8 = 1

...but then she realized, no, this entire thing was actually an old rotary telephone stashed away for some reason...cursing herself for knowing nothing about computers or the strange tactics of her mech's previous owner.

So close!

"Well, this represents the extent of our worldly wealth," Jack mumbles at the laser and brace of sinks. "So if we wanna survive I guess I better do a good job on this TarGAT, huh?" he proclaims.

As much as he liked to belly-ache (and who didn't?) he was only happy when he was staring at a pile of broken parts that badly needed his attention.

Engineer! Keep it going at any cost!: 4d3 - 8 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (1, 2, 1, 1) - 8 + 4 + 2 = 3 whew...

The first, and biggest problem was that he could not, in fact, dislodge it from the burned out husk. Only by climbing back in his Jenner and blowing the tank up even -more- was he at last able to access it. It took another twenty minutes of delicate work cutting through armor with his medium lasers, but once he pry the exo-armor apart and get a spanner to the thing, he was able salvage something.

**Anyone have any idea what we should do now?** Jack calls over the comms. **I guess we should find out where the nearest settlement is and...start walking? I guess?**

**Well, yeah. Let's start walking. We know there are bandits here with military-grade equipment. Seems a stretch to hope they've got a dropship, but I would bet they have pirate friends with something to get us off this rock and back toward civilization. I say let's follow the bandits and scope out their forces.**

Chewing his lip and considering their situation he adds, **We might want to give ourselves a name too, so that they know who they're dealing with.**

*Can't crack this thing, some sort of ancient phreaking hardware in here where the hacking interface should be. Also pretty sure...* there's a slight pause as a faint rip echoes through the com *...yep, the keyboard was just a sticker after all. Anyone good with computers?*

After Carlton's comment *That Roach character cost us our pay. What kills roaches?*

**I always like the name 'StormHammers'. So that's my vote.

Anyway, I guess I could look at it?**

Jack walks his Jenner over to Niles and gets out so he can look at this cantankerous tech that's been giving everyone fits.

C0mputerz!: 4d3 - 8 + 3 ⇒ (1, 1, 3, 3) - 8 + 3 = 3

"Oh, see, ya gotta turn it over. That sticker was just for people that kept asking where the 'any' key was."

All can go ahead and read the spoiler above. I'll do it in the morning....

Pillars of Prosperity Wilderness
Reykjavik, Illyrian Palitinate
22 February, 2950.

It takes some time, but eventually Jack is able to extra the hovertank's targeting system along with the laser and heat sinks. Having rigged up a reasonably stable device to allow any one of the team's mechs to carry the gear, the tech savvy mechwarrior notices Nilelane struggling with the memory core she'd recovered from the tank.

Having spent plenty of time digging through the Root BIOS systems of many a Battlemech in order to recalibrate basic settings, reset security systems, change the clock, and other such core functions, Jack is able to help the Commando pilot crack the core.

After several minutes of diligent tapping on the tiny field keypad, data begins flowing across the screen.

With the others focused on the core and other salvage, Carlton is able to pull up a reasonably accurate CS-Map of Reykavik. Zooming in on the Pillars of Prosperity the former FWL pilot notes the location of the reasonably sized town of Egillstadir about 100 klicks southeast of the warehouse. He also note an old abandoned mining facility only a half dozen klicks to the northeast. Listed as once belonging to a company called Glacier Mining and Metals. Currently listed on the CS-Mercanitle Exchange as bought out in 2942 by Illyrian Manufacturing Limited who closed the mine in 2943 due to lack of profits and poor ore. According to several newslinks, the small town that once provided housing and services for the miners has long since dried up and is little more than a ghost town occasionally providing cover for smugglers, bandits, and other criminals looking to avoid the duties, scrutiny, and bribes of the planetary security forces.

With the heat of her cockpit now piping properly away from the gyro, Nilelane was starting to feel a chill. She was digging out an expensive fur coat ingloriously stuffed in an ammo box *StormHammers, huh? Not bad. So, hints of a cache nearby and a target for vengeance in Akureyri? I say we let the girl run and get that cache.*

Jack didn't know the Jenner any better or worse than any other mech. But he considered a Technical Readout as 'light reading' and felt great shame if he couldn't recall specific and arcane details of any given mech at any given time. So such a statement was more a compliment to the pride of Kurita than anything.

And so, staring at newly found heat sinks, it comes to him like his own name that of course the connections for the Agra 3L medium lasers use a T-26 connection, which is very similar to the 3Z-K connection of the tank's heat sinks, except for one extra grounding port, and really that can just be sanded off. Or torn off with a pair of field pliers, which will happen in this case.

The access bolts to the right "arm" of the Jenner are of a hex type that are really quite easy to work with, provided you can get the torso to turn at a 45 degree angle, for some reason.

Engineer! Keep it going at any cost!: 4d3 - 8 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (2, 3, 1, 3) - 8 + 4 + 2 = 7

*Okay, now we can get going,* Jack declares with lightness and ease, feeling much better with an enhanced coolness with the Jenner.

*Yeah! StormHammers baby! I'm with you, Niles!*

*Right on. Starting a deep scan.* ::If the controls of this thing are even close to standard...:: she thought to herself. Checking the old bakelite manual for tips, she found "Konnichiwa, Blackjack! Did you name your scanner Bob Marley because it was always jammin'?" the wrench (Private Spanner) asked with bloodshot eyes wielding a cigarette of questionable blend "That's because you forgot STuMC! Shimming, Tuning, Matching, and Center frequency adjustments!"

Right. Shimming. She actually had forgotten. Away from the hectic nature of the battlefield, the scan operator could make small adjustments to the currents passing through gradients and higher order shim coils in order to optimize the transmissive field homogeneity. It was a somewhat time consuming manual process but increased resolution by a few orders of magnitude for a brief moment.

Tuning and matching was a trial and error process always unique to the material the operator meant to penetrate, but for the final center frequency adjustment Nilelane pulled a neat stunt: the manifest Jack had pulled up from the BattleROM had a matching carbon copy left with the cache itself. A copy with the same unique spectral peak frequency she was able to dial into.

Norwegian ships have barcodes so you can Scan Da Navy In: 4d3 - 8 + 3 ⇒ (2, 2, 1, 3) - 8 + 3 = 3

Suck. Unacceptable suck! Hmm, can I invoke the Hidden Hot Springs aspect for +2, like my scan somehow reflects off the underground water and all the nude babes bathing there to bounce into the hidden cache from a different angle?

edit: actually, let me just let it stay +3 as the result so I can see what failing by 1 looks like in game, as noted in discussion. Thanks.

I'll allow it only if by failing we something something nude babes bathing. ^_^

Having never seen or heard of the Reykjavikian Glacial Nudibranch, one could excuse her when the colorful, hot spring dwelling gastropods show up as an anomaly on her scanners. Living in groups as large as several hundred, these odd native creatures have often been mistaken for mobile mineral deposits due to the usually high levels of metals absorbed into their soft skins when plying the steamy spring waters of mineral rich Reykjavik. It has even been known for larger groups of mating adults to be mistaken for an actual human swimming in the water as the swirling pod of up to thirty or forty of the nearly twenty centimeter long creatures can occasionally take a form similar to a four limbed being like a human. However, they are most certainly not. In fact, they are quite toxic to humans when ingested and even touching the creatures with bare skin often leads to a harsh rash and blistering for several uncomfortable days.

So it is that while searching for the pirate's hidden cache that Nilelane wastes half the remaining daylight hours zeroing in on a massed pod of Ice Slugs instead. This initial mistake nearly leads to disaster when trying to confirm her mech scanner results with a more precise hand unit, she tries to clear some of the creatures from the area. Dressed only in her standard mech garb for the short, but brisk, outing one of the slugs brushes against her arm and leg immediately eliciting the regular reaction of burning, itching skin.

After a quick retreat back into her mech and subsequent study of the local flora and fauna websites, Nilelane realizes her mistake and conducts a rescan of the area. Whereupon she discovers the true entrance to what appears to be a much more secure underground bunker and storage facility.

As the sun now begins to slip below the distant hills, Nilelane searches her medkit for an ointment that will relieve the itching even as the others contemplate how to bust into the cache without damaged or destroying whatever might be stashed within.

Nilelane: Defend with Toughness vs a +1. This time if you fail gain the Aspect That's a Nasty Rash.

The cache security locks require a +3 to Overcome.

"Perry, is that you? Where's your pants?" she asked the dark humanoid form oddly quivering in the distance. It reminded her of an old friend who would dance in that jangly way after a certain quantity of liquor and pills were consumed. Of course it wasn't him, but she found some comfort pretending anyways.

Lacking land-legs and the common sense of weather that comes from growing up on a terrestrial planet (which she did not) the hot springs delver wore a floppy but tall pair of boots with the same sports bra and boy shorts as before, wrapping herself in a stylish and very expensive fur coat. Skin of the Zabi, a parasitic xenotype from a backwater sector a few parsecs over, sprouted brilliant silver fur that had a natural iridescent shimmer as she walked. It was so fluffy and soft it was like taking zero-g with you wherever you went...nothing but the best for this space pirate.

In one hand was her trusty pneumatic harpoon pistol, a tiny cardinal feather dangling from the barrel tip that shuddered as the micro vacuum pumped its full draw strength. The other hand held the porto-scanner dongle close to her eyes while also illuminating the cavern, an army green cloth insulated wire feeding up her sleeve to the belt mounted power supply.

Laughing to herself "No one wants to see that. Oh fu-"*PFFFFF* she felt the slug invade her space, and pulled the trigger reflexively at nothing. "Damnit...aquatic snails?" fighting through the pain long enough to get a reading and confirm her mistake.

Toughness: 4d3 - 8 ⇒ (2, 1, 1, 3) - 8 = -1

After surfing the net, the radio crackled *..uys..I fou...nudi..ranch...bad rash.* was all the static infused message could spit out at once. The radio cleared up a bit *But the cache is there alright. Looks like they're using an old CRYSM Granit locking mechanism. Guess who knows how to crack it?* she asked, scratching her arm raw...both from the rash, but also because under a false skin flap was where she kept her foolproof pico-multipick.

Spycraft: 4d3 - 8 + 4 ⇒ (2, 1, 3, 2) - 8 + 4 = 4

With a few clever twists of her diamond coated steel picks and a quick spin of her quadcore comppad's Little Hacker App, the security pad flashes green and the reinforced ferro-titanium door guarding the cache hidden beneath one of the long abandoned huts swings open. With a hiss of stale, damp air, automatic florescent lights flicker to life revealing several crates of field rations, winter gear, a few small arms, and a ton each of standard short and long range missiles. Tucked away near the back of the storage unit sit another two tons of autocannon ammunition. One crate is too small for Carlton's Imperator Autocannon, but the second fits the bill perfectly.

*Wizard!* Jack chirps over the comms as an appropriate survival horde is revealed. *You have NO idea how much I'd been worried about this since our ride took off. I've been all like "Are we gonna start starving now???" I'd had thoughts of needing to do something strange for some change just to keep the belly full. I'm not really one to turn bandit, but I hear tell that one's mind can start to wander once you sleep hungry a few nights.

Anyway, nice. With this we can at least hold on to a veneer of civilization while we figure out how the rest of our life is gonna play out.*

Can we carry all of this with us? I think I saw rules somewhere about how to rig up a kind of net or carry-bag for a mech to carry. It seemed to imply that as long as the total weight was less than half the mech it could be done.

*Um, we should all grab warm gear and a side arm, since we are, as of an hour ago, in enemy territory.*

Given all of the spare materials laying around, you should be able to craft something that will work. Just need a Tech check to see how solid it is.

Tech!: 4d3 - 8 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (2, 1, 1, 1) - 8 + 4 + 2 = 3 that is the second time I have rolled one away from abso-bear-frickin-lutely minimum. dang it!

"Hey look guys, it's a General Purpose Tent Medium!" Jack says excitedly, getting out of his Jenner to do a proper inventory. "Obviously this thing is of no use to use, but if we just pop it open and then weld the joists to the flugenbinder." Jack gets out his trusty blowtorch flamethrower cigar lighter. He'd given up smoking, but the thing was not only useful, but very, very cool, so he kept it around. The thing was rechargable and could melt most civilian metals, if given time.

"Lemme just bend over the zorchpany to schlangpoffer and weld the whole thing into a solid mass, then this military-grade tent could now be held by a giant walking robot of death.

Anyone know where we could find one of those?"

Pillars of Prosperity Wilderness
Reykjavik, Illyrian Palitinate
23 February, 2950.

It takes much of the following day for Jack to rig up a trio of sleds and slings, but by the time he's finished all of your salvage and findings are packed and ready to haul overland. With few prospects and little choice at the moment, you all agree that Egillstadir is your best chance of finding work, a way off planet, or information about those who left you behind.

The journey starts out easy enough, but by midday a storm moves. Winds upward of sixty kilometers per hour blow rain occasionally mixed with snow and sleet across the land. Although safely tucked within your mechs, the weather is no real physical threat but it does slow you down as visibility and sensors are hampered by the poor conditions.

It is a couple of hours into the storm with temperatures dropping and frost glittering at the edges of your cockpit canopies, that the static laced emergency signal breaks through your comms.

*...kkrrrsshhhh...requesting immediate aide....kkkshhh....zzzbbttt...Illyrian Consolidated Resources convoy five-niner-niner. zzzzbbttt fire! I repeat we are under heavy mech fire! Request aide from any military or mercenary forces in area....kkkkssshhh...ICR will cover....crrraaaakkkk...zzzrrrttt... emergency contract terms....zzzttt.*

It takes you several minutes but you manage to get a fix on the origination location of the broadcast. It is approximately twenty-five klicks to the southwest of your current position.

*Well...drek.* Jack muses over the vox as the emergency signal comes in sort of. *Since we're badly in need of friends, showing up in the nick of time and officially becoming Big Dam Heroes would do much to increase our survivability.

Seconds, for me and the Commando, two-five-klicks ain't a big deal. Ten, fifteen minutes, give take. We might could make a difference if they're hole'd up. At least help survivors maybe. But the urbie? Well....*

Everyone has a copy of the Technical Readout 3025 in a different window all the time, right? So I'm sure everyone already knows that the speed of a 6/9 Commando is 64.8 kph walking, 97.2 KPH flank, and the speed of a 7/11 Jenner is 75.6/118.8. The Urbie is 21/32. >.>