“It started seven years ago, in a tiny, red-stained Frontier town called Flatstone, on the crap-hole Frontier planet of Sorrow. Many people, some smarter than me, have remarked at the irony of the planet’s name, but I digress.
A small military squad, from the Mycabri-Vic’Tarian Alliance, was tasked to extradite Flatstone’s Foreman, a Colonist who had knowledge of the Humans’ advanced weaponry. It ended in what could barely be called a bloodbath, with only eleven dead and several more wounded.
Worse though, it ended the Human Conflict, the name given to a series of some skirmishes between the Collective and the Mycabri-Vic’Tarian Alliance.
Even worse, it gave birth to the Border Wars – a ‘verse-spanning, trans-species war that lasted seven bloody years.
Amazing, isn’t it, that something so small, so insignificant, could launch one of the most devastating wars in any species’ history….”
-Speech excerpt from Shar’Lan Bloodbrother of the Quickclaw Clan
”Gorramit boy, do you actually believe the war is over? Them damn natives never signed a treaty or nothing. This ain’t nothing but a cease-fire, mark my words…”
-Overheard at The Dry Gulch Tavern, Jovanni Tist, Collective Marine Corps deserter, currently serving as a Commerce Alliance Regulator
Session One: This is gonna hurt…
Another laser blast slammed into the wall, just inches from the corner two Mycabri have taken refuge. This was supposed to be an easy mission - just a Verify and Chat, Dhran Hunter of the Caixa Clan thought to himself, but it's turning into a mini-war.
The two Mycabri, freshly discharged from the Mycab Sector Military and in the employ for the Caixa Clan, found themselves against the elite - and near-mortal enemies of the Mycabri race - Collective Marine Corps (CMC for short)….and they found themselves slightly outgunned.
Around the corner to the right, and just thirty feet down the hallway - at another hallway interjection….
4 CMC Assault Troopers, armed with laser rifles are firing bursts of deadly energy towards the apartment building’s only elevator. Unfortunately, for the two Mycabri, the CMC troopers are on the opposite side of their objective – a simple apartment door, about midway down the now-sizzling hallway.
Three floors below…
Two solidly-built humans, dressed in long brown dusters and wearing the wide-brimmed hats pulled down low over their eyes, casually stroll towards the apartment building’s only elevator, their boots clinking metallically as the spurs strike the hard stone floor. The few people – humans – that are scattered around the apartment building’s lobby do their best to avoid eye contact with these agents of the Commerce Alliance, fearful, as evidenced by their body language.
In Apartment 315…
“They’re outside the door!” the young female human, mid-twenties and having taken refuge behind a large couch, screamed, her voice scared. A human male, a twig of a man wearing jeans and a dirty t-shirt, crouched behind the nearby breakfast bar, his face more or less calm and the small pistol in his hand steady.
“Quiet Charisma, or they are bound to hear you…” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes – one blue, the other brown – scanning under the apartment’s only exit…into the hallway of laser fire.
Dhran glanced about his surroundings, taking stock of their options. Exits. Need to mark exits, the Mycabri thought to himself. The hallway he – and his cousin, Mont Hunter of the Caixa Clan, were currently occupying was dead-ended. True, there was a large plasti-steel window at the far end (along with a thirty-plus foot drop), but he didn’t like that option. There were three doors on the left of the hallway, indicating apartments, while only one door set along the right wall. None of those were good options, he thought, shaking his head slightly – his dull mono-colored Honor Beads clanking together gently. He knew they could always go back the way they came, to the elevator, but the adjoining hallway was exposed to fire – and of course, those CMC troopers were holed up near the emergency stairwell. No good options…
Might be our best option, Mont Hunter of the Caixa Clan, the second Mycabri, thought to himself as he considered the situation his cousin – Dhran – were in. Mont looked to his partner, then made a series of hand gestures: index finger pointed to his smoke grenade; index finger pointed to himself; a flat hand sweeps out; another index finger pointed to Dhran, followed closely by a closed fist.
Dhran understood. Smoke the hallway, and while Mont charged out into the exposed hallway, Dhran was to provide cover fire with his Grayhawk pistol. It wasn’t exactly tactically sound, but it might be their only real option. A strong offense and all that jazz… With a nod that said Ready from Mont, Dhran leaned out around the corner and pulled the trigger – Mont’s smoke grenade soaring over the other Mycabri’s head.
The grenade flew true, twenty feet down, and bouncing a few times before finally rolling to a stop. With a soft pop, thick white smoke began to pour out of the grenade, already providing good concealment. Dhran’s shot wasn’t as nicely executed, pinging hard into the wall, harmless. Both Mycabri ducked back behind the corner though, as the hallway is lit up with laser blasts and curses from the CMC troopers. Suddenly, the laserfire stopped – and the Mycabri could barely make out what sounded like frantic reloading….
Nothing to it but to do it Mont thought to himself as he threw himself into the hallway and charged towards the smoke - and towards the CMC soldiers....
A small military squad, from the Mycabri-Vic’Tarian Alliance, was tasked to extradite Flatstone’s Foreman, a Colonist who had knowledge of the Humans’ advanced weaponry. It ended in what could barely be called a bloodbath, with only eleven dead and several more wounded.
Worse though, it ended the Human Conflict, the name given to a series of some skirmishes between the Collective and the Mycabri-Vic’Tarian Alliance.
Even worse, it gave birth to the Border Wars – a ‘verse-spanning, trans-species war that lasted seven bloody years.
Amazing, isn’t it, that something so small, so insignificant, could launch one of the most devastating wars in any species’ history….”
-Speech excerpt from Shar’Lan Bloodbrother of the Quickclaw Clan
”Gorramit boy, do you actually believe the war is over? Them damn natives never signed a treaty or nothing. This ain’t nothing but a cease-fire, mark my words…”
-Overheard at The Dry Gulch Tavern, Jovanni Tist, Collective Marine Corps deserter, currently serving as a Commerce Alliance Regulator
Session One: This is gonna hurt…
Another laser blast slammed into the wall, just inches from the corner two Mycabri have taken refuge. This was supposed to be an easy mission - just a Verify and Chat, Dhran Hunter of the Caixa Clan thought to himself, but it's turning into a mini-war.
The two Mycabri, freshly discharged from the Mycab Sector Military and in the employ for the Caixa Clan, found themselves against the elite - and near-mortal enemies of the Mycabri race - Collective Marine Corps (CMC for short)….and they found themselves slightly outgunned.
Around the corner to the right, and just thirty feet down the hallway - at another hallway interjection….
4 CMC Assault Troopers, armed with laser rifles are firing bursts of deadly energy towards the apartment building’s only elevator. Unfortunately, for the two Mycabri, the CMC troopers are on the opposite side of their objective – a simple apartment door, about midway down the now-sizzling hallway.
Three floors below…
Two solidly-built humans, dressed in long brown dusters and wearing the wide-brimmed hats pulled down low over their eyes, casually stroll towards the apartment building’s only elevator, their boots clinking metallically as the spurs strike the hard stone floor. The few people – humans – that are scattered around the apartment building’s lobby do their best to avoid eye contact with these agents of the Commerce Alliance, fearful, as evidenced by their body language.
In Apartment 315…
“They’re outside the door!” the young female human, mid-twenties and having taken refuge behind a large couch, screamed, her voice scared. A human male, a twig of a man wearing jeans and a dirty t-shirt, crouched behind the nearby breakfast bar, his face more or less calm and the small pistol in his hand steady.
“Quiet Charisma, or they are bound to hear you…” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes – one blue, the other brown – scanning under the apartment’s only exit…into the hallway of laser fire.
Dhran glanced about his surroundings, taking stock of their options. Exits. Need to mark exits, the Mycabri thought to himself. The hallway he – and his cousin, Mont Hunter of the Caixa Clan, were currently occupying was dead-ended. True, there was a large plasti-steel window at the far end (along with a thirty-plus foot drop), but he didn’t like that option. There were three doors on the left of the hallway, indicating apartments, while only one door set along the right wall. None of those were good options, he thought, shaking his head slightly – his dull mono-colored Honor Beads clanking together gently. He knew they could always go back the way they came, to the elevator, but the adjoining hallway was exposed to fire – and of course, those CMC troopers were holed up near the emergency stairwell. No good options…
Might be our best option, Mont Hunter of the Caixa Clan, the second Mycabri, thought to himself as he considered the situation his cousin – Dhran – were in. Mont looked to his partner, then made a series of hand gestures: index finger pointed to his smoke grenade; index finger pointed to himself; a flat hand sweeps out; another index finger pointed to Dhran, followed closely by a closed fist.
Dhran understood. Smoke the hallway, and while Mont charged out into the exposed hallway, Dhran was to provide cover fire with his Grayhawk pistol. It wasn’t exactly tactically sound, but it might be their only real option. A strong offense and all that jazz… With a nod that said Ready from Mont, Dhran leaned out around the corner and pulled the trigger – Mont’s smoke grenade soaring over the other Mycabri’s head.
The grenade flew true, twenty feet down, and bouncing a few times before finally rolling to a stop. With a soft pop, thick white smoke began to pour out of the grenade, already providing good concealment. Dhran’s shot wasn’t as nicely executed, pinging hard into the wall, harmless. Both Mycabri ducked back behind the corner though, as the hallway is lit up with laser blasts and curses from the CMC troopers. Suddenly, the laserfire stopped – and the Mycabri could barely make out what sounded like frantic reloading….
Nothing to it but to do it Mont thought to himself as he threw himself into the hallway and charged towards the smoke - and towards the CMC soldiers....
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