Pathfinder's Saga

Many, many years ago, in a Galaxy far, far away…
**As a side note, all Chars/Orgs/Clans mentioned in this tale are/were ingame players. All mentioned either gave perrmisiion to be used, or were part of collaberative storylines.

<Hello and welcome /RP fans. To those who aren’t familiar, this is a storyline I started several years ago. Since I plan on continuing this, I thought I’d move it over here. Many RP’ers have contributed to this work over the years. I would ask everyone to not piggyback on this, as we should be getting a common story thread out soon. Enjoy!>

<Oh, and I said awhile ago, I was gone…well, I’m BACK. Not ingame yet, but theres always hope. And I got tired of Ciyanid badgering me to write more…so, I’ll be adding to this.>

Last edited by Gunfytr; Mar 3rd, 2013 at 02:57:05.


The Chief Warrant Officer gathered his team up with a glance and nodded towards the teleport station. “Good job, boys. Reets tonight! First round is on me.” He grins at the answering cheers. Inwardly he sighs, this herd of Clammers had been better than most …sending fully 40% of his team to reclaim. But the Battle Stations MUST be kept under OMNI control. Even though Clan incursions were becoming more rare, it remains a precarious situation. The orbiting Stations under Clan rule would be…uncomfortable to say the least.

He threw his OFAB Hawk mk5 to the team armorer. “Genmo, turn this piece of rollerrat crap back in to stores and make sure my JOBE is tuned up” “Gotcha, boss” The CWO shakes his head, the Hawk, the new “wondergun”, almost earned him a painful trip to reclaim. Bugs, glitches and a REALLY sticky selecter switch…barely got that burst off in time to make the last kill.

His team beginning to file into the teleport room, he looks around the station. Ours for a little while longer. He smiles quietly to himself. No matter what ICCs agenda is, putting these in orbit was a true blessing to a stuggling corp like OT. Now, if we can just get those ICC goons to lower the retrictions on targeting options…

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<;sounds of gunfire and panicked voices>

“Long, u stupid 'trox, get his attention!”
“I SMASH U, U DUMMmmmm…arrrg”

Well, this isnt going as planned. The Chief Warrant desparately pumps round after round into the Dust Brigade Commander. Sure, it SOUNDED good. A chance to hit the long-hidden Dust Brigade. Intel reported that a DB leader was going to be at this location with only a minimal bodyguard. “Great”, hes thinks to himself, “thats because he doesn’t NEED a bodyguard!”

“No nano here!”
“Boss, I got a bad feeling 'bout this”
“Shut up and keep hitting him!”
“Im a crawler! Why am I a crawler??”
“Im gonna kite him! Im gonna kite…”

This is looking really bad. Even his new assault rifle isnt making a dent in this guy. Lured into a trap, just like a freakin noob. These new nanos this guy is putting out…unreal. Turns u into a crawler? WTF is up with THAT? Leaches ur nano, makes ur hits HEAL him…how can u beat that?

“Get him off me!! Get him off me!!”
“Docs down!”
“OK, enough of this crap. Potty, evac!”
“Im tryin! He keeps interrupting me!..ACK!”

He watches, helplessly, as his team is slaughtered around him. Alone, he stops firing and watches as the DB commander stalks towards him. He lets his rifle hang on his chest, and slowly removes his helmet. Staring his opponant in the eye, he says quietly, “You win this round, but we’ll be back. Count on it.” A low, evil chuckle is his only reply. Oh, this is gonna leave a mark… He braces.

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The Chief Warrant Officer watches as the team gets up and walks out of the briefing room. They look forlorn as they steal furtive glances at him. “Dont sweat it guys, its not over yet”. Gods, this team wont be worth a damn for weeks. Its been a long time since one of HIS teams took a beating like that. He’ll have to put them on Tower duty for awhile. Chasing trepassing Clanners will cheer them up.
“What happened, Chief?”
He looks back at the Omni Intern-Ops Major. “You read the report, Major”, he replies stiffly.
The Major waves at a chair, “Sit, sit…at ease. Is this guy really that tuff?”
The CWO sighs, they always want more, always think you’re holding somthing back. “Yes, Sir, hes that tuff.” He stares at the Major a moment. “Sir, permission to speak freely?” “Of course”, the Major replies, eyes narrowing. The CWO thinks for a moment, then takes a breath, “Sir, I didnt sign my teams on for this crap”.
“What do you mean?”, the Major laughs, leaning back, “I would think that Live-fire Combat with NO permanent casualties would be a mercenaries, oh, excuse me, ‘contractors’ dream?”
The CWO shivers, thinking of a blinding white light, and indescrible pain, before finding himself at reclaim. “Sir, we have done everything that OT has asked of us…everytime.” He pauses, shaking his head. “I brought 3 full Search and Rescue Teams to Rubi-Ka, because THATS what the contract called for. Granted, we are Firepower heavy, but Combat isnt what has kept this group together all these years.” He fixes a baleful eye on the major. “Handling insurgents and backing up the regular OT troops is fine, but my people aren’t trained for assasination Ops, bonus or not.”
Again, the Major just laughs, “Your contract clearly states, Chief, ‘…And any other duties that may be required by the second party, for the good of the second party.’ We have covered this before. Your teams still have 2 years to the end of contract.” He stands up, “You WILL do as you are told, Chief. Or do you really want the Director to “re-evaluate” your worth to the company?”
“No Sir, that wont be neccessary, Sir” Muscles bunch on the sides of his jaw as the Chief grinds his teeth. What have I gotten us into this time?
“Good, good…I have another mission for you. The file will be at your quarters tomorrow morning.”
“Sir, we will be down an operational team for at least a week.”
The Major stops irritably, “Whatever, I just want results.”
The CWO watches him walk out of the room, then drops his chin down to his chest. Black clouded emotions run through him…this might be even worse than that ICC “Peacekeeping” Mission on Alpha-Centari IV.
He whispers bitterly to himself, “Omni-Tek Protects…”

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“OK, gather round.” All three teams crowded into the rec area, lounging on couches, the floor, and whatever was available. " Check the rosters, I swapped us up for assignments. Team leaders, Ive downloaded info to your terms, brief your teams later. This is just a quickie." He grins at the smirks as they get the joke. He hears whispers as team members try to explain it to the 2 'trox present. Good luck with that. Adding the 'trox to the Unit was questioned at first by some of the senior unit members, but they have worked out well. Brawn over brains really DOES pay off sometimes.
“Alright, knock it off.” Another quick glance around. Everyones here. “Team C is gonna spend the next week out in Perp Wastes…Riders have requested a team there for tower defense. They are gonna be tied up with stuff for a bit.” “What kinda 'stuff”, Chief?" “No idea, we don’t need to know, Erik. Is it ok if I continue the brief?” “Sorry, Boss.”
“Im taking a heavy DD team to the Inner Sanctum” shouts of protest “I know, I know…but Management wants a few items there. Hold it down. We all know those religious nuts are worse than Jesuits, but thats what we get paid for.”
“Team B is gonna freelance a bit, down here on RK. I want u guys handy in case we need you in IS, or if the Clans get a zerg together in PW.”
Glancing casually at the 2 'trox, he says, “Bundy, Long…I need u guys to go check the perimeter.” He watches as the 2 lumber out of the barracks. “Potty, we swept?” “Yup, right before you got here, just like you said, Boss.”
The CWO leans against a table. He looks every member present in the eye. His family, men and women hes known and led for years…his responsibility.
“OK, we ‘may’ have a problem with our new employer. You all have seen the contract. Well, seems we aren’t gonna be doin much ‘searching and rescuing’. We are being thrown in the mix with the rest of the combat units contracted here. I dont like it, but I think we are stuck with it. Their 'crats are real good, and found a clause that I missed. Nothin we aint done before, but I want u guys and gals to be real careful. We aren’t being ‘watched’ as far as I know, but stay away from those Omni-Reform guys. Chaindogs are the same no matter what planet you’re on. We’ve been in this game a long time, together, nuthin we can’t handle. We good?”
The answering chorus of cheers fills him with confidence. Damn this is a good bunch.
“Ok, make it happen. Team leaders in my office in 10.”

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The Chief looked up at a knock at his door. “Come”, he called. Beer, Max and Erikose filed in and took seats. “You guys get a chance to check out the profiles?” They nodded. “Questions?”
“Boss”, started Erikose, quickly glancing at the other two , “My crew is fine, we dont NEED no vacation.”
“Erik, I have no problem with you OR your crew. That last run was a mess. I was there, remember? I need a team to babysit Riders’ towers for a few days, and you’re it. If I had an issue with you, we would be having a different type of conversation. After reading more intel on that guy, I impressed we lasted as long as we did.” He gazed steadily at Erik, “'Sides, Kensey looked a little shook. That was her first total wipe. Keep an eye on her.” He nods, “I have been, MJ’s been hangin with her. She’ll be allright.”
The Chief looked at Max, his youngest Team Leader. “Max, I’m pullin Bull for a few days. You still have Wolf, so I’m not srtipping you naked for DD, but I’d rather err in OUR favor in IS.”
“No problems here, Chief.”
“Keep up the patrols, but dont get bogged down. We might need u guys in a hurry.”

“Close the door, Beer.” He waited till his senior TL sat back down. “I sent a message off to HQ. “Our” HQ, not these OT morons. I explained the situation to the Commandant. How his S and R teams are being used as covert ops. I’m hoping that Legal Div can get us out of here. Theres a big difference between running Search and Rescue on a frontier world, and doin “Black Ops”. If Intern-Ops finds out we are trying to get out of the contract, there could be issues. But till this gets worked out, we still got a job to do. We are all familier with the political climate here. Ones mans “terrorist” is another mans “freedom fighter”. All that concerns us is taking care of the Unit, and payday. I still want everyone armed 24/7 and prefer they not go out alone. These Clanners are insidious little pukes, never know when ones gonna snipe your ■■■.”
“Ok, Max, start your first patrol at o’dark thirty, we move in the morning. Be careful, and good hunting.”

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“Got it! Lets go!”

CWO Gunfytr watches over his shoulder as Beer shoves a bloody piece of torn flesh into a backpack. Another wave of cultists approach, wilting under the firepower of the team. Green and white tracers ricochet crazily from the stone floor and walls. The cultists seem annoyed that the team had killed their dragon-god. Pity, that.

“Back to the portal. Leapfrog by pairs, do it!”

I hope this is worth as much to Management as it is a pain to get. All this for a piece of meat. The cultists continue to swarm the team, make-shift weapons in their fists. Boards, tools and the odd firearm. Their biggest threat was their numbers.

CRUNCH Gun staggers, an impact to his back almost sending him to the floor. A warm tingle tells him MJ is on the job. He glances back, just in time to see her smash the offending cultist against a wall, before shoving her pistol under his chin. A second later, the wall is decorated in red. He grins. A blood thirsty b*tch, but tops in her proffession.

A large door opens and a fresh wave emerges, flowing over Bull, driving him to the floor with the weight of bodies. Blades rise and fall, attempting to find a ***** in his armor. Gun and Beer quickly dive onto the pile, breaking bodies as they desperately try to free him. Gun sees MJ, standing behind the firing line. Eyes tightly clenched, she grates hoarsely, “Get him OUT of there!.” The air crackles with energy as she pours heals into her fallen teammate. The remaining members form a semi-circle around them, striving to keep the rest of the cultists at bay. Suddenly, she lets out a shriek of rage and frustration. At the same time, the team hears a death rattle on their comlinks. Gun and Beer immediately abandon the pile, but not before Beer shoves a grenade deep inside. The following WHUMP sends blue clad bodies flying around the room. Gun activates his comlink.

< B Team! Max, you copy? >
< B Lead, go ahead >
< Bulls down, swing passed reclaim and pick him up >
< Copy that >

He switches to a private link. “Max…it was bad, take care of him” “Got it, Boss”
Reclaim may have made “permanent” death almost a thing of the past, but the trauma of the injuries that CAUSED the death still lingered in the mind. It was pure hell on the psyche, and didnt get easier with practice.

Step by step, the team moves towards the portal. Bodies form windrows around them. Finally they move thru, the rush of energy taking them away. The screams of the cultists fading away like the wind…

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Morning briefing. The teams are still riding high on the past days successes. They elbow each other and crack jokes, waiting for Gunfytr to start the meeting.
“Listen up! Daily patrol schedules are posted. We are bringing in an instructor this weekend for Clan weapon recognition and familiarisation. We need to know what to expect out there. Remember, the ■■■ u save MAY be mine…so, there will be a quiz.” Chuckles fill the room.

Guns demeaner suddenly turns serious. “We have an oppurtunity. This effects the whole Unit, so I want everyones opinion on it.” He gazes around the room. “I picked up some Intel thru a source of my own, that our old buddy, the DB Commander is gonna be open to a hit.”

“We know where and when hes going to be, and its doable. But there are some problems with it. While he IS on the “Kill on sight” list, this particular mission has been shopped out to another unit. IF we do this, it could cause bad blood with our “peers”. So, is it worth stepping on some toes?”

Shouts and curses fill the room. Rifles and blades are waved around. The two 'trox begin head-butting each other in excitement.

Narnon, one of the adventurer/scouts, steps forward. “Sir! I’m sure I can speak for my team when I say WE volunteer for this mission!” Suddenly, every member is pressing forward, shouting to be included in the OP.

Smiling, Gun waves them back into their seats. “I’ll take that as a ‘Yes, we should do it’. OK, I appreciate the enuthsiasm, but we can only get a 6 man team thru the hole in security there. Your leadership is gonna ‘put paid’ to this guy. Im taking the 3 team leaders, MJ and…Kensy.”

Sudden silence. Its been known that the debacle had severely hurt kensy’s confidence. All eyes turn to her. She calmly gazes back…and walks over to Long. Grabbing the 'trox by the neck, she pulls him down and head-butts him with a resounding CRACK!

The crowd goes wild.

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“Goin down, b*tch!!”
“Who’s yer daddy, now, punk?”
“Stay focused, dammit!”
“Re-loading, cover!”

They finally have the DB Commander on the ropes. The relentless firepower brought to bear on him could have taken out a dreadnaught. But he WAS going down.

The DB boss, knowing he was doomed, charged MJ, hoping to cause some damage before being sent to reclaim. Beer stepped in between, taking the attack on his heavier, more durable armor. Quickly, Gun and Erikose swing behind him, shots questing for thinner armor. With a hatefilled snarl, the DB Boss collapses.

As one, the team drops to the sand, exhausted. One of the tougher missions, but, by far, the most needed. MJ and Kensy put their heads together, discussing exit options. Erik gets up and wonders off to where they had left the bodyguard assigned to the Boss. Suddenly, Max springs up off the sand and rushes over to where the DB Boss still lay. Gun sees him tear somthing off his armor and shove it into the Boss’ mouth just seconds before the body de-rez’s, taking the item with it. Max walks back to where the team lay resting.

Gun looks at him curiously, “What was that?” Max grins, “A Pathfinders Unit patch. I wanted him to know who WTFPWN’d his ■■■.” Beer laughs, “Great, ‘How to make friends and influence people.’ I like it.”

Erik strolls back, a disgusted look on his face. “And whats wrong with you?”, asks Beer. Erik grimaces, “This whole ‘re-claim’ thing is cool, and all. But, its really messin up my ear collection.” The team breaks into laughter.

Gun calls over to his medics, “Kensy, MJ! Take us home.”


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Gunfytr silently ghosts across a wooded valley. So quiet is his passage, that even the local wildlife doesnt notice. One of his few “guilty pleasures”, he enjoyed exploring and mapping the new worlds his proffession took him to. He paused, taking in the setting of this worlds twin suns. He takes a deep breath of the cool, sweet air, and continues up the ridge.

Nearing the top, he freezes, hearing the sounds of gunfire, shouts, and…laughter? Creeping closer, he sees an ICC Patrol, surrounding an abandoned shack. Probably an old mining camp, long fallen into disrepair. He settles down to watch. He listens as the patrol shout catcalls at the shack.

“Hey little MP, come out and play!”
“Yeah! We loooove Clam girls!”
“I heard re-claim is nice this time of day!”
“We’re gonna teach you to stay in your OWN place!”

“Whats going on here, Corporal?”
“AAAGH!..Where did YOU come from?”, The Patrol Leader sputters.
Gun waves a hand, “Around. Now, what are you people doing?” The PL swallows, " We got us a Clammer MP in there, just having us a little fun before we send her back to where she belongs."

“So. ICC has officially decided to aid Omni in the eradication of the Clans, then?” The PL stares, “Um, well, no. But, shes out of her territory, and we were just gonna…um…that is…” “Sure you were. Allright, then, be on your way. I’m claiming the kill.”

The PLs jaw drops, “You’re WHAT??” Gun continues, unperturbed,“I’m claiming the kill.” His gaze sharpens, “Unless you want to 'contest” my claim, and try a little ‘1v1’?" Uh, NO Sir, sorry Sir" “Thats what I thought, now gather your goons up and CLEAR MY AREA!”

Gunfytr watches as the ICC troops quickly leave the area, frantically hurried by their corporal. He sighs, and walks to the front of the shack. “They’re gone. You can come out now,” He calls. “Come on, I dont have all day.”

The front door of the shack swings open and an MP pet demon runs out, snarling. The pet charges him, and begins bashing on his armor. Gun absently brushes aside the attack, and trips the demon. As the demon lay on the ground, he casually places a foot on its back, keeping it pinned. A small form then rushes out of the shack. The enraged MP stalking up to him. “What are you doing? Get off of him! Just who do you think you are??”

He looks down at the small Clan MP. “I think I’m the guy that saved you from a trip to re-claim, and probably worse. Now, control your pet, please.” She stares, disbelieving, at him a moment, then waves a hand at the demon. Immediately, it stops snarling and scratching impotently at the ground. Gun steps off the demon, and moves a reassuring distance from the MP.

The MP helps her pet to its feet. “LOOK at this! You put a BOOT mark on him!” “Yeah, well, saves you the trouble of casting a new one.”

“What do you want?”