Another Story using essence of mech lab... when I should actually be working updating this.
Initial Draft Version:
A Rabid Fox appears from the Heavens!
Mallory's world, 3013
There is a point in your life where things have settled down, and you realize you're getting older. That maybe its time to hang up the spurs.
... and sometimes the Universe looks at you tells you your fucking stupid, and to hell with slowing down... and then proceeds to kick your ass to another dimension.
My mouth was dry. It was hot, and sandy outside, and humidity ranked up there with Dubai in the peak of summer. The threat of heat advisory was overshadowed by the one for Combine invaders. I would have figured that if I was going to get dropped into BattleTech it would be as some Space Heir shenanigans... at least I hadn't been dropped into the worst parts of the timeline... or in the middle of the clan invasion.
"Fuck." I hissed as the Warhammer I had just said hi hows it going to started to turn, the Warhammer pilot must have been wondering what the fuck was going on. "Fucker." This was supposed to be the rear of the formation I had no idea how some asshole heavy mech had gotten here... and I didn't really know why I was fighting ... I hadn't woken up in the AFFS ...
...on the other hand I was a guy with a mech, on a world being invaded... I knew what the other guy was piloting, but I doubted he knew as much about this thing of mine... but we were both seventy ton mechs.
The armored gauntlet containing the lasers reared back and I punched the Warhammer that didn't want to show up on my scopes. Punching a mech is harder than it looks, never mind that it would make any 'true born of Kerensky's clans weep'... and I was in a clan mech but leaving that aside the battlefist hit the Warhammer's side torso. I had already run into it moments earlier, and I didn't let up, the left arm carrying the same energy weapons load out slammed into the Sword of Light's mech and into about a minute of pummeling I realized that I'd reduced the Warhammer to so much inarticulate scrap... just about the same time as I realized that I was surrounded by a bunch of other combine mechs...
"fuck."
I stepped forward, stepping on the downed Warhammer as I did so and fired the clan large lasers sending blasts of energy into the nearest combine machine as my targeting computer locked on. I couldn't keep that up, I noticed the immediate spike in my display of heat versus the DHS ability to address that kind of build up... and I knew immediately this was going to be bad.
The Clan Large Lasers, what were properly Clan Extended Range Large Lasers just ran too hot for the dual heat sinks to keep up... but not seeing any other options and accounting that I was outnumbered to hell and back... well okay there was a company of Davions around but we were properly hosed to be honest...
"Well guess you guys are earning your pay tonight." I grunted over the open channel as my seventy tonner took another step on top of the warhammer and then fired one arm and then the next hoping to avoid redlining my coolant system as the targeting computer fixed on the nearest mechs first. If they were going to kill me, I was damn going to make sure I took as many of them with me as I had to... never mind I'd been on this planet and in this universe for all of the morning.
... and that I was apparently fourteen again... that sucked too.
Sand kicked up, guns fired on all sides and the ... what the fucking history books would call the 3
rd Battle for Mallory's world commenced amongst a wasteland of scrub brush, and dirt. My targeting computer and communications systems telling me all about the different mechs, and making sure I was only shooting at Combine Mechs or in this case mechs from the sword of light... the temperature gauge kept climbing as the cooling system struggled forcing me to pair down to just three of the guns as ferro fibrous armor was sand papered by enemy missiles, and withering fire... I got the feeling that eleven and a half tons really wasn't enough when there was a whole battalion bearing down... and just as soon as the heat would allow it the fourth laser came back into play...
... it would only be later that I remembered I could have routed my machines cooling to each specific gun and that not that I had had time to link the heat sinks into the weapons, and nor could I have pursued that for all four. It was one of those benefit of hindsight things.
So I just kept blasting, and with a preference to getting up close enough firing directly into mech cockpits whenever I could line the reticle up to do that, which was usually any time anyone got close enough to fire a medium laser at me.... which was by the end of it all was too many to count... and it was only after the shooting was done that the rest of the Davions decided to show up, and my armor had been shot to hell.
Nothing had gone internal but the armor was barely there any more.
--
I found myself panting outside the crouching mech... I didn't even remember getting out of the mech. I had unzipped the flight jacket. Post combat shakes. I was coming off the adrenaline dump, I told myself I'd been through this ... I needed to find something with a lot of sugar fight the crash that was going to come after this.
So what if I hadn't ever done in it a giant robot, or with laser cannons. So fucking what.
I stole back into my cockpit and managed to find a water bottle in the supply kit which I greedily drank down half of poured the fruit punch mix into my mouth and swished it around despite the grit and swallowed. Then sat back and panted behind the armored view screen of the closed mech... I don't know why I'd gotten out of the armored war machine...
... that had been stupid. Being in here offered me more protection than being outside of it. I didn't remember getting out, but that was the shakes. I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat off my face, and shook like a dog... and then looked at the passive camera feeds and the broken war machines around... and the returns of incoming reinforcements.
I fell back into the seat as the Essence window popped up to nag me... maybe I'd just pass out sitting in the cockpit, and wait here.
--
A Rabid Fox Saves the First Prince
Part 2
Ian Davion watched the teenage mercenary mechwarrior retreat back to his cockpit. Any physical weakness after the battle was understandable... his Atlas had also gotten a bit warm as the battle had progressed, and he wasn't running an energy boat. His command company hadn't been expecting combat themselves that Colonel Kurita had managed to waltz his battalion so brazenly onto them was ridiculous.
... but it had been what happened.
With their forces battered, but intact Ian Davion knew that they could succeed in driving the Combine from Mallory's world. "Signal Colonel Kell."
Five football fields away the seventy tonner booted.
"Alright," The teenager grunted looking at the screens, a mix of physical and hard light. "If I slave these here then, these," He muttered to himself... the pips were representational. He was pretty sure if he was reading the output right he couldn't just slave all of his heat sinks to his weapons... not if he wanted to be able to move ... and given how bad off his armor was, he didn't want to be standing there like some kind of sitting duck.
A couple of minutes later the displays greened. The projected heat curve flattened but the computer still projected the machine would risk overheating if he had to fire all four lasers... but he wasn't surprised This was better than nothing in any event.
His index finger hovered extended over the console interface... he had a headache staring at the machine... or that could be the come down from the adrenaline high. Whatever it was he exited out of the diagnostics display without out any further changes. Ten of the mechs 21 DHS were now slaved to two of the Clan Extended Range Large Lasers... it would help manage his heat problem this was so much more of a headache than it was on table top.
Sand swirled around his machine as the wind blew through the wasteland.
He looked at the mech returns... "Man, if I make it through this I am going to fuck off to nowherese-ville... this Inner Sphere succession war stuff is for the dogs." He remarked to the machine, rather to an actual person. The digital display returns showed... well a lot... a lot of signals. There were mech regiments, and non mech regiments... and there were a lot of both... this was a real battle, not some dust up with pirates, or local militia types.
It was about that time his actual computer screens were over laid with some gamer esque display from the essence triggering showing him a bunch of values and options that he didn't have time to deal with. BV, Currency values, the ability to spend for skills and buy items... all sorts of things that he couldn't use right now.... not with a piddling 25 BV 'in the till' so to speak. He 'd work out all of this once he made it through the day.
It would be later on after he had made it through the day that he actually looked at his character sheet... which seemed to be akin to a starter roll up from Age of War the table top RPG that some ideas would occur to him... that and using the recycle button. Today's survival was about making it through the cluster fuck of being dropped into one of the major battles of the late 3
rd succession war, even as the details nagged at him.
He paused, and vocally observed "Oh the Kell Hounds are here." The pieces slowly fell into place as he turned his heavily scuffed heavy mech around... and half remembered details from a book he hadn't read or paged through in a couple years slowly came together... well there went the timeline for the rest of the third succession war...
He'd recognized the Second Sword of Light, and the lack of returns from the warhammer that he'd managed to nearly run over... and to tell the truth the Kell Hounds had never been his faction... this was the battle where Yorinaga Kurita was supposed to kill First Prince Ian Davion.
The Davion in the Atlas over there.
Then Yorinaga was supposed to be all emo about not getting to carry off the body to the coordinator when the Combine got run off the planet...
... so yeah, "There goes canon." He took a glance through the semi opaque overlays to squint at the remains of the mechs... and in particular another seventy ton mech... the one that had his Rabid Fox's foot impressions over its battered armor.
That was Yorinaga Kurita's warhammer.
Yorinaga Kurita was dead.
Ian Davion in his Atlas over there wasn't.
... Ian was still First Prince, and thus not getting succeeded by Hanse... which risked potentially derailing the whole battle of Halstead station which risked fucking up the whole NAIS thing... which would be bad whenever the clans came a knocking... that would be bad.
His thoughts were interrupted by a Davion liaison officer intruding on them by handshaking his mech... more or less with an offer he couldn't refuse.
--
He grumbled to himself that he thought this planet was supposed to be a breadbasket world... not that complaining didn't do him any good, but it was something to do while he trudged the heavy mech through. The Combine didn't seem to know what the hell to do, to the point he had to wonder whether they were waiting for Yorinaga to tell them what to do... in which case that sucked for them...
... maybe Yorinaga had been hit by the good idea fairy and had taken his whole battalion without telling anyone or what to do at all? Hadn't the Combine lost Halstead station, he had know that the Kell Hounds had made Yorinaga back off in canon so maybe he hadn't told anyone and the Davion counter attack had found some gap to exploit and now they were backpedalling.
His targeting computer flagged a Panther even before it crested the hill and as it soon as it showed up he slathered it with some love from his large lasers dropping the 35 ton mech into a burning heat...
"Second Sword of Light, 2
nd Legion of Vega, 9
th Benjamin Regulars, 24
th and 36
th Dieron." He recited in annoyance.... what a mess, he perked up and started shooting the Jenners as they zoomed in, not wanting them to get close given his armor diagram's abundance of yellow and red indicators... but the Davion liaison was right the Combine was fighting a if we can't have it neither can you.
He put the reticle in line with the mech's head, and squeezed the right trigger, the ER Large Laser with slaved heat sinks in the arm fired, and down went another bug. He tapped his console to send the video footage to the davion hq vehicle... some command call the 'Brigands' of all things attached to the 7
th Crucis Lancers and then turned bringing his left arm in line to fire on another slightly heavier BattleMech with shit armor and vestigial arms. It exploded into its own glorious fireball as the lasers ripped through standard armor.
Keep moving and shooting, survive and then figure out what the fuck to do from here.
--
Notes: As I mentioned I should be starting yet another thing, and especially not a BT, but this idea has been nagging me so this is Essence of Mega Mek lab (
https://forum.questionablequesting....discussions-thread.4740/page-101#post-5134727) + A Simple Battletech CYOA (
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eden4TNeOBtrhSjClK8eVcJIiaVGEOzKIq02Pc6OMgM/edit) dropping into Mallory's world in 3013
The title is not fixed, its a reference to the Rabid Fox B configuration that is the starting mech. That information can be found:
https://www.clanfox.com/downloads in the record sheet document available on this page.
This is currently sitting at about five thousand words ... coming up on an idea that first went to its first draft about twenty hours ago, and I've been doing other things today... some times its like that. I know I should actually be working on updateing the story that uses the essence first as such, but this operates using the same essence with a slightly different plot line... it is fairly Davion aligned, so more like GWW but it uses plot ideas from both. I hope to get an actual update to that story up in May, but in the mean time I'll probably post some more of this in the misc thread.
EDIT: Yes I wasn't paying attention and posted this here, and not in Essence Wielding Social General.