► (an on-going campaign) Wolfpack: the ComGuard Irregulars // UPDATED 2/22/13

[Wombat]

Backstory and Premise: In 2789 when Comstar helped to setup the hiring halls on Galatea (otherwise known as the "Mercenaries Star", and initially brokered for the Mercenary Review Board, the method for guaranteeing legitimacy was devised; the Gutenberg. A massive server combined with eight tandem hyperpulse generator fusion encrpyption enigma devices on a 24-hour connection to each of the Great Houses and three of the minor Periphery powers at all times. If one part is missing, it fails to operate. Once a neutral oversight committee agreed to any mercenary contract via Gutenberg, it is automatically entered into and unilaterally agreed as legitimate by all parties in the known galaxy (by proxy).

• The datastore and “encryption key” is hardware based.
• When the Galatea MRB, Mercenary Review Board, became defunct, the server was broke into Eight componets that belong to each of the hours plus three majority Periphery units. Five counterparts to each tandem hyperpulse generator fusion encrpyption enigma devices, or HPGFEEDs, have been returned and are now located in the capitols of each of the major Houses. The other three HPGFEED receivers are rotated every 3 months by the minor Periphery powers. The accounts for the “hiring equinox” when the other HPGFEED receivers are being exchanged through the year; usually accounting for this hiring and/or contract freeze three-day event.

The fine print: The faith in Comstar is largely shaken. As representatives from all corners of the Inner Sphere including (but not representing) the Clans, all contracts have been effectively pulled and assets frozen on Galatea for the now-defunct MRB. For the new MRBC, Mercenary Review and Bonding Commission, to work; it must be unilaterally agreed on. If even one House does not sign off on the new MRBC, there can be no mercenary authority.
  ► Why this is important: Contracts could not be issued because a contract issued for the Lyrans wouldn’t be recognized by the Liaos, and so forth. No free-market oversight means every House would be issuing their own mercenary contracts, and with no neutral rating system or appeal process and no unilateral agreement; the system would collapse. 

Gutenberg Server / HPGFEED Retrieval Objectives:

   [     ] #LC34.A\200562, Tatyana Islands, Tharkad, Lyran Division, Federated Commonwealth
   [     ] #FS8.B\15719U2, Hebrides, New Avalon, Davion Division, Federated Commonwealth
   [     ] #CC5.C2\883JD0,  Liaoning “The Walrus”, Sian, Capellan Confederation
   [     ] #FW2.K\2HH465, Paltos, Ewen Sea, Atreus, Free Worlds League
   [     ] #DC4.C\9L117P1, Imperial City, Luthien, Draconis Combine
   [     ] #PR1.F\22B48X2, Periphery Exchange, last region = Magna, Taurus, Taurian Concordat
   [     ] #PR6.H\22C1B11, Periphery Exchange, last region = Delphi, Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus
   [     ] #PR7.B\22A15L2, Periphery Exchange, last region = Famindas, Alpheratz, Outworlds Alliance

Gutenberg Server / HPGFEED Installation Objectives:

                       [     ] #WD0.1\G167231, MRBC, Harlech, Outreach, Independent Protectorate, Federated Commonwealth


The Campaign Begins (Act I – Midnight on the Firing Line):

Feb 2, 3053. Originally 12 representatives, a cross-section of the Inner Sphere and beyond, including (but not necessarily representing) the Clans; specifically “bondsman” taken during the Battle of Tukayyid, were to be selected to from differnet units around the Inner Sphere to guarantee neutrality. They were to meet on Galatea to be briefed on their mission> to retrieve the eight parts of the Gutenberg server from a list around the Inner Sphere and periphery and deliver it to the new MRBC location in Harlech, on the Wolf's Dragoons HQ on Outreach.

...unfortunately, the spaceport of Galatea is derelict; like looking at one of those before and after wartime comparisons. The searchlights are off. The guard towers unmanned. The sound of crackling fires is occasionally interrupted by far away patrol car sirens, screams gone unanswered, and gunshots as looters can be seen sitting on marked-military boxes (no-doubt stolen merchandise) around impromptu burning barrels in the mostly empty spaceport. The stench in the air wafers of old beer, the smell of dead partially-cooked street animals, and perhaps the hint of old, cheap sex. One after another, the players dropships touch down in the middle of the night just long enough to throw a single warrior out on the tarmac and take off again.

►► Its kind of like a getting kicked out of a speeding car in the worst part of Detroit.

The players:
Wolfe - A former Clan Wolf 'mechwarrior taken bondsman in the battle of Tukayyid, recently given warrior status.
Mollie - Not much is known about Mollie other than she's wicked good in the cockpit
Cheng Feng - Former Capallen 'mechwarrior that doesn't speak a whole lot.
Hideo Arashikage - Former Combine warrior with possible connections to royal family.

Almost immediately players realize that several other warriors have been dropped off, most likely part of the original 12 representatives that were to form an Independant ComGuard unit, have been killed on the former starport grounds; their bodies looted for clothes and other artifacts. A small man, wearing a AFFC jacket freshly stained in blood waddles up, leaning on a rifle as he does so and asks for money. Shortly later, a croud forms. A rather portly man steps up to you and demands all your C-Bills. The players, not knowing each other, find themselves suddenly common allies in a street brawl on the former starport grounds.

► After defeating the street gang, they find a locker key with a scratched off locker number. They check nearby crashed Leopard-class dropship, still partly embedded in the Northern spaceport wall. It appears to have been poorly retrofitted into a free-for-all squater home. A portly-hung bed sheet hanging near the rusted blast door depicts, in the crudest of modern-day hieroglyphics, that ladies of the evening can be, well, “acquired” for a very short-term relationship here. finding nothing but overpriced hookers, they move on.

►► Curiously, the players find a gold brick with a strange symbol next to several old Hungarian Pengò bills. Not sure what to do with them, they hang on to them.

► Finding an overnight diner, the players eat and, after exploring Galatea a bit, eventually end up at the Hiring Hall.

Inside the Hiring Hall: The security at the security that made the Hiring Hall supposedly more secure than the Fox’s Den back on New Avalon seems to have been replaced by a school lunch lady with a pair of dirty rubber gloves. You shudder to imagine what she’s been doing with them. This once lavish hall decked in oak and pine, complete with the heads of most gaming animals of the Inner Sphere, is clearly the ghost of what it used to be. Several unwaxed and unwashed lighter colored round spots on the walls indicate where trophies have been taken. The room full of exotic meats and full-sized dining tables seems bare in comparison. Before you lies a small portal card table and several empty chairs, one of which is occupied by a skinny adventurous looking man wearing a bush outfit, a pith helmet, and a monocle.
 
►►The other is occupied by, even by Elemental standards, a giant. Although sitting, his shaved head and well-kept Van Dyke beard (and nobody grows a beard that luxurious without having killed a lot of people…just ask Joseph Stalin) is still taller than everyone else standing near the table.
 
►►The thin man, through his indiscernible English accent muffled underneath a thick walrus-like mustache gestures to the empty chairs while standing and introduces himself as Precentor Sir Nigel Archibald III. 

“Ah yes, very good. I would offer the lot of you some warm tea and biscuits, but alas the hospitality is in good need of a hospital. HA! Get it? Oh piffle, its not important. Your specific governments were instructed to send their best and brightest minds from their various elite regiments to work in the spirit of cooperation, but I guess 2nd-rate warriors such as yourselves will have to do. Allow me to introduce your Chief Warrant Officer, ah Mister…”

“Kankurō.”   The tall-bearded man grunts.

“Right then. Here’s the skinny. I’m sure your military wet nurses told you this was a glorified nappy change, traveling to all points of the galaxy and strutting your delivery boy short-shorts like common Capellan hooligans, but this is serious work. Sadly due to this mission being classified as “milk run” within what passes for Comstar intelligence these days, you have not been issued a ship. Tssk-tssk. So sorry. But on the bright side, it’s a lovely day outside." [/i]

He proceeds to give the players their IDs.

“This mission, while fairly transparent, has many who would oppose it. You must complete it through any means necessary. You must trust nobody, and this is the most important part, which I will preference in my capacity as both Senior Comstar Precentor and as the Project Manager for the new Mercenary Review and Bonding Commission; you must consider any closed door you encounter along the way to be an open one. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

After a few more questions, Precentor Archibold points them in the direction of the Comstar Supply Depot on Galatea. Like so many facilities on Galatea these days, the Comstar supply facility is in dire need of repair. The brickwork looks brittle, with hardly any mortar on in between the storm and battle ravaged building. Some graffiti on the Northern wall seems to indicate and pay homage to the possible loss of a certain Penelope’s virginity. The once-proud ComGuard logo mounted in ferrocrete seems tired and has fallen partly down. The few dilapidated window frames that are not boarded up appear cracked and hazed over. A hastily written “ComGuard business only” sign appears to have been spray painted on a yard sale-style sign poked in the ground. A skinny man in Comstar robes sitting in guard shack barely pays attention as you walk past.

► Inside the players recruit the local tech, a midget wearing the robes of a Comstar Acolyte name senior Technician Râsch “Kickstand” Rhoades. He is stubborn, grumpy, but all to willing to leave Galatea. He recalls there are no dropships available, however a small Warship (15,000 tons) was being worked on at this facility before being stolen. It appears to have been moved out of town by ground transport and is approx 17 clicks Northwest from here. It appears to have been taken by Smithson’s Chinese Bandits. The players also find four'mechs in the repair bays:

• Marauder MAD-5S
• Flashman FLS-9M
• Warhammer WHM-57J
• Black Knight BL-9-KNT

►► After about 45 minutes walk outside the city, the players find the missing Warship. Agrippa-class, the Trinity was designed to function as both dropship and jumpship, it doesn’t look to be armed, but appears to be in decent shape. The exterior looks reasonably pitted, but otherwise intact. A feint logo of a red lance can be made out on the side. The ship appears to have been driven out on a tracked flatbed dropship hauler. Sadly the hauler itself looks to have given out as they’re not designed for Warships as they are substantially more heavy. The ship is just sitting on its makeshift launch pad. Either its not flyable, or whomever stole it lacks the codes to initiate launch.

             •   Cables appear to be running between the Trinity and an older dropship style, a Leopard. Similar to the Leopard dropship you saw homesteaded out on the spaceport ferrocrete earlier, this one appears in rough shape as well. Several tents in a makeshift camp are spread around both craft as is a lot of equipment. Râsch suspects they are using the Leopard dropship as a power source for bypass equipment to bypass a computer lockout on the Trinity.

► After a 'mech battle with the Smithson's Chinese Bandits, the newly named "Wolf Pack" was victorious! Not only did they defeat the Bandits, but they managed to salvage several of their mechs as well. After boarding the Trinity, they find its Captain is just half-a-man…literally. An asian man with a glowing eye and a dataport in the side of his neck is sitting on the bridge, duct-taped in a chair. Several bruises and cuts are all over him, indicating he has been tortured for days. The bottom half of his body appears missing as his legs appear to end a few inches below his hips in a pair of vestigial stumps. His legs appear to have been missing for several years, however. He looks at you as you walk in.

“…What-da puck, playa? Another one of Smitties bitches come to get your jollies off on beating the cripple?”

► After the players explain that they are not Smithson’s Chinese Bandits and untie him, he introduces himself simply as "14K". After his comrades died several years back, he joined up with Comstar provided they pay him in video games and hookers. Oddly enough they only gave him money, but he found he could trade the money in on these things anyway. A few years later, his ‘mechwarrior days were finished thanks to an untimely battle on some rock and he was given a desk job. Since he was no longer a combatant and was familiar with the Trinity (then in mothballs in a Comstar shipyards), he was given the charge of spearheading the restore the ship.

“…that is, until these Commie nipples try to get to 3rd base with my puckerhole. Man that hurt! So what you want, playa?

► 14K is also recruited and, under the authority of Precentor Archibold, the Trinity is transferred under the command of the new ComGuard Indepenant Unit "WolfPack", Captain Wolfe commanding.

The one prisoner seems unwilling (at first) to talk, but they eventually find Smithson's Chinese Bandits were hired by a organization known only as "Pengò" along with a note on oxygen-decay able paper that dissolves in 90 seconds. Players are able to read:

Equinox 22B48X2 has been copied and relocated. Activate next Pengò sleeper cell for Server Key on aforementioned at coordinates in key. Operation Black Tuesday is go. CJF Elementals have been provided.

► The server listed in Pengò note corresponds with one of the HPGFEED server addresses! The prisoner manages to free one arm long enough to admit belonging to the cult of Pengò, a doomsday cult, and then bites down on a cyanide pill from his pocket and dies. The players can only assume that Pengò, whoever they are, is trying to interfere with the gathering of the Gutenberg, which could bring galaxy-wide collapse to the monetary system of the entire Inner Sphere (and possible re-conquest by the Clans as well) if allowed to continue. There is also evidence on the prisoners person that they are working behind the scene with the Clans to destabilize the Inner Sphere as well.

Will the players go after and try to find out who (or what) this group Pengò is, or will they continue with their original mission; recover all eight pieces of the Gutenberg and bring them to Outreach.

<<END ACT 1>>

[truetanker]

Looking good there.

TT

[Dave Talley]

tag

[Wombat]

Act II – A Voice in the Wilderness

► After several jumps, getting command-circuit priority recharges when available, charging via solar-sails when not, after a few weeks the players arrived in the Batalis System.



Batalis Recharge and Casino Station - Many jump points in important star systems are home to so-called recharge stations, of which the Olympus layout is the most well-known. These stations feature huge solar sails and can store vast amounts of energy, which they can transfer to waiting JumpShips and/or Warships by emission of microwaves, significantly shortening the recharge time and thus shortening travel time. As a Comstar envoy, you have been given access to command-circuit recharge priority. Recharge stations also function as cargo stations and fuel bunkers for Dropships and many of them form the core of orbital sensor and defense systems. Recharge stations are rarely subjected to a direct assault, because even during the Succession Wars they were deemed too valuable to be damaged. They have been, however, targeted by black-ops attacks in order to take out the sensor network they control, prior to a planetary assault.

► There are about seven (7) other Dropships and Jumpships floating around Batalis, no doubt waiting on either recharge or mechanical services. You can tell from the open lifeboat ports that the ships have likely ferried their passengers over to Batalis to wait.

• Normally the station beams energy to other ships via microwaves. The Trinity did not have enough energy to make another jump.
  
• As luck would have it, Batalis is not communicating to your request to recharge the Trinity.
  

► As the options were trying to recharge via solar energy or board the station, players boarded the station via a small accordion-style port into the 2nd floor Casino-area of the station. The station itself is dwarfed by the cavernous airtight docking collar, capable of holding two full-sized ships up to 30,000 tons each. Outside of the docking collar, there are two additional floors, a casino and hotel, and a smaller command module. Players did not have the access codes to open the collar doors on the station. Beaconhill planet his below.

- After accessing the smaller cargo-only mating collar (about 10’x10’) that connects into the station on the 2nd level (hotel and casino), Players hoped to use this to gain access into the Recharge Station and, once inside, to open the main docking collar for the Trinity; hopefully recharge your ship more quickly.

•   Once into the recharge station, Players got an odd reception. People dressed in puffy dresses, tuxedos, and formal wear seem to be sipping cocktails while gambling or socializing near the hotel bar. Soft music plays in the background. A nearby sign and marquis announces there are three levels, the top being the CNC (Command and Control) Deck. The middle deck of the station housed a rather lavish hotel and casino for travelers wanting to get off their ships and enjoy some rest, relaxation, and of course gambling.

   None of the staff seem concerned that the top-level not answering.
   The elevator is not going to the top level.
   Curiously, a former Olympic-sized swimming pool (that doesn’t appear to have been cleaned in years) appears to have been converted into a make-shift wrestling pit where several locals appear to be wrestling a 30-foot snake. The team Elemental took this as a challenge and wrestled the snake...and won.

► The stairs seem closed off as well.

   A Batalis employee notes that the top level is running a “lockdown drill” and there is no way to gain access to the top levels. What was strange, he notes, is there was several armored Elementals in the lobby right before this “drill” began.

► In one of the darker corners of the Casino, players heard hear a woman crying as she swipes a credit chip across a reader on a consol. The consol appears to be sitting in the middle of the table next to a single bottle of malt-liquor. A rather large unkept man with dark rings around his eyes appears to be talking with his mouth full to the woman after she swipes her card.

   “…okay, Gina. Your swipe is good. You’ll find your little girl is home and waiting for Mommy by the time you get home. Next time, I’d advise you not to be late with the payment on our arrangement. I hate seeing people get upset. Now beat it.”

► Players inquired with the man on the screen, where they learned of informed his name; Khalid -an information broker than operates remotely off Batalis. He has a reputation of having his rather large and disgusting fingers in just about everything. He looks long and hard at the screen, turns briefly to another screen, and then looks back at you.

   “Well this is interesting. I’m rarely intrigued, but only because as is the necessity of my commodity, as is with any commodity on the open market has both a use-by and a spoil date; so as such I by innovation must know or have access to anyone and everything. You, however, are not on my list. And so I ask with equal parts of rare pleasure and obligatory imperative; who are you?

► Players were unwilling (and wisely so) to offer personal information to Khalid. He may be of use later...

“Well this has been a pleasure. I would offer you my HPG contact information for future endeavors as they might be mutually beneficial. I have considered this conversation confidential and would advise you do the same. I would have to have to order your death. The loss of a client is bad for business.”

Players eventually broke into the command Command Deck of the station:

•   The top command deck is rather Spartan in comparison to the lavishness of the Casino below. The walls are draped with consols, dials, readouts, and occasional blinking lights, broken in monotony only by the spectacular ferro-aluminum bay window that allows controllers to monitor incoming traffic. In the center of the room stands a  large, relatively untarnished iron statue of a confident woman in robes, labeled as the patron saint of giving, sits in stark contrast to the huddled people on the floor. Four (4) augmented Elementals stand in the center of the room, pointing weapons at the are attempting to coerce the operators of Batalis to give them control over the entire Beaconhill planetary communications system down below.
 
► The team Elemental noticed that these armed Elementals are moving in such a way as to indicate they are not very familiar with Elemental armor, or perhaps lack the necessary strength required to move the armor with any fluidity.

One of the Elementals turns as he notices you and mumbles “…whoa, you guys are early. Are you ready…lets make it look good?” Okay! [he speaks up] “On the floor now or we’re going to waste the commander and her lackies!”

► After a brief firefight,  the “Elementals” went down without ever having moved. The armor seemed genuine but the "warriors" inside did appear not to have any IDs other than Clan Jade Falcon tattoos on their foreheads. <and a perception check revealed the tattoos are fake> Something was definitely wrong. The Elemental Armor is legit, but the pilots don’t look like any Elementals you’ve ever seen. They appear to be frail and weak older men or perhaps drifters inside their suit. One of them even had an oxygen mask on. The facade was immediately noticed by the players.

►►Players had their ship moved inside the docking bay.

The Commander of the station, Kate Reignwood, acted as if she was reading off a script in thanking the players for stopping yet another "senseless attack on the planet below". She barel made a show of offering a complimentary suite for the night and giving players $500 C-bills worth of store credit in the company store. She says this all out loud, looking over her shoulder to make sure everyone hears. She lowers her voice a bit and closes the gap with you.

   “…this is getting a bit far-fetched, even by holodrama terms. Can I be frank? Batalis station can barely afford the so-called protection money I’ve been paying you Clan Pengò boys, and it’s the same schoolyard drama every time. Your boys come in, whooping and hollering like Indians on the Casino floor, shoot a few holes in the floor, waste some drifter you paid $50 C-bills to not 30 minutes before, and then hold up the station until you Clan Pengò boys show up on queue and miraculously save us. I’m actually thinking about hiring real security. What do you think about that? I’m not sure what your trying to pull, but I’ve got friends and I’ve been hearing about this same song and dance routine going on at dozens of recharge stations. Why the show? Why get the populace in a frenzy?”

► When pressed, the commander of the station was under the impression the players were actually part Pengò cult since they typically show up like clockwork once a month and stage a giant charade to scare the populace and then leave again. Usually afterword, their ship goes back to the planet of Beaconhill.

...of course, during the conversation, the real  Pengò cult arrived in the docking bay.

Technician Râsch appears on players commlink:

“Commander? We have a problem down here in the loading dock. There are two internal docking ports in the collar on Batalis and we’re in #2…another ship just pulled into #1. Apparently they have the codes for the bay. The immediately inquired who we were and, after 14K asked them the same, they cut off communications and began to offload ‘mechs into the cargo bay, sir. I’ve instructed Virgil to hack the automatic process, forcing them into manual offload in order to slow this process but they’ll get their bay doors open in a few minutes.”

o   Although the Union-class dropship sitting in the bay is an older design, the ship itself seems brand-new. It appear painted a deep purple color with the symbol players had seen a few times already of the Pengò on the side

o   The ‘mechs inside, however, appear to have been salvaged from a variety of sources; Federated Commonwealth, Clan Jade Falcon, Clan Steel Viper, Comstar, and the Capellan Confederation.

Pengò cult was fielding 8 mechs, but some were damaged. Players guessed these were mechs they had stolen from other sources. Virgil, the players onboard artificial intelligence, was able to both slow their bay doors opening long enough for players to get down and in their mechs, and was also able to intercept and play back a partial message intepcepted before the Pengò force changed frequencies:

"…that was integral to Operation Black Tuesday. My reason, grand adjudicator, for breaking protocol and breaching radio silence is the due to the ComStar delegation, now calling themselves the “WolfPack” has appeared here on Batalis. This is Pengò  cell #44-218C and I am requesting a priority HPG to Cobalt Blu himself to both apprise of the situation per packet orders and to request…”



A firefight broke out in mechs on the station. During the course of battle, one of the players mechs went down, but they salvaged several others. The players Elemental was successful in leaping on the head and downing a Battlemaster himself! The commander of the station was sudden very cooperative and offered the stations recources to repair and refit the players mechs.

Inside the Pengò cult dropship, however...

 ► Clearly this ship has seen better days. The registry plaque next to the ‘mech bay door indicates that this vessel was, at one time called the Iron Golem, although its disrepair seems evident in the handwritten epitaph “Iron pigeon” seems oddly appropriate. The deck plating, stained a charcoal black over the years are only partially cleared of rubble. The walls of the landing area are covered with mosaic murals depicting a nauseating scene of frolicking demons and giant humanoids wearing the robe of the cult of Pengò, all dancing amid a field of their fallen, torn, and tortured victims. In the dim light of the former ‘mech bay, a hoard of acolytes begged to die (rather than reveal what they knew. The player's commander obliged them.

The dropship itself was vacant, other than a single printout from when this cell of the Pengò cult was activated... (see attachment below).

[truetanker]

Nice one Wombat, a little Demolition Man trope. Code 187... Murder, Death, Kill

Be Well!

TT

[Wombat]

Nice one Wombat, a little Demolition Man trope. Code 187... Murder, Death, Kill

Be Well!

TT

Nice catch. You succeeded in your perception roll. Even my gaming group didn't catch onto that one.   :)