This is my first draft and first ever attempt at BattleTech writing. Please let me know what I need to fix or change as I go. I think I got most of the lore right, but not 100%. Any feedback would be appreciated.
I am a thief. A scoundrel. A devil. One of those who does not subscribe to the gentlemanly arts of Mech-warfare, much to the chagrin to my former masters and now, my adversaries as well. That is how the universe has made me, and I will not apologize for being a twisted product of their environment. I am a decedent of cutthroats, raised up by those Cappie bastards with their ceaseless indoctrination on the prison planet of Bryant IV. I have no idea of my exact age, my family, or my lineage. I was just a just a number in the eyes of my jailers, and the happenstance of my birth was unworthy of a footnote in their records.
I was an experiment. A lab rat. The winner of the genetic lottery. Brought forth from the slums of my own personal hades to a place much much worse. Selected for my unique mixture of physiological and mental abilities that, in the end, set myself apart from my other potential “trainees”. Selection brought me a feeling of accomplishment I never knew. A feeling of belonging, a desire to be something more than just another outlaw. The hubris of youth.
I am driven. I excelled in the in the face of the greatest anguish and hopelessness imaginable. I conquered fear. I am a survivor. I can still hear their screams echoing into the blackness of the hold as those unsuitable for the Ministry’s purpose were culled from the ranks on that endless voyage in the darkness to Kazu. Even as child, some horrors never fade. Some things never leave the darkest recesses of your mind. Some things are with you always.
I am a solider. An assassin. A guerilla. Taught to be a thorn in the side of my enemies. To illicit the utmost pain from my adversaries. To isolate their weakness and cripple their operations. To feed upon the pain and misery of my enemies and to use that to drive fear in my opponents. From early in my youth, combat and death has been a way of daily life. Forsaken in a desolate system with no other civilization to monitor their undertakings, the Ministry did as they desired. Life and limb were of no consequence on Kazu I, just the ongoing preparation to become death to the enemies of House Liao. Guile, stealth, destruction, resolve. These were the tenants of our daily lives. Tasked by our betters for excellence in all forms of combat, I discovered brains and charisma I never knew I had.
I am a warrior. A leader. A rock. A skilled tactician and student of warfare that has seen action all across the Inner Sphere. I have fought on the ground as a scared PBI Corporal on an ill-fated “training exercise” on Conquista, filled with dread by the metal monstrosities that are as a part of me now as my own skin. As a pimple-faced new lieutenant, trying to hide my fear and excitement, navigating a turtle on Mendham. Feeling my first real surge of power when firing off twin LL in a Brutus coring an unsuspecting Spider SDR-5V. As a freshly minted MechWarrior cutting my teeth with an “Energy Locust” LCT-1E fighting the Hedons on Herotitus II and forever cementing my love for Laserboats. As leader of a lance in a Vindicator VND-1R fighting the House Calderon on Flaum, learning to mimic the tactics and techniques of the Taurian Defense Force.
I was an instrument of death. A tool. A weapon. I was meticulously crafted by House Liao to harass the FedRats along the border, and a counter to the continued provocation by the DMI. All of those years, all of the time and training, all of the hardship, all of the pain, culminating in a grand lie. I had my mission, and when it was done, I would never want for another from my House Liao masters again. My “short” company of two lances of light and medium mechs and two squads of guerilla troops with APC support, crammed into a Combined-Arms Union dropship were tasked to mimic the TDF in tactics and colors. To become a phantom Taurian aggression, with relentless raids up and down the common Federated Suns/Taurian Concordat border in attempts to draw out Wylie’s Coyotes from their garrison of the Bromhead system to allow for the eventual invasion of Bromhead VI by the Capellan Confederation Armed Forces. A singular motive, solely achievable through deception. Our true goal hidden through layers of subversion, with deceit cloaking all facets of the operation. No know faces. No identity, no explicit connection to House Liao. A faint within a faint within a faint.
I was a barbarian. A killer. A monster. I was driven by my unrelenting rage, an indoctrinated desire to serve my House, and insatiable appetite for destruction. I brought wrath and flame to the border systems in the name of House Calderon and the TDF. The deception was complete. No garrison or industrial target was free from my fury. Midale, Lindsay. Carmichael, Hyalite, Warren, Montour, Verdigis. The campaign was relentless. Destruction and death were my call signs and the devil rode with me. This unprecedented carnage along the border systems were placed squarely at the feet of Taurian Concordat. The enumerable salvage opportunities provided me with an Awesome AWS-8Q and a continued churn of mechs and material for my men, and the elated visage of my CCAF masters masked from me the knowledge of what a valuable political chip my force has become. Naivety was my downfall. Faith in House Liao, a master who only sheltered me through convenience and opportunity, was my true crime. The Capellan Confederation crafted me as a tool to meet their needs. Crafted me from the refuse of a prison planet and then thrown away once my use was fulfilled.
I was a hunter. I was driven to catch my prey. I was a fool. Our ill-fated drop to Brockway IV to hit and destroy the fabled DMI MI3 listening post was the end of my service to House Liao and the destruction of my command. Rumored to be a listening post for a generation, intelligence acquired on a prior raid on chemical storage depot on the Hyalite moon, Hyatos, pinpointed a location deep in the jungle along the equator. We jumped into the Brockway system unnoticed and without incident and the drop was underway with no hint of the calamity waiting for us planetside. This was never the location for AFFS’ Department of Military Intelligence, just a lonely stretch of jungle ripe for an ambush.
I became the prey. A patsy. A sacrifice. The destruction of my company is a harsh teacher of an important lesson; allegiance is never absolute. The DZ was just north of the objective, allowing us the opportunity to march downstream along a tributary of the Zern river to hit the facility that was cut into the base of large rock outcropping due south of our position. Once we hit paydirt and progressed out from under the protective umbrella of the dropship armament, all hell broke loose. It was an ambush. We were betrayed. Multiple medium and heavy mechs closed in from our position from the north and east, positioning themselves to drive us away from the dropship and the cooling effects of the river. A Stalker STK-SF and Victor VTR-9B then closed from the east, laying down a wither barrage of missile, laser and AC-20 fire leaving a poor choice of losing the high ground to become boxed in against a cliff face to the south or a desperate charge uphill to reach the dropship.
I am sorrow. I am loss. I am defeat. A full company of mechs, comprised of an Assault lance and two Medium lances, well outclassed my own meager force. Only a heroic suicide rush from the guerilla PBI’s with a valiant holding action by my second in command in my former Vindicator VND-1R allowed the remaining two mechs, and myself to limp under the cover of the guns of the dropship and withdraw. Off to the depths of space to grieve my losses. The butcher bill was high, and something I will always carry with me. Five mechs destroyed. Five dear friends not coming back. 3 additional mechs heavily damaged and in dire need of repairs. All the specialized infantry captured, killed, or missing. All their equipment left behind or out of commission. My innocence lost. My hatred builds.
I am the last of my command. An apparition. A ghost. Life as a mercenary is the only choice I have left. It is all I know. Hit, run, repeat. Fade into the black. Bide my time to rebuild, to strike back at those who betrayed me. One thing never made sense to me. One thing has nagged me after the disaster on Brockway IV. One thing hounds me, as I lay awake at night recounting that day. Trying to silence the screams of the fallen that echos through my soul. There was no way for the FedRats to know we were coming. No way for them to know we had the location to a fictional facility, with information gathered from an impromptu raid. The ambush was too well coordinated to be happenstance. The timing only works if they knew when and where we were going. The only ones who knew the location were the ones who cracked the AFFS encryption on the Noteputer. The Capellan Confederation. The House Liao. The Ministry of the Military. Our objective and battle plans were sold to the enemy for political gain. We were deemed expendable. We were betrayed by our former masters. That is the real enemy. That is the new target. I will have my vengeance.
I am a Merc. A gun for hire. A soldier of fortune. A dog of war. That is my destiny. I sit strapped in my Awesome AWS-8Q, knowing full well what I must do. Outside of my AWS-8Q, I am down to a somewhat operational but jumpjet-light Black Jack BJ-1 and a functional Shadow Hawk SHD-2H. I need C-bills in a bad way and Mechs if I hope for this company to survive, and to get out of Pirate's Haven alive. With the price offered for my Awesome AWS-8Q, I can pick up a Commando COM-2D, an Urbanmech UM-R60, and a Panther PNT-9R and still have some C-bills left over. I might even have enough to get us to The Reach to find work with the Aurigan Coalition. Time for the adventure to begin. Welcome to The Iron Devils.
Captain Nikolaus “Devil” Peters
The Iron Devils
10 - 11 - 3024 UTC
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