Avery's eyebrows go up.  "Think you can set up a deflection field that will ablate rail gun rounds, Corporal?" he asks his junior noncom.

"Apart from some minor cybernetic augmentation, I'm just a pilot," Lt. Drake continues.  "And a hacker.  And a mechanic.  And a programmer.  Special Forces trained, MOS robotics acquisition and operation.  To be blunt, I steal, repair, modify, and pilot war machines."

Lord Osema enters the barracks room and stands at the door.  His armor, undented, is stained with blood... Probably not his blood.  He wears a necklace around his neck that looks like small white rocks... those who look closer, notice that they are human teeth.  Then they notice Lord Osema staring right back at them.  He looks from one side of the room to the other, taking note of the new recruits... And the old.  His eyes land on Magnet Man... He snorts, then spits to the floor leaving a greenish, red stain.  He marches over to the table of food looking for something... fleshy to eat.  His steps are deliberate and confident, and he stares into the eyes of anyone who dares look at him while he crosses the room.  A fiery glow in his eyes, all he knows is evil, dark, and sadistic.

Reginald winces a bit at the sight of Lord Osema, giving others a clue as to how evil this particular warrior must be. "Lord Osema, I wasn't sure if you were going to mingle tonight or not. I must say looks like we are going to get to all that killing we were promised fairly soon."

To Lt. Drake, Magnet Man replies, "Rail gun slugs, bullets, grenades, mini-missiles...anything like that I can stop in its tracks, sir. It's a handy little ability that has got me out of many scrapes."

_{"Magnets are silly business...for superheros and psychopaths, right?"}

Madness makes eye contact with no one but seems very aware of everybody. Having left some time for others to speak, he replies to the question about 'talents'. "I can put my foot to the back of my head, dislocate my shoulder, and also reattach a dislocated shoulder. My expertise is with demolitions; if you want it to explode I can do it, and if you wanted it to stop exploding, I can try my best."

The Major walks into the barracks, her neck completely healed without scarring.

"Attention!

She waits until she has it

"You have all been assigned to Pluto Company. You are all to report back here tomorrow at 0800 hours for the briefing and your new assignments. Apparently tomorrow wea re being re-armed and outfitted with some vehicles. My name is Major Hulan, and I am looking forward to serving with all of you. Until then - this time is yours."

The Major waits for any questions then turns and leaves the way she came.

The night passes as many of Pluto Company simply spend a much needed and deserved sleep in a real bed. Others head out to the bars and tavern to take the load off - and to just be carefree for a night - without having to set up a night watch and worry about being ambushed by The Coalition.

OOC - If there is anything anyone wants to do this night - or even wants to post how much fun they have then go ahead. But we will be fast forwarding to the next day at 0800 hours - assuming everyone shows up, it is now 0800 hours and the meeting can commence. All surviving members of Pluto Company are present. Major Hulan stands in front of the troops, alongside the three Lieutenants.

The Major steps forward to begin the briefing. She speaks loudly and clearly enough for everyone to hear.

"The first matter is the re-organization of Pluto Company. As most of you know we attacked the crash site yesterday with 137 soldiers, and 34 returned.

She hesitates before going on. The loss of friends and allies can be seen in her expression, yet she maintains a professional aura.

"Tolkeen command could split us up into the other Companies, but they have decided that we have EARNED the PRIVILEGE of staying together. Instead of disbanding - we are being re-enforced. Around you there are several new faces, these are the new members of Pluto Company."

The major pulls out a data pad and presses a few buttons before reading off the new platoon formations.

"First Platoon will serve under me. We are to head north towards Solomon. Apparently Tolkeen needs to defend this shit hole, and the Coalition are trying to secure it for themselves. 1st platoon will be heading away from the rest of the company, as the other three platoons have a mission of their own. The following are to come with me to Solomon : Sgt. Jagathees, Pvt. Deacon, Kamada, Lynx, Scope, Sinyard, Calderonay, Frijio, Revolver and Jin Rauw.

"Second platoon will be commanded by Lieutenant Zephram. 2nd, 3rd and 4th Platoons will be co-ordinating an attack together behind enemy lines. The following are going to serve in Second Platoon under Lt. Zephram: Sgt. Tyirrak, Sgt. Razgriz, Jelme, Sharp The Red, Lady Marlene, Seifer, Jonas, White Moon, Takamatsu, Lord Osema, Gendun, and Reginald.

"Third Platoon will serve under Lt. Xion and will consist of : Sgt. Quinn, Attila, Van, Lotus, Arven, Fearless, Mithas, Mephisto, Silvermasque, and Ulik.

Fourth Platoon will serve under Lieutenant Avery Drake, and will consist of : Sgt. Braga, Cpl Magnet Man (she shudders at the sound of Cpl Magnet Man), PFC Obidiah, Maitlynn The Brave, Calliandra, Harmon, Anniyan, Dalamar, Caramon, The Madness, Klowkuh, and Patulik."

"Now that the rosters are complete, I believe the Lieutenants have something to add... after which you will all learn of your next mission, and then we will be armed by The City of Tolkeen. This means new vehicles and new weapons for free..."



OOC - The full team rosters are viewable in the Pluto Company thread. It is completely up to date, except for Lord Osema's portrait... but it will be up soon.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:12, Wed 13 Sept 2006.

Tyirrak was already present when Major Hulan and the Lieutenants arrived. When the others filed in, he was still noticeable in the crowd, his head and shoulders higher than even the tallest of the humans. A few others reached his height, like Mithas and Ulik, while others like Arven overtopped even him.

He was perfectly still, except for his tail which lashed silently too and fro like a hunting cats, the hooked bone blade extruding from its tip and from his armor rendering it a hard thing to come close to, hence the small space created around the Lanotaur.

Zephram felt the scarlet eyes of the Lanotaur on him, studying his new commander like he studied everything, a sniff confirming his status as a magic-user to Tyirrik. He made similar gazes and observations about the other mages and psychics out of the room, being able to pick them up like a dog picked up the scent of raw meat. It would be a useful skill for weeding out the Coalition psykers...

Tyirrak waited for the Lieutenants to speak to them, before he went off to find the last bit of gear that might be useful. Sneer as he might, Tyirrak was well versed in the technology that so many of his prey managed to make his hunts (so far back now it seemed) so interesting. Some fusion blocks and demolition equipment would allow even Tyirrik to count coup on great cruisers, destroying transports full of targets all at once.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:45, Wed 13 Sept 2006.

Lt. Drake looks over his platoon with an appraising eye.  Surprisingly, considering the nature of the opposition, the majority of his unit are human -- or at the very least, have the appearance of one.  The exceptions are, of course, notable, including the two hulking Brodkil.

"I don't think I have to tell you," he begins his address, "that I'm very pleased with performance so far.  Capturing such a critical target, defending and successfully withdrawing against overwhelming odds, you people are a credit to your rank, and well worth your pay.  Those of you who are just now joining our ranks, you'll see all too soon what your fellows are made of.

"We're going to start today," he continues, "with a pair of promotions.  Not rewards, but recognition of superior service and capability shown in this conflict against the Coalition aggressors.

"Sergeant Braga, step forward."  The tan-skinned man extracts a small velvet-covered box from the pocket of his BDUs, opening it to reveal a Tolkeen Army non-commissioned officer's insignia.

"Sergeant Braga, you are hereby promoted to the rank of full Sergeant in the Tolkeen Army, with all the responsibilities and privileges thereof."  Affixing the insignia, he salutes the Sergeant and turns his attention onward.

"Private First Class Obidiah Womble, step forward."  Again a small box is retrieved, and again non-commissioned officer insigia is revealed.

"Private Womble, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Corporal, with all the responsibilities and privileges thereof."  Affixing the insignia to the golem's massive chest, he again salutes the new Corporal and sends him back to the ranks.

"As for the mercenaries and militia among you," he says, nodding to the citizens and sellswords, "all who took part in that great battle are being awarded a bonus of ten thousand credits over and above your promised renumeration.  Continue this exceptional service, and additional rewards will be forthcoming."  He gestures for Sergeant Braga to begin distributing the small satchels he'd given to him at the meeting's start.

The pilot draws himself up, his penetrating gaze sweeping his platoon.  "Remember, each and every one of you, that the enemy is out there."  He punctuates himself by pointing unerringly towards the Coalition front.  "Many of us do not agree on the best method to proceed, and some of us have widely differing definitions of acceptable behavior.  We will be fighting the deadboys, we will not be fighting with each other.  Regardless of who begins any altercations in the ranks, there will be repercussions to all involved, up to and including the use of deadly force, if necessary.  This goes for anyone who will not or cannot restrain themselves and save their aggression for the war.  Look among you, at who you are being asked to work with.  If any of you are certain you absolutely cannot work with one of your fellows, I'll see what I can do to get you transferred to another unit.  If that's not possible," he shrugs.

"Well, you can try your best to win clear of the lines before getting caught up in the fighting.  One way or another, though, I will have order in my ranks.  Is that perfectly clear?" he asks in a manner that clearly requires a response.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:38, Wed 13 Sept 2006.

Turning to Reginald and in a low quiet whisper.... "We will not be fighting each other"  Lord Osema mimics Drake in his most wimpy, winey, human voice.  Still whispering.... "Humannnnssss are infidel and are nothing more than cattle.... Remember that Reg"... Just as Drake finishes his speach... "It'sss no wonder Tolkeen needsss our help.  They're a bunch of whining bitchessss" Reginald can hear the hiss in Lord Osema's voice as he whispers to him.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:52, Wed 13 Sept 2006.

Doing her best to ignore the Brodkils' comments, Callie nods and says "Yes, sir."  If her delivery contains more enthusiasm than it does military snap, considering the others in the room that's almost certain to be overlooked.

Reginals face again twists into that horrid thing he calls a smile, "Now now, Lord Osema, you know they are doing their best...which I guess means you are right. They need us, poor Lt. Drake doesn't like to wear his helmet, I told him he would wind up looking worse than me if he kept that up."

The tall one looks down to the other two from behind them.
"Shut up you fools! The borg will hear you! Um... er... not you Lord Osema, I was referring to Reginald.. and Patulik..."

 - still whispering of course -
This message was last edited by the player at 13:48, Wed 13 Sept 2006.

The shorter, hunched over Brodkil replies:

"I didn't even fucking say anything!"

 - that wasn't a whisper -

Xion nods as Drake gives his speech, "Same goes for all you soldiers out there yesterday. I couldn't be more proud of you. Everything Lt. Drake said is true, there is a 10,000 credit bonus for all of us who were there. Also, on top of that, we each need two mercs to volunteer for squad leaders, now mind you, you will only be in charge of the mercs who are all still subject to any Tolkeen officers orders unless otherwise stated. There will be an extra 400 credits a day for this job. Anyone in my platoon interested?" Xion had the look of a proud father on his face, obvious he meant everything he had said about being proud of his men, "We are also going to receive a major re-armament. So Mercs, decide who wants to lead and fill me in." Xion shoots a glare over to the Brodkil, "Keep it down please, this is a relatively important briefing."

"Yeah you goddamned shit-stinkin whoresons!" Arven yells at the Brodkils in his standard tone of greeting. "I nominate Masque since he ain't got killed yet and knows his ass from his elbow."

 And at that point, cue the arrival of a couple of tons of B.D.U. dressed tiger, twelve feet tall and uglier than life with a pretty significant stogie clutched defiantly between gleaming silvery teeth. Following his late (and unreported) arrival yesterday he's spent pretty much an entire night having the dents banged out of his chasis and generally being refitted for action - and they've even managed to take the tip to fix the little dancing red glow behind his visor that can't help but put the better educated viewer in mind of a certain cheesy 1980's science fiction spectacular.

 His stride is light and jaunty - or as light and jaunty as it can be when you have to turn sideways entering a parking garage, and at Xion's request for volunteers he goes ahead and breaks the cardinal rule of military service by raising his upper-right hand - must be the four hundred credit bonus he's after, to keep him in gun oil.

 Y'all should have known that a Coalition army wasn't going to stop the 'Masque (or at least should have known that if they caught him they'd only keep him around for long enough for him to grate on their nerves before throwing him back) - Either way, he cheerfully calls up to Xion with a horrendously accented "Hey Boss... were you missing me?" by way of greeting.

 Oh well - he probably deserves at least a few seconds of slack.

Sssincsse you cock sssmokerssss... looking at the stogie in Silvermasque's mouth, killed our lasst, fearlesss, and sssstrong leader, I've taken charge of our pack and I intend on keeping it that way.  Sssso if you need to write it down in your diary that my warriorssss follow my word, then I will be your sssub-comander.

Reginald nods as the two lesser Brodkils berate one another, then turns sharply and salutes Osema, "I follow Lord Osema, make him squad leader or whatever you piss ants call it and lets go kill those bastards trying to destory your community, although, I think if you aren't strong enough to keep it you should lose it. Your bosses decided you needed our help, so like it or not fuckers...we are here to stay."

Xion smiles as Masque steps forward, "Yes, my large clunky feline friend, I had noticed a lack of your presence. I would am honored that you would volunteer for this duty. You got it." Turning quickly to Arven, one of the ones who stood tall with him in the previous days conflict, "Arven I think you know your ass from at least one of your elbows...don't you?" Xion grins at his big four armed ally

   Zephram arrives at the debriefing behind all the other officers after holding the door open for them.  Looking inside the chamber from the doorway, Zephram meets the gaze of a few of the less human members of the group.  His mouth hangs agape for a brief moment before he enters fully.  Zephram steps into view while looking at a pamphlet of paper.  From the view of the gathered soldiers, it looks like the I.D. files of the new recruits joining his platoon.  He skims each page while looking back and forth from the soldiers, matching names to faces.
   "Here are your bonuses guys" Zephram tosses a collection of credsticks wrapped in an elastic band to Razgriz.  "My squad leaders will be Tyirrak, of course, as well as Osema.  When we need to split up, you two will be responsible for keeping your squad alive while getting the mission done.  Don't make me regret the choices.  I'll assign who's in which squad later on.  When picking up the free gear shortly, I'd like everyone to make sure they are mobile.  If you don't know how to pilot any of the vehicles available, let me know and we'll work something out.  I do not want to see anyone without a ride when we're ready to move out.  As for weapons and other equipment, take only what you need and know how to use.  Pluto Company is not Easy Company - we've ended up with some success in the past and that only means we're going to get tougher assignments in the future.  We watch each other's back and its as simple as that."  Zephram stops talking and adjusts his stance as though he is ready to move on.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:07, Thu 14 Sept 2006.

Arven smiles wide at Silvermasque revealing his new silvery metal teeth that he had implanted at the medical center. Turning to square himself with Lord Osema he lays one finger aside a nostril and blows a thick wad of bloody mucus out of the other onto the floor. His other four arms are conclealed beneath his serrape which thanks to some handy spellwork looks brand new. "That would be me who dropped that faggot-ass sack of dicks you called a leader. No big deal though I plan on killin all you fuckin cunt-mouthed Brodkil shitheels once the dead boys are handled. So you go on commanding your cur dogs but you fuck with me and I will end you sooner than later."

The Lanotaur glanced irritatedly at the Rahu-man, his irritation plain on his face as Arven began to instigate hostilities.

"Shut up." he growled, not in the least bit bothered by the height or weight differance, or the fact that Arven was reputed as one of the deadliest members of the Pluto company.

Another interesting hunt specimen were the times not what they were. Now... now he was just a weapon that was sounding like he wanted to cause a problem with the other weapons.

Tyirraks tail snapped once and then resumed its languid trail around his body.

 "Always charmer, yes?" asks 'Masque, jerking a silver-tipped thumb at the big gunslinger as he heads on over to the 'extra large' row of seating and drops himself into a convenient place before giving a wry chuckle and shaking his head, "Though I am not sure is such an honour to be given job if puts me in same qualification bracket as Eastwood there, even if is finally starting to get with winning team."

 - that half-joking statement is clarified with a lower-left fingerclaw tapping lightly at the vicious silver fangs lining the tigers maw.