Friday, July 30, 2010


This week's session of Heavy Gear sees Our Heroes (tm) leaving the swamps of Okavango... only to plot our return to assassinate the Emir. Everyone who thought we were crazy before, you ain't seen nothin' yet.

[Sometimes, answers depend on how you ask the question.]
Matt: "Is it working?"
Josh the GM: "It's not not working."

Well if he doesn't, he's no friend of mine

They all stood there quietly. Convincing Emir Bhravo to take action was clearly not going as well as they had hoped. Even Kain, with his to-the-point discussion of risk vs. gain, wasn't helping. The Emir was unwilling to risk the lives of his people.
Gade understood the Emir's feelings: the innocent far too often die for the not-always-greater cause. But the Emir must understand... There is a difference when choice and faith are involved.

This disguise of Kain's was good: a monk named Inigo of the Order of the Blue Crescent (how the painted-on blue crescent tattoo on his forehead wasn’t running made Gade wonder about the makeup of the paint), under a vow of silence. But how could Gade convince the Emir that his people have faith in him? It was a hopeless cause, unless...

Amidst the silence Gade walked to the center of the tent. I hope this works, Gade thought as he started to move. His muscles were still sore from his wounds, but he was more worried about getting the message across...
The man and his dawg companion stood near the cliff face. They were both hungry and tired from their journey. The man knew his family was just another day’s travel down into the valley. The man had to travel far, but he finally managed to find the seeds to replant his garden. He and his family would have one last harvest before the spring drought.

Only now a pack lizard lay between him and his loved ones.
It was a big beast, the biggest lizard the man ever saw. For three days the man and his dawg had tried to find a way around, to avoid a confrontation. But it was useless. This was the only path into the valley. Otherwise the man would not make it in time for planting.

Left with no other option, the man knew he must confront this enemy. The beast was even bigger up close, but the man knew the importance of his actions. In-and-out, dodge-and-weave, the man attacked with his makeshift spear in hand. The dawg barked, drawing the beast away so the man could get a thrust in with his weapon.
Suddenly the pack lizard caught the man in his tracks, and pinned him to the ground. One quick strike and it would be over. But the man's dawg leaped at the beast, biting down on its throat, tearing out chunk after chunk. The beast reeled and swung the dawg side-to-side, until finally throwing the mutt over the edge of the cliff. But by then the beast’s hour was up, as it turned to see the man at the ready. He drove his spear up into the beast and it died.

His walk down the cliff side was a slow one, he hurt from where the beasts teeth got him, but soon he would be with his family. Along the way he came upon the body of his companion. If not for his faithful dawg, the man would have been killed, and his family would starve. A tear ran down his cheek, but a smile crept across his face. His companion was gone, but the man and his family would live. And live they would, to honor the sacrifice his companion made.
Emir Bhravo and his councilor Girard stood there flabbergasted. But after not too long the Emir's face changed to a simple smile, he nodded and thanked Gade for the display.

Kain leaned in close to Tom and muttered, “You know, I think this vow of silence was the best thing to ever happen to him.”

Manufacturing consent

Maia was flushed, her jaw still tightly clenched and her arms crossed tightly across her chest in defiance and maybe a hint of trepidation. She had just stood up to Kain, releasing all her acrimony, venting weeks of fear and doubt, exposing all she perceived as hypocrisy and amorality that had been festered inside her quietly. Until now.

‘Good’ Tom thought to himself. He had feared for some time that she was a weak link in their group. Since taking her on in Basal she had proved useful enough to warrant his professional abduction of her person, but as their mission changed and their motivations vacillated it became harder and harder to gage how well she was still working with the group as opposed to being bound to it by contrition and happenstance: she was essentially their prisoner.

Tom was uncomfortable with her ambiguous state, it posed a security threat - their survival depended on trust after all. On a less prosaic level it also made him uncomfortable, he always saw this team as bound by a common cause (or the occasional individual cause all the group could temporarily band together for.) The thought of one of them feeling coerced into participation made him uncomfortable. In fact, now that he really thought about it, it was abhorrent and he was sickened by the way he had been treating Maia since their got to Okavango.

Tom was fairly certain Kain had no such self recriminations, though he shared the practical assessment that a committed volunteer was far more reliable. It was therefore ironic that Kain had born the brunt of her outrage; Tom was guiltily silent in the corner of the tent during the exchange. She was one of them, or at least for the first time, it appeared as if she could become one. In standing up to Kain she made a declaration of independence and in browbeating an admission of his heartfelt motivations she put her self on an equal footing. Only the free can volunteer.

Kain left the tent to plan more details with Gade. Sam had a poker game to attend; Tom reminded himself that an old card shark like him had no business playing with amateurs and a kid, even a precocious and brilliant one. Tom didn’t play for fun, it was clinical with him and such a cold-hearted card game would be impolitic so early in their collaboration with the young Emir. Still, he felt left out. First guilt, now self pity, he hadn’t felt as many emotions in two weeks as he had now in as many minutes. He struggled to keep it from his face.

“Feel better?” He regretted the words as soon as they came out, he knew she would construe it as…

“Shove it doctor!”

‘Yeah’, he thought to himself, ‘should have seen that coming.’


“Common Kessler, we need to talk to Ben.”

She fell in step behind him as he left the tent. Once again he noted how she had changed in the last half hour. A few minutes later they found Ben, Jo, Teg and Peter in an adjacent tent where they had been ushered too during the private meeting with the Emir.

“Gentlemen, Josephina, we are a go. The Emir is on board and I guess more to the point so are Kain and I.”

“Took you long enough Tom, you didn’t use to be so hard to convince to do the right thing.”

Ben was jovial in his tone and it was meant as friendly admonition but it stabbed at Tom.

“Be that as it may, that leaves us with you lot and what to do with you?”

“What are you talking about Doc, we’re coming in with you to get the bastards!” spat Josephina.

“Damn right.” Teg seethed menacingly.

“Wrong. Like it or not - and its clear which way you lean - you are not medically fit for an opp like the one Kain is planning.”

The silence was a good sign, it meant they knew it, the daggers in their eyes on the other hand meant they had a ways to go towards accepting it.

“Which is why I’m tasking you guys with a second prong of the attack.”

“The tunnels?” Jo said with a mix of apprehension and forlorn hope.

“No, no combat, not conventional combat anyway. I’m putting you on psy-ops. Kain feels we need a popular uprising, in more way than one, to pull this off. So, in deference to minimizing casualties, we need overwhelming odds in our favour which means getting as much of the population out on the street as possible. We need to stir the redjacket’s nest.

“I’ve got a few ideas on how to initiate a propaganda war, taking the message and the image of Brhavo to his people. They need a saviour and we need them ready to save themselves. So I want your guys to bring the saviour to them.”

They exchanged glances, all of them forming a nexus on Ben, this subset’s sergeant. These four would either never part or never see each other again after this was all over. Ben took in their silent votes and turned to Tom.

“OK Doc, give us the details, we’re your team.”

Maia held back a respectful distance during the negotiations-come-rally. Putting him arm around her shoulder now, Tom brought her into the fold.

Tom launched into details about trideo apparitions of Brhavo appearing in small but public places across Okavango. How his words would be whispered in the streets and houses. Hacking into public networks, setting up concealed projectors, viral word of mouth, everything orchestrated to feel like a genuine grassroots epiphany until, it was the Doc’s hope, it took on a life of its own. His image would inspire myth and faith in every downtrodden corner of his city.

The idea was to reinvigorate the faith of the sajhalin in their ruler, to elevate him from a divinely mandated sovereign to a religious icon of leadership.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

I'm going to Battalion to see if I can get some dirty movies...

Gade found Kain looking over the Dragonfly's controls. "Is it me, or is the Doc getting rougher with his exams?"

Kain looked up and then seemed to catch his words in his mouth. Maybe the scars are worse then he thought, if it gave Kain pause. “So,” Gade finished slipping on his tank top, “did I ever tell you about the guy in the place with the thing?”

“Well, I confess that I’m a little curious as to where you came from, out of the blue like that.” Kain's face slipped back neutral expression Gade was used to. “Not that I'm complaining, but you finding us like that was a little unexpected.”

“As I already told you, Bill informed me you guys were here in Okavango. Then I just followed the explosions.”

“Yes, well, what say you go over what happened to your chest. I suspect it'll be a little more interesting.”

“You, sir, have no idea.... After we left Basal, I knew we couldn't leave well enough alone, so I put the word out that I was looking to help. Some associates of Nigil Shirow contacted me with some potential work.” Gade flopped down in the copilot’s seat and put his feet up on the console.

“Turns out Emir Shirow is on the side of the people, and got word of a stock pile of weapons and supplies that could be put to use for the revolt. A big stock pile...holed up in some warehouse in Raleigh. Only problem was, unbeknown to us it, was being watched by the SRID. Everyone I brought with me died, including me, thanks to an agent with a shotgun....”

“Wait-- what do you mean, ‘even you’?”

“Well, as I mentioned: shotgun at close range. After that I pretty much blanked out, only to wake up later in some Raleigh Medical Center.” Gade took a moment to adjust the auto-pilot's course. “Turns out some SRID agents got brought back alive as well, only to die on the operating table. I swapped charts and snuck out. Once I got my hands on a phone I contacted Bill to find you guys. As it happens SRID believes their agent went AWOL and I got marked as dead. It's gonna be fun showing them otherwise.”

“So let me get this straight: The SRID is watching a stockpile of weapons, thinks you are dead, and probably doubts our knowledge of everything?”

“Pretty much”

“Heh,” Kain leaned back in his chair. “I suppose we'll have to mention to the others why you should remain dead. And you’ll need a disguise of some sort…. And tell me--what's in the warehouse?”

“Ah, you'll like this part....”

Postcard - Glad I'm not there

Grandfather's whereabouts are unknown at this time.  To avoid any exposure, gift is a do-it-yourself project, including delivery. 

Grandfather had many Friends in the Solar System, but those Friends are long gone.  Some of them had Acquaintances who still live in the Solar System.  Suggest finding Acquaintances, and asking about Friends.  Don't ask about Grandfather.

Venice is nice this time of cycle. If you bring Messiah there, watch out for Snakes.  They will bite.

After the Messiah is in Venice, he will have to ask the Wreck for his Birth Certificate.  Access to other Birth Certificates might be possible then.

>>>>>ENCRYPT? Y/N<<<<<


>>>>>UPLOAD? Y/N<<<<<


Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Watching the horizon

Kain sat at the controls of the Dragonfly they had stolen in Okavango.  The Doc had finally talked Gade into going to the cargo bay for a once-over.  Kain assumed that the severity of the wound Gade had taken was delaying the pilot's turn.  Only when Kain had promised not to touch anything, "especially not the yoke!", had their erstwhile pilot relented to the Doc's insistence.

It was pretty damned unfair, being told not to fiddle with stuff by Gade.

So the ship was now in the care of the reliable, if mildly eccentric, auto-pilot.  She had a tendency to yaw slightly to the left before abruptly compensating.  Gade had said this would result in a slight diminishing of her maximum range, but would not bring them materially off-course.  It wasn’t doing anything for Kessler’s motion sickness.

Kain was grateful for the time alone; it gave him time to think about the next phase of operations.

Teg, Ben, Jo, and Peter were all pretty banged up, and could really use some rest.  The Doc would give him a more accurate prognosis, but Kain estimated that at least a week of serious rest was necessary, and even then, he figured they'd only be at 80% capacity, and Peter at 70%--60%, if that nasty bruise below his ribs was an internal bleed.

That left himself, Sam, and Chambers to do the heavy lifting.  And Sam wasn’t himself, lately.  Gone was the cheery killer from the old days.  Some switch appeared to have been tripped in his mind, resulting in an inconvenient reluctance to kill.  Kain was all for prisoners, but this "winging" was getting ridiculous.

Plus Gade, of course.  His appearance was a happy stroke of fortune.  He seemed mobile, if tender, so Kain slotted him in at 90%.

And then there was Kessler.  Her resentment was obvious; she’d experienced far more in the past week than she’d signed on for back in Basal.  She could hardly be blamed for a lack of enthusiasm;  after all, her position in the team was closer to hostage than member.  There was a 50% chance that she would slip away as soon as they reached Cimmaro.  Her curiosity might be enough to keep her around, and Kain planned to leverage it with an appeal to her worker sensibilities.  Still, odds were even that she'd disappear as soon as she could.

He turned over the possibility that she was somehow mixed up with the other side; "forgetting" a tracking device, a tracking device the likes of which she was supposed to be scanning to detect, was a serious demerit in the credibility calculation.  But she had seemed genuinely chagrined, embarrassed, and apologetic.  Further, it pushed the limits of reasonable improbability to accept that he and Chambers had somehow been maneuvered into hiring her on in Basal.  It would be a shame to throw her out of the plane and later discover her complete innocence.

Perhaps a conversation was in order.  He mentally added that to the to-do list.

Assuming that things with Bhravo went as anticipated, Kain expected that the team would be returning to Okavango to eliminate Thoras and bring Brhavo to power.  The benefits of such an action politically were manifest, as were the liabilities.  All in all, it did seem like the best thing to do, given the circumstances.

That only left the how of it.

Since fleeing from the palace, Kain had been turning over and over in his mind the moment when he swung his leg over the side of the wall, abandoning the secondary objective.  He had felt strangely emptied, as if leaving the one thing undone was a sin.  A crime against Mars.

He'd had a flash of inspiration when they were all squeezed into that dank basement, waiting for the search to pass them by.  He knew how they could go back in and eliminate the emir.

A three way assault--over, under, and around.

A small strike squad would infiltrate the palace from the air, either employing paragliders, or making a HALO jump, to get onto the tower housing the Emir.  Once in place, a second team would initiate an assault through the tunnel system below the palace.  Casualties would be high there, given that Thoras had undoubtedly located the submerged entry way, but the attack would draw troops down.

The third wave was Kain's favourite part, in which the body politic exerted its might.  A mass uprising around the city would eliminate the Emirate guard outside the palace, and assault the walls of the palace, headed by the Boy Emir, Rafael Brahvo.  This double strain on the palace's defenders should provide the distraction required for the strike team to find and assassinate Thoras.

Kain went over the timeline.

They would reach Brhavo the next day.  It should take no more than 3 days to get Ben close enough to convince the Boy to seize his own city.  That left 10 days to get to Okavango in time for the new moon.  Gade said his side trip was to retrieve supplies for the defenders of Basal; one day to travel to wherever the supplies were, a week to train the para team and prepare to grab the supplies, and 3 days to return to Okavango with the supplies and storm the palace.

That actually left 2 days more than Kain figured they really needed.  But wiggle room was nice.

He'd have to get Bill on hiring the Daks right away.  Kessler said she had a sat-link ready to go, so that would do.

Now he just had to practice keeping a straight face for the part where he told Chambers that he wanted a mini-sub from Baja for the tunnel op....

Kain smiled as he looked at the chrono.  If he knew Gade, the grubby mechanic would be returning any time to tell him a few more details about his own little side mission.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Consolidated PBY Catalina

For those of you unfamiliar with this beloved workhorse of naval aviation, here's a link to the float plane that inspired the hopper we're in presently:

Friday, July 23, 2010

Postcard - Wish you were here

Status Update

Precious cargo extracted from Venice. No losses. Mild exposure to Solar forces. Wrinkle: Team from NewKids attempted to pick up Physician. Exposure total.

En route to Messiah. Anticipate diversion from operation likely. Return to Venice probable.

Have obtained no intel on Grandfather. May as well not have existed. Delivering gift impossible without intel on location.

Please advise.

>>>>>ENCRYPT? Y/N<<<<<


>>>>>UPLOAD? Y/N<<<<<



Yesterday was mostly a day for licking our wounds and planning... well, and avoiding an ambush set up by NuCoal. But really, what kind of a game is it for us without an ambush of some sort? Despite spilling a cup full of hot chocolate on my notes and character sheet (it's not really a character sheet until it's got food stains on it), I managed to salvage most of the lines of the night, and that's the important thing.

22 July 2010 - Medical Log


26W 1935

Dr T.M. Chambers


It’s been a while, but with this many patients, I better start keeping track again, that and I don’t seem to be going anywhere. I though I would be done with this ordeal once we had sprung Ben, Jo, Teg and Pete. No I didn’t, I’m lying to myself, I rationalized it would be over, but I felt it wouldn’t be.

Of the lot, Ben seems the best insulated from physical trauma, but he would have been the best prepared for extended captivity. Teg has suffered repeated haematoma and deep tissue damage; of course he would have been an obvious target for physical abuse given his size. I haven’t given Josephina an in depth examination but she has been very quiet and the potential for sexual assault is depressingly probable given the duration of captivity and social norms of the ESE. I can start by asking the men if she was ever isolated before pursuing that line of investigation, see if she forms a rapport with Maia too.

LOG NOTE: brush up on victim psychomotor responses for passive clinical diagnosis.

I’m worried about Pete, he has indications of chronic trauma, possibly misaligned fractures, certainly soft tissue damage in need of long term care and possible surgical intervention. I’m going to have to get him under a field medical scanner at least, a real hospital would be better.

Poor bastards, even after all they went through they are still motivated to pursue the mad cause. They seem relatively stable psychologically. The irony is that although their ideals probably helped keep them sane in captivity, it has now because so entrenched as a survival mechanism that ideology may have morphed into psychological compensation and delusional displacement.

LOG NOTE: research PTSD and prolonged captivity case studies.



My eyes shut there for a while, even with the full moon coming through the cockpit window. It’s been an insanely long day. I can’t believe it all happened today: the swim in, the sharks.

LOG NOTE: research swamp shark repellent.

The tunnels, finding our friends alive, the trap the insane getaway. That hopper! Maia suffered a severe GSW during the escape, it is stable but will require a few weeks to stabilize completely. Sam took another hit as well, compounding his earlier wounds inflicted by, well, me. That boy needs a week in bed. Kain suffered several shot as well, but nothing major, though those 9mm sniper shots and close proximity grenades may have causes some deep bruising and mild concussion.

As for me, I’m fine. No shots, no bruising, no psychological trauma, I’m tired but otherwise quite unaffected. The NuCol extraction team was a bit of a surprise, I wish they had gone about it more openly, I am willing to face charges, I am willing to take responsibility for de decisions I make, made. So why am I in a hopper heading towards Cimmaro to meet Bhravo? Because Kain convinced me that’s why. Meet Bhravo, find out what kind of man, boy, he is and decide if he is a less repugnant option than the current Emir of Oka. The nub of Kain’s argument is that if I have to face charges back in the Badlands, better to come back as a hero; a revolutionary for the common man fighting oppression. It’s the height of hypocrisy, I’m contemplating overthrowing a government for the sake of my own PR campaign. I don’t even know if I care about the hypocrisy, or my image, the ESE, I don’t know if I care about anything? Yeah, I’m fine.


Thursday, July 8, 2010

Meanwhile, Back in Khayr-ad Din

24 Winter, TN1935

Badlands Caravan Guild Compound, Khayr-ad Din

Avatanya put the bottle down and looked out over the junkyard. It was early evening, and the hazy sunset was pouring over the compound. If she were in a better mood, she knew that she'd appreciate it. But she was drunk, and she hated everything right now.

"You gonna tell him?" Carmichael lit up a cigar. Even in this dire time, he wouldn't fall off the wagon.

"Can't.  I just can't, Car," Avatanya leaned against the balcony railing. She took a deep breath in through her nose, sniffed loudly, and wiped her eyes. "Goddamn it!"

"You have to."

"Fuck you, I know!" she turned on Carmichael, who was sitting in his wheelchair, puffing on his cigar, a funny look in his eye, "I know I have to do it." Avatanya had imbibed enough moonshine to kill a barnaby, and yet, in this painful moment, she didn't slur her words.

"Tess," Avatanya keyed her personal communicator, "bring the boy to the office."

She left Carmichael outside to finish the cigar.

From the Diary of Bartholomew Vonyran:

24 Winter, TN1935.

Pa's dead.

Tessa swears she didn't know when she brought me into the caravan office, and I believe her. Avatanya just sat me down in the fancy chair. I knew something was up, because my work clothes were just disgusting, but she didn't say anything. She just sat me down in the chair, looked me in the eyes and said "Boy, your pa's dead."

Avatanya said that they didn't know how he died, but it was in Raleigh, in the Humanist Alliance, in the South, and that their friend Bill Pearce, the one who met me and Pa at that maglev oasis tower a few weeks ago, was the one who told Avatanya.

She said that I could stay with the Caravan crew, and that there'd never be a problem, and that I was like family to the whole crew, on account of them having known Pa so well. And I smiled and thanked her and Tessa, and Carmichael, who was just outside, smoking on those cigars of his. Avatanya was trying her best, but I know she was crying before. And Tessa just broke down.

I don't know what to do. Pa said that we couldn't go home. I know he's got family in the Western Frontier Protectorate. I wonder if Mom has any family. I can stay here, I guess, but I know that it was bad enough when everyone was looking at me funny when I showed up. It's only gonna get worse now.

Welcome to the Jungle...


The word caused a dread-filled silence to descend on the little operations center. When the boss said "interesting", he meant "you peons of mine are about to slave away like worker skags until further notice."

"Very interesting."

There was an audible gulp.

"It seems the trap we set was almost foolproof. There was a jail-break in the Emirate Palace of Okavango. A high value revolutionary cell was extracted, not ten minutes ago. Any guesses?"

"Cantor, Dragushan, Smit, Teg," came the reply. Someone began typing furiously.

"Very good," the boss replied, licking his lips, "bring up the cell camera."

The entire operations room sat silently as Kain DeLacroix and Doctor Chambers exchanged pleasantries with Ben Cantor on the screen.

"This is the only recording we have of them until they appear again in the Solicitors Wing of the palace compound," a surveillance specialist reported.

"Well?" the boss issued the challenge.

"They infiltrated as pilgrims or servants."

"Unlikely," then a pause, "where do they appear on the Solicitor wing camera?"

"Coming up from the basement."

"So, it looks like the Emir has no idea what sort of tunnels exist under his palace. You see, ladies and gentlemen, this is why the Emirates are a backwater. The leadership is lazy, complacent, decadent. One can certainly admire Shirow for his vision," Andrei Pearl chuckled, "so, DeLacroix, Chambers, Tarmalin, and this Kessler woman from Peace River are in Okavango. They've managed to bust out their friends, and they're probably making good their escape into the city."

"Yes sir. Your orders?" the entire SRID operations center was waiting for Andy Pearl's word before springing into action.

Pearl's eyes narrowed.

I warned you Kain.

"What's the status of our friends?"

"On standby."

"Activate them. Their orders are to observe, not engage. Leak this to NuCoal. Let's see how they move in."


Prangap Jurdan gently turned the ratchet, slowly working the spark plug out of the socket. The swamp-doo had arrived yesterday, and the entire engine was fouled up with grime. He would have to soak these plugs for at least a day before trying to clean them. Prangap had managed to clean the chrome-plated engine housing decently enough. But it had tired out his hands.

With a satisfying heave, he pulled the plug out of the socket, but it slipped from his grimy fingers and rolled across the concrete floor and towards the door leading to the front of the shop.

The door opened, spilling light into the workshop. All sorts of engines and water jets were hanging on chains, ready for work. Business at Rustbuckets was good.

"Oh, hi Marco," Prangap nodded at his employee, the mechanic, "you mind picking up that plug and bringing it here? These old hands," Prangap smiled apologetically, and turned back to working on the engine.

Silently, Marco bent over, picked up the spark plug and walked towards his boss.

Prangap saw Marco's face bend into a murderous rage in the chrome. He spun, raising his arms just in time to partially deflect the heavy wrench away from his skull. The blow hurt badly.

"Arrgh! Marco!" Prangap tried as best he could to back away, but he was blocked by the swamp-doo. Another blow came down hard, smashing his collarbone with a sickening crack.

"You traitor! The Emir rules by divine right! How dare you try to usurp him! Your rebellion is over!" Marco bellowed, smashing Prangap with the heavy wrench, each blow making a heavy, thick thud.

"Marco!" The word was mangled and slurred. Prangap saw red, and knew that he was doomed. But his hand gripped the cutting torch trigger, and in a final act of defiance, he lifted the implement high and turned it on in Marco's face.

"Aaaaaaaaah!" Marco stumbled backwards blinded, and fell into a jumble of chains and machinery. He flailed, hit a lever, and was crushed as a swamp-doo engine toppled onto him.

Prangap groaned. It had all fallen apart. His cell was compromised. Marco had seen them all in the shop at one point or another. How stupid he had been, thinking that the simple mechanic had no interest in politics. So many sajhalin were content to be sheep. He fumbled for the emergency transponder in his pocket, and activated it. At least the others might have a chance.

Saturday, July 3, 2010


The game on Thursday night consisted of a covert operation that rapidly turned far less covert, as we infiltrated Emir Thoras' palace to rescue the PCs' friends and totally fail to assassinate the Emir. In the process, many of us were wounded, but at least we made a lot of things go boom.

Hermes 72 - Heavy Gear RPG - Most artwork Copyright 2002 Dream Pod 9, Inc.