WizKids 35025 - CBT - Mercenaries Supplemental II OEF.pdf - [2002-2008] - WizKids - trzeci

35025

™

MERCENARIES SUPPLEMENTAL II

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Skibinski’s Salvage 59

13th Stalking Horse 60

Stone Ponies 61

Tiger Sharks 62

Vinson’s Vigilantes 63

The Wild Geese 64

MERCENARY DEPLOYMENT SUPPLEMENTAL 65

MERCENARY COMMANDS 67

CBT: RPG RULES 72

Additional Paths 72

Tour of Duty: Rogue Mercenary 72

Tour of Duty: Freelance Mercenary 73

MERCENARY RULES ANNEX 73

Unit Composition Table Expansions 75

Random Vehicle/Fighter Table Expansions 75

Battle Armor Assignments 80

Alternate BattleTech Era Expansions 82

Mercenary Force Creation Expansions 89

Combat Experience Path: Former House Command 89

Combat Experience Path: Renegade Mercenary Command 90

Mercenary Creation and Alternate Eras

FREE AT LAST!

INTRODUCTION

MERCENARIES ON THE FRINGES

The Thin, Thin Line

Where the Action Is

Fringes of a Different Flavor: Alternative Mercs

THE MERCENARY’S ATLAS

Antallos: The Scoundrel’s Port

Antallos at a Glance

Port Krin: The Open City

The Mercenary Trade on Antallos

Astrokaszy: No Man’s Land

Hot as it Gets: The Mercenary Trade on Astrokaszy

Herotitus: Business Before Pleasure

Balancing Act: The Mercenary Trade on Herotitus

Nosiel: Bread and Circuses

The Nosiel Summer Games

FORCE BRIEFS SUPPLEMENTAL

Ace Darwin’s Whipits

New Hiring Hall: Noisel

Bad Dream

Mercenary Operations Expansions

Black Angus Boys

Very Large/Very Small Mercenary Commands

Black Heart Roses

Wanted/Rogue Mercenaries

Black Omen

Mercenary Operations and Alternate Eras

Blanc’s Coyotes

Optional Share-Pay System For Mercenaries

100

Broadstreet Bullies

Burton’s Brigade

Dedrickson’s Devils

Deliah’s Gauntlet

Devil’s Brigade

Supplemental II, Classic BattleTech, BattleTech, ’Mech,

BattleMech, Classic BattleTech RPG, AeroTech 2, BattleForce 2

and WK Games are registered trademarks and/or trademarks of

WizKids, Inc. in the United States and/or other countries. No part

of this work may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permis-

sion in writing of the Copyright Owner, nor be otherwise circulated

in any form other than that in which it is published. Printed in the

USA.

Version 1 (June 2005)

Published by FanPro LLC • 1608 N. Milwaukee • Suite 1005 •

Chicago, IL 60647

Dragon’s Breath

Eriksson’s Einherjar

Fighting Shamrocks

Gabhardt’s Carabineers

Gael’s Grinders

Golden Boys

Gordon’s Armored Cavalry

Gray’s Ghosts

Green Mountain Boys

Hampton’s Hessens

Hannibal’s Hermits

HeavyHell Raisers

Kraken Unleashed

Little Richard’s Panzer Brigade

Find us online:

Precentor_martial@classicbattletech.com (e-mail address for any

Classic BattleTech questions)

http://www.classicbattletech.com (official Classic BattleTech web

pages)

http://www.fanprogames.com (FanPro web pages)

http://www.mwdarkage.com (official MechWarrior: Dark Age web

pages)

http://www.wizkidsgames.com (WizKids web pages)

http://www.studio2publishing.com (online ordering)

Lone Wolves

The Medusans

Mick’s Blue Skye Rangers

One-Eyed Jacks

Periphery Star Guard

Prey’s Divisionals

Raging Horde

Reed’s Brew

Rubinsky’s Renegades

CREDITS

Special Thanks

To Randall for letting me continue to play in the grand play-

ground that is BattleTech mercenary life, as well as to all my fel-

low writers (listed above) for coming up with quality work, sort of

on time; the massive playtester/fact-checker support apparatus

(listed below) for assuring that the rules and the fluff that result-

ed passed muster—especially those who stepped up and helped

hammer out those monstrous alternate-era rules and tables.

And, to the Kings and Pawns crew, in particular Scott “Clutch”

Taylor for taking the lead, Jason Robinette for getting the ball

rolling, Loren Coleman for his contribution to the scenario devel-

opment, Jason Weiser and Anthony Hardenburgh for their help-

ing sponsoring the NY/LI spotlight event, Ray Arrastia for his

assistance in advertising—and, of course, the Commandos

worldwide who carried out the campaign for Hall to its brutal con-

clusion.

And to the proof checkers: Peter La Casse, Mike Miller, and

Jeff Morgan.

Writing

Herbert A. Beas II

Additional Writing: Mercenary Force Briefs

Herbert A. Beas II

Randall N. Bills

Warner Doles

Ken Horner

Nick “Gunslinger” Marsala

David L. McCulloch

Kevin Killianey

Camille Klein

Paul Sjardijn

Peter Smith

Andreas Zuber

Product Development

Herbert A. Beas II

Development Assistance

Randall N. Bills

Herb Beas would also like to thank:

The near and dear Rebecca “Beckie” J Beas (as always); the

four Herblets (of course): Annie, Oscar, Meggie, and Merlin. And

last but never least, a sad farewell to Herblet One: Captain Tribble

Midnight Beas (b. 12-??-1985, d. 1-25-2005) – Thank you for

nineteen years of happy memories (and a generous helping of

worries).

Product Editing

Jason M. Hardy

BattleTech Line Developer

Randall N. Bills

Playtesters

Joel Agee, Raymond Arrastia, Daniel “Cannonshop” Ball, Ron

“Steel Hawke” Barter, Paul Bowman, Scott Bukoski, Rich

Casarez, Rich Cencarik, Brent Dill, Benjamin “Hawk” Disher, Tim

DuPertuis, John “Quentil” Dzieniszewski, David Fanjoy, Bruce

Ford, Jon “AngelRipper” Frideres, John Alexander Gordon,

Aaron “Bear” Gregory, Anthony “Shadhawk” Hardenburgh, John

“Worktroll” Haward, Ross “Koga” Hines, Glen “Lobsterback”

Hopkins, Rodney Klatt, Michael “Konan” Koning, Peter La Casse,

Edward “TenakaFurey” Lafferty, Chris “SCUG” Lewis, Edward

Lott, Michael Miller, Jeffrey “Highlander” Morgan, Darrell

“FlailingDeath” Myers, Lou “Nukeloader” Myers, Andrew Norris,

Keith “Vang” Oberschulte, Nathaniel “Sledge” Olsen, Aaron

Pollyea, Robert “Pidge” Pigeon, Simon “Big Ken” Pratt, “Medron

Pryde”, Rick Raisley, Rick “Rick Steele” Remer, Jason

“Psychopompous” Richter, Ben “Ghost Bear” Rome, Christopher

Searls, Joel “Septicemia” Steverson, Michael “GuruMike”

Stouffer, Geoff “97Jedi” Swift, Scott “Clutch” Taylor, Roland

“Ruger” Thigpen, Christoffer “Bones” Trossen, Øystein Tvedten,

Jason “Panzerfaust 150” Weiser, Chris “Chinless” Wheeler,

Charles “IronSphinx” Wilson, Mark “Speck” Yingling.

Production Staff

Art Direction

Randall N. Bills

Cover Art

Des Hanley

Cover Design

Michaela Eaves

Layout

Michaela Eaves

Illustrations

Brad McDevitt

Chris Lewis

Color Section Design

David M. Stansel-Garner

Miniatures Painting & Photography

Raymond “Adrian Gideon” Arrastia

Mike “Chewie” DuVal

Dave Fanjoy

Ross Hines

David “Dak” Kerber

Mar “Hyena” Maestas

Ryan Peterson

Ron “Archer1” Smith

Candi Smith

Allen Soles

MERCENARIES SUPPLEMENTAL II

FREE AT LAST!

Blinding flashes of emerald and sapphire beams, punctuat-

ed by bright orange blossom missile blasts, lit up the town of

South Harney despite the growing shadows of approaching

dusk. As the capital city’s suburbs became host to a deadly game

of cat and mouse, the thunderous roar of autocannon fire com-

peted with the relentless rumble of stomping, multi-ton

BattleMechs.

In the heart of it all, strapped into the command seat of his

eighty-ton Zeus by an age-worn five-point harness, sat William

“Bud” Baranov, emperor of Hall and lord over all he surveyed.

Until, perhaps, today.

Grinding the stump of his last cigar between yellow stained

teeth, Baranov snorted disgustedly at the fleeting sense of doubt

and beat it back into oblivion as he stalked his ’Mech forward.

Rounding the corner of a warehouse crammed floor to ceiling

with enough improved swarm munitions to saturate the battle-

field before him, he kept his eyes glued to the sensor and heads-

up displays. Bare hands, thick and calloused, clutched throttle

and weapon controls with white-knuckles, while a sour mix of

human sweat and reprocessed air assailed his nostrils. Through

the grimy, polarized ferroglass of his canopy, he took in the

slugfest of BattleMechs and armor before him, as armies waged

war in no less than five different colors.

Unfortunately, the one set of colors he cared about—those

belonging to his own Republican Guard—were fading fast.

Worse still, so far as he could see, those triple-damned Marik

bastards were doing nothing about it! Instead of targeting the

weak links of the AMC line, the motley collection of ’Mechs and

tanks known as Burton’s Brigade, the Fourth Hussars’ comman-

der had thrown the entire weight of his company at the Third

Dismal Disinherited, dragooning Baranov’s own mercenaries,

the Stealthy Tigers, for support.

“Hang yourself,” Force Commander Bobum had told him.

“We’re not in this to settle your old scores for you. Have your

Guards cover the depots. We’ll handle the enemy here.”

Baranov snorted again. So much for the support of his

“allies.”

Knowing that Bobum himself was now gone—forced to bail

out when a lance of Disinherited ’Mechs gunned down his fresh-

from-the-factory Perseus —was small consolation; the real threat,

Baranov thought, remained at large.

Downfield, his Zeus ’ targeting and tracking sensors pin-

pointed that threat, a 90-ton monstrosity of armor and weapons

his HUD immediately tagged as a CP-10-Q Cyclops . Its pilot had

survived a decade of Baranov’s best efforts to kill her, and as he

watched the venerable machine, painted in the pale tans and

purples of its command, Baranov felt a surge of pure hate wash

over him. His pulse quickened and his jaw tightened, until the last

smoldering remains of forgotten cigar crumbled away, dropping

into the shadows of the cockpit floor.

Bearing the liquid scars of laser fire and the miniature

craters of missile impacts, Captain Elly Burton’s Cyclops

stomped through a copse of native evergreens, swiveling at the

waist to lob a hail of missile and laser fire into the flank of a Guard

Centurion . The Centurion MechWarrior, Zappavinga, was a vet-

eran of Baranov’s command, going back to when they fought

together for the failed experiment that was the Federated

Commonwealth. But against the devastating, close-in punch of

Burton’s assault ’Mech, her own 50-ton machine proved no

match. The Cyclops ’ full volley scoured away previously weak-

ened armor on Zappavinga’s flank, shattering the supports with-

in. Mangled, flaming bits of engine shielding and gray-green

coolant blasted out from the exit wounds at the Centurion ’s back.

Crippled, the ’Mech gave one last shudder before crashing to the

ground.

“Bitch!” Baranov growled, his voice just low enough to avoid

carrying over the tac channels.

No sooner had the word been uttered, however, than the

Cyclops turned again, its domed head swiveling about to face

him as though summoned by the curse. Deep within the boxy

’Mech, Baranov could imagine Burton, his nemesis, strapped at

her own controls, her haunting, black eyes glaring back at his

Zeus . Narrowing his gaze, he dropped his targeting crosshairs

over the silhouette and stabbed at his triggers.

From the Zeus ’ arms erupted the combined flash and thun-

der of manmade lightning and a cloud of long-range missiles.

Distance and motion spoiled the shots, but only somewhat.

Though the azure bolt of his PPC missed high, a rolling fire of

over a dozen warheads blasted armor off the Cyclops ’ broad

torso.

Burton’s ’Mech weathered the storm and pounded forward,

unleashing a hail of missiles in response that corkscrewed their

way into the legs and lower torso of Baranov’s Zeus . The blasts

put a hitch in his ’Mech’s stride but hardly overpowered the sta-

bilizing efforts of the machine’s four-ton gyros.

His challenge made and accepted, a savage grin crawled

across Baranov’s face.

At these ranges, and already bloodied, Burton stood little

chance. At last, the real threat would end.

Taking one more step forward, Baranov locked his crosshairs

on the Brigade ’Mech and thumbed the triggers for a full volley of

missiles, backed by laser and particle cannon fire. The Cyclops ,

caught in mid-stride, staggered under the hellish onslaught.

Smoke poured from gaping wounds across the machine’s chest

and arms, and a visible slash of fast-cooling, half-melted ferro-

glass marred its broad, circular “eye.” As if stunned, the machine

stumbled, shifting drunkenly to one side.

Without warning, explosions rocked the Zeus before

Baranov could see whether or not his target had fallen. Stuttering

blasts of autocannon fire pelted his ’Mech as missile alarms

screamed for attention. Spitting out another curse, he hunched

over his controls, instinctively bracing against the hail of incoming

missiles.

FREE AT LAST!

“Damn it!” he roared. Swinging a step backward, he fought

his controls, keeping the Zeus upright as new warning indicators

lit up his boards, battle damage computers identifying the com-

bined loss of over two tons of armor across his left flank. Beyond

the canopy, he saw the culprits, an assault-class Charger ,

backed up by an old but heavy Manticore tank.

“William Baranov,” a stern voice, transmitted by laser-com

straight from Burton’s Cyclops , rang in his ears. “On behalf of

the Allied Mercenary Command, the late Count

Radcliffe McNally, and the people of Hall, I

hereby demand your immediate and

unconditional surrender.”

“Like hell,” Baranov grum-

bled. Dialing his tactical chan-

nel, he shouted over the

din of battle and the wail

of weapon-lock warn-

ings. “Alpha Guard

to all Guard units!

What the hell do I

pay you people for?”

“Guard Two to

Alpha Guard,” came

back a feminine reply,

its worried edge not

lost in the static of elec-

tronic transmission. “We

have flankers on the

eastern front! They’ve—”

“I don’t give a

branth’s ass about the

eastern flank!” Baranov snarled.

“Leave them to the birds for now!

We’ve got primaries moving on the

depot and if I don’t get support from

you rammers right now, I’ll see the lot of you fry!”

“Right away, Excel—!”

A deafening shower of explosions rolled across his cockpit

and drowned out the rest of MechWarrior Refazo’s reply. A loud-

er clang filled the cockpit as something gave, even as Baranov

twisted his machine violently away from the blasts. Blinking away

stars and coughing at the smell of smoke, he whirled back

around in time to spot the approaching Cyclops through the

cracks now radiating from a fist-sized hole in his canopy. Larger

now than ever, a scant hundred meters downfield and closing,

the ninety-ton BattleMech barreled towards him at a sixty-kilo-

meter-per-hour charge.

Spots swam before Baranov’s eyes. His ears rang, and a

coppery taste filled his mouth. His right joystick felt slick to the

touch, and he glanced down to find his hand awash in a dripping

crimson flow traced back to an ugly gash across his bicep. The

canopy fragment responsible was nowhere to be found.

Sucking in a lungful of smoke-tinged air, he forced aside the

rising pain in his arm and lined up another shot at Burton, just as

a brace of lasers from a Guard Stalker pinned the mercenary’s

Cyclops in place and tore into its flank. Burton’s struggle to stay

upright amid the onslaught robbed her ’Mech of precious

momentum, and kept her distracted for a tense

few heartbeats.

All the time Baranov needed to

thumb the triggers.

His PPC and lasers lashed

out at Burton only a moment

before her own ’Mech shot

back a full volley of laser and

missile fire—all of which

streaked harmlessly to his

left. His own blasts were

truer, catching the

Cyclops dead center. The

seething energies poured

into the gaping wounds

across the ’Mech’s chest,

vaporizing the last of

Burton’s armor and reaching

deep into the fusion-pow-

ered heart beneath.

Almost instantly, golden fire

spewed forth from the wound.

“ Got you, you bitch! ”

“ Emperor! ” came a desperate scream on his tactical chan-

nels.

They were last words William “Bud” Baranov ever heard.

***

From within her smoky, blood-drenched cockpit, amid the

piercing too-little, too-late wail of emergency claxons, Captain

Elly Burton managed one last grim smile as her misfired lasers

and missiles tore through the fragile skin of the munitions ware-

house a mere ten meters behind Baranov’s Zeus . His armor

already savaged, surely this second salvo would finish off thee

“emperor” before he even knew what hit him.

As the earth-shattering blast tore open the earth, and the

fireball of her own doomed machine flashed outward in sympa-

thy, Burton’s last thoughts vanished on the winds of South

Harney, echoing a decade of strife finally come to an end.

Free at last…

WizKids 35025 - CBT - Mercenaries Supplemental II OEF.pdf

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika: