Mandalorian Mercenaries Recruitment Centre

[roxas]

Name: Simon Mann
Date of Birth: 5/14/791
Place of Birth: Manhattan
Brief History: I was born to 2 middle class Libertonians by the names of Benjamin and Kimberly Mann. They worked hard as I was growing up to provide the best they could for me and I was grateful for their efforts. I told them it has always been my dream to attend West Point Academy and become an officer. While this was true at the time...I began having second thoughts as I was nearing the end of the curriculum there. As my fellow classmates were getting excited for the upcoming graduation, I found myself unable to share in their smiles. As they dreamed of moving up the ranks and maybe becoming admirals one day...I began to desire a simpler life. One where my skills could be put to good use but without the hassle of cutting through all the red tape to get permission to stop drug runners, pirates, and other undesirables. Without knowing what this life would be but knowing I had to get off the course of the one I was on, I formally announced that I would be leaving the academy without graduating. At first people didn't take me seriously. But when I began to not show up for classes and was seen buying supplies they gradually realized I was truly leaving. Other than a standard resupply shuttle to Manhattan, I had no other way to leave, and I knew I could never go back to the planet of my birth and look my parents in the eye. I knew they wouldn't understand what would seem like such an impulsive and reckless decision. To make matters worse, I had spent the majority of my meager savings on much needed supplies for my upcoming departure. My only option was to speak with the ship dealer on station. When he asked what I was looking for I responded saying I was looking for something cheap. He asked how cheap. I said free. His merchant smile faded and was replaced with a small smirk. His last comment to me was that he had something I could take. It wasn't in the best of condition but it fit my budget constraints nicely. He then pointed to a small hanger door and walked away.

While I was navigating through the far reaches of Coronado in my beaten up and barely functioning arrow the ship dealer had been kind enough to point me to, I ran into a heavily scarred freelancer merchant vessel, a train. While I didn't see any of its atmosphere leaking out, the deep plasma gouges in its hull and its missing cargo pods told me enough. Due to the nature of the cloud we found ourselves in, the range of our communicators was severely limited. Once we entered each other's comm range, a man who identified himself as the captain asked for my name. I told him it was Simon. Figuring it was my turn, I asked the captain what his vessel was doing so far from the rest of society. He shakily responded that his ship was attempting to bring consumer goods to planet New London. I saw he wasn't going to elaborate on that any further so I submitted another query. I asked him what could have possibly done that much damage to his ship and not finish the job. Expecting to hear that the DSE boys were right and that jump hole travel should be avoided at all costs...I was surprised to hear him say he had come under attack from a small band of brigands. I guess through the silence he understood my doubt...how could such a vessel survive an attack like that? Without sounding the least offended, to which I give the man eternal credit, he said that a trident of three ships appeared out of the mist. The ships appeared on the flanks of the brigands, passed through them and then disappeared back into the mist like ghosts in the night. Before the woman manning the scanner aboard aboard the train could begin to vocalize what had happened, three small explosions shattered the dark and flashed out of existence as soon as they had come. The brigands were gone. The old man didn't know what had saved his cargo and his crew but he had an idea. He said he's been hearing rumors, whispers, of an elite group of pilots who have devoted their lives to making a profit in one of the oldest and most utilized professions in history...that of a mercenary. The man's voice lowered off until it was little more than an audible whisper...then he said they call themselves Mandalorians.

At this point, I could still hear him talking in that same hushed tone. But my mind was elsewhere. I began to envision flying a ship of death, a ship that would tear those foolish enough to have a price on their heads asunder and of the adventure and excitement I would have while I filled my coffers. I thanked the man, wished him and his crew a safe voyage, and made full speed to Barrier Gate Station. I didn't know how I would find one of these....Mandalorians...but I knew that after a hard day's work nearly every man needs a stout drink. Upon my arrival into the bar I made my way over to the bartender. Maybe he saw the look in my eyes, the resolve and determination to succeed where others had failed. Maybe he just had a twitch. Whatever the reason, he tilted his head towards a man in the shadows, sitting alone at one of the tables. I stood silent, not more than two feet in front of this man, waiting for him to acknowledge me. Minutes passed. The man finally spoke. His voice was quiet but underneath, barely hiding below the surface, was a firmness, a coldness, that said this man was no one to be trifled with. He said, " I don't care who you are boy. But I can see you have the look about you. The look of a killer. But that alone isn't enough." I realized he was actually asking a question. Without truly knowing what he wanted to hear and not wanting a shred of uncertainty to be heard in my voice, I told him:"I'm a quick study and was one of the best pilots at the academy. My instructors had a hard time keeping up with me and I never left a wingman behind in the simulators. I have never known what to do with my life but hearing about the Mandalorians...nothing has ever resounded so strongly in me and made me feel like I was destined for it. I imagine a group such as the Mandalorians would have their own laws, values, and traditions. I will learn them as completely as I can and live by them. Once you see what I have to offer, you won't be disappointed." He didn't say anything for what seemed like a long moment. Then, in an even quieter tone, he said, "You best be careful speaking that name. Those unworthy find their tongues missing for flouting it around so nonchalantly." And then, I swear, he almost chuckled. His voice softened somewhat and then he said, "You're eager. Good. But it will take more than that to become a Mandalorian. Take this comm. You are not to use it anytime for any reason regarding your personal use. From the looks of you, you don’t have a job. Get one and keep a low profile. Oh, and be sure to keep that by your ear. You won't know when a call will come...or even if. But if one should...make the right choice. If it's decided that you're not completely worthless, well...we'll just have to wait and see. Now get out of here, I don't like anyone watching me while I drink."


//
1- For how long have you been playing on Discovery? April, 2009.

2- What made you come play on Discovery? The never ending insistence by good friends that I would be a fool if I didn't buy the game and play on the Discovery server.

3- What other characters do you have on the Discovery server? Freelancer fighter, BAF, IMG trading vessels, vigilantes, outcast gunboat, and a corsair cruiser.

4- What OOC reason do you have for joining the MM? A little birdie told me the MM were being revitalized.

---

-- For how should man die better, than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his father and the temples of his gods?

-- Brushing the tips of my fingers, don't let me lose you.