Mandalorian Mercenaries Recruitment Centre

[Dieter Schprokets]

Mr Hetsau.

I have seldom, no, never, seen such a thorough education.

Your knowledge of Kusari will be useful to us. We hunt them. I trust you understand you will be hunting your former countrymen, and you have no reservations about doing so?

I am impressed. Suit up; You are accepted. I will send you information shortly, and a bomber and fighter will be made ready for you.

---

[Crysis]

Mandalore...

Much appreciated Mandalore, I am honoured at your reply and I will not fail you, discipline and education comes with teachings, and training as I did, the shadowed section of my squadron provided this and you will have much help and kills to the Mandalorian name.

I cannot refuse the offer in hunting and collecting money from the lives which made mine so, and if my countrymen you meant my squadron comrades, I never knew their names or who they were, they simply killed with me, taking a life from them would be like any other... Thank you for the ships you are preparing, I will see you out there soon.

Thank you Mandalore.

---

The Shadow of Sirius - (Reiner Hetsau Background Story)

[Vape]

James stumbled into the recruitment office
Well i'm back vode, that Kusari prison was horrible, the food especially

---

[Dieter Schprokets]

The recruitment officer looks up at James Tainer.

"You smell like raw fish. Sign in and get a bath and a bunk. Training tomorrow."

As Tainer shuffled to the back, the smug officer yelled one more thing after him..

"DON'T get captured AGAIN!!"

---

[Halogen]

The frustration in the voice is evident.
"Oh, but for the love of Jayzus, MOVE!"
Another asteroid, this time a big one, judders the hull of the transport, narrowly missing the starboard window. The engines work overtime to counter the effects as the carrier continues its pinball-like transit through Omega-5. The jumphole is in sight - good thing since the scanner just picked up the Corsair callsigns which can only spell trouble. Jumphole engaged, out the other side and hey presto! Clear-ish skies and a safe course plotted.


"Hello Freeport 1. Planetform transport Northgate passing through Omega-3, on way to Edimburgh. Stand by for flight plan, cargo and ID transmission. Over"

It was always easier to just declare a Planetform ID. The operative didnt need to know, and indeed didnt particularly care about the nature of the contract in place with the corporation. The fact that the ship was flying under the ID as a sum-contracfted affiliate rather than a wholly owned asset made no difference to procedures. K.I.S.S. and go, no worries.
The reply comes a few seconds later.
"Roger Northgate. ID verified, flight plan approved. Have a safe flight. Freeport-1 out"

Time to read the forms. They are neatly stacked in the corner of the desk alphabetically, in colour-coordinated spiral-bound folders labelled Bounty Hunters, Mandalorian Mercenaries and respectively Planetform.

"Allright so ... what are the options, Dave?"

The two men go to the desk and spread the forms out.
Dave: "I looked at all of them and these three are closest to what we were looking for. Basically, its a transfer to the escort-cum-fighter division, " (Dave points to the Planetform folder) "but that would mean actually becoming full-time employees, OR something else"
"Like what?"
Dave: "Have a look." Dave draws the other two folders closer. "On the surface, not a massive difference, but you really need to look at the detail because its important. Check out the career and promotion plans"
Alphabetically then... Bounty Hunters... lets see... bla bla bla ... here we go. Code of conduct. Well, that all looks sensible. Not sure the language would get the crystal mark, but there you go. Ok, yes, yes, fine, allright,good.
"Wheres the promotion path?"
Dave:"Hang on, have you read the oath bit?"
"No, wheres that?"
Dave flicks a few pages through the folder. "Check it out. Its proper mental." he says, then scrolls down and points to a highlighted section

rip up the stomachs and wombs of their women, and crush their infants heads against the walls in order to annihilate their execrable race

"F****** Hell! A bit harsh!?"
Dave:"Told you! I bet you missed this one". He flicks back a couple of pages and reads out "I shall be killed by fire if I behave indecently towards small children of my sworn brothers' families."
"They have a rule against that? How many times has that happened? What kind of sick minds do they hire? F*** that, mate thats just mental. Jayzus!"
Dave:"Yeah, exactly..." He pauses for effect as the men exchange knowing glances that mix bewilderment, disbelief and disgust. "Do you think they pi** in their pants because theres no rule against that?"
The pair laugh and the athmosphere lightens. The folder is summarily closed and fed into the shredder.
"Mate, if I had known thats who were paying, I probably would have thought again before buying the Bottlenose. Bloody hell."

"Alright ... what are the mercs like?"
Dave:"Pretty normal, actually. I think youll like them."
Allright, lets see... guidelines ... good ... meh ... Outcasts ... ok ... right ... ok ... government contracts ... clients list ... polite ... reputation ... teamwork ... allright. Good.
"Good. Good!" <smile> "This is much more like it! You shoulda given me this one first, dude!"
Dave:"Told you. To be honest, I knew you would have gone for them straight away, but you needed to come to the decision yourself."
Dave:[i]"Ive filled in the form for you already. Can you just go through it to make sure I havent bug*ered anything up?" He flicks to the back of the folder and hands out the form.


Name: Hal Skye
Age: 34
Sex: M
Nationality: Bretonian
Nationality at birth: Rheinland
Current occupation: Self employed
Pilot license release authority: Bretonian
License type: All transport and fighers
Length held for (years): 5
Capital ship license : N/A
Owned vehicles: Bottlenose, Large Transport
Current employment: Self-employed

Why would you like to join the Mandalorian Mercenaries?
I would like to be part of, and contribute into a reputable, well-run organisation with clear mission statement and values. I believe that the Mandalorian Mercenaries are uniquely placed to offer a job with variety, excitement and purpose against a backdrop of integrity and teamwork.


Hal rolls his eyes. "A bit fanciful with the 'Why' section, methinks?"
Dave:"Well, I had to make you sound clever and corporate and all that. Im not entirely sure that 'I got a taste for combat flight and want to get paid for it' really looks good, do you?"
Hal smiles. "Its the truth though."
Dave:"Yeah, but ..."
Hal interrupts, smiling as he closes the folder. "Yeahbutnobutyeahbutnobut. Nice one mate. Let's see if we get it"

---

[Halogen]

//OOC


I don't know why, but i can't seem to add the below to my inital post:

For how long have you been playing on Discovery?
Around 3 months.

What made you come play on Discovery?
RP to an extent. Got sick of monotonous "2kgo" and ubiquitous Eagles with full Nomad setup to fight against. Also, got sick of being advised to "buy a proper ship" because I kept flying Hammerheads.

What other characters do you have on the Discovery server?
I only have one logon, 2 ships. One trader, one fighter. I have RP-ed as "Hal" on both ships. The ship currently has a Planetform ID, but I'm not precious about that.

What OOC reason do you have for joining the MM ?
It really strikes a chord with the corporate/process driven vision of how I imagine a quasi-military organisation would be run. The MM manifesto uses clear English and doesn't equate roleplay with "Hark, thou hast a Lancer pointeded at ye olde metal space bird, knave! Have at thee!" or similar I-just-sat-on-an-ancient-carrot speech model. It feels like the MM are a coherent organisation with ample opportunity for meaningful interaction with other groups. I also like to hunt/escort and can refer you to previous similar work

---

[Dieter Schprokets]

"Mr Hal Skye, Excellant application. Suit up. We will send you pertinent information on private comms."

The Mandalore reflected on the excellant quality of recent applications.

Must be a run of good luck. Hope it lasts.

---

[Curt Remmert]

*A warrior enters the room*

Hail brothers. My name is Kyrar.Gra. I am ready to serve the Mandalore. My ship is ready to bring death to our enemies. For our honor. For our victory. I have travelled far and wide to serve with such warriors as yourselves. I await further instruction.

* The warrior bows, and sits down in the chair provided for him*

[Dieter Schprokets]

Mr Kyrar Gra

Suit up, son.

---

[Rasori]

A lanky man slinks into the office, wearing a dark blue jumpsuit. In yellow letters on his right breast his name is written: Rasori Canus. He's got grease on his face, a wrench in his hand, and assorted tools on a belt around his waist. It's not clear, but assumed, that at least one of the 'tools' is a gun, and all of them are plausibly used as weapons.

As he approached the recruitment desk he realized he wasn't standard fare here, so he straightened up a bit and pretended to look like he didn't just come out from repairing something or other.

He failed.

"So, um..." he started, scratching the back of his head with the wrench in his hand. It was also covered in grease. His hair, cut just short enough to stay in place thanks to the grease holding it, was already a mess and becoming worse. "Business hasn't been so hot lately..."

He sighed and dropped his arm. "I'd like to work for you as a mechanic. But I'm willing to work as a flyboy too, I guess. If it pays the bills..."

"I'd like to sign up. Where do I leave my mark?"