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In a typical meeting of powerful business professionals, there are certain things that the host is expected to do to signal that they are a force to be reckoned with, a subject of respect rather than ridicule. One might expect the booking of a fancy restaurant, or perhaps an exclusive resort. Only the finest food and drink is provided, served by the best staff money can buy.
For today's meeting, Rusty had none of that. The conference room was a prefab building that sat in what used to be an empty, if scenic, portion of Dressel's nigh endless grasslands. It was furnished comfortably enough, but it didn't exactly scream "board meeting." The odors that permeated the building, the intermingled scents of cordite, ozone, explosives, and gun oil, further distances this gathering from the norm.
When Rusty planned this little get together, he figured that the usual party shindig just wasn't going to cut it. Instead, he purchased a large swathe of grassland, constructed a massive open air firing range, and plopped the prefab down at the back of the known distance range. For party favors, he provided sample crates containing 1 each of every weapon for sale from RCFC, as well as bottomless ammo, both for his weapons and whatever the others thought to bring.
The morning's festivities might not have been stock exchange chic, but they'd been one hell of a lot of fun.
After defoliating much of the surrounding countryside and tucking in to lunch provided by Breehara's most notoriously unhealthy but delicious food truck operator, the assembled mercs were sitting in a room with grey plastoid walls, a floor made from quick dry ferrocrete, and sinfully comfortable chairs designed to keep a merc in full armor cozy for at least a few hours.
The Shard was dressed in his usual attire these days: black tactical pants with enough pockets to score an apocalypse worth of ammo, a short sleeved T-shirt under a tactical vest with yet more ammo, massive combat boots that fairly rattled the ground with every step, and Gertrude slung across his back. He was in his robotic chassis today, his chrome-bright sketal visage gleaming under the harsh fluorescent light.
His assistant, Koko, circulated around the room, passing out folders with the prepared highlights for today's meeting. In a more traditional environment, the female Shard would have deliberately downplayed her HRD's stunning looks with a conservative business suit with all the flattery of a burlap sack. Her outfit today would have been incitement to riot in more conservative company. Thin black skirt that stopped just an inch before impropriety, grey silk blouse that was buttoned up just high enough to be considered proper while still inviting curious minds to imagine what it hid, four inch heels, and a sloppy bun that held her snow white hair at the very edge of disorder. She liked for people to underestimate her, and if most of the room was willing to dismiss one of the most effective business lawyers in the sector as eye candy, so much the better.
Rusty wasn't out to play games today, but Koko never missed an opportunity to maneuver. She wielded law as ruthlessly and effectively as these people did guns and blades, and if ever anyone here should meet her in the courtroom, she didn't want them to know what was coming.
Oblivious to his secretary's Machiavellian plotting, Rusty called the meeting to order.
"Okay gents, ladies, and variations thereof, most of y'all know me by now, but I want to make sure we know each other before continuing. If everyone could briefly introduce yourself and give a summary of what you do best, we'll get started."
Of course, it was poor form to arrive to a party without bringing the host anything, or chips and dip, right? While Ardgal wasn't exactly the king of court graces anymore, he hadn't forgotten that simple rule from his life. So, for chips and dip, he brought a variety of the small arms that RMIA was good for, and as a gift to the host, samples of his own heavy machinery that was for sale, ranging from the Hellfire tank to the AT-LRA, since fun came in all packages and range increments.
That was what it was all about, after all.
The warrior was dressed in his Mark 2 armor, after all this was a meeting not a shoot out and for a Mandalorian like Ardgal, this was Business Casual, Casual Friday, Business Formal, a Tuxedo, and pretty much every other form of clothing you could possibly think of. He took the folder from the lady Koko with a polite nod of thanks. The poor cyborg had been rerouted of most all baser instincts that beings enjoyed, including that great love of procreation. It was a sad life to be Ardgal--like 98% of the time.
He saw several familiar faces present, and gave each of them a polite nod or wave.
"My name is Ardgal Raxis, CEO of Raxis Mercenaries and Independent Arms," What did they do best? In a word? A sentence, "We build armies, tanks, and focus on massive land warfare." He nodded to everyone opening the folder he was handed, "An honor to meet you all."
[member="Rusty"] I [member="Myles Davorak"] I [member="Keira Ticon"] I [member="Alkor Centaris"] I [member="Oron Verd"]
Fedrig was drunk. Then again, Fedrig was nearly always drunk. He half staggered, half stumbled into the room. He was particularly drunk this day, however, he was on the last of his previous job's credits. He needed cash and usually liked to get himself as drunk as possible to make it last longer. He slouched in the chair and he tried to push to spinning sensation out of his mind. Once the mind was spinning the room, he knew vomiting would be next. And he could not vomit. At least not in front of all these people. His eyes lazily wandered up to the woman who handled him a folder. He believed there was an air of disapproval in the way he acted.
His appearance, besides being drunk was in his full duraplast armour. Thick armour and heavy, it was made to be as protective as duraplast could be and solid quality. Another reason not to throw up, his helmet would just spray it all over his face. Not something he would find pleasing, even drunk. Fedrig opened the folder then closed it again. Words were just a blur at this stage, he was not going to be able to read it. However, they would discuss the entire thing so he wouldn't be missing much. Likely kill someone, capture someone, steal money or threat someone who owed money. All very similar work, money was always involved and not just in his payment.
He realised that everyone seemed to be introducing themselves. This wasn't a good thing for him. Drunk Fedrig tended to be overly honest, or vomit mid-sentence. He rather not do either in front of these strangers. However, he needed to talk, he swore there were people looking at him. Hi.... I'm.... I'm Fed... Fedrig. Spishinning room was idea good. Ughhhh... Who... Who youwanna kill? His eyes were half closing. Tiredness was setting in.
Chair was so comfy. If he closed his eyes for just a moment no-one would noticed. Just a minute or two. He wouldn't miss anything. No. Just a few minutes. So sleepy.
From his helmet there was an echo of loud snoring as Fedrig slumped in his chair.
Myles had received an invitation by the one and only @Rusty.
He dressed appropriately and wore a khaki colored field jacket and slate gray cargo pants. This was a meeting that would call others who deemed themselves "combat worthy" or other "soldiers of fortune".
Although he wasn't full clad in armor, he didn't want to attract too much attention and had the "gray man" appearance, looking like a plain Joe.
He saw others in the meeting room around them, one of them he knew very well. Myles nodded at the others in the room and gave a brief introduction. "Myles Davorak. Founder of Triad Security. Small private security group but we get the job done no matter the task, as long as we get paid properly. I myself, am proficient in marksmanship and piloting vessels. The rest of my men however are a mixed bag, ranging from several different specialties. Pleasure to make your acquaintance everyone."
He knew the others in the room more than likely had an impressive history and/or accolade list. Rusty had quite the impressive facility here on Dressel, not to mention the Shard lady was quite a sight. Let's see what he's got.
Making a small smirk visible he gave the floor to whoever wanted to speak next.
[member="Ardgal Raxis"] | [member="Keira Ticon"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Oron Verd"] | [member="Fedrig"]
Trin watched each merc come into the room - the plastoid walls not really suggesting any other option than to wait for each person who came in. The Mandalorian was in her Halleck attire made of animal hide, appearing to be more like a savage tribeswoman than the former. She felt no need to bring her energy bow today given the formality of the event, but nevertheless kept her two W35's holstered under the furs she wore.
First watching [member="Ardgal Raxis"] come into the room, she offered him the same small and petty gesture - a slight wave of the hand and a little bowing of the head to acknowledge his presence. Trin Halleck was not one to posture, and simply kept quiet as she let the others introduce themselves.
[member="Fedrig"], the second one to stumble in and introduce himself, reeked of a cantina. Unpleasant, but hardly surprising, she thought to herself as she placed her own folder down on the spread of table in front of her. She'd already been here a short while to shake off the vibes of unfamiliarity from the other mercenaries - probably time to speak up herself.
"Trin Halleck. Always pleased to sell services to the highest bidder", she simply said of herself as she leaned forward and kicked her boots back down to the floor. She could say more, but this was Mandalore: her case files were easy to procure across the mercenary rings of the Mandalorians. Assassin. Tracker. Stalker. Gun for hire. No job was too dirty so long as it paid proper.
Keira wasn't sure if bringing along her family was an entirely good idea, but it was too late to back out now. When the majority of House Verd was gathered in one place there was no telling just how things would go, but she hoped for once the answer would be moderately well. [member="Alkor Centaris"] may not have been the most well-versed in social norms, but he knew how to interact with others on some base level if times called. She had only interacted with [member="Oron Verd"] on a handful of occasions, though she knew him well enough to be confident in his ability to represent their people. They were a mismatched, rough around the edges group, but they were good at what they did, and in the mercenary world that was more than enough.
She entered the room with her brothers beside her, clad in full armor sans the helmet, which she carried under one arm. Her armament was sparse, consisting only of her pistol and tomahawk. While she was at ease among current company, the paranoia inherent to those that had survived all manner of warzones wouldn't let her go anywhere unarmed. Her helm was placed on the table before she sat, accepting the folder handed to her and briefly glancing over the content as the others introduced themselves. Excluding her family there was only one other individual whom she recognized, thought that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. New faces meant new capabilities, and in a group such as this that wasn't truly a bad thing.
When there was a lull in the conversation she leaned back in her chair, supposing it would be appropriate to introduce herself at this point. "Keira Ticon, Alor'ad of House Verd." A specialty, now, that was something she'd never considered herself having. It only mattered that the job got done, one way or the other. "Combat, I suppose. Soldiering." She'd dabbled in politics briefly as an impromptu diplomat, but she didn't like to talk about that. Her dark gaze looked to those that accompanied her, and she waited for her family to make their own introductions.
The grasslands offered a more palatable scent, Oron decided. He'd recently frequented planets tinged with either the suffocating stench of pollution, smoke, or ash- the former being Mandalore. Even inside the prefab building he didn't mind removing his helmet as he and his siblings moved down the halls towards the conference room. Cordite, gun oil, leather- smells he could not only withstand for extended periods of time but in an odd way enjoy as well.
It'd been a while since he'd been out with [member="Alkor Centaris"] and [member="Keira Ticon"] but he'd frequented ops and battlefields with his brother and sister over the years, moments that proved to be more intimate to Oron than conversations he'd had with people in random cantinas.
Usually Oron kept to his own with mercenary duties, but with the increasing amount of work becoming available by the day combined with the dwindling number of people he chose to share his space and profits with, he no longer saw the need for that much selfishness. It was time for new alliances and partnerships to be birthed. An excuse, but a good one to the warmongering Mandalorian.
Taking a seat to Keira's left, he placed his helmet on the table in front of him as well, and rested his gloved hands on it as he webbed his fingers together. Raising a brow as she finished her introduction, he spoke next, subconsciously raising his chin as he spoke, filling the room with his baritone voice.
"And my name is Oron Verd, of House Verd." He said, nodding courteously to everyone who might've looked his way. He didn't know any of them, but wouldn't doubt their capabilities nor their reasoning for showing up. Mother taught him better than to judge a book by its cover. "And I kill the best." He said sarcastically flat as he looked past Keira to Alkor.
Trin couldn't help but give off a smug grin at the personalities that were signing in for the little summit. More than one of condescension however, she was actually impressed at the caliber of mercenaries that were here - far more capable and 'of tougher stuff' than the usual spacer scum she was used to working with, she'd be more than happy to welcome the idea of networking with people who stood shoulder to shoulder with her own talents, if not operating on loftier ones altogether. Quite refreshing, this mob of sellswords.
Come to think of it, Trin herself must have looked like a fool, or a primitive. Where most where in duraplast or even perhaps Mandalorian Iron, she decided to show up in her animal hides. Needless to say that underneath she still had her standard Echani Fiber suit, but she was unquestionably.. under-dressed.. compared to the others. These sellswords, she thought, they think differently. Of course, most mercenaries walked around in full gear as business never stopped, but she could smell something different about this motley crew. Between all of them here, there was potential; even in spite of their unusual diversity.
"Krayt's blood. Are we talking shop or are we marshaling an army?", she remarked with a soft chuckle, hinting at the excessive firepower and the number of people who showed up. With all the heads, or what was left of heads in general in this room, they probably had a good shot at taking on security details ten times their size.
OOC NOTE: I'm going to be gone for a good while, so I'm going to go ahead and post what I have in mind for rules, contracts, and dispute resolutions. You guys are free to debate, discuss, and modify things, so long as there's a general consensus. If anyone feels like making a faction page so we have everything easily accessible, that would be swell. Thanks for coming out, and sorry I have to bail, but duty calls.
Rusty nodded as everyone made their introductions. It was an impressive, if ecclectic group, one that he hoped would grow in time as more and more mercs saw the utility of banding together.
"I'm not gonna talk your ears off. Most everything you need to know is in the files you were given," he said.
Paper documents were a rarity in this day and age, but he found a certain atavistic pleasure in hard copies. Electronic documentation was fine and all, but there was nothing quite like scribbling furiously in the margins of a paper one, or making obscene doodles when no one was looking.
"I've gathered you guys here today to form what I'd like to call the Bonding Authority. The basic premise is simple: for as long as there have been mercenaries, there have been employers looking to screw us over. We've all been on contracts where, for the slightest perceived infraction, employers have withheld pay, or made us jump through all kinds of hoops to collect it. And the hell of it is, there's not much we can do to stop them. Once the battle's over, we're in too rough a shape to try to kill the bastards, and since they hired mercs, their forces are nice and fresh. We could always turn to the courts, but rare is the judicial system that's gonna side with a lowly merc against the government that hired them. Well, I think it's high time we all said kark that and started looking after our own interests.
"When it comes to a job, there's a better than even chance that most of us will try our damnedest to kill each other at some point, but off the battlefield, there's no reason to be at each other's throats. We stand to gain a lot more by working together to look out for our interests than we do by continuing on as before.
"The Bonding Authority functions more or less as a bank. When an employer files a contract, they deposit the total sum of the payment with the Bonding Authority, which will hold it in escrow. The portion of the funds concerning salary and operating costs will be released immediately, while the rest is held until the terms of the contract have been satisfied. The funds are bonded, so in the event that the contract is breached, the total sum is returned to the employer. In the mean time, the merc that violated the contract is on the hook for the funds already paid. You can pay it back in one lump sum, over time with interest, or we can hire other mercs to hunt your sorry asses down. If it comes to that, you'll be blacklisted from any work through the BA, and any mercs affiliated with the BA can earn a heft bonus by bringing you in, or by bringing in proof that you've been killed. A head is best, but any sufficiently vital organ will do. We'll take gun or helmet cam footage in the event that the target is vaporized, so long as the footage can be verified. If we find out the evidence is faked, well, count on a whole hell of a lot of heat coming down on your head.
"Note that losing a battle is not necessarily grounds for breach of contract. Not every battle can be won, and if you do your jobs, you get paid. The contracts will specify a victory bonus, so the incentive to win will be high, but you can't help what you can't help. If your employer leaves you swinging in the breeze or otherwise tries to screw you, then you get the total sum, and they're out the money. If the breech is bad enough, you can seek damages against them, and if they don't want to pay up, we will, and we'll bill them for it. If they don't pay us back, we'll ding their credit rating as hard as possible, blacklist them from hiring BA affiliated mercs, and offer bonuses for any mercs that take contracts against them in the future.
"The BA will have to be a completely neutral party in all this. We can't afford to take sides if this is going to work. If the merc is in the wrong, the merc gets dinged. In the even of a dispute, we'll offer mediation, and if necessary, commission third party ombudsmen to investigate. They follow the evidence, and their job is to make sure the contract is followed to the letter by both sides. We realize that there are folks out there who will trample all over the spirit of a contract while following it to the letter, but kark those guys. They can win the case, but they'll earn a spot on the blacklist after.
"Contracts will include general rules for mercenaries employed through the BA. Most of it is fairly simple stuff, like don't get caught raping or pillaging or what have you, but there are a few that you might want to take note of. The biggest one concerns offers of surrender. If a BA affiliated merc finds themselves in a no-win position, and continuing to fight would be pointless, they can offer their surrender, and it will be accepted. Period karking dot. They will not be tortured, abused, or otherwise mistreated, and once the battle is over, arrangements will be made for their release. That arrangement might include parole, which could cost you future work against that particular entity, but it is what it is.
"Anyone, and I do mean anyone,​ regardless of affiliation or talent with space wizardry, who refuses to grant quarter or mistreats a BA merc in captivity, is going to be in for a world of hurt. Every swinging dick who's not on another contract will be paid gratuitously huge sums of money to hunt them down. They will be killed with as much brutality as possible. Their families will be killed. Their friends will be killed. The little old ladies that snuck them candies at church will be killed. We will not stop until everyone they ever loved has died as hard as possible, right down to their pets. We will leave their mangled corpses nailed to the walls of their homes, and Fluffy the Kitty Cat will end up as a hat. If it comes to that, I personally am a fan of crucifixion, but we'll bomb that bridge when we get to it. If any of you are specialists in horror movie reenactments, get with Koko before you leave and she'll put a note in your file. I'm not kidding, folks. Mercs that get caught have a nasty tendency to end up as playthings, and that ends. Now.
"In the event of a dispute between BA affiliated mercs, we've decided on a few different methods of conflict resolution. The first is mediation. You'll both present your cases to a neutral arbiter, who will consider the evidence and make a binding decision. If you don't like that decision, or don't feel like mediating, there are a few other options. The first is a standard trial by combat. You step into the ring, and the person left standing wins. If you feel that lacks a certain formality, you can go with pistols at twenty paces. That can end either by first blood, when one of you is too injured to continue, or with death. Or, if you really hate each other, a game of Ruusan roulette. RCFC makes some lovely revolvers, so you'll take turns spinning the cylinder and pulling the trigger until one of you paints the walls with your brains. Winner takes all, naturally. Anyway, I'm gonna shut up now. Talk amongst yourselves and if you have any suggestions, I'm all ears."
Having said his piece, Rusty sat down and perused his own folder. It was exactly like the ones everyone else had. Koko had drawn up most of the documentation, and he had specifically ordered her to avoid legalese as much as possible. It contained several sections.
I, [Employer Name Here], agree to abide by the terms set by this contract at all times. I will not attempt to breach said terms for any reason. The mercenary under my employ will be entitled to all reasonable assistance and aid necessary to complete their mission. I understand that failure to provide support will be viewed as breach of contract.
I, [Mercenary Name Here], agree to abide by the terms set by this contract at all times. I will not attempt to breach said terms for any reason. I will use all reasonable means to complete the mission, and I will conduct myself in a manner that brings credit to my employer at all times. I recognize that I am bound by their laws of warfare for the duration of the contract, and as such, I will obey them to the utmost of my ability. I recognize that failure to do so may be considered a breach of contract, and that I may also face prosecution under their laws.
I, [Employer Name], agree to abide by the terms of this contract at all times. I will not attempt to breach said terms for any reason. The mercenary under my employ will be entitled to all reasonable assistance and aid necessary to complete their mission. I understand that failure to provide support will be viewed as breach of contract. Due to the special nature of the mission, I recognize that the mercenary in my employ may find it necessary to violate standing laws regarding conduct in warfare, and I agree that they are immune from prosecution for any reasonable measures to be undertaken towards the completion of the mission. Specific statutes will be listed under the Special Conditions section.
I, [Mercenary Name Here], agree to abide by the terms set by this contract at all times. I will not attempt to breach said terms for any reason. I will use all reasonable means to complete the mission, and I will conduct myself in a manner that brings credit to my employer at all times. Due to the special nature of the mission, I recognize that I may be required to violate standing laws regarding conduct in warfare, and that my employer has granted me immunity from prosecution for any reasonable measures necessary for the completion of the mission. I will not violate standing laws any more than absolutely necessary, and I recognize that I am not immune from prosecution for acts that are not reasonably necessary for the completion of the mission.
[Employer Signature]
[Mercenary Signature]
Contract Template 3, Mercenary Organization
Employer:
Mercenary Organization:
Mission Statement:
Total Sum of Payment:
Salary and Operating Costs:
Victory Bonus:
Number and Type of Troops Provided:
Special Conditions:
I, [Employer Name Here], agree to abide by the terms set by this contract at all times. I will not attempt to breach said terms for any reason. The mercenary under my employ will be entitled to all reasonable assistance and aid necessary to complete their mission. I understand that failure to provide support will be viewed as breach of contract.
I, [Mercenary Commander Name Here], agree to abide by the terms set by this contract at all times. I will not attempt to breach said terms for any reason. I will use all reasonable means to complete the mission, and I will conduct myself in a manner that brings credit to my employer at all times. I recognize that I am bound by their laws of warfare for the duration of the contract, and as such, I will obey them to the utmost of my ability. I recognize that failure to do so may be considered a breach of contract, and that I may also face prosecution under their laws. Furthermore, I recognize that I am responsible for the actions of those under my command, and may be held responsible for their actions.
[Signature of Employer]
[Signature of Mercenary Commander]
I, [Employer Name], agree to abide by the terms of this contract at all times. I will not attempt to breach said terms for any reason. The mercenary under my employ will be entitled to all reasonable assistance and aid necessary to complete their mission. I understand that failure to provide support will be viewed as breach of contract. Due to the special nature of the mission, I recognize that the mercenaries in my employ may find it necessary to violate standing laws regarding conduct in warfare, and I agree that they are immune from prosecution for any reasonable measures to be undertaken towards the completion of the mission. Specific statutes will be listed under the Special Conditions section.
I, [Mercenary Name Here], agree to abide by the terms set by this contract at all times. I will not attempt to breach said terms for any reason. I will use all reasonable means to complete the mission, and I, along with those under my command, will conduct myself in a manner that brings credit to my employer at all times. Due to the special nature of the mission, I recognize that we may be required to violate standing laws regarding conduct in warfare, and that my employer has granted me and those under my command immunity from prosecution for any reasonable measures necessary for the completion of the mission. I will not violate standing laws any more than absolutely necessary, and I recognize that I am not immune from prosecution for acts that are not reasonably necessary for the completion of the mission. I recognize that I am responsible for those under my command, and may face responsibility for their actions.
​CONFLICT RESOLUTION:
​In the event of a dispute between the employer and mercenary or mercenary company, a neutral arbiter will be provided. The arbiter is empowered to employ third party ombudsmen to investigate the dispute. They will gather evidence, including testimony from both sides, in order to reach a conclusion. The conclusion is binding and may not be appealed. The party at fault will forfeit all claim to funds held in escrow by the Bonding Authority.
If the mercenary is found at fault, the total sum of funds deposited will be returned to the employer, including funds already paid, and depending on the circumstances, a penalty against the mercenary may be assessed. The mercenary will be indebted to the Bonding Authority for the sum paid to the employer that wasn't covered by the funds in escrow. They may pay in lump sum, or work out a payment plan over time, at reasonable interest rates. If they refuse to pay, they will be blacklisted from future employment through the Bonding Authority. If the total sum of their debt is in excess of 50,000 credits, a bounty will be placed on their heads for the total sum of their debt. A 10,000 credit bonus will be provided for live capture. Proof of death is required if the mercenary is killed. The whole body is preferable, but a head, heart, lungs, or any other sufficiently vital organ that they definitely cannot live without may be presented. In the event that the body is destroyed, verified gun or helmet cam footage is acceptable evidence. For mercenary companies, the bounty will be placed on the commander.
If the employer is found at fault, all funds held in escrow will be released to the mercenary, who may additionally seek damages proportionate to the offense. If the employer refuses to pay the additional damages outright, they will be billed, and failure to pay will be noted with all applicable credit agencies. In addition, any contracts against them will have additional bonuses, provided by the Bonding Authority, added on for mercenaries who wish to take them.
If two or more mercenary parties are in dispute, they may also seek mediation. An arbiter will be provided, and they will be empowered to employ third party ombudsmen to conduct an investigation. They will collect evidence, to include testimony from both sides. If the conclusion is unsatisfactory, the parties may seek satisfaction through one of three approved means.
Trial By Combat:
Both fighters face off in a duel. The duel will be judged by myself ([member="Rusty"]) or someone I trust from the GBA. Unless there is a decisive victor, it must last at least ten posts before a judgment can be provided. Rules will be GBA standard, so if you don't know what that means, feel free to ask. Generally speaking, don't be a dick, don't call hits, and take appropriate damage. Weapons and armor have to be agreed upon beforehand. Being a dick can cost you a victory even if you physically defeat your opponent, so don't do it. The winner, as judged, will win the dispute.
Pistols at 20 Paces:
For folks who want to let the dice do the talking. Before the match, we'll find a reputable dice roller. Each player will role 1 D20, and has 20 hit points. When it's your turn to attack, you roll for damage, and the other person rolls for defense. If the attacker roles higher than the defender, the defender takes damage for whatever the difference is. If the defender rolls higher, the attacker misses. You take turns attacking and defending until one of you runs out of hit points.
If you want to go til the death, hitting zero results in character death. If you don't, you can take an attack penalty and apply that to a hit point reserve. In other words, if you want to save your last 3 hit points (serious injury, not death), each attack will have a -3 modifier. You can go up to 5 (debilitating but not serious injury). If you want an attack bonus, you can sacrifice hit points for it. If you give up 3 hit points, you can get a +3 attack modifier. Again, the bonus goes up to 5.
Note that what you do is entirely up to you. If you want to risk it all but your opponent doesn't, then they're free to use a reserve. However, you have to declare what you're going to do before the match, and it can't be changed once the dice start rolling. Also, you can have a reserve and still sacrifice hit points for an attack bonus. So if you want a 3 hit point reserve, you can sacrifice 3 hit points off the top to cancel out the attack penalty.
Once the outcome has been determined, we'll fire up a thread and write out the results. I know this is a different take on things, but it should, in theory, reduce some of the general bitchiness around duels.
Ruusan Roulette:
It's Russian Roulette, but Star Wars! We find a reputable dice roller, and both parties roll a single D6 until one of you lands on a 1. That's instant character death, so don't choose this route unless you're absolutely certain. There are no modifiers and no reserves, period. Since this one is kinda final, the winner gets all the loser's stuff. Once you've got your dice results, we fire up the thread and write it out. Or, if you want to make things extra tense, we do a post for each dice roll, because some people are masochists. Easy, right?
"I'm on board with this," said the Mistryl eventually. She rapped her fingernails on the paper and the table beneath, drumming a rhythm. "The Mistryl have been known to follow similar practices. This is a framework I can use."
A small and secret part of her got fired up at the idea of revolver roulette, winner take all. She buried that voice and thought about money.
"That is the intent," Rusty said. "This is just a framework though. So long as both sides consent, the contracts can be modified as you see fit."
The Shard pulled out a pipe and a packet of tobacco. He metal fingers deftly packed a measure of the fragrant leaves into the bowl. Once that was done, he pulled a Light Dart off his belt and thumbed it to life. A six inch crimson blade shot forth, looking for all the world like the miniature lightsaber it was. He touched the tip to the tobacco, took a few quick puffs to make sure it caught, and hurled the Light Dart into a receptacle at the edge of the room. The blade burned out a few milliseconds before slipping neatly through the slot. There was a puff of smoke and a muted bang as the power cell detonated, but the smoke was quickly siphoned away by the ventilation system.
The front of the room was not so lucky. As Rusty puffed on the pipe, a sweet smelling haze started to build. How a robot space ninja with no lungs, or, hell, lips for that matter, was smoking was a question best left unanswered.
"For most situations, I think the standard templates will do fine, but you never know what might come up. If it needs modification and you're not sure if you're getting screwed, the Bonding Authority will be happy to let you borrow a legal droid to help you sort through the fine print."
Myles listened intently to what [member="Rusty"] had to say. It was a very thorough rundown of how this "Bonding Authority" would act.
A damn fine idea
"In essence, everyone would get what they want. Mercenaries- veteran or not have a bound act stating that they will get paid if the perform the job. The client is held accountable and funds will be forwarded back to them should times happen. I do not see any loopholes. I am very impressed with this Rusty."
Rusty did most of the thinking on this and even had templates for different contracts. Disputes would be settled rather efficiently with either an arbiter or by combat trials; which allows the mercs to duke it out.
This kind of idea was revolutionary and almost all parties would win (at least that was the idea). Davorak piped back up and added to his prior statement.
"I think it's a damn good idea, and I would like to be fully on board with this."
He hoped that others in the room would want to hop on board as well. This was a fresh idea that really could take off.
[member="Ardgal Raxis"] [member="Keira Ticon"] [member="Oron Verd"] [member="Carradine Dukal"] [member="Trin Halleck"] [member="Fedrig"]
Having sat very far from everyone, and just listening, Zeraph was unsure what was going on at first. It was not till papers were brought out that he finally understood as he attempted to listen to the man from afar. Maybe it was the red mask, but he was certain he didn't hear him very well.
With a raise of his hand, and a clear of his throat the man finally spoke through a filtering distortion speaker.
"Yeah, sorry I didn't hear about the part where what happens when the contractor screws the merc over. Got the part where if the merc screws the contractor over though. Or maybe you didn't say anything about that part? I dont know, it's hard to hear back here, or it's just me, probably just me. Could you repeat that part please? I'd like to hear that one more time before I sign my name on anything. Ya know...just in case I don't like it as much as I dont like the part of merc screwing over contractors part..."
Rusty considered having Koko pull up the relevant portion of the speech, but it wouldn't do to show his impatience. Most of the rest of the mercs seemed to be onboard, but there was always one that was a little slow to catch on. As often as not, it was deliberate. Either way, the best way to approach the situation was as if he wasn't nursing an internal nervous tic. Thank the Force he didn't have a face.
"Same thing that happens to us, more or less. They lose their cash, and if you're due for reparations, either they pay you or we pay you and bill them for it. If they don't settle up, they get blacklisted, we wreck their credit, and anyone who fights against them gets a hefty bonus."
Possibilities danced about Trin's head as she made her own calculations. The idea of what was essentially a governing body to preside over the affairs of the standard mercenary and edify it was attractive, to say the least. What's left is to implement bylaws and enforce said authority, she surmised mentally as she browsed through the folder she now held. Everything basic was covered - from standard regulations to contingencies. Obviously amendments would be made but like any sound stateswoman, she'd iron out the details as they went along. For now, it was a solid proposition.
The Mandalorian leaned back, content with what she'd read and let out a sigh of satisfaction.
"Going after shady employers and rogue mercenaries'll be fun", she mumbled to herself, but no doubt still audible to those seated near her. "If there are no prosecutors or claiments, the bounty or its equivalent is as good as ours."
Ardgal gave the document one last look over, just to scan it into his databanks to the fullest. There was that one guy in the back who was being something of a loud mouth, but that didn't matter too much. It was internally consistent, and really, as long as he kept doing what he was doing, working for this would be easy as could be. It was more money, it meant more job opportunities, and it meant more cash flow, which he and his badly needed.
He set the papers down and pushed them forward before folding his hands on his knees in a neat, calculated posture that was as sure as programing to him. If you checked it a week, a month, a year later, it would be the exact same to the tee, without a single gesture out of place. "You can count on RMIA's backing for this."
