Commando Archive
Thread: Commando Diary
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Phenix1050
Tue Oct 04, 2005 11:30 am
#1
For a while now on the Ranger forums, there has been a thread that has a bunch of Ranger stories. The lives of grislted hunters and kinship with nature and the like. Well I always enjoy a bit of role-playing because I love the idea of characters having a backstory. Having the professions that they've mastered mean something. So when I created my Commando toon, I did so knowing the professions I would master. Master Marksman, Master Scout, Master Riflmean, Master Commando and Master Ranger (maybe Master Squad Leader, though I'm not sure). These would be the only professions I would master.
Now, I've presented the story of my Ranger toons over on the Ranger forum before, let them glimpse into what I was thinking when I created the character, why I chose the professions that I did and why each profession that I mastered had a purpose in the story telling. (For example, on one of my toons, my smuggler, I first mastered Doctor. Not out of desire to be a doctor, but because that toon was a sad story, a doctor who started taking his own medication to ease the pain of his lost wife, and fell into a life of crime). So I thought that I'd share with you guys, a story which delves into the life of my Commando.
God, I hate this place. Used to be that I'd come here with my squad and we'd get cheered. The Twi'lek dancers would swing by and pick up a round for the gang, call us heroes. Now all I see are criminals, making shady deals in the corner, eyeing me out. They see the brass on my chest and the stars on my shoulder and they wonder if today is gonna be the day. If Stormtroopers are gonna swarm the place, take me away, maybe kill me in the alley. Let them. I have sins to pay for. So many sins.
I sit in the back corner, as usual. Feels good to have your back to the wall sometimes. 'Least that way you see it coming. Not that I plan on sitting back and letting them finish the job. First sign of trouble and I let loose with the rocket launcher. I leave it visible enough so most people can see it. If nothing else, it puts my mind at ease. I may go, but I'm taking some of them with me. Wouldn't be the first people I killed...back on Dantooine...
"Hey, hon! The usual?" asked Violet, the aptly named Twi'lek slave girl who ran this cantina. She might be a slave in name, but we all knew that she ran this place as she saw fit. Had her own house upstairs, got a share of the profit, and took no guff, not even from the owner. Most folks would say she was the real owner, and the Hutt just paid for the place.
"Yeah...but make it a double." She put her hand on mine, and was about to say something, but I pulled my hand away, and she bustled off to grab me my drinks. She knew better than to argue with me. I guess
I remember when it used to be a comfort to have people know your name. When fighting for the Republic was enough to make you a hero and get you a round of the good stuff. When cantinas didn't dim the lights to hide their customers faces. Before the dark times. Before the Empire. Nowadays, the only thing more dangerous than eye contact is your name. You keep your eyes, your thoughts and your name to yourself, or you end up dead. My mates found that out the hard way. They died 'cause they wouldn't give up their names. Maybe that was the better choice.
Violet's back, and she sets two drinks in front of me. She says nothing, but I see her stare at the glasses in front of me. I nod. I know what this means. She leaves, and I slowly lift up one of the glasses. sure enough, a tiny datadisk is attached to the bottom. I slide it off and put in in my datapad. Two words flash across the screen: FORGIVE YOURSELF. She knows me too well, I think. But not enough to know that she's asking the impossible.
I used to think I wasn't such a bad guy. That I never did nothin without orders and I just did right by my leaders. That I was a hero of the people. God forgive me, I was wrong. See, I started my carreer as a sniper. Bothans are built for that kinda work. Since I was just a pup, I knew how to make myself scarce. Trust me, you do not want to play hide and seek with a Bothan pup. You'll lose every time. The Republic like that about me. They needed troops that could do that. And with the eyesight of a Bothan, I was a natural for picking off targets.
I loved it. There was nothing like it at the time. It was methodical, surgical. Disruptor rifles don't leave much of a mess. I sat back, a half-klick away. One little kick of recoil, and the target fell. It almost seemed like make-believe. There was a surreal nature to it, like you had shot a paper target instead of a warlord. I was good back then. Used to say I could snipe a tick off my own back from around the planet, if the wind was right. and my CO's noticed, andI told everyone who would listen at the bar about my exploits. Suppose that's one of my sins right there. Pride is what started the trip down.
The Republic war machine was always in motion. The Republic may not have loved war, but we managed to have people pick fights with us across the galaxies. For a while, I was happy taking down the little fish. But after a while, it got frustrating to see so many targets get away. Ain't seen a blaster yet that can take down the big vehciles. So I started telling people how I could fight the enemy a lot better if I had a bigger gun. How I could put a hole through a tank just as easy as a hole through a person. Turns out someone was listening.
A low buzz came over the cantina. A Stormtrooper had just entered the cantina. I shot a glance over at Violet and she mouthed the word "no" to me. Behind the Stormtrooper, a small group of men emerged. These were clearly off-duty Imperials. You could tell by their boots and the way they walked. I turned my eyes away, like everybody else. They want a booth, the only one open is right next to mine. I take a long sip of my drink. Seems like today might just be the day. But Violet leads them the other way, into the VIP room in the back. They drink free tonight. The Stormtrooper turns around and walks out. I go back to my drink, and wonder whether there's that much of a difference between them and I.
I nearly jumped outta my seat when my CO told me. I had been nominated to join an elite group of foot soldiers. When I aked why, he just chuckled and said "they heard what you said you could do, if you were given a bigger weapon." Me and my big mouth. But it was good. I never trained so hard in my life. I'd been a recon unit my whole life, but those big weapons slow you down something powerful. Still, I pulled my weight. Most of my unit was the run 'n gun type. Me, I still prefered ambush tactics. But we meshed well and they covered me when I needed it. Amubushes don't always turn out perfect, which is when the big guns turn up usefull.
The Republic loved us. We were the first ones in and the last ones out. Something about seeing the enemies big guns explode gives your troops a big charge, and we racked up victory after victory. We were awarded so many medals. And then something...changed. We started hearing about how our allies were turning against us. How the Jedi, long-time protectors, were trying to assume power in the Senate. My unit was deployed to Kashyyyk, to maintain the peace there. Those wookiees seemed like ferocious beasts then. But even wookiee rage can't stop a rocket. We slaughtered them. So many of them.
And then the Empire was born. and we fought for them too. We didn't know much about politics. To us, the Empire was just another name for the Republic we fought for. The Rebels were a bunch of traitors. Turncoats. Evil men who wanted to destory the peace of the Republic. We didn't know any better. and to be honest, we loved our work. Somthing about being on that front line, charging, seeing fear in the eyes of your enemy...it changes you. You start to hunger for it. you start to love destruction...
Our last mission, we were hot-dropped outside a village said to be a hidden Rebelbase. We were told to expect heavy resistance and that they would be heavily armed. We had orders to raze this place, and everybody there. I still remember it perfectly. My squad camoflaged behind me, I stood up and fired a rocket into the sole guard tower. It exploded into flame. There were screams, and chaos. That's what I lived for. I ditched the rocket in favor of the plasma flame thrower. This was going to be fun.
I put the second glass down. It was almost empty and I looked to Violet. She nodded. Another round for me and one for my men.
I guess we didn't realize it then, but there was little resistance as we entered the village. We started torching everything in sight. Ip'sekt caught a blaster to the back, but a grenade dispached his attacker. We were mad...frenzied. We tore through that town like the devil himself. It took under twenty minutes for that entire town to be ablaze. In a half-hour, there were no more screams. Just another misison well done. We waited 'til morning to start picking throught the rubble. Trouble was we didn't find any republic soldiers. Not a single damn one.
There were no soldiers here. This was a peaceful place. The "soldier" who shot Ip'sekt turned out to be an 8 year old brat with his daddy's rifle. We thought we musta got bad intel. No way they'd send us here on purpose. 'Till I went into the smoking wrekcage of the guard tower. There, amidst the rubble, was the corpse of an old Twi'lik. He was grasping what could only be a lightsaber. They sent us here for him. They lied to us. An entire village dead for the sake of one Jedi who had abandoned the war to hide. He wasn't even a threat to them...
We left then and there. There wasn't going to be any more of that for us. We had seen enough killing. We returned home and tried to live our lives as normal folk. But there weren't any more free drinks for us. People knew us for the monsters that we were. Those loyal to the Empire called us traitors. Those loyal to the Rebels called us murderers. We did what we could to live, but there was no work left for us. Turns out people don't hire traitors or murderers, 'cept for criminals. We were too proud to join them. We thought we shouldn't have to change our names.
Again, it was our pride that did us in. They came for us outside Mos Eisley. It was an ambush. We drew our weapons and as best we could, we held them off. But there was no hope. I...I.ran. I saw them all dead or dying, and I fled for the dunes. Bleeding and weak, I was still able to conceal myself. When they left, I crawled back to the Cantina, to Violet. She's not half bad at stitching up wounds, either. Got me healthy enough to walk again, and got me in touch with a "friend" of hers. I got a new identity, a new home and a new cause to fight for. The Rebellion might succeed, it might not.
They say that killing is a sin, and that's fine. I'm gonna burn one way or another. But I will take as many sinners with me as I can. I will take down the Empire by myself if I have to. I don't fear death anymore. Some'd say I go knocking on his door. But me n' him got an understanding. I keep him employed elsewhere, and he don't bother me none. Till he comes knocking on my door, I keep my medals and those of my squadpinned to my chest. There ain't no running from what we've done, and I don't aim to forget it. And when I go they will know who I was, and what I fought for. It wasn't for the Republic. It was for redemption, if that was ever possible.
Violet comes back with two more glasses and I grab her hand. She looks at me and a tear rolls down her face. She knows. she knows.
Okay, there you go, folks. That's a bit of the story of my commando toon. Feel free to add your own story, or just a cool tale about being a commando if you want.
Tyyylowyspetily
Tue Oct 04, 2005 1:50 pm
#3
Actually nicely done. Not overly long, and each point seemed to establish more about the character. The flashbacks were well spaced, and not too drawn out. I think it's a nice, narrative bio- well done.
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