At the edge of formality
Average height with shoulder length brown hair and green eyes with a slight asian heritage.
I was born Calvert Dosani my father Theodore Dosani was a mech mechanic of some renown. Working for many of the Mech warrior companies in the local area. When he met a mysterious mech warrior pilot named Jenna Chen whom he was immediately smitten with.
(She is a Kuritan who was hiding and on the run.)
It took him some time but eventually she began to return his advances and they were married two years later. Two years after that Calvert was born and four years later my little sister Maya was born.
We hopped around quite a bit back then never staying in any place for long. Following the work and the mech companies as they advanced back and forth across the stars. I was eleven when my mother went missing on an operation, I have not heard nor seen her since. As I grew into manhood I became more interested in mechs and what my father had to teach I quickly consumed. By fifteen I had surpassed my father in technical ability and was mostly running the operation. One grey day that I shall never forget the summer of my sixteenth year the fighting had gotten close to our repair yard. A mech came in hot sparking and dripping molten metal the pilot was screaming in pain and agony, the canopy was jammed and he could not get out and was being cooked alive. My father ran to help and as he was prying the canopy open the spare ammo ignited blowing the mech, pilot and my father to ash and bits.
My life was not the same afterwards, I could not shake the vision of my father’s death, every night I dreamed it until I could no longer focus on anything. I turned to drinking and kept myself in a drunken stupor. It was the only way I could operate. My work slipped and soon no one would hire me, not that I blamed them as I rarely finished anything timely if at all.
Broke and broken I turned to the military. My sister stayed on with the mercenary company we worked with, she had made friends with many of them and they ensured me she would be looked after. With a more focused concept of duty and a regimented work schedule it slowed my drinking considerably. Once again I was in my element with repair and fabrication work a constant source of engagement. There were always mechs that needed repairs during the day and then at night I drowned my memories in the strong drink that was always available.
I never gained much rank as my drinking did not permit it. But I was considered the best mechanic the division had which always had perks.My last year in, my company was sent to some periphery rock to push off some minor mercenary company who controlled it for some other aligned house. The fighting was intense and losses were great on both sides, after we secured the area I had a chance to look for good salvage amongst the wreckage of the battle field when I came across symbols of the mercenary mechs. It was the company I left my sister with, one of the destroyed mediums had the call sign of “little M” on its side and the remains of a pilot within. Was this my sister? I found nothing that would confirm nor deny it. No survivors were taken hostage. What had I done to deserve such a fate?
My enlistment ended a few months later and I was discharged on a small planet in the periphery called Lorel. I found work as a mechanic with a man named Tom Jones. He is a strange man with questionable allegiance’s, but he is skilled and I have learned a few things from him. I overheard Tom and some men that I think were pirates talking about an area deep in the mountains where there must have been a battle of old, as they said there was considerable salvage to be found if he could get to it.
As far as I know Tom has not acted on this information. Given the opportunity I would jump at the chance to get to this area and see what I could salvage. In my time working for Tom I have become drinking friends with a Kuritan noble who seems to share my tastes in excess and of course has a fat wallet and a generous disposition. I wonder if I could convince him to outfit a few of us to check that salvage in the mountains?
- Been granted a 1 sq. mile of Beal