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| - Mercenary…Dog of war…Soldier of fortune, we’re as old as dirt and still going strong. Our roots secured in history, and sticking with that it doesn’t take an egghead to know our reputation. A simple gander at a dictionary will suffice, but I’m not here to talk about morals, nor ethics. Thinking back, I couldn’t tell you why I became a Merc..So if I can’t tell you why, you’ll just have to settle for how.
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| abstract
| - Mercenary…Dog of war…Soldier of fortune, we’re as old as dirt and still going strong. Our roots secured in history, and sticking with that it doesn’t take an egghead to know our reputation. A simple gander at a dictionary will suffice, but I’m not here to talk about morals, nor ethics. Thinking back, I couldn’t tell you why I became a Merc..So if I can’t tell you why, you’ll just have to settle for how. The name’s Cobus, Cobus Stoner, born 132 AP. I was raised by my mother, never knew my father see, skipped out and the only thing he left me was my name. But that’s quite alright, a lot of time it’s the only thing a man’s got. But let’s not delve into the trivial; I got my first taste for hired work in school. Except it wasn’t a gun I was wielding, the old saying being true for once: the pen is mightier than the sword. Bullshit I know, morale patch mentality, I was pretty smart I’ll admit. I’d take on homework assignments, reading, writing, arithmetic, I’d fill it out and all someone had to do was put their name on it and slip one hundred big ones my way. Easy peesie, course getting caught was never a factor until it actually happened. All the boo-hoo’s and stern scolding and there I am kicked out the first year of college, good riddance. What is a wayward babe to do, it took me a good year of kicking rocks and working dead end jobs before I joined the military. I served a good three years with an airborne unit before I decided to put in a transfer to a light infantry division, something more along the lines of Special Forces. Now when I say Special Forces do not be confused with the attachment-delta guys who run kill houses with live ammunition while their buddies play the hostages. I was selected into the 10th mountain division, stay behind operations. Saw a lot of action with them, border disputes and the like. Three years later an old buddy from my airborne unit comes calling, says he’s pulling triggers for a well organized mercenary group. A group called Blackthorne, buddy tells me they're always looking for new shooters. Credentials like mine I could make money hand over fist, never mind the group being well funded, And like they say in merc terms, well funded means well paid. I sat on the idea for a few days, I was up for re-enlistment in a few months and decided what the hell…can’t jump out of airplanes forever right? One year seven months, that’s how long I lasted, one year and seven months. But to be truthful, that’s how long the group stayed afloat, dissolved you see. All the bullshit and red tape, caught a lot of bad rap back home, back in the real world…Seems Blackthorne wasn’t the clear and cut private military company, but just another band of well organized mercenaries. That’s all fine and dandy though, won’t be the first company to disband and evolve into another fancy name that’s as smart as school boy’s boots. Least I’ve still got my health as they say…but who am I fooling, just more morale patch mentality for you….Least I’ve got my gun, eh?
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