THE RECKONING OF LESSER MEN
Act I: From Dust They Are Taken...
[ONE DAY BEFORE]
Belroth walked into the room, boots ringing out against the smooth tile of the Dreadnaughts' Briefing Room. Everyone who would be-in about twenty six, twenty seven hours-in Tayibe or coordinating the mission from back at the base was present. A few were casually sipping from mugs of coffee, others idly chatting, and a few stone-cold types sitting in silence, waiting for information and orders to be distributed.
"Morning," Belroth said, taking his place at the lectern at the front of the room and turning on the projector with a remote. On the wall behind him, a birds-eye view of Tayibe appeared. It certainly wasn't a very large village-perhaps two or three miles wide, it was...well...no one was vacationing there, to say the very least. Belroth scratched his salt-and-pepper beard for a moment, organizing his papers. He stood upright, with the posture and strength of a military man. He normally fatigues, a grey combat shirt, and perhaps an overcoat-it was usually rather chilly at the Headquarters, no matter how high they turned the thermostat. Some places-as Loviisa could surely attest to-were seemingly always cold, and the Aland Islands were one of them. Belroth looked up, the lights dimming down and obscuring a few of the scars that criss-crossed his grizzled features. "I'll cut right to the chase. Tomorrow, at 1500 hours, we'll begin our mission. It's the sort of thing you've all done a dozen times before-I doubt strongly we'll have any major complications."
Belroth click-clicked the remote and the slide shifted-a man's face occupied the fast majority of the wall, now, with a side view and full body profile being offered as well. He was old-late fifties, perhaps, and staring at the cameraman with what was undoubtedly irritation. A silver beard enveloped the lower half of his face, mirrored by the grey mullet that extended down to his upper neck. Icy blue eyes peered out from behind the grizzled face, with a handful of old scars notched over his eye, on his cheeks. "Our objective tomorrow-during Operation Naglfar, will be the recovery of a certain high priority individual. Codename of LOKI. Take a long hard look at that face-I'm sure you'll have quite a bit of trouble differentiating him from the locals. The United States wants this man for whatever reason-we weren't, ah, privy enough to be told." There was a slight pause-Belroth's opinion of the US was, to put it gently, less than satisfactory. That being said, he never said anything unwarranted towards his American soldiers. "Regardless, they're willing to pay us to get him back, and have their hands tied in this affair. Normally this job would be pretty straightforward, however, I'm sure you're all quite aware of Iraq's current status right now."
Click click. The man's face vanished, abruptly replaced with a burning American flag, a picture of rather unsavory looking militants, wielding twenty dollar Kalashnikovs, riding on a tank, and the official flag of the Islamic State. "ISIS. Not very nice people. Tayibe is firmly under their control-the good news is that they don't have that many forces in the city. The bad news..." Click click. The wall now showed the city of Tayibe, from a much more distant aerial view-perhaps six or seven miles away was a similarly sized settlement, albeit this one looked to be more like a training camp than a city. "One of their training camps is about eight miles out from the town. Reinforcements can arrive in a matter of minutes. Granted, these aren't top-tier guys-not like the veterans they have in Baghdad-but the point remains. You can expect a fair amount of resistance, even if it is of the 'fanatical, but untrained' sort. Be on your guard. We haven't been able to get a clear opinion on how the Tayibeans feel about these guys. Some are for them. Some despise them. In other words, we can expect neither local support or damnation. Avoid civilian casualties."
Click click. A small plaza-there was a crumbling, broken fountain, surrounded on all sides by a waist-high wall. There was about a twenty-five square foot area between the walls and the fountain. On all sides, small domiciles rested. Built low to the ground out of bricks, the structures looked livable but certainly not comfortable. Dirt roads cut in-between the houses with unorganized efficiency-they were wide enough for a person or pack animal, perhaps, but not a person. "The other good news-reinforcements from the north can get to the perimeter of the city rather quickly. However, the city planning in Tayibe is less than optimal. They won't be able to get Humvees or-God forbid-tanks anywhere near you. Of course, we won't be able to get anyone in easily, either. This is the LZ-we'll hover over the rooftops and let you all fast-rope down. Intel says the training camp has access to RPGs, but no sophisticated surface-to-air weaponry. You'll be boots on the ground long before anyone armed to take out the chopper gets close. The vast majority of you will remain here, in the Plaza, and in the adjacent areas. Your job is to draw the fire of the Tayibeans, and keep the ISIS forces from making it to the south. The prison where LOKI is being held is in the southwestern corner of town. Once they realize that we're here to grab him-which will be pretty much immediately-they'll put a bullet in his head. "
Click click. A small building, about twice the size of your average Tayibean house came into view. It was maybe fifty feet from any other building, and a few men with rifles sat atop the structure, sunglasses glinting. One sat in a chair by the door-he appeared to be sleeping. "This being the prison. Lightly guarded-around four or five men stationed there everyday. The downside is, there's no back door. You'll have to attack it head-on, unfortunately. While the bulk of our forces keep the Tayibeans occupied, a small group of you will move through the town and reach this prison. There, you'll eliminate the guards and retrieve LOKI. Bring him back to the Plaza for exfiltration. If it's too dangerous to bring the helicopter back by, stay at the perimeter of town and we'll get some vehicles to you. About ten miles to the south, hidden where any ISIS sentries won't find them, we'll have a small contingency of Humvees and an APC or two. To the group finding LOKI-remember that speed and stealth are your best weapons here. We'll strike fast and the Tayibeans will be disorganized, however we have no way of knowing how the locals will respond. If they're less than friendly, they may take up arms against us-in which case, you'll want to avoid getting bogged down fighting them. Keep moving. All in all, we won't be in Tayibe for longer than an hour. While you're bringing LOKI back to the Plaza, our helicopter will be circling around, staving off those reinforcements."
Click click. The Dreadnaughts' insignia.
"Last note. We have several operative currently within the city. I'm sure you're all familiar with our very own Doctor Baron Moreau..."
Click click. Baron, dressed in a black t-shirt, fatigues, and with a conspicuous lump underneath the pants of his bad leg, appeared on the wall. "Has so kindly infiltrated the ranks of the local ISIS camp. He has been providing intelligence for us on the capabilities of the IS forces and the nature of the Tayibeans. It's unlikely he'll be in the camp whenever we arrive-however, if a problem does arise, we may need to extract him."
Click click. An image of the ISIS camp materialized-the barbed wire fence surrounding some dingy barracks. A group of far-too-young men were running in line-a few were doing pushups, and a handful seemed to be dismantling rifles. From the distance the photo was taken, it was hard to tell for sure. "These images and other intel on the city have come from our scouts, Master Tamba Shariati, Master Danny Grit, and Miss Catherine Voss. They're currently stationed a few miles east of Tayibe, and have been sneaking in close and getting these images for us, as well as getting some information for us that satellites were unable to. In the event something goes wrong, they'll be able to come to Baron's aid the quickest, and may be able to hang up the reinforcements by taking out the local ISIS commanders stationed there. However, we want to avoid a head-on conflict with the Islamic State if possible. While I think our radical friends from the Levant are too smart to try attacking us directly, we aren't getting paid to kill them. Just to get LOKI out."
Belroth paused, closing the folder he had on the lectern and grinning. "Dismissed. See you all bright and early tomorrow."
[TAYIBE: PRESENT DAY TIME]
[THE PLAZA: THE EXTRACTION TEAM]
The thick smell of the helicopter's smoke was carried to the Plaza soon enough-the wind was beginning to pick up, and no other scents hung on the dry air. Loviisa Reponen, Johnathan Moore , Mia Jones, and Warren McFalsky exchanged quick glances. This was bad. Real bad. Fortunately, they had a way out, but...it was going to be a lot harder getting around a hundred Dreadnaughts out via Humvees as opposed to a helicopter. And with this kind of resistance? Their intel had been off-maybe Shariati and the Witch were to blame, or perhaps it was simply a fluke that couldn't have been accounted for. Regardless, Belroth-if he was still alive, was going to be in a world of hurt. Johnathan, Mia, and Warren glanced at Loviisa-who, while not a phenomenal squad leader (Leadership: 3) had been designated as the one in charge of the group for the purposes of this mission. Their objective was still the same, they supposed-unless Loviisa had a change of heart.
Regardless, they would need to get moving on whatever it was they were doing quickly. Around the Plaza, Dreadnaughts quickly began setting up shop-machine gun bipods were flipped out and rested on the crumbling stone walls that surrounded them, a few snipers and spotters made their way onto the rooftops, and one person was issuing orders to the vehicle evac team to get their asses over here as quickly as possible. The prison lie to the southwest-a cursory glance at their surroundings revealed a few options available to them.
The most straightforward route would be running headlong down the main street of Tayibe. It curved at the plaza, running all the way to the ISIS camp to the north and ending at the prison to the south. The inherent downside to this, naturally, was that they'd be wide open-from the dark, curtained windows of Tayibean homes, it'd be all too easy for someone within to fire at them. However, it would certainly be the quickest route-and with time of the essence, they may have to embark on a less-than-ideal means of recovering LOKI.
Another possibility was through the labyrinth of side alleys that darted behind houses and linked into the main road. One was ride off the edge of the Plaza-while cramped and confined, it would lessen their chances of getting ambushed. Of course, stacked up closely, they might be more vulnerable to grenades. However, they'd be off the main roads-and if the triumphant screams and gunfire echoing on all sides was any indicator, they might have some company if they stayed on there.
Last but not least was the choice of fighting their way there, going through homes. The homes of Tayibe were fairly open-none of the doors were reinforced, and a great many had back doors or sizable windows that the team could slip out of. In theory, they'd be able to go totally unnoticed by the brewing mob, slipping from house to house until they reached the prison. Still, there was that local factor to contend with-how would these people react to armed mercenaries barging into their homes? Inside, the fighting would be intense-all fisticuffs and knives to the throat. Damned shame no one brought a bayonet. And-not to mention-H.O.W.A.R.D. might have some trouble getting through those windows.
The members of the squad exchange glances. While the other three have been ordered to do as Loviisa directs them, she may want to consider exchanging ideas first. Through their helmets, there's a brief burst of static followed by a familiar voice-Maria, the Dreadnaughts' communications expert back at the base. "Hey, Extraction Team," Maria said, her voice crystal clear from a thousand miles away, "I've silenced all radio chatter from members outside of this group. I'll keep you posted on anything important that happens-and if you need to talk to anyone, just let me know. Maria out." As long as your helmets remain on, you'll have the benefit of Maria's Communications. This will allow you to have quick IC chatter in the OOC-you can plan out your next move there. You will also be able to contact experts back at the base for advice, however this must be done in the IC. Should your helmets become damaged, removed, or you go into an area without radio contact, you will lose this privilege and have to talk the old-fashioned way..
Lock and load, soldiers.
[THE RESCUE TEAM]
"Katryn Hohenzollern, Wes Shanks, do you read?" Maria's familiar voice fills each of the soldiers' helmets, who dutifully answer "Yes" from across the plaza. "A few of the vets here have assumed emergency command in Belroth's absence-we can't get him on the radio and Baron's off doing his...Baron thing. At the moment we have no one off to go and rescue Belroth. Or...well..." there was a pause. "...retrieve him, as it were. The helicopter's beacon is pinging about three hundred yards northeast of where you are-if you two hurry you should be able to get there in time." A brief pause, followed by the sound of a muffled microphone, through which distant arguing could be heard. "Okay. You have your orders. We have a few snipers on the roof and Shariati, Grit, and Voss stationed outside the city but it's unlikely they can get to you in time. Destroy the helicopter's remains-" there was a brief muffling and then one of the soldiers near Katryn crouched, pressing a hand to the ear. They nodded and unclipped a few thermite grenades off their belt, handing them to Katryn and Wes. "Dispose of the helicopter-we don't want it falling into ISIS' hands. Go. Quick. I'll be with you all the way."
Because things were getting too boring.
Looking to the northeast corner of the Plaza, you see a small alleyway tucking off between two buildings. It appears to intersect a somewhat bigger road you could use to reach the crash site-you don't even need Maria's help to find it, what with the massive, billowing column of smoke issuing up from its remains. Retrieving Belroth will be difficult-the quicker you can reach the crash site, the less resistance there will be. Already, however, Tayibe has begun to rise from its slumber-bullets begin to kick up dust around the Dreadnaughts' perimeter. They're met with fierce, accurate bursts of return fire. Quality versus quantity. It's a matter of time before the Dreadnaughts are overrun-and even less time before Belroth, if he's still alive, is taken down by the insurgents. On the positive side, there's probably a bonus in there somewhere for you if you save the boss' ass. Holding your machineguns with tense readiness, you two exchange a glance and prepare yourselves to move out. If you need any support or advice, now would be the time to request it-once you start moving towards Belroth, you'll be encountering fierce resistance. Retrieve Belroth-dead or alive-and then destroy the remains of the helicopter.
[THE RECONNAISSANCE TEAM]
A small ridge lies four miles east of Tayibe. Across the empty Iraqi basin, Tamba Shariati, Danny Grit and Catherine Voss do not need binoculars to make out the thick column of black smoke that was your commander. They weren't supposed to have RPGs in the village! What the hell? You both exchange an uneasy glance and listen as your radio lights up with fresh orders. "Shariati? Voss?" You both return affirmatives. "Um, as you may have seen, there's, uh, been a bit of a problem. With the helicopter. We have evac coming in the form of Humvees from the south, but they're gonna be a little while. Currently, we have Baron on his own in the ISIS camp-his backup just got knocked out of the sky. We’re…” there’s a pause, “We’re sending two soldiers-Katryn and Shanks-in to retrieve Belroth and dispose of the helicopter. We can’t divert many more soldiers from the Diversionary Team-they’re spread thin enough as it is.” there’s another pause, and you begin to develop a sinking suspicion-with Belroth gone, and Baron out of the way…who exactly is in charge of the Dreadnaughts? The less-than-totally-solid chain of command the Dreadnaughts operate with now seems somewhat foolish. “Um. We have no orders for you,” Maria says nervously. “Belroth may or may not be alive-his comm line is down and we can’t get anything because of the smoke on satellites. There’s also the issue of Baron. Deploy yourselves as you see fit-I’m here on the radio if you need any intel we can offer.”
Damnit. Why is nothing ever simple with this job? You do a quick scan of the desert before you with binoculars. Hm. From wearing burqas throughout Tayibe for the past few days, you’ve each gotten a decent sense of the town’s layout and been able to relay some pictures back to HQ. The training camp, however, proved more difficult to infiltrate-the best you could manage was a few shots of the perimeter at night. Who is in need of aid most? Your commander, possibly dead, possibly alive-or the lone wolf who’s worked himself into the ranks of the local insurgents? The majority of ISIS will be rolling out towards Tayibe in a matter of minutes-in fact, you can already see trucks and jeeps beginning to pull out. The camp will be left fairly lightly defended…breaking in to save Baron may very well be possible.
Impossible choices. No right answers. Grabbing your gear, you quickly put on everything you need and move towards your means of transportation the last few days-two motorcycles, covered with tan tarps to prevent being seen from afar. Decisions, decisions. While the ISIS camp is about half a mile further away, it’s open desert-the crash site will require you to weave in and out of the Tayibean streets. The end result is that you can get to either in about the same amount of time.
[THE INFILTRATION “TEAM”]
“Ammar, Ammar…” Kathem speaks in a lazy droll. He addresses Baron Moreau, the man who showed up in Tayibe three weeks hence and worked his way within the local ISIS chapter. Kathem is a man who strives for lethality in all aspects of his appearance-never does his battle-tested AK-74 leave its place from the sling over his back, never do the plethora of American, British, and Iraqi dog tags leave from the chain on his neck. A brown tanktop, stained with sweat and blood, clings to his muscular and toned chest, while a unkempt black mane masks his chin and scalp. “Did you hear that? A little bird just got shot down.”
He draws a cigarette and grins wickedly-one or two of his teeth are missing-perhaps there’s a correlation with the cigarettes. He takes a long puff and, with an abrupt shift from cordiality to brutality, barks orders at his subordinates. “Hussein. Gather the men and go. Send everyone. I want you to find the Western dogs that just touched down and bring them to me.”
Hussein nods, moving towards the door. “You think they are the Americans?”
“I think they are dead. Go.”
Hussein jogs out-Kathem’s other praetors move to leave with him, but he stops them with a single raised hand. “No. You six, stay. We have much to discuss with our new friend.”
The inside of the head command building is, well, somewhat unorthodox. One corner has four bunk beds, placed pragmatically and taking up as little space as possible. Another houses a computer and several filing cabinets-where, presumably, ISIS’ HR department operates. The others have desks, laid out with maps and papers, images and notices, semi-assembled weaponry and boxes of ammunition. It’s a war room.
“I will admit, I am…tentative…” Kathem begins, moving slowly towards Baron. You stand in the center of the room, and slowly, the other guards in the room begin positioning themselves around you. You are Daniel and this is the lion’s den. There’s no way you could get the drop on them, seemingly-four carry AK-47’s, the others some captured M4’s. It would seem they have fire superiority-those two pistols on you aren’t much of a match for their arsenal. “When several weeks ago, a man-a white man-he comes to me and says he is an ambassador. From Al-Qaeda.”
Kathem’s now close enough to strike-close enough to kill. He grabs Baron’s arm and yanks back the sleeve, running a grimy finger over Baron’s tattoos. “That your people wish to forge a coalition with mine…throw in with the winning team. It is, perhaps, an interesting prospect, but I am a smart man. I suspect there is something more to it.” Kathem grins. “Bring me the American.”
Two of the guards move into a side room and come out with a hooded, bound man in a white button down shirt and black fatigues. An empty holster hangs just under the shoulder, and he’s writhing and squirming furiously. Gagged, his words come out as unintelligible in any language.
“Then we find this dog sneaking around our city…” You might question the labeling of Tayibe as a “city”, however now’s not the time to argue semantics-“…and lo and behold, his radio, it rings.” Kathem raises a small communicator for Baron to see. “This is short range, brother. His fellow operative? Well, he would have to be inside five miles, wouldn’t he? And who is the only other person that it could be?”
“Is it you, Aydar?” He asks, turning to one of the guards. Caught off-guard (no pun intended), there’s a nervous pause followed by a high squeal-his face is wrapped and concealed, but surely he can’t be older than fourteen or fifteen.
“N-no sir!”
Kathem works his way through each of the sentries within the room. “Hm. Interesting.” He kneels beside the American and rips the hood off his head. The American blinks furiously, eyes watering under the harsh light pouring in through the open, glassless windows.
“Tell me your name,” Kathem says, pulling out the gag.
“Vincent,” the American snarls. CIA, perhaps?
“Vincent. Well, I think-“
“-van Gogh fuck yourself.” the American spits. “Go put on a burka and fuck a pig yo-“
There’s a deafening bang and the American’s brains explode over the back wall, a pink mist oozing from his skull as brains and bone issue across the floor. He, it would seem, did not have any Fate Points left to use. Kathem lowers the smoking .45 and turns to Baron. “Hm. Well, Ammar. I think you need to start telling me who you are and who you are working for. And then, when I kill you, it will be quick. It was not quick for him, Ammar.” Kathem leans down and rips off his shirt, revealing deep, fresh cuts down his entire torso-and, with closer inspection, you notice a sickening red stain in the…groin…of his pants. “I like you, Ammar. You’re funny. But you’re going to die. So you’re either going to tell me what I want to hear, and die a man…” he kicks the operative, who falls limply to the ground. “Or you’re going to die slow. In the desert. I’ll tear you apart and let you burn.”
Well isn’t this fabulous. The nearest cover you could dart behind is the table, however, it’s not much in the way of protection. On each side of you there are two guards-except for the front, where Kathem stands out of reach, pistol in hand. It’s…dubious…that you could draw and fire quickly enough to kill even one of them before they got you. You’re going to have to think fast-but that’s nothing for a psychiatrist of your caliber, is it Barry?
[THE SUPPORT TEAM]
Doctor Isaac Cromwell, Isaiah Washe, and Stanislov Volkov-along with the retinue of military advisers, communications workers under Maria, and a handful of frenzied pages running notes and memos from one expert to the next sat in the War Room, observing the unfolding catastrophe in real time. The Dreadnaughts had access to a few satellites-and, some half a mile above Tayibe was an unarmed UAV offering a "closer" view of the conflict. Various screens flickered with images, detailing the progress of each squad-it would be a simple matter for Isaac to direct his advice toward any number of them, although needless chatter may distract the soldiers.
[GENERAL NOTES]
The IC is ready to go. Now, some general rules to help refresh you/clarify any vagueness.
-Don’t assume the consequences of your actions. When in doubt, ask me. Instead of opening a door and describing what you see, you’ll write “Joe opens the door” (or something more literate and fancy), and I’ll tell you what’s inside, who’s inside, etc. If you are ever in any doubt/need more detail to make up your mind, feel free to ask! I don’t want to bury anyone with tons of needless descriptions, but anything your character could reasonably observe (for example, if-in Baron’s current predicament-he wishes to know how far away the table is exactly so he can decide if he can make it under there in time, I’ll tell him) I’ll be happy to supply you with.
-As previously mentioned, if you have radio systems, you are able to chat with your fellow RP’ers in the OOC, and it can then take effect IC. So, the team going to rescue LOKI can debate what the best course of action is in the OOC, come to a consensus, and then have Loviisa say “Alright, squad, we’re moving out this way” after a brief amount of chatter. If you’re not in a situation where you have radio systems-say your helmet gets damaged, or you’re currently Baron, then you will have to talk in the IC. There, you’re liable to be overheard. And it’s just more cumbersome.
-As we’re all getting the hang of things, I will go fairly easy on you for the first Act. Unless any of you do anything catastrophically stupid, you probably won’t die in this Act. However, don’t get crazy. I want everybody to get a sense for how things work, for us to work out any kinks in the system, and then move on to more higher stakes things.
-Last but not least, this RP is shaped by your choices. You are free to disobey your orders, turn on your comrades, etc. You’ll suffer consequences for your actions, but you have freedom here. Be innovative! If I can’t come up with a response for your means of solving a problem, it means you guys are kicking ass. The stat system is always fluid-you're welcome to try and figure out ways of applying your character's strong suits to areas they're weaker in. Writing a solid strategy for a Tactics check or being genuinely caring in an attempt to Regulate someone may change the outcome. Remember to be realistic, and most importantly to have fun.
Aiight Dreadnaughts. Let’s go save the day or whatever.
Act I: From Dust They Are Taken...
[ONE DAY BEFORE]
Belroth walked into the room, boots ringing out against the smooth tile of the Dreadnaughts' Briefing Room. Everyone who would be-in about twenty six, twenty seven hours-in Tayibe or coordinating the mission from back at the base was present. A few were casually sipping from mugs of coffee, others idly chatting, and a few stone-cold types sitting in silence, waiting for information and orders to be distributed.
"Morning," Belroth said, taking his place at the lectern at the front of the room and turning on the projector with a remote. On the wall behind him, a birds-eye view of Tayibe appeared. It certainly wasn't a very large village-perhaps two or three miles wide, it was...well...no one was vacationing there, to say the very least. Belroth scratched his salt-and-pepper beard for a moment, organizing his papers. He stood upright, with the posture and strength of a military man. He normally fatigues, a grey combat shirt, and perhaps an overcoat-it was usually rather chilly at the Headquarters, no matter how high they turned the thermostat. Some places-as Loviisa could surely attest to-were seemingly always cold, and the Aland Islands were one of them. Belroth looked up, the lights dimming down and obscuring a few of the scars that criss-crossed his grizzled features. "I'll cut right to the chase. Tomorrow, at 1500 hours, we'll begin our mission. It's the sort of thing you've all done a dozen times before-I doubt strongly we'll have any major complications."
Belroth click-clicked the remote and the slide shifted-a man's face occupied the fast majority of the wall, now, with a side view and full body profile being offered as well. He was old-late fifties, perhaps, and staring at the cameraman with what was undoubtedly irritation. A silver beard enveloped the lower half of his face, mirrored by the grey mullet that extended down to his upper neck. Icy blue eyes peered out from behind the grizzled face, with a handful of old scars notched over his eye, on his cheeks. "Our objective tomorrow-during Operation Naglfar, will be the recovery of a certain high priority individual. Codename of LOKI. Take a long hard look at that face-I'm sure you'll have quite a bit of trouble differentiating him from the locals. The United States wants this man for whatever reason-we weren't, ah, privy enough to be told." There was a slight pause-Belroth's opinion of the US was, to put it gently, less than satisfactory. That being said, he never said anything unwarranted towards his American soldiers. "Regardless, they're willing to pay us to get him back, and have their hands tied in this affair. Normally this job would be pretty straightforward, however, I'm sure you're all quite aware of Iraq's current status right now."
Click click. The man's face vanished, abruptly replaced with a burning American flag, a picture of rather unsavory looking militants, wielding twenty dollar Kalashnikovs, riding on a tank, and the official flag of the Islamic State. "ISIS. Not very nice people. Tayibe is firmly under their control-the good news is that they don't have that many forces in the city. The bad news..." Click click. The wall now showed the city of Tayibe, from a much more distant aerial view-perhaps six or seven miles away was a similarly sized settlement, albeit this one looked to be more like a training camp than a city. "One of their training camps is about eight miles out from the town. Reinforcements can arrive in a matter of minutes. Granted, these aren't top-tier guys-not like the veterans they have in Baghdad-but the point remains. You can expect a fair amount of resistance, even if it is of the 'fanatical, but untrained' sort. Be on your guard. We haven't been able to get a clear opinion on how the Tayibeans feel about these guys. Some are for them. Some despise them. In other words, we can expect neither local support or damnation. Avoid civilian casualties."
Click click. A small plaza-there was a crumbling, broken fountain, surrounded on all sides by a waist-high wall. There was about a twenty-five square foot area between the walls and the fountain. On all sides, small domiciles rested. Built low to the ground out of bricks, the structures looked livable but certainly not comfortable. Dirt roads cut in-between the houses with unorganized efficiency-they were wide enough for a person or pack animal, perhaps, but not a person. "The other good news-reinforcements from the north can get to the perimeter of the city rather quickly. However, the city planning in Tayibe is less than optimal. They won't be able to get Humvees or-God forbid-tanks anywhere near you. Of course, we won't be able to get anyone in easily, either. This is the LZ-we'll hover over the rooftops and let you all fast-rope down. Intel says the training camp has access to RPGs, but no sophisticated surface-to-air weaponry. You'll be boots on the ground long before anyone armed to take out the chopper gets close. The vast majority of you will remain here, in the Plaza, and in the adjacent areas. Your job is to draw the fire of the Tayibeans, and keep the ISIS forces from making it to the south. The prison where LOKI is being held is in the southwestern corner of town. Once they realize that we're here to grab him-which will be pretty much immediately-they'll put a bullet in his head. "
Click click. A small building, about twice the size of your average Tayibean house came into view. It was maybe fifty feet from any other building, and a few men with rifles sat atop the structure, sunglasses glinting. One sat in a chair by the door-he appeared to be sleeping. "This being the prison. Lightly guarded-around four or five men stationed there everyday. The downside is, there's no back door. You'll have to attack it head-on, unfortunately. While the bulk of our forces keep the Tayibeans occupied, a small group of you will move through the town and reach this prison. There, you'll eliminate the guards and retrieve LOKI. Bring him back to the Plaza for exfiltration. If it's too dangerous to bring the helicopter back by, stay at the perimeter of town and we'll get some vehicles to you. About ten miles to the south, hidden where any ISIS sentries won't find them, we'll have a small contingency of Humvees and an APC or two. To the group finding LOKI-remember that speed and stealth are your best weapons here. We'll strike fast and the Tayibeans will be disorganized, however we have no way of knowing how the locals will respond. If they're less than friendly, they may take up arms against us-in which case, you'll want to avoid getting bogged down fighting them. Keep moving. All in all, we won't be in Tayibe for longer than an hour. While you're bringing LOKI back to the Plaza, our helicopter will be circling around, staving off those reinforcements."
Click click. The Dreadnaughts' insignia.
"Last note. We have several operative currently within the city. I'm sure you're all familiar with our very own Doctor Baron Moreau..."
Click click. Baron, dressed in a black t-shirt, fatigues, and with a conspicuous lump underneath the pants of his bad leg, appeared on the wall. "Has so kindly infiltrated the ranks of the local ISIS camp. He has been providing intelligence for us on the capabilities of the IS forces and the nature of the Tayibeans. It's unlikely he'll be in the camp whenever we arrive-however, if a problem does arise, we may need to extract him."
Click click. An image of the ISIS camp materialized-the barbed wire fence surrounding some dingy barracks. A group of far-too-young men were running in line-a few were doing pushups, and a handful seemed to be dismantling rifles. From the distance the photo was taken, it was hard to tell for sure. "These images and other intel on the city have come from our scouts, Master Tamba Shariati, Master Danny Grit, and Miss Catherine Voss. They're currently stationed a few miles east of Tayibe, and have been sneaking in close and getting these images for us, as well as getting some information for us that satellites were unable to. In the event something goes wrong, they'll be able to come to Baron's aid the quickest, and may be able to hang up the reinforcements by taking out the local ISIS commanders stationed there. However, we want to avoid a head-on conflict with the Islamic State if possible. While I think our radical friends from the Levant are too smart to try attacking us directly, we aren't getting paid to kill them. Just to get LOKI out."
Belroth paused, closing the folder he had on the lectern and grinning. "Dismissed. See you all bright and early tomorrow."
[TAYIBE: PRESENT DAY TIME]
[THE PLAZA: THE EXTRACTION TEAM]
The thick smell of the helicopter's smoke was carried to the Plaza soon enough-the wind was beginning to pick up, and no other scents hung on the dry air. Loviisa Reponen, Johnathan Moore , Mia Jones, and Warren McFalsky exchanged quick glances. This was bad. Real bad. Fortunately, they had a way out, but...it was going to be a lot harder getting around a hundred Dreadnaughts out via Humvees as opposed to a helicopter. And with this kind of resistance? Their intel had been off-maybe Shariati and the Witch were to blame, or perhaps it was simply a fluke that couldn't have been accounted for. Regardless, Belroth-if he was still alive, was going to be in a world of hurt. Johnathan, Mia, and Warren glanced at Loviisa-who, while not a phenomenal squad leader (Leadership: 3) had been designated as the one in charge of the group for the purposes of this mission. Their objective was still the same, they supposed-unless Loviisa had a change of heart.
Regardless, they would need to get moving on whatever it was they were doing quickly. Around the Plaza, Dreadnaughts quickly began setting up shop-machine gun bipods were flipped out and rested on the crumbling stone walls that surrounded them, a few snipers and spotters made their way onto the rooftops, and one person was issuing orders to the vehicle evac team to get their asses over here as quickly as possible. The prison lie to the southwest-a cursory glance at their surroundings revealed a few options available to them.
The most straightforward route would be running headlong down the main street of Tayibe. It curved at the plaza, running all the way to the ISIS camp to the north and ending at the prison to the south. The inherent downside to this, naturally, was that they'd be wide open-from the dark, curtained windows of Tayibean homes, it'd be all too easy for someone within to fire at them. However, it would certainly be the quickest route-and with time of the essence, they may have to embark on a less-than-ideal means of recovering LOKI.
Another possibility was through the labyrinth of side alleys that darted behind houses and linked into the main road. One was ride off the edge of the Plaza-while cramped and confined, it would lessen their chances of getting ambushed. Of course, stacked up closely, they might be more vulnerable to grenades. However, they'd be off the main roads-and if the triumphant screams and gunfire echoing on all sides was any indicator, they might have some company if they stayed on there.
Last but not least was the choice of fighting their way there, going through homes. The homes of Tayibe were fairly open-none of the doors were reinforced, and a great many had back doors or sizable windows that the team could slip out of. In theory, they'd be able to go totally unnoticed by the brewing mob, slipping from house to house until they reached the prison. Still, there was that local factor to contend with-how would these people react to armed mercenaries barging into their homes? Inside, the fighting would be intense-all fisticuffs and knives to the throat. Damned shame no one brought a bayonet. And-not to mention-H.O.W.A.R.D. might have some trouble getting through those windows.
The members of the squad exchange glances. While the other three have been ordered to do as Loviisa directs them, she may want to consider exchanging ideas first. Through their helmets, there's a brief burst of static followed by a familiar voice-Maria, the Dreadnaughts' communications expert back at the base. "Hey, Extraction Team," Maria said, her voice crystal clear from a thousand miles away, "I've silenced all radio chatter from members outside of this group. I'll keep you posted on anything important that happens-and if you need to talk to anyone, just let me know. Maria out." As long as your helmets remain on, you'll have the benefit of Maria's Communications. This will allow you to have quick IC chatter in the OOC-you can plan out your next move there. You will also be able to contact experts back at the base for advice, however this must be done in the IC. Should your helmets become damaged, removed, or you go into an area without radio contact, you will lose this privilege and have to talk the old-fashioned way..
Lock and load, soldiers.
[THE RESCUE TEAM]
"Katryn Hohenzollern, Wes Shanks, do you read?" Maria's familiar voice fills each of the soldiers' helmets, who dutifully answer "Yes" from across the plaza. "A few of the vets here have assumed emergency command in Belroth's absence-we can't get him on the radio and Baron's off doing his...Baron thing. At the moment we have no one off to go and rescue Belroth. Or...well..." there was a pause. "...retrieve him, as it were. The helicopter's beacon is pinging about three hundred yards northeast of where you are-if you two hurry you should be able to get there in time." A brief pause, followed by the sound of a muffled microphone, through which distant arguing could be heard. "Okay. You have your orders. We have a few snipers on the roof and Shariati, Grit, and Voss stationed outside the city but it's unlikely they can get to you in time. Destroy the helicopter's remains-" there was a brief muffling and then one of the soldiers near Katryn crouched, pressing a hand to the ear. They nodded and unclipped a few thermite grenades off their belt, handing them to Katryn and Wes. "Dispose of the helicopter-we don't want it falling into ISIS' hands. Go. Quick. I'll be with you all the way."
Because things were getting too boring.
Looking to the northeast corner of the Plaza, you see a small alleyway tucking off between two buildings. It appears to intersect a somewhat bigger road you could use to reach the crash site-you don't even need Maria's help to find it, what with the massive, billowing column of smoke issuing up from its remains. Retrieving Belroth will be difficult-the quicker you can reach the crash site, the less resistance there will be. Already, however, Tayibe has begun to rise from its slumber-bullets begin to kick up dust around the Dreadnaughts' perimeter. They're met with fierce, accurate bursts of return fire. Quality versus quantity. It's a matter of time before the Dreadnaughts are overrun-and even less time before Belroth, if he's still alive, is taken down by the insurgents. On the positive side, there's probably a bonus in there somewhere for you if you save the boss' ass. Holding your machineguns with tense readiness, you two exchange a glance and prepare yourselves to move out. If you need any support or advice, now would be the time to request it-once you start moving towards Belroth, you'll be encountering fierce resistance. Retrieve Belroth-dead or alive-and then destroy the remains of the helicopter.
[THE RECONNAISSANCE TEAM]
A small ridge lies four miles east of Tayibe. Across the empty Iraqi basin, Tamba Shariati, Danny Grit and Catherine Voss do not need binoculars to make out the thick column of black smoke that was your commander. They weren't supposed to have RPGs in the village! What the hell? You both exchange an uneasy glance and listen as your radio lights up with fresh orders. "Shariati? Voss?" You both return affirmatives. "Um, as you may have seen, there's, uh, been a bit of a problem. With the helicopter. We have evac coming in the form of Humvees from the south, but they're gonna be a little while. Currently, we have Baron on his own in the ISIS camp-his backup just got knocked out of the sky. We’re…” there’s a pause, “We’re sending two soldiers-Katryn and Shanks-in to retrieve Belroth and dispose of the helicopter. We can’t divert many more soldiers from the Diversionary Team-they’re spread thin enough as it is.” there’s another pause, and you begin to develop a sinking suspicion-with Belroth gone, and Baron out of the way…who exactly is in charge of the Dreadnaughts? The less-than-totally-solid chain of command the Dreadnaughts operate with now seems somewhat foolish. “Um. We have no orders for you,” Maria says nervously. “Belroth may or may not be alive-his comm line is down and we can’t get anything because of the smoke on satellites. There’s also the issue of Baron. Deploy yourselves as you see fit-I’m here on the radio if you need any intel we can offer.”
Damnit. Why is nothing ever simple with this job? You do a quick scan of the desert before you with binoculars. Hm. From wearing burqas throughout Tayibe for the past few days, you’ve each gotten a decent sense of the town’s layout and been able to relay some pictures back to HQ. The training camp, however, proved more difficult to infiltrate-the best you could manage was a few shots of the perimeter at night. Who is in need of aid most? Your commander, possibly dead, possibly alive-or the lone wolf who’s worked himself into the ranks of the local insurgents? The majority of ISIS will be rolling out towards Tayibe in a matter of minutes-in fact, you can already see trucks and jeeps beginning to pull out. The camp will be left fairly lightly defended…breaking in to save Baron may very well be possible.
Impossible choices. No right answers. Grabbing your gear, you quickly put on everything you need and move towards your means of transportation the last few days-two motorcycles, covered with tan tarps to prevent being seen from afar. Decisions, decisions. While the ISIS camp is about half a mile further away, it’s open desert-the crash site will require you to weave in and out of the Tayibean streets. The end result is that you can get to either in about the same amount of time.
[THE INFILTRATION “TEAM”]
“Ammar, Ammar…” Kathem speaks in a lazy droll. He addresses Baron Moreau, the man who showed up in Tayibe three weeks hence and worked his way within the local ISIS chapter. Kathem is a man who strives for lethality in all aspects of his appearance-never does his battle-tested AK-74 leave its place from the sling over his back, never do the plethora of American, British, and Iraqi dog tags leave from the chain on his neck. A brown tanktop, stained with sweat and blood, clings to his muscular and toned chest, while a unkempt black mane masks his chin and scalp. “Did you hear that? A little bird just got shot down.”
He draws a cigarette and grins wickedly-one or two of his teeth are missing-perhaps there’s a correlation with the cigarettes. He takes a long puff and, with an abrupt shift from cordiality to brutality, barks orders at his subordinates. “Hussein. Gather the men and go. Send everyone. I want you to find the Western dogs that just touched down and bring them to me.”
Hussein nods, moving towards the door. “You think they are the Americans?”
“I think they are dead. Go.”
Hussein jogs out-Kathem’s other praetors move to leave with him, but he stops them with a single raised hand. “No. You six, stay. We have much to discuss with our new friend.”
The inside of the head command building is, well, somewhat unorthodox. One corner has four bunk beds, placed pragmatically and taking up as little space as possible. Another houses a computer and several filing cabinets-where, presumably, ISIS’ HR department operates. The others have desks, laid out with maps and papers, images and notices, semi-assembled weaponry and boxes of ammunition. It’s a war room.
“I will admit, I am…tentative…” Kathem begins, moving slowly towards Baron. You stand in the center of the room, and slowly, the other guards in the room begin positioning themselves around you. You are Daniel and this is the lion’s den. There’s no way you could get the drop on them, seemingly-four carry AK-47’s, the others some captured M4’s. It would seem they have fire superiority-those two pistols on you aren’t much of a match for their arsenal. “When several weeks ago, a man-a white man-he comes to me and says he is an ambassador. From Al-Qaeda.”
Kathem’s now close enough to strike-close enough to kill. He grabs Baron’s arm and yanks back the sleeve, running a grimy finger over Baron’s tattoos. “That your people wish to forge a coalition with mine…throw in with the winning team. It is, perhaps, an interesting prospect, but I am a smart man. I suspect there is something more to it.” Kathem grins. “Bring me the American.”
Two of the guards move into a side room and come out with a hooded, bound man in a white button down shirt and black fatigues. An empty holster hangs just under the shoulder, and he’s writhing and squirming furiously. Gagged, his words come out as unintelligible in any language.
“Then we find this dog sneaking around our city…” You might question the labeling of Tayibe as a “city”, however now’s not the time to argue semantics-“…and lo and behold, his radio, it rings.” Kathem raises a small communicator for Baron to see. “This is short range, brother. His fellow operative? Well, he would have to be inside five miles, wouldn’t he? And who is the only other person that it could be?”
“Is it you, Aydar?” He asks, turning to one of the guards. Caught off-guard (no pun intended), there’s a nervous pause followed by a high squeal-his face is wrapped and concealed, but surely he can’t be older than fourteen or fifteen.
“N-no sir!”
Kathem works his way through each of the sentries within the room. “Hm. Interesting.” He kneels beside the American and rips the hood off his head. The American blinks furiously, eyes watering under the harsh light pouring in through the open, glassless windows.
“Tell me your name,” Kathem says, pulling out the gag.
“Vincent,” the American snarls. CIA, perhaps?
“Vincent. Well, I think-“
“-van Gogh fuck yourself.” the American spits. “Go put on a burka and fuck a pig yo-“
There’s a deafening bang and the American’s brains explode over the back wall, a pink mist oozing from his skull as brains and bone issue across the floor. He, it would seem, did not have any Fate Points left to use. Kathem lowers the smoking .45 and turns to Baron. “Hm. Well, Ammar. I think you need to start telling me who you are and who you are working for. And then, when I kill you, it will be quick. It was not quick for him, Ammar.” Kathem leans down and rips off his shirt, revealing deep, fresh cuts down his entire torso-and, with closer inspection, you notice a sickening red stain in the…groin…of his pants. “I like you, Ammar. You’re funny. But you’re going to die. So you’re either going to tell me what I want to hear, and die a man…” he kicks the operative, who falls limply to the ground. “Or you’re going to die slow. In the desert. I’ll tear you apart and let you burn.”
Well isn’t this fabulous. The nearest cover you could dart behind is the table, however, it’s not much in the way of protection. On each side of you there are two guards-except for the front, where Kathem stands out of reach, pistol in hand. It’s…dubious…that you could draw and fire quickly enough to kill even one of them before they got you. You’re going to have to think fast-but that’s nothing for a psychiatrist of your caliber, is it Barry?
[THE SUPPORT TEAM]
Doctor Isaac Cromwell, Isaiah Washe, and Stanislov Volkov-along with the retinue of military advisers, communications workers under Maria, and a handful of frenzied pages running notes and memos from one expert to the next sat in the War Room, observing the unfolding catastrophe in real time. The Dreadnaughts had access to a few satellites-and, some half a mile above Tayibe was an unarmed UAV offering a "closer" view of the conflict. Various screens flickered with images, detailing the progress of each squad-it would be a simple matter for Isaac to direct his advice toward any number of them, although needless chatter may distract the soldiers.
[GENERAL NOTES]
The IC is ready to go. Now, some general rules to help refresh you/clarify any vagueness.
-Don’t assume the consequences of your actions. When in doubt, ask me. Instead of opening a door and describing what you see, you’ll write “Joe opens the door” (or something more literate and fancy), and I’ll tell you what’s inside, who’s inside, etc. If you are ever in any doubt/need more detail to make up your mind, feel free to ask! I don’t want to bury anyone with tons of needless descriptions, but anything your character could reasonably observe (for example, if-in Baron’s current predicament-he wishes to know how far away the table is exactly so he can decide if he can make it under there in time, I’ll tell him) I’ll be happy to supply you with.
-As previously mentioned, if you have radio systems, you are able to chat with your fellow RP’ers in the OOC, and it can then take effect IC. So, the team going to rescue LOKI can debate what the best course of action is in the OOC, come to a consensus, and then have Loviisa say “Alright, squad, we’re moving out this way” after a brief amount of chatter. If you’re not in a situation where you have radio systems-say your helmet gets damaged, or you’re currently Baron, then you will have to talk in the IC. There, you’re liable to be overheard. And it’s just more cumbersome.
-As we’re all getting the hang of things, I will go fairly easy on you for the first Act. Unless any of you do anything catastrophically stupid, you probably won’t die in this Act. However, don’t get crazy. I want everybody to get a sense for how things work, for us to work out any kinks in the system, and then move on to more higher stakes things.
-Last but not least, this RP is shaped by your choices. You are free to disobey your orders, turn on your comrades, etc. You’ll suffer consequences for your actions, but you have freedom here. Be innovative! If I can’t come up with a response for your means of solving a problem, it means you guys are kicking ass. The stat system is always fluid-you're welcome to try and figure out ways of applying your character's strong suits to areas they're weaker in. Writing a solid strategy for a Tactics check or being genuinely caring in an attempt to Regulate someone may change the outcome. Remember to be realistic, and most importantly to have fun.
Aiight Dreadnaughts. Let’s go save the day or whatever.