BigPapaBelial

The Conflict

I don't remember. I can make something in my next post.

The Conflict

@Starlance@FourtyTwo

Hayden gripped his pistol tight. He realizes he started this with his own paranoia and distrust, but even as it slowly looks like it's about to turn into a shit show. He breathes evenly, his eyes closing as he wrestles with himself to try and turn this around. When he opens his eyes he stares down the barrel of that pistol. His eyes narrowing, but not backing down, it's too late for that. He stares over the business end of pistol in his face, “Fine...fine...” He takes another deep breath then slides his Hi Power into the waistband of his pants, and raises his hand, “My paranoia gets the better of me. Tell you what. Let’s sit, all at one table get a drink. If we’re all on the same side that should be okay right? Come on.” He motions to Bethan and Sean’s table, and then motions the Russian woman over.

HE sits down on one of the stools and motions to a waiter who's walking by. The dark skinned Belgian that comes over, wearing SMAC colors comes over, "Ladies, Gentlemen? Can I be of assistance? Drinks? Food perhaps?" Hayden is about to ask for a round of beers, when the waiter raises a finger, "Ah I should mention sirs and madams, that here in Matanbai, the inflation on our dollar has sadly reached a point that...well it takes millions to buy a sack of flour. So paper money of any kind even coins are mostly useless." He nods, "I am paid in diamonds or gemstones, they are abundant. And honestly at the moment are some of the most valuable things in Matanbai." He smiles, "I say this just to warn you sirs and madams. All food and drink tonight are on the SAMC gem. But out there. Not so much."

Hayden hums, "Then we're going to need to find a way to earn it. Drinks then." He tells the waiter, "Nothing too hard. Just like...Canadian Whiskey if you can manage it, Black Velvet if you can." The waiter grins, "Give me just a short moment sir." He then runs off quickly. Hayden sighs, "Consider this me trying to put in the effort to apologies. We're all in this beside each other. I'm sure we could all just leave and fuck off. But when I'm given a task I see it through. Besides the reward is worth it." He nods, and looks around the table, "We don't have to like each other, but I think, we're going to have to work with each other."

He looks around carefully, "So I propose, we work together. Find some work. SAMC maybe, for now, see if we can figure something out. Get some intelligence. Find out something about this..." He looks at his mission briefing, "This Hyena, learn about him, track him down, get rid of him, then get out of her. Somehow, somewhen." Hayden leans forward, the waiter returning with indeed a bottle of the black labeled Lehbridge distilled Black Velvet whiskey, a good Canadian brewed drink. The waiter pours out four glasses and passes them out. Hayden looking around the table again, "Drink to it?"

The Hunt, A Modern Fantasy Smorgasbord RP

@13org@Kumbaris@Martian@AWACS@ReusableSword

The Contribution of a Shaman and Three Gods

The songs and empowering ritual continues. Micheal can hear the fighting on the other side of the wood pile his godly friends and he are hiding behind. He peeks up at one point to see the fighting and can see over the top of it all Scarlet firing clean into the Bikers, Amanda laying about her. Xavrion adding his ability to the chaos. It's incredible to see honestly. And he feels a shock of pride run through him that he can be part of such an able and skillful team. It's incredible to see it. And almost harkens back to stories he was told of Waskechak and other great names of the past. Geronimo's rebellion, and the battles of Sitting Bull. That is what this feels like to Micheal in this moment. Pride in his soul, in his heart at that moment.

A pride that though still warm, cools like a chunk of cast iron in the bottom of his chest. A cold, heavy feeling in his very being. It's the same cold thousands of other Shaman and Shaman women, Medicine men and women who helped to face the abomination years ago. Many of them were extinguished in the fight. Burned by a cold fire, struck by ethereal coils of power, or just destroyed utterly, body, soul and mind, screaming as a dirty power struck them down. He'd been beside a laugh-lined faced Shaman who's voice when in song was like a cheery bell. He'd gasped, stopped singing then screamed as a fire of cold fire burst out from within. He'd died trying to continue the song that had kept the Great Ghost Dance going to help against the Abomination.

And here now Micheal sees a mirror, a image, a fragment of that thing from long ago. Something left over, something brought forth from that dark knife. He'd dropped his drum stick and reaches out towards the mage, "NO!" He's screamed. But too late. The man is consumed utterly and there stands in the mages place. That shard of the Abomination. His friends stand and recoil. They'd either been on the moon where it was kinda safe or in a lodge during the fight. But now they are so close. So very close. Micheal snatches up his tomahawk then angrily, "Being from Beyond! You will not remain here! By the Shaman and Medicine clans! In the name of Misti Louie, Poundmaker, and all great Chiefs and Wisemen, I, Shaman Crane will not let you remain!"

He reaches down and slices the Cree Syllabic rune for Fire, then Ice, then Wind and finally Lightning into the ground. It's not a song this time. It's just a rough, empowered war cry. And he stomps his foot onto the rune for Fire. A glow forming in front of him before he strikes it with his tomahawk, a bolt of fire growling across the distance, and flaring against the things chest, "Fall!" he cries, then another war whoop, stomping down on the Rune for Wind. A near invisible blade of harsh cold Arctic wind lashing out to slash across the Horror's shoulder, "Fall!" He cries again, as he gathers himself for another attack.

The Conflict

@Starlance@FourtyTwo

Hayden sighs and rubs his cheek then turns slightly a little startled at first. He looks at the woman striding up towards him, "Ah? What Deal with the..." He hums, and listens looking the woman over. The accent first of course, Welsh islands...Irish? Something along those lines he really can't tell. Lords but it's clear. He flicks his eyes over as the man who was sitting with her speaks up. Hayden's eyes narrowing a touch, not sure if this is a play or something. Then the lady that looked...Russian? Or something along those lines. It's shocking.

And they seem to have some idea. Could these folks really be the other operatives? The guy from the Prime Ministers office that called him said there would be others. That other governments had pitched into the operation. There were supposed to be a fair number of them, but it looks like just them in all, four operators. But then sometimes a small group like that is enough to do something big. You just gotta trust. After abit he nods, then brings out a piece of paper. On it stamped is the symbol of the Canadian Armed Forces and the Prime Ministers of Canada. And in curt words on it is all the information he was given. Meet in the capitol, the team would meet up and go about the mission. Any surviving member would get one hundred and fifty million of their home countries dollars. Lots of money for almost anywhere. More then enough to live comfortably for anyone for any amount of time.

He looked up at the pair, "So the question is, have any of you, seen something like this?" He quirked an eyebrow, looking to Yekaterina then Bethan and Sean. "Because if the answer is yes, then great, the job is slightly less complicated, if no, then I'm sorry." His hand beginning to move to the duffle bag on the top of his table, "I got too much riding on this. And I'm not going down so early in the mission." The Hi Power snakes out of the bag, and into his palm.

--------------------

Meanwhile across town a gun market is bustling. A dark skinned man shouting into the street, "Come on everyone look at these guns!" He lifts an AK-47u and fires several shots off for a French merc. Showing that it works. The Frenchman hums and nods, taking a .357 magnum off the table, looking it over, snapping the loader open checking the barrel and everything. Noddding curiously. The market stall owner crowing and nodding, "You know good weapon sir. Only been used ten times. Each time a kill. Bought it from a Belgian merc, sadly he is very dead, but his gun remains. Ten diamonds or 50 gems and it's yours yes?"

The Frenchman hums and reaches into a pocket, pulling out a bag, and starts to count out 25 gemstones, ranging from rubies to sapphires and tourquies, then three diamonds atop them. He pushes the stones to the stall owner, "This should be enough, for the revolver?" The stall owner hums looking the gems over with a practiced eye then nods, sliding the gun over along with twelve rounds, "More then enough sir. Yes yes. Pleasure. And remember Ajid has best guns." The Frenchman nods, and turns away holstering the revolver. And walks off brushing past a pale skinned blonde haired man, with a steel case in hand, he walks right up to Ajid and places it on the counter top, his voice deep and menacing, "Compliments of the Hyena." Ajid goes quiet, "What...but he never does business here...what do you want...what do you have?" The case pops open and inside, a pair of parted out M4 carbines. Older guns, slightly patined, but they are still beautiful in their make. The blonde haired man smiles, "I'm of the Pack, just remember who gave you these. Worth atleast 100 diamonds together."

Ajid gasps and whips out a machete and hacks at a man who tries to grab the case. He nods to the blonde, "Yes sir, Ajid will remember."

----------------------

Back at the BBQ Hayden looks at the three in front of him, "I'm going to need an answer. No one will notice right away if this comes to blood." As if to affirm that there's a blurt of rifle fire to their rear as some merc shows off his accuracy.

Hayden looks at them through slightly narrowed eyes. His hand fisted around the grip of the Hi Power, "Are you the other operatives?"

The Conflict

Post in the works. Give me until tomorrow. Tonight though I need sleep I feel. Sorry folks. I promise I'll get a post up shortly.

The Borehole - A Supervillain Prison Break

I kinda drifted away for abit. Is this still going to get going? If so. @Zombiedude101 can I send you a DM to run an idea by you?

The Conflict

Out in the garden, we're all facing away from each other right now. Kind of a triangle formation. I apologize for not being clearer.

The Conflict

@Starlance@FourtyTwo

Despite which ever way they arrive, the group of killer, thieves, deadlasts, mercenaries and/or wannabes find themselves in the garden of the South African Mining Company. The place, like a fortress.

It's almost disgusting. Men and women with guns almost everywhere. Many of them wearing SAMC outfits. There's as many as fifty barbeque grills going. There's a few spits even with hogs, and hunks of beef and even a bunch of lambs turning over the flames. There's booze by the gallon, pop and soda abounds. SAMC seems to have pulled out every stop they could to make this shindig something that anyone attending and even some not attending will remember for months to come.

As a band starts on a stage there is a spectacle to see. As three buses roll into the courtyard. They park up and SAMC mercs are the first out. AKs and low grade G3s. They then start yelling and out of the buses come tourists, business men and various other kinds of people from many walks of life. From one bus comes four different groups of relief workerss. Red Cross, Doctors without Borders and UN Aid Workers. Out of that bus is dumped the relief workers gear and kit they brought with them. Food, medical equipment and gear to repair and recreate the infrastructure of the country. Dumped rather unceremoniously on the ground. The medical personell withing the groups rushing to salvage any of their gear that might be damaged.

As they do one of the SAMC leaders. A man who looks like little more then a African warlord steps forward. Dressed in clean fatigues and with a shiny silver plated revolver at his hip walks forward chewing on something that leaks brown spittle out of the corner of his mouth. He nods then shouts, "Relief and Aid workers from around the world. Witness the power and safety of the South African Mining Company. And know, as long as you do not go to the Congolese Oil, Gas and Silver company you will be allowed free passage all across Matanbai! Come all of you. Join the feast. We will make sure your gear is repaired and made ready when you go out among the people of Matanbai!"

The aid workers of all three factions are guided out and away. And into the garden.

Hayden managing to grab his duffle bag, makes his way into the crowd. Well the insertion/infiltration went about right. Now he wondered where the rest of the group is supposed to be.

---------------

It takes a little while but soon Hayden, Yekaterina, Sean and Bethan are approached by people. In the case of the Masons, it's a long haired African woman, in respledent silks, "Sir and Madam Mason? Come with me please." For all anyone knows she's a representative of SAMC. In Yekaterina's case it's a tall square jawed Balkan man, "Madam, follow me please." His manner is like that of an executive. In Hayden's case it's a round faced Korean woman with a nose piercing and grey eyes. "Mr. Moses, please follow me." Each of the groups is lead to a trio of tables arranged in a circle. Atleast at first they are arrayed so they are looking away from each other. But after their guides leave. It's Hayden that finally gets bored and mutters, "This fucking job is getting more and more complicated. Why the hell does the guy take me here and leave me? Am I meeting someone? And where the hell are the other operatives!?"

The Conflict

@Starlance

The last one hundred and twenty kilometers to Tangayi on the Big NB, is known for three things. The hacked back foliage along it's edges, the spectacular view of the central plains beyond that and, well the endless traffic. It's almost like driving the Queen Elizabeth Two highway in Alberta, or watching the German Autobahn sometimes. Almost endless traffic. And having a big fat Soviet era cargo truck groan to a halt on the near un-laned highway, well. The other traffic has to dodge. The driver of the ZIL grumbles, flashlight held between his teeth, and shoving the jack up under the truck. The flashlight shaking as he grumbles something in a harsh bastardized form of what sounds like a mix of English, and German. The man mutters something that sounds like, "They have to give me the bad one. Always me. Always Gunter..." He starts to lever the truck up with a grunt. Ignoring other vehicles blazing around them. An egyptian cargo truck there, a surplus soviet era 4x4 next, an honest to god year 2000 Bugatti, with shouting Matanban teens at the wheel. Children of one of the mining chiefs perhaps.

As he works the man suddenly stops and looks up, and right at Yekaterina approaching him. He takes the light out of his mouth and shines it at her feet then calls out in that broken language of his, "Hey! Why out of truck?" Another ZIL growls past them. The driver groans and tries to get back to work.

In the distance a series of pops and cracks. And roaring engines. The driver looks up again then ducks under the car as several jeeps and SUVs approach at even higher speeds then some of the other vehicles approach. Riding in passenger seats, standing in the back of truck beds, proudly shouting and roaring to the sky, surplus AKs, FALs, and G3s popping rounds into the air. Less like they are trying to cause trouble as to just get attention. As the six vehicles race by one of them heaves back then throws something at the stopped truck, something about the size of a grenade pinging off the side of the truck and rolls to a stop right at the feet of the driver under the truck...

And nothing. The item sits there. The driver after awhile crawling out from under the truck to look at it, "Not bomb?" He picks it up, and manages to unravel a flyer from around a rock.

The Flyer reads, "SAMC invites you all to a get together and BBQ at their offices on the Eastern side of Tangayi, come and enjoy the hospitality of the SAMC board of directors." In very small print it also reads, "Recruiters will be on site." The driver hands the flyer to Yekaterina, "Maybe good?"

@FourtyTwo

It's dark under the canopy. Blacker then pitch even. Someday in the future only one thing would be darker and that'd be Vantablack. But now right now this is dark. Without a light it's hard to tell which way the pair are going. Easy to get turned around in the jungle. But luckily, just barely they can make out the slowly rising dawn sun. Atleast they know which way is East. And the capitol can't be that far.

It's some time later though that they luck out? Maybe? Well some kind of luck. As between one hack of the machete and the next suddenly a drop off. Holy fuck it's a logging road! And as if on cue and early early EARLY morning truck is rollign towards them, lights blazing, with a surprised honk the large loggingrig rolls to a stop. The dark skinned man who gets out isn't African, he's French. He starts shouting at them in French, "What the fuck are you two doing here? Do you have any idea how dangerous the jungle can be?" He climbs down out of his truck and crosses over to the pair, "What the hell? You mercs? Who are you working for? SAMC? COGS?" Upon saying COGS the man spits to the side disrespectfully. He sniffs then, "Ah, come on. I'll give you a ride to the camp. Maybe one of the foremen can get you to the capitol, he can take you to the offices. Get you settled. Hear there's a big get together going on over there." He gestures for them to join him in the cab of his truck.

---------------------

Elsewhere the train shifted again and this time Hayden sighs and gives up on trying to sleep any longer. His eyes opening and he can see the slow dawn rising.

And suddenly the train begins to slow. It's clear. The serengeti about the train line coming to a stop as the train grinds to a halt. And several trucks starts to drive along side train. Some with Red Cross logos on them some with COGS though they stay on the left, while on the right are a bunch of SAMC trucks. Hayden hums and casually as he can reaches up for his bag, grabbing the battered Hi Power out and carefully hiding it before any of the real aid workers see it. He hides it in his jacket. As he sees SAMC and COGS men board the train.

There's a tense quiet moment as groups of them meet between cars. Then the COGS go to the high class cars while the SAMC proceed into the third class cars. One of them crying out, "Everyone here. If you are Matanban, stay seated. If you are not. Stand up!" And about two thirds of the first car, and many more in the other two third class cars also stand. Hayden among them. The Canadian keeps his hand ready to grab his gun as the SAMC militia work their way through the standing crowd. One of them speaking from the front, "People of foreign lands. You come to Matanbai. Home of Proud people. Here you are the strangers not us! Remember that SAMC, watches over the ones who are strong and kind. Though COGS say otherwise. SAMC is wise. Matanban people may go in peace when the train stops. But you Red Cross and you foriegn people will come with us, in busses. To the SAMC offices."

Hayden's eyes narrow. And watches as the SAMC and COGS begin to exit the train, leaving one man in every car to watch over the people. Hayden hums, sitting down again as the train starts to move. And all he can think is, "Damn...this is not good..."

The Conflict

Alright full circle. I love it.

I will begin writing after I finish my traveling tomorrow.

Going to The Hu in concert tomorrow kiddos.

But need to make a 6 hour trip down to the city tomorrow.

Post skeleton is already in the noggin.

Bear with me.