Marik — Roleplayer Guild

“Fantastic work Dutch. I take it you delivered the shipment without much trouble then… No? Well, it can’t always be so easy can it? No matter. You’ve finished the job, little problems notwithstanding.” Balalaika took a long hit from her cigar as the Captain of the Black Lagoon expanded on the details of their most recent job via phone call. Hotel Moscow had recently acquired a group of sex slaves that needed to be transported to an auction. Apparently there had been some law enforcement involvement, as well as interference from the original owners of the slaves. It wasn’t anything Lagoon Company couldn’t handle of course; Balalaika trusted them with her employment for a reason after all. “Well, they’d be fools to try and come after Hotel Moscow’s business again after that. And if they do… we won’t be so generous to leave them with what little they have left.” As if to simulate the demise of said individuals, the scarred vixen rather forcefully brought down her cigar on the trembling mass of the bound man who could have been considered the leader of the irate gang who attempted to get their property back, his muffled screams only reaching foreign ears that only wished to do him harm. “And we will be coming after your friends if they ever decide to show their faces in this city again.” With each word the burning tobacco twisted over the captive’s clammy forehead, hoping dearly that this would be the worst of it. When he figured out that it wasn’t? A foul liquid formed around the chair he was strapped against, the final notice that he had been broken. Balalaika quickly withdrew her foot, unwilling to give this doomed gangster the satisfaction of a final “fuck you” with the sullying of her shoe. “Oh, and Dutch? I’d stay away from the east warehouses. You know how violent it can get over there. I hear bodies just litter the streets…” And at that moment, everything went black, both for the old captain and the captive. One body slumped, and the other faded from this existence, if only for a brief moment.

Meanwhile, in another existence not unlike the last, a filled arena lay dark. The crowd could do little more than mutter excitedly in anticipation, and just when they couldn’t wait any longer… fire. Bursts of smoldering flame emitted from the entrance ramp, and out came something that could have only been created in a terrible, fever induced nightmare. Towering in at an astonishing seven feet, the demon Kane stomped all 323 pounds of himself slowly down to the ring, savoring every second of pure fear that dripped off of the audience. Accompanying him was another evil individual, though this truth wasn’t as clear in comparison to the masked menace that prowled alongside him. The vile Paul Bearer followed behind his child with an ever constant sneer on his face, daring anyone with his gaze to stand up to the monster he created. As expected, Kane made it to the ring without much protest. Once inside the squared circle, he commenced in the ritual of slowly raising his arms in the air, calling something from hell itself. In one fluid motion, Kane crashed his arms down, and another torrent of hellfire surfaced, this time surrounding the ring. As ringside commentator Michael Cole would describe it, Kane was the embodiment of horror. Out of all the superstars waiting backstage, who could possibly take on such a menace? There would be only one, and that man was Kane’s brother, The Undertaker. As if it was fate, or some sort of cosmic force brought on by the dead man himself, the stadium went dark again with only the chime of a bell as warning. As the lights returned, Paul Bearer was astounded to find himself alone in the ring…

In the hours that passed, Balalaika woke to find herself on top of a futuristic apartment building asking all the usual questions. Why was she here? What exactly brought on this sequence of events? Why does everything look like an unsolved Rubik's Cube? Her answers would come in the form of investigation of the locals, and through womanly charm and intimidation, she was as up to date as possible. The leftover time until the first challenge would be spent gathering useful supplies and making allies with various other challengers until together they had a small rag-tag team. Unfortunately, these competitors fell short when it came to iron will and fighting power, because at the start of the first challenge, they were all either killed, or forced to retreat. Luckily Balalaika fell into the latter category, making her way up a familiar Mountain Trail with little more than a pack with sparse supplies and the pistol she entered this god forsaken place with. As she trekked forward, the Russian’s mind couldn’t help but venture back to Afghanistan. The measly group of competitors she had amassed were nothing in comparison to the Soviet paratroopers. This truly would be a war worth fighting if her brothers in arms were here. Thoughts of nostalgia were soon dismissed by a ruckus farther up the trail, and unwilling to die to the unknown, Balalaika crept forward slowly, using an outcropping of rocks as cover from the electric beast as well as the three individuals that battled it. Interestingly, these competitors looked like they were faring decently against this particular monster, and through a rather brash split-second decision, Balalaika took up arms behind the rocks and aimed to shoot the creature in its head, hoping to get a lucky bullet lodged in its brain for a quick kill.

While this went on, a large red figure suddenly arose out of the bushes in the forest. With little basis on what was going on, Kane found himself confused and angry, mostly at his brother. Upon noticing the obvious clamor that was approaching, he became deadset on getting revenge and started to barrel up the path, pushing aside any small foliage that got in his way and inadvertently clearing a path for anyone going the same direction.

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