ONL

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski

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Location: Camp Mexico Beach: H6 Quarantine (Conference Room)
Skills: N/A

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Alexander was trying to keep out all the various distractions that kept him from focusing completely at the Mel Brooks movie on the TV; Wayne who was for some reason permitted to baby-sit little Jamie of James and Tatiana, Hank who decided to wake up just now, Hunter the young soldier with a troubled mind akin to himself playing pool with Nikki and…oh, who was Alexander fooling? It was difficult for the old veteran to not pay attention to what happened around him, it was an old habit that dragged itself up from the bloody mud in 'Nam and to the conference room of Florida. For an old man though, he was quite good at watchig both the TV and the others.

Manny wasn't sitting with Alexander for this one, so Alexander didn't have anyone else to keep his mind occupied. So he couldn't help but wonder how in the Hell Wayne was able to keep watch over little Jamie, but he didn't object to it. He hated getting involved in matters like that, but more so was what Hank said about being a father. It struck a chord in ol' Alexander, giving the veteran a sad smile that filled his face for a moment as he fell deep into thought.

He wanted to be a dad himself, he really did. Judith wanted too…she had wanted too, but…It was a memory Alexander had repressed for a very long time now, but he held his jaw shut and his tears in check, like so many times before. It pained him, but the pain was nothing new and he had gotten used to repressing it, even before the whole world ended and God decided to make Alexander question everything that was holy.

They had wanted to be parents, both of them…but God was not on their side…and it was hurtful.

Alexander broke his forced stare of the TV, slowly looking up at Wayne and Jamie, both of who were soley invested in the movie, briefly looking over at the screen himself as he forced himself into conversation. "So…how's the little trooper? Okay?"

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Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper

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Location: Camp Mexico Beach: Quarantine (Conference Room)
Skills: Basic Psychology

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Nigel let out a sigh of relief at Erika giving him something to make fun of her with, laughing a little like she did, glad that she didn't take her own person as seriously as he did himself…perhaps Nigel "Hadrian" the neo-roman was as stuck up as Wayne made him out to be? Probably not, but he was glad nonetheless. "I'll try to remember it when the times is right, can't come up with anything right now, sadly…but thanks." Nigel said back to Erika, waiting for her judgement on them possibly joining the two old, 'wise' men of Hank and Wayne for more possible joking around himself.

While he listened to Erika's view on their verdict of whether or not they'd be allowed to stay, and what the deal was with between Hunter and Checkbook. She was right indeed, it would be an interesting match if things played out the way Aphrodite might have wanted it to be. Then again, Hunter had made progress since the first day they arrived at the Camp, and Nigel had slowly grown used to sharing quarters with him. The kid was scared, probably having seen a lot of shit since the wrld ended. Deep in that thought, Nigel almost didn't register the look on Erika's face as he'd nudged her foot back. For a moment he didn't realize what was wrong, but then he did, blushing a little himself and only giving her a brief glance. He tried to say something, but thankfully Erika broke the silence.

"Yeah…thanks, Erika…I'm glad at least one here calls me right…" Nigel thanked Erika, looking back up at her after their foot nudgeing, giving her a quick and playful tap on the shoulder at her last comment. "Hey! Don't you start having any funny ideas, okay? I can give you names too, you know…Officer…Officer Longhair Donuts?" Nigel managed to pull of a joke as he turned his attention towards what he had almost jumped into himself; The movie on the TV and Wayne. He had to admit, he had at first no idea what to make of the scene; Wayne sitting there calmly and collected with Jamie on his lap, keeping watch over the kid and enjoying the movie like…a loving adult? But the more he looked and the more he thought about it, it made more sense.

Wayne, the Calligua of the 21st Century had probably been a dad before Hades and his hordes conqured the living. And Jamie…he was keeping him in check. His madness. No more, if not less swatting around and talking into thin air, Wayne was so focused on little Jamie, it made Wayne more humane…it was really odd, yet beautiful to witness. Perhaps there was hope…"Perhaps there is hope, after all, for us all…? To begin again?"

Red Dead Reckoning

Location: Armadillo || Mentions: NONE

"I'm going to ask you one last time, mister, and then I'll stop being so nice. Where did they go?" Two men stood outside under the open, now dimming sky of New Austin as the darkness of night was arriving in fast stride. One of the men stood tall and proud, though to the untrained appearing less than threatening to the normal cowboy out here on the arid plains. In his hand he brandished good old revolver, held firmly in its grip and swaying calmly by his side. So far, the talking man had not pointed it at the other one. The other stood not as tall or proud as the first, all beaten up and barely standing as he had just gotten up from his feet. The man was not a pretty sight to behold, neither his bruised eye and limping leg a sign of anything good having happened to the man.

"You can ask as many times as you'd like, pal, but I ain't talkin'. Not to a goodie two-shoes who'll get me hanged, you bastard." The broken man spat back at his interrogator, spitting a clot of blood at the blonde haired man. He was cleanly shaven and looked young, though the bags under his eyes spoke years of a difficult life. The blonde man sighed audibly, his eyes drifting down to his boots. Clearly he had not gotten the answer he'd wanted. The answer he needed. "If that's so…" he spoke up to his prisoner, head rising up as well as the revolver, pointed straight at the beaten sorry sod of a man. "Then I suggest you start running. I have no need for a silent man, and your kind's not welcome in this world either. I'll give you ten…"

The beaten man looked at first in angered confusion at the blonde man, until the cogs behind his eyes began to turn. Ten. Ten seconds. "Nine, eight, seven…" The count continued. He began to limp away as fast as he could, though it was too little, too late. "Three, two, one…" A shot rang out through the emptiness, wildlife scattering off in the distance, and then a quiet thump not too far away. The man was dead, shot through his back. The alive man stepped slowly over to his body, turning him around with his foot and looking at the dead man in his now empty eyes. "Our last lead, cold…God damnit…what now?"

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Erik calmly rode into the only town he knew of in New Austin, his trusted stead Knegg carrying his human master on his back. Armadillo. It looked like a quaint little town, not too different from the one they had back home. Peaceful, open for newcomers. Hopefully. Erik longed for a drink, something to fill his empty stomach and cheer him up after today's failure of getting information; Where the "Gang" had gone off to. The only thing was that they had gone in the direction of Armadillo, but he doubted that they'd stayed there for too long, and decided to investigate around it. Came across a bandit who tempted him with hints, but never giving him a straight answer out of the bastard. And now he was dead, and Erik without clues.

"Perhaps tomorrow will come, and God will give an answer finally…don't you think, Knegg?" Erik asked his horse, who acted only as a horse should and went where Erik told him to. Without a reply from his trusted friend of a stead, Erik steared Knegg towards what must have been the local saloon, tied him to the post and made the now tiring steps up the stairs and through the swining doors. It looked just like any saloon, filled with exactly what Erik thought he'd meet of both people and mood. Erik walked slowly over to the counter and took a seat. "One whiskey, please." With the order put in, Erik reached into the satchel on his side and pulled out a worn piece of paper. On it was the unmistakable design of a wanted-poster, in the middle a few faces stacked beside each other of real mean-looking people.

These were the people who would pay dearly in blood. Erik would ensure that.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Robert Adler

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Location: Indiana(Heading for Grimm)
Skills: N/A

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Robert wasn't a fast sleeper by a long shot. He'd never been in his life, not even when he wanted to. It wasn't doing him any favours this time that he'd already drank a few cups of coffee before they set out on the road. As Robert leaned his head against the palm of his hand, resting against the car's passenger door, he shuffled around in his seat a little while only half listening to Adelaide. Oh yeah, this Malony character sounded like a lot of fun…if you wanted to be killed by a creep. Falling asleep, Robert was not looking forward to Grimm. It sounded like a bad place where bad thing happened. But so was Chicago, and he lived there?

Why was the sun so bright, and the air so warm? Robert stood on a beach, no it was a desert. He wanted to run from something, something terrible behind him He knew that if he stood still, it was coming to take him and make his life a whole lot of pain. So why couldn't he move? Robert looked in fear down at his feet, the sand slowly pulling the insurance fraud investigator down into it's grainy jaws. He felt weak and fragile as he couldn't move, only turn to see what loomed behind him. A darkness hovering over him, flying pieces of paper dropping by him and giving him paper cuts. He knew deep in his soul what this was, and as he saw the darkness envelope him and his vision shrouded, he heard it's name.

Time. Time slipping through his fingers, his life slipping through…

Robert shot his eyes open and stiffed his whole body upon awaking, looking dazzed around him. No, this was just Adelaide's car, nothing to fear. Robert jawned and rubbed his eyes, trying to get the sleep out of them as he couldn't see properly. "Uh…how long was I gone? Any closer to Grimm or an approriate time for a break?" Robert asked his driver looking over at her, though the haze remaining. "I think I might have drank too much coffee…it's messing with my eyes. Hey, are you all right?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski

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Location: Camp Mexico Beach: H6 Quarantine (Briefing -> Conference Room)
Skills: N/A

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A briefing. A good, old fashioned military briefing with everything it required: Waiting on the NCO to brief them, the date of the previous mission or mission-releated incident, the contents of said mission or event and how it was affecting the whole strategic position in their sector of South Vietnam. And lasty, what they were going to do in order to adress this issue. That was the standard proceedure Alexander had gone through, time and time again back during the war, and he could so vividly see one of countless briefings flash across his face. Hey, where's 'Sarge? He'll be here soon enough, Bunker. He's never been this late before. Well duh, he's obviously back home making sweet, sweet to your mother. Screw you! Yeah screw you George. It ain't 'Sarge, Bunker's from Alabama you know, they do it differently there. I'll beat you, Polawski! All right everyone one, shut your faces and sit down. Here's the situation…

Alexander sat quietly on his chair and gave Gunny a welcoming nod as they were finally beginning the briefing. As the fold of papers were put on the table and Gunny began to turn them, Alexander asked himself what this could be about. The first thing to cross his mind was those asswipes at Eden they'd thrown back to Hell where they belonged. Were they still a threat? Had they followed the Eden group down to Florida? Or where Mexico Beach going after them? What he did not expect was a briefing about Thana.

The old veteran's eyes remained fixed on the two Martins as Gunny debriefed of everything that had went down; Thana leaving them for supplies, leading away the horde, nearly dying and coming back to life, and their reunion. His posture remained as straight as Alexander could manage in the pressence of the military, though his head slumped forward more and more as he thought to himself; Thana was alive all along, and they weren't told? They hadn't been straight up-front with them, giving them a half-truth in that she had been there and was gone. What did they think Thana's friends would take of it? That she was out shopping for groceries!? It was just like the military to do. Lying, never giving the fighting men the whole picture and instead handing out blurred images of what 'might' be. And in his silent observing of the briefing, it angered it. It seemed that nothing changed.

Nothing changed.

But then Gunny came to the last page, the last step on the way of clarity, and Alexander's head rose up again. It wasn't Gunny, General or anyone else in Camp Mexico Beach who'd taken the decision to without the truth. It was Thana herself. Thana saved them, on several occations. In leaving them behind and giving them a half truth half lie, she saved them. Alexander could only imagine himself demanding to leave the camp in order to get Thana back, or even more anyone else of his squad. Thana had gone through Hell and back in order to keep them alive…her soldiers, her friends. In the end Alexander had to respect that, even for all the fear and sorrow he'd felt over her absence, how many nights he'd prayed for her safe return or safe passage to Heaven.

"Then let the past be past, and go faithfully into the future now that all is well…" Alexander whispered to himself while the others took in the information just as hard as he had done. He didn't know what else to say. No questions to ask, not orders to follow, no mission to conduct. But now they all knew what had happened. Alexander looked at Thana one last time as they were requested and lead back to the Conference room, giving her a brief smile and a look of an old grandparent who was just glad everything had turned out all right. Alexander followed Panama and the others back to their rec-room and found himself a seat near the TV for once. He didn't say anything or seak company, but he was a fool not the recognize a Mel Brooks movie when he saw one!

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Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper

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Location: Camp Mexico Beach: Quarantine (Conference Room)
Skills: N/A

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Perhaps Nigel shouldn't have asked that question? Whether Erica was hoping someone would, by some miracle show up at the gates of Camp Mexico Beach, someone she missed. Erica only gave him a slight shrug, she didn't think so. She had never been big on sharing from her personal life, even to Nigel, but a whole lot better at it to him than to their two grumpy old men. But when Nigel thougth about it, he couldn't recall whether she'd mentioned anyone from her earlier life, so he figured the "I don't think so" spoke volumes. Nigel looked up at her with an apologetic look, but didn't excuse himself for asking, not knowing he had done a stupid thing. But he would answer his own question. "I hope so. We can only hope. Hope is the dream of a waking man."

The sorry look on Nigel's face melted slowly back into the grin from earlier, glad to hear Erica laugh again. He missed laughing, a sign of what normal life should be like. He liked it. He liked Erica's laugh. "Yes you are. One of these day's you got to start giving me something to nag you with." He laughed back at her, then looking as the group of people were taken out. "My thoughts exactly…but if I know these people, we won't be fed any answers with a silver spoon anytime soon."

Nigel didn't expect the foot nudging from Erica, and didn't realize it was her for a moment, looking down at his foot before finally seeing it was her foot. He had to chuckle, giving her a nudge back as a "Yeah, I'm awake." Looking around the room, he couldn't help but notice that to his great but pleasent surprise, Hunter was playing pool with one of their younger guards. "Looks like Hunter is making friends." Oh yeah, Nigel sounded like a proud father at this point. Wayne had put another movie on the TV, calling forth Nigel "Sportacus" to join and watch a great scene about Rome. Nige shook his head, both in obvious annoyance and eye-rolling amusement of Wayne. The man was clearly crazy, but the way he also carefully handled little Jamie, there was something geniune going on there. "What do you say? Want to make more fun of my Roman disposition, Erica?"

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Mahendra Huq Zalil

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Location: Athribis (Underground)
Skills: N/A

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It was a lot to take in for the Bengali geologist, now effectively the Fellowship's de facto Head of Archeology. Not only the extraordinary, in-fact unbelievable results they'd made after what Mahendra had to admit both audibly to the fair Miss Kingston and quietly to himself, as a lady he'd not anticapated faring well in this subterranian enviroment, but impressed him. No, Mahendra thought about all the conversation flying past him in those dimly-lit, dusty and quiet tunnels. Conversations which topics ranged from the academic to the trivial, and lastly noble!

First it was the matter of the markings Nora had so brilliantly made sense out of, which Mahendra couldn't possibly have done any better himself. The markings were no ordinary markings in a long-forgotten and desolute tomb, they were possible marking of given directions. A map of sorts? "For once it seems Fate is perhaps smiling on us." Mahendra said back to Nora, nodding encourageingly at her proposal for a map. "A map would be most useful in these circumstances, if our past is about to repeat itself down here. Would you like me to draw said map as well? I am quite adept with a pen and paper."

Second was Gene's exclaimation of this being a "vacation". In the process of pulling out his own notebook and a decently sharpened pencil, Mahendra silently scoffed at Gene's attitude towards all of this. Again he questioned why she was here in the Fellowship, what part of this intricate play she was to play? But the third topic was more important to adress.

The third and last was the subject of Belladonna; Her whereabouts and the best cause for action! Mahendra did not disagree with the Honourable Lord Major's concern for Belladonna and his wish to focus their attention on her disappearance. It was indeed quite integral to them that they did not lose her, it would be a stain on their good name and honour to simply abandon her, even if Mahendra still feared her possible knowledge of his swim in the Nile the day before. In good manner and fashion, Mahendra looked at his would-be commanding officer and nodded in agreement as a good would-be soldier.

But Gene for once - and Mahendra could simply not believe he thought so himself - had a fair point. How? And Nora raised the question whether or not she was alive at all. Dreadful. Lauren asked perhaps the two questions solid enough in his matter. With all this in mind, Mahendra decided to voice his opinion on the matter as politely as he could. "If I may be so bold, Lord Major Sir, I do not believe venturing into said darkness if abandoning Miss Belladonna. If we take the points already raised, going further down this new tunnel might be our best option. I did not like that hole myself." Mahendra raised his concerns to the Lord Major, before turning his attention back to Lauren who asked him and Nora a question, and in turn himself asked Nora the same one. "You probably understand that map better than any of us. Any clues?" Mahehndra asked Nora, though taking a look at the markings of directions she spoke of himself. Perhaps he could after all understand them, perhaps in a different way? That was if he could actually see anything at all…as if by the soft hands of some divine being, a fog…a haze cast itself over Mahendra's eyes, obscuring his vision. What was this sorcery? I am…seeing stars? What is this?

Roll request for Mahendra

Characters current location: Athribis, underground
Characters attempted actions: With the theory of the markings being directions of the underground complex, Mahendra would like to look at them after Nora, hoping to gleam some more information out of them from an archeological standpoint, if not simply to guess which way might lead downwards.
Any and all skills being used: Excavation, Understanding of local Egyptian superstition
Why each skill is being called: Excavation for pulling from his earlier experiences in archeology and such, and Understanding of Local Egyptian superstition if he can recognize any symbols that might be of importance. Perhaps anything he saw in his brief time in the Museum?
Desired location: Staying in the same general area, staying within eyesight of the Fellowship.

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Richard Barker

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Location: Athribis (Underground)
Skills: N/A

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Richard had to give it to Faye on this one. For once in a long while she was actually making some sense with her mystical mind of occultism and the supernatural. She was attempting to put all the gathered clues they had together and produce a logical, even plausible chain of events of what might have happened there. It was a good attempt, and Richard had to give her a quick smile of approval for once as they headed deeper than the sands they left up and behind them.

"You're reading my mind like an ol' Gipsy grandmother at a New Jersey carnival. Yeah, sounds like that's what we've got here. Only that there's more than one person, different footprints in the sand. Now there's one more question left unasked; Why?" Richard raised the question to Faye as they kept walking quietly into the darkness, only the light of a half burned torch and the lit cigarette in Richard's pursed lips giving them salvation from the shadows.

"In my experience, people who go to those lengths in order to cause a distraction, they're not in it for simply pocket change or small cash. No, we're talking big money. Usually my perps' are digging their dirty fingers into stores, banks or offices, perhaps a local museum with less interesting bits and bobs on display than worth paying for. Not in the middle-of-nowhere in Egypt, somewhere in an underground tomb or something. So just what the hell might they want to get their pawns on here and get out with unnoticed?" Richard continued his geniune question to Faye, in the process turning the corner and seeing movement up ahead. People. So those were the crooks they were after…

Wait a God-damned minute. He'd seen those bastards before!

"String me up silly and call me a smoking rooster, isn't that the people from the ship? Just what the hell are those idiots doing here?" Richard had expected to find company down in the tunnels, but them? They didn't look the type…which was the perfect cover. Hide in plain sight, as they said. Or in a field of stars and planets that made it difficult for the detective to see…what the hell? Richard rubbed his eyes with his empty hand for a moment, trying to get some clear vision again in the darkness. It must have been when they went down into the darkness, their eyes not adjusting properly or something. "What? Yeah, sure I am armed." Richard tried to ignore the annoying Broadway lights in his eyes as he pulled out his blackjack club, ready for whatever the fellow ship passengers were going for. "In this place, this old lady is just as good as a gun. You got anything, kid?"

Roll request for Richard

Characters current location: Athribis, underground
Characters attempted actions: Now that they've found the people leaving the footprints outside, Richard is going to simply observe them from their concealed position and think of a good course of action. Also trying to ignore the hazy fog that's annoying his eyes.
Any and all skills being used: Observation, People-reading, Deduction, Stealth
Why each skill is being called: Observation for getting a good look at those people up ahead, People-reading for getting a good read on their behaviour and attitude towards whatever their doing, Deduction to put the pieces together, and Stealth for not attracting their attention.
Desired location: Hopefully staying outside of the vision of the people up ahead..

Red Dead Reckoning

Erik "Smooth Face" Viken

Name
Erik "Smooth Face" Torvaldson Viken
Age
31 (Born 7th of May 1866)
Gender
Male
Appearance

Hider

Occupations
Farmer. Born and raised on a small town Minnesota farm, Erik knew from a young age how to plow the fields and tend the livestock. Did that for a long time. Until their farm was burned down.
Vigilante. When the bandit bastards burned down his family's farm, Erik sought help from the Law. When the Law couldn't help him, he turned to those outside the Law, they didn't care. That left only him, his horse "Knegg" and his rifle to sort out justice. So who knows on which side of the Law Erik is. Sometimes he doesn't know himself.

Assets
Erik doesn't own a whole lot these days. All his possessions is carried on his back and on his trusted horse, "Knegg".

• Knegg, the horse he loves, his last family.
• Winchester modell 1873 lever-action rifle.
• 1873 Colt Single Action Army Revolve
• Knife
• Protestant Bible in printed Danish
• Two pouches of ammunition for his weapons

Personality
Erik, the second-generation immigrant from the cold north, is quite the friendly fellow to most people. His father and mother were once strangers to America, and taught young Erik to always to friendly and kind to those around him. Erik is helpful to those he finds in need, be it a minor or greater problem that he can overcome. Sometimes it has gotten him into problems, but his manlier side shows itself. Brought forth by a hard-working childhood and the destruction of his home and family, Erik is not afraid to beat your ass if you deserve it.

History
Erik "Smooth Face" Torvaldson Viken's story begins not in Montana, but far away. Across the mighty blue Atlantic Ocean in a country far north, where his family came from. His father grew up in a small mountain village in Norway's middle mountain range, working the land as best he could in the harsh condition of the middle 1800's. One day the mountain sides could no longer hold their heavy burdens of rock and dirt, and let it all slide down towards an unsuspecting village. Few died, but nothing was left to save in the ruins. Some tried in van to rebuild, others moved to the cities in search of good fortunes.

Erik's father immigrated to America. Without a penny in his pocket and only the clothes on his back, life was not easy for a newly arrived foreigner in a strange land, speaking little of the foriegn language. An oppertuniy opened itself to Erik's father in the form of the Civil War, where all able-bodied men were called to defend the Red, White and Blue. He joined up in a Scandinavian regiment, fought valiently throughout the war and learning both the language and the rifle. With the war won by the North, large swats of land were open for the soldiers and immigrants, including Erik's father.

Erik himself was born in early 1866, one year after the great war ended, in his family's new farmstead up in Minnesota. His father had met and married a young Spanish immigrant like himself, quite the unusal couple. Life was not easy on their farm, but it was well-earned. Erik never struggled for food or safety in his youth, only new that a good life required a good day's work. He grew up to learn both the plow and the rifle, like his own father had, as well as learning both his father's and mother's tounges. Life was hard, but good.

That was until the raids began. At first they were only the usual cattle-rustlers from up in the mountains, easily scared off by well-placed rifle fire from the family's duo of marksmen. Then they dared come closer, guns firing in both directions. Then they got close enough for their faces to be seen, and then...Erik remembers that night as clear as a cloud free day, everything. The shooting, the shouting, the blood, the faces of the bandits...the fire. By the end of the fight, both of Erik's parents were dead defending their home. Their home was in flames, the livestock and harvest taken by the bandits heading South, and Erik? Tears running down his cheeks, he vowed to take revenge on his parent's killers, whatever the cost may be.

That cost proved itself to be big. The Law couldn't help him, the bandits having gone far over their local juridstiction as they moved south. Then when he tried to arrange for some guns for hire to help him track them down, they refused. They were just as dirty as the raiders back home had been, refusing to rat out on their fellow comrades. Erik left that meeting in Kansas a few bullets short, a bloodied nose and the Law after him. But he just kept heading after the bandits, on his way helping others in need and taking the law into his own hands when needed. He would have justice. And if the Law couldn't serve it warm, Erik would serve it cold as ice.

His search for the band of bandits, their name changing across the United States as much as they ruined lives on their route, has finally lead him to a small town called Armadillo. Here is trail has ran cold, but his heated blood is sure to warm it up like a river in spring. He will have his justice. And afterwards? Perhaps a new life with meaning?



Additional Info
Erik speaks three different languages, thanks to his upbringing: English, Norwegian and Spanish.
Do you have a personal story arc prepared
Yes. Revenge and a new life.

Theme Song

Red Dead Reckoning

@Nyther Another fellow traveller who's out for the gang that wronged his family? Sounds like Charles and Erik are following the same bandits across the US of A! I see a possible connenction here, for sure

Red Dead Reckoning

Oh my with all these likes on poor Erik. Did not expect that!

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Mahendra Huq Zalil

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Location: Athribis (Underground)
Skills: Geology, Excavation

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Mahendra, now confident that no further immediate danger was about to throw itself upon the Fellowship in the forseeable further, observed Nora do her own investigation of the wall tiles that she made the others aware of. Mahendra himself didn't think he had seen anything quite like that before, numbers and whatnot, quite sophisticated, but Nora surprisingly to him appeared to show some grasp of their concepts. Mahendra gave her another approving nod as she worked, she certainly was onto something, like he had told her earlier. "Smarter indeed, Lauren."

His confident assesment that they were no longer in danger was about to be put to the test, as a familiar shake shook its way through Mahendra's bones once again. Mahendra quickly turned his head to look out for more holes in the ground, but it wasn't the ground that was shaking; It was the wall, Nora's wall! Watching in amazment, Mahendra's mouth was wide open as the wall was lifted up by some unseen contraption, revealing an open hallway leading further into the depths of Athribis's underbelly. "Miss Kingston…You have officially my most sincere regards." Mahendra complimented Nora, reaching for another one of the torches he'd brought along and holding it out for the Lord Major to light. "Very good, Lord Major Sir. Your abilities are most certainly still needed by us. Would you be so kind as to light this one too, Sir?" Mahendra asked the Lord Major, who also looked at the wall. Or where the wall had once been, and now endless darkness persisted.

Mahendra stepped forward and began to inspect the hallway, hopefully with a lit torch as the darkness was not helping. He looked for anything that stuck out to him and his academic nose, but the only thing he could point out were the carvings of the walls. Not that the whole incident was as if pulled out of a legendary tale, but this was perhaps not Mahendra's forte. "How extraordinary…Miss Kingston? Would these markings here be of any meaning to you?"

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Richard Barker

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Location: Athribis (Underground)
Skills: N/A

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Looking around his immediate area for anything that he could use for light down in the curse darkness, it didn't take long for Richard to find a torch. Picking it up, Richard suddenly felt as if he was no longer a hard boiled detective, but one of those characters in a pulp-novel in a magazine. He had read a few in his years, but it really wasn't for him. Too many unrealistic portrayals of fights and seriously too much nudity. One would think they were sold soley for a male-audience with far too much time on their hands. Richard figured the torch he found would last for a little while, it was better than nothing in the very least. So far, so good.

And by good, Richard meant "What the…", as he felt the ground shake. Either they had managed to pull off a subway-system in the middle of deserty nowhere, or something was going on down in those tunnels. Richard lit the torch as he took a few cautious steps into the darkness, cursing himself for not having brought his gun with him. If push came to show and that shake was anything serious, he would have to trust his quick wits and blackjack neatly tucked under his jacket.

"Ah Faye, there you are." Richard responded quietly to his more or less unwilling partner when he heard her familiar voice, though he turned around to give her a serious, almost stern look at she went off on explaining all she found out. The joking she made didn't help his mood either. At the end of her briefing about the crazy goat, goat lady and how animals didn't attack without provokation, Richard sushed her down and nodded in agreement. "Well, good you figured that out…Think it was on purpose, 'cause I found something too?. Footprints. Someone calmly walked into this tunnel while all Hell broke loose back there. Someone's in here, and something caused a good shake here just before you arrived." Richard explained to Faye in a hushed voice, holding the torch in front of him as he carefully began to make his way further into the darkness. "Come on, we might just find some god damned answers for once."

Roll request for Richard

Characters current location: Athribis, underground
Characters attempted actions: Richard is going to follow the footprints down the tunnel in an attempt to find whoever stepped inside. Hopefully without making too much noise for whoever is inside to notice them.
Any and all skills being used: Observation, Stealth
Why each skill is being called: Observation for following the footprints and any other possible lead, Stealth for being quiet.
Desired location: Heading deeper into the underground.

Red Dead Reckoning

Erik "Smooth Face" Viken

Name
Erik "Smooth Face" Torvaldson Viken
Age
31 (Born 7th of May 1866)
Gender
Male
Appearance

Hider

Occupations
Farmer. Born and raised on a small town Minnesota farm, Erik knew from a young age how to plow the fields and tend the livestock. Did that for a long time. Until their farm was burned down.
Vigilante. When the bandit bastards burned down his family's farm, Erik sought help from the Law. When the Law couldn't help him, he turned to those outside the Law, they didn't care. That left only him, his horse "Knegg" and his rifle to sort out justice. So who knows on which side of the Law Erik is. Sometimes he doesn't know himself.

Assets
Erik doesn't own a whole lot these days. All his possessions is carried on his back and on his trusted horse, "Knegg".

• Knegg, the horse he loves, his last family.
• Winchester modell 1873 lever-action rifle.
• 1873 Colt Single Action Army Revolve
• Knife
• Protestant Bible in printed Danish
• Two pouches of ammunition for his weapons

Personality
Erik, the second-generation immigrant from the cold north, is quite the friendly fellow to most people. His father and mother were once strangers to America, and taught young Erik to always to friendly and kind to those around him. Erik is helpful to those he finds in need, be it a minor or greater problem that he can overcome. Sometimes it has gotten him into problems, but his manlier side shows itself. Brought forth by a hard-working childhood and the destruction of his home and family, Erik is not afraid to beat your ass if you deserve it.

History
Erik "Smooth Face" Torvaldson Viken's story begins not in Montana, but far away. Across the mighty blue Atlantic Ocean in a country far north, where his family came from. His father grew up in a small mountain village in Norway's middle mountain range, working the land as best he could in the harsh condition of the middle 1800's. One day the mountain sides could no longer hold their heavy burdens of rock and dirt, and let it all slide down towards an unsuspecting village. Few died, but nothing was left to save in the ruins. Some tried in van to rebuild, others moved to the cities in search of good fortunes.

Erik's father immigrated to America. Without a penny in his pocket and only the clothes on his back, life was not easy for a newly arrived foreigner in a strange land, speaking little of the foriegn language. An oppertuniy opened itself to Erik's father in the form of the Civil War, where all able-bodied men were called to defend the Red, White and Blue. He joined up in a Scandinavian regiment, fought valiently throughout the war and learning both the language and the rifle. With the war won by the North, large swats of land were open for the soldiers and immigrants, including Erik's father.

Erik himself was born in early 1866, one year after the great war ended, in his family's new farmstead up in Minnesota. His father had met and married a young Spanish immigrant like himself, quite the unusal couple. Life was not easy on their farm, but it was well-earned. Erik never struggled for food or safety in his youth, only new that a good life required a good day's work. He grew up to learn both the plow and the rifle, like his own father had, as well as learning both his father's and mother's tounges. Life was hard, but good.

That was until the raids began. At first they were only the usual cattle-rustlers from up in the mountains, easily scared off by well-placed rifle fire from the family's duo of marksmen. Then they dared come closer, guns firing in both directions. Then they got close enough for their faces to be seen, and then...Erik remembers that night as clear as a cloud free day, everything. The shooting, the shouting, the blood, the faces of the bandits...the fire. By the end of the fight, both of Erik's parents were dead defending their home. Their home was in flames, the livestock and harvest taken by the bandits heading South, and Erik? Tears running down his cheeks, he vowed to take revenge on his parent's killers, whatever the cost may be.

That cost proved itself to be big. The Law couldn't help him, the bandits having gone far over their local juridstiction as they moved south. Then when he tried to arrange for some guns for hire to help him track them down, they refused. They were just as dirty as the raiders back home had been, refusing to rat out on their fellow comrades. Erik left that meeting in Kansas a few bullets short, a bloodied nose and the Law after him. But he just kept heading after the bandits, on his way helping others in need and taking the law into his own hands when needed. He would have justice. And if the Law couldn't serve it warm, Erik would serve it cold as ice.

His search for the band of bandits, their name changing across the United States as much as they ruined lives on their route, has finally lead him to a small town called Armadillo. Here is trail has ran cold, but his heated blood is sure to warm it up like a river in spring. He will have his justice. And afterwards? Perhaps a new life with meaning?



Additional Info
Erik speaks three different languages, thanks to his upbringing: English, Norwegian and Spanish.
Do you have a personal story arc prepared
Yes. Revenge and a new life.

Theme Song