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  • The day zero shut it's mouth

    ((Folks, don't get uptight, this is starting early with this line only because a player is going to have to leave for a while. By late Friday I will have something for the rest of you))

    Somewhere else, somewhen else-

    Jon Shannows was hunting for a strange animal that had been reported lurking in a wind-blown set of ruins near the Wall. Even-odds says it does not even exist, but the trip is still a good excuse to got out into the countryside again.
    The ruins don't amount to much, but he still has to dismount to search around... and he does start to get the feeling that something is here. Using all his stealth, Jon passes through the crumbling remains of a doorway and...
    {discontinuity}

    November 1st, 2007, South Dakota;

    ...finds himself standing in the middle of an empty field under a blustery sky. It looks nothing like the region where he just was, and it's colder. Even the air is different, lighter somehow.
    He has a bad feeling, and looking up... sure enough, two suns.
    No, not just two, for a fleeting instant, he sees more, seven all told.
    Riveted by the sight, he fails to notice the roadway nearby, nor is he aware of how he must look, staring at the sky like that until its too late.


    Chris Larabee is driving down another empty road to another job, trailer in tow to the next short-handed Ranch. Its a fine day for this time of year in the Dakotas, the snow seems years away instead of days... but a strange flicker in the skies distracts him. Lightning, or did something catch fire up there?

    He's just 100 yards away when he sees it; a rusty SUV pulling off the road and half a dozen young trouble makers pile out. You know this crew; part of a Prarie-gang made up of rejects from the Reservations, Hispanics that style themselves MS-13 types, and a handful of white kids that dye their hair pink to advertise the fact that they enjoy raping other white kids. Its a new gang that exploits their multi-racial mix to move and stash drugs anywhere from Mexico to Canada.
    Chris is driving and looking forward to putting them behind them, but he happens to glance over to see what they are interested in.

    They are forming a semi-circle around some cowpoke that seems to be just coming back to himself. He looks odd, and not just the expression on his face. His clothes seem a little too authentic... a stoned reenactor or something?
    Whatever the case, something truly ugly is about to happen. The gangers look too happy and the stranger seems too confused for this to be anything good.

    The scene'
    This is Chris's view. There are no cows, but where the closest cow is it where the gangers are, and about 20 yards beyond them is Shannows.

    Last edited by The Exorcist; 25 Jul 13, 16:21.
    "Why is the Rum gone?"

    -Captain Jack

  • #2
    Chris pulls the truck over, coasting it to a stop without much noise at all....well, without much noise that could be heard over the wind and other sounds of the road. He feels for one gun in its shoulder holster, and buckles on his coiled up gunbelt as he steps out of the truck, the body of the truck between him and the gang.....closing the door with a purposeful bang as his duster falls around him, covering up the plated steel of his pistol, his hat low over his eyes keeping the Midwestern sun at bay.

    In his mind, the thoughts race for a moment. "Why even get involved? It's not like you don't have something else to do. And you can't go around helping EVERY stranger that gets themselves into trouble....hell he looks like he's stoned." Then Chris pictures the two bodies on the ground, and feels the ghost pain of an old wound, and his mind settles and steels itself, a cold rage bubbling up from within.
    Last edited by TacCovert4; 25 Jul 13, 07:23.
    Tacitos, Satrap of Kyrene

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    • #3
      Needing a response from Nick before I can move this forward.

      I'll check back again tonight.


      .... hmmm.
      Last edited by The Exorcist; 25 Jul 13, 21:19.
      "Why is the Rum gone?"

      -Captain Jack

      Comment


      • #4
        Shannow manages to pull himself up and face the smirking gang. He looks straight at the obvious gangleader and says:
        I am death.
        He walks past the incredulous gang, towards the obvious onlooker, and collapses in the stunned mans arms.
        Get me to a church. I don't feel well.
        At that point, he falls into a coma.
        How to Talk to a Climate Skeptic: http://grist.org/series/skeptics/
        Global Warming & Climate Change Myths: https://www.skepticalscience.com/argument.php

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        • #5
          Jon won't make it past the Gang.
          They have already assumed that he's stoned, and a handy mark. Two of them grab him by either elbow and hold him upright.
          "Hey man, we got some gooood stuff, it'll fix you right up. How much money you got? The more you have the better you'll feel."

          Only one tough guy actually bothers to look back at Chris, and he just gives you a hard smirk, as if to say *yeah, what are you gonna do about it?*

          Given his heightened awareness at such times, Chris can just barely detect muffled hoof-beats off to one side, but looking away from the gang at a moment like this would not be a good thing.
          What's about to happen to the stranger is not going to be good either; he dropped a rifle back there, and when the grabbed him, his coat opened to reveal a couple of pistols.
          The gang flash toothy grins at each other- Redneck hash is on the menu.



          --I will have intros for the rest of you to ponder tonight.--

          ,
          Last edited by The Exorcist; 26 Jul 13, 15:36.
          "Why is the Rum gone?"

          -Captain Jack

          Comment


          • #6
            *Ahem* Chris clears his throat as he rounds the truck, striding slowly but purposefully at the ganger that looked at him. Nothing visible yet, but the nearly silent man in obvious cowboy-ish clothing does make for an imposition on their free reign of the situation.....as a flip of his hand tosses the panel of his black duster back, exposing the ivory and glassy polished steel of one custom-matched Colt Peacemaker....with a shorter four inch barrel, speed trigger, and chambered in the more controllable .357 magnum. A little higher up, another grip is clearly visible, this one rich mahogany....attached to a larger Colt....

            (I'm mentally prepared to shoot them....just trying to take their attention off of the guy for a moment so I can get them without killing him....Plus while I don't HAVE to close the distance, the closer I get (10 would be perfect), the faster I can service the targets because I can spend less time aiming because I'll be within my comfort zone for instinctive shooting)
            Last edited by TacCovert4; 26 Jul 13, 21:39.
            Tacitos, Satrap of Kyrene

            Comment


            • #7
              (first of all, I apologize to Nick the Noodle, I muffed up some internal communication, not a good way to get started here. I am going to post one quick, minor action, that will end with putting him in exactly the situation his original post puts him in.
              Sorry man, I hope that when you return you'll find this interesting enough to give it another go)

              November 1st, 2007, South Dakota;

              Things will happen very quickly;
              A shot rings out, and then another behind Chris. Glass in the SUV shatters, and the Gangers suddenly loose their bravado. Chris does not need to turn around, he knows the sound of that gun; a Colt Pacemaker firing a reduced load. Adapted for a form of exhibition and competition shooting, it belongs to one of his scattered lady-friends that he meets up with from time to time.
              The crackling glass and the chagrin of the Gangers means that they just lost their backup (a guy who happened to be aiming in on the back of Chris's head with a silenced 10/22, you will later learn) and if Chris had eyes in the back of his head, he would have seen this;



              The Horse continues its run, preventing the Gangers from getting a shot at her but also carrying Kendra out of the fight for crucial seconds.

              The stranger (Shannows) reacts to the sound of the first gunshot like a striking Cobra. She grabs both of the men holding his arms by the crotch, picks them up by what he grabbed and swings the screaming men up, and then slams them down on their heads. One's neck is broken and the other won't be bothering anyone today either. This frightening man comes up with a pistol in each hand. he shoots and kills the man on his right, but the one on his left fires a quick burst from a mini-Uzi through his coat. The stranger looks astonished as he falls, and the prognosis is not good for him, even if those were full-jacketed .380 rounds.

              Chris is left facing 3 tough-guys, all drawing or holding guns. His only break is that none of them are looking at him except for the one that has been all along. He is just swinging a 9mm from out of the small of his back.
              "Why is the Rum gone?"

              -Captain Jack

              Comment


              • #8
                The core-ward frontier;

                Murotsu and Lori are snug in their 2-seater as they approach a minor space-station in a busy moon's orbit. The traffic is such that they have left their ship in the L-5 parking area, their "car" won't need to wait hours for its turn to go through the usual docking evolution... and this particular station might be the sort where a hasty exit is going to be required.

                Halfway there, the impossible happens; turbulence.
                Its impossible, and happening. In the blink of an eye you are in a white-out and falling end-over end. Even stranger, you seem to strike something that briefly shows you your own reflections in many different, twisted ways.
                This all happens in seconds, and your perceptions diverge for a brief slice of eternity;

                Lori- your mind holds itself together without much effort. Computations swirl and reveal the answer; a worm-hole. You are falling through a dangerous gap in space(s), but you know what to do to coax your vehicle safely through the vortex.

                Murotsu is not having such a good time. She blinks, and can see and feel herself somewhere else. She is clutching something, her hands are wrapped around white bars... no, those are Teeth! Teeth like swords, and not the largest ones in this mouth.
                YOU are in this mouth, on something's tongue and struggling to avoid being swallowed!
                And, strangest of all, you are not seeing normally, its like some sort of night vision device. but with the range of vision that normal eyes would give you. You can even blink...
                {discontinuity}
                ... and find yourself in normal space again.

                Normal, and empty.
                There is a healthy-looking planet 2500 klicks over your head, the night-side. There are no navigation aids and no Lidar striking your craft. Many lights, but an almost aboriginal lack of space-borne activity.

                Your Computer comes alive with reports you were about to ask for, with a display calculated to be both disconcerting and compelling to male observers;




                (thanks to Murotsu, after all)

                "Spatial coordinates reveal that we are in the Terran system. Radar is in use, no coherent communications are being directed at us at this time."
                The pet-name for this not-quite AI is Shadowness, and it has never been wrong about basic navigation before.
                (radar means little to an aerographite hull)

                The women look at each other; Terra is nothing like this, but beyond that, it would have taken over a year and a half to get here in their Scout Ship.



                Pasadena, California, April 21, 2008.

                The exhausted scientist is packing it in for the night, at 2am, when the instruments start pinging in a way they have not for over 18 months and that glorious, dreadful day. Kotomi stares at them for all of 3 minutes without moving, and then her fingers begin to flash over the datapads.

                Thousands of miles away, Shadowness updates her report;
                "Correction; someone is talking to us, but the language is strange to me. What means {pinging tones} ?
                Point of origin, located"
                "Why is the Rum gone?"

                -Captain Jack

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                • #9
                  Dockside at Ranapoor, March 2nd, 2012

                  Its a quite day for Dutch, the business with Roberta is in the past (recent past, but still better than having to live it again) and things have been about as normal and quiet as things ever get in this part of the world.

                  Too quiet, Dutch is considering various opportunities as he sorts through his mail. Yes, mail, and all the other odd tedium of running his own business, legal and/or otherwise. Rock could be helping with this but for two things; he's out with Revy again as she slowly heals after that shot to the arm, the arm that had some complications. "Bette him than me" Dutch grumbles to himself, Revy's temper is worse now than when she was getting over that Katana-stab that grounded on her thigh-bone.
                  More importantly, Ditch still liked to get the first look at all the new mail.
                  He's about to be more glad than ever for that habit.

                  A small, padded envelope is next, one with no return address despite all the new international laws. So many new laws, and still... in the last half-dozen years, this world's down-hilll slide into something strange and miserable just keeps getting worse, and accelerating.

                  He shakes out the envelope, and a square of gold falls out. Half the size of a paperback book-cover, and thin. Its a small "Vietnamese sheet, Thin enough to be molded to the contours of a smuggler's body, or a variety of other things.

                  "This takes me back..." He smiles, but the smiles dies when he flips it over. Engraved in the yellow metal are the words;

                  Dutchy;
                  I may need your help soon
                  Please hold yourself and co. on alert from the Ides onward.
                  -the Heretic.


                  "Christ, Damien Tavoy.... god DAMN you, why me?"
                  The Heretic was a name for the man who was the last of the 'Founders of Ranapoor'. They were nothing of the kind, really, they had simply transformed the place into what it was now during the 1970s and early 80s. Damien was known to Dutch, but had not been seen in Ranapoor for a Decade, or more.... but there were rumors of more recent visits, the more recent on the day after the Night of Terror.
                  A bad man to cross, he had just used half an ounce of gold to make a point; here was a man who always paid his debts, one way or another.

                  He scanned the words again before crumpling the gold into a small knot. "may need your help".... "please".... interesting words from such a person, ominous even in the form of a direct appeal.
                  "Ides".... Damien must remember that Dutch had a thing for History. The 15th of March, two weeks before he would have to hold himself "on alert", or readiness within 24 hours.
                  For how long?
                  The wad of gold in his hands asked why should worry about that. "Yeah, I know, more where you came from , isn't there?"

                  Well then, that means he had a window open wide enough for one good job, and two to choose from.
                  On the one hand, there was piracy to be done down by Panay. A large and illicit shipment of industrial diamonds from the worst part of Africa was coming through, just begging to get pinched.
                  And the other one; a ship leaving Haiphong in 2 days, asking for an escort all the way to Balikpapan. Tight scheduling, but paying almost as well and maybe even safer. Maybe.

                  Decisions, decisions, and thankfully something to think about for a while that did not involve the Heretic, damn and blast all Ghosts from the past.
                  Last edited by The Exorcist; 27 Jul 13, 07:07.
                  "Why is the Rum gone?"

                  -Captain Jack

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    Chronicle of a nonearthly, time-free Domain


                    He remembers nothing, yet.
                    Its all in there, waiting for him, but even his own name is a mystery at this point. But that’s not the problem that looms largest…. Or even one of them.
                    This world may have a Great past, but it has no future. There is nothing here; no grass grows, no animal sounds are anywhere. No wind, no sign of movement or smells of any kind. The vista that presents itself would have a certain beauty if it things were otherwise;





                    And one other thing; you seem to be missing your body.
                    Are you… dead?
                    “Yes, and no.”

                    That voice is the most real thing you have encountered yet. It came from behind you. Turning, this is the vista that you now see;


                    There is something glowing, burning in the fire pit, and that in itself is a welcome sign of life here. Sitting on the edge of the stones around the pit is the very image of the classical Guru. This regal, ancient man radiates the sort of dignity that nothing can compromise. He is kindly, having no real need for a stern demeanor, and is wizened to such a degree that he has no hair and so many wrinkles that it is hard to believe he can see past the folds around his eyes. He gives you a soft, sad smile, while he whittles something made of wood and straw in his lap.

                    “I am your guide through the cave of riddles.”

                    And even if you have no memory of how you might know him, his name comes to you; Fugu. “Blowfish”… odd name, more like a kid’s nick-name or something.

                    She tries to bring you back…” And without even a point of reference, when Fugu says 'she', you feel a terrible pressure in the vicinity of where your heart would be. Perhaps your lack of memory is your own defense mechanism?
                    “… She tries, I say rather than tried or will try because in this place I have constructed for you, time is not linear, nor circular, but merely a punctuation mark placed where it suits me to do so. I do this to catch you, something has snatched you away from your destiny. Or, not away, but rather; sideways from it. If you permit yourself , you will recall-“

                    Monstrous, the color of old metal, cold and remorseless and so vast that it swept you up in its wake without realizing it, but amused that it did so and not letting you go. It sees something useful in you, but that’s not the worst of it. This colossal entity turns it’s minds eye to you as it plunges through a breach between realities and the mind behind it is so fragmented and tormented that...NOOOO!-

                    Fugu interrupts the nightmare by holding what he has been working on and shaking it at you. Its is a small mannequin, the workmanship is somewhat pathetic, but you flow into it instantly. Comforted by being something solid again, no matter how weak and temporary, and the kindly old man now holding you by your shoulders.

                    “Perhaps it is too soon for such things. Gharra , where would you prefer to start? You will is strong, you shall come back to yourself no matter what we do. All I can do is help guide you. How may I assist you?”
                    Last edited by The Exorcist; 27 Jul 13, 06:54.
                    "Why is the Rum gone?"

                    -Captain Jack

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      OO: Gaara
                      First Counsul Maleketh of Jonov

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                      • #12
                        Originally posted by The Exorcist View Post
                        Dockside at Ranapoor, March 2nd, 2012

                        Its a quite day for Dutch, the business with Roberta is in the past (recent past, but still better than having to live it again) and things have been about as normal and quiet as things ever get in this part of the world.

                        Too quiet, Dutch is considering various opportunities as he sorts through his mail. Yes, mail, and all the other odd tedium of running his own business, legal and/or otherwise. Rock could be helping with this but for two things; he's out with Revy again as she slowly heals after that shot to the arm, the arm that had some complications. "Bette him than me" Dutch grumbles to himself, Revy's temper is worse now than when she was getting over that Katana-stab that grounded on her thigh-bone.
                        More importantly, Ditch still liked to get the first look at all the new mail.
                        He's about to be more glad than ever for that habit.

                        A small, padded envelope is next, one with no return address despite all the new international laws. So many new laws, and still... in the last half-dozen years, this world's down-hilll slide into something strange and miserable just keeps getting worse, and accelerating.

                        He shakes out the envelope, and a square of gold falls out. Half the size of a paperback book-cover, and thin. Its a small "Vietnamese sheet, Thin enough to be molded to the contours of a smuggler's body, or a variety of other things.

                        "This takes me back..." He smiles, but the smiles dies when he flips it over. Engraved in the yellow metal are the words;

                        Dutchy;
                        I may need your help soon
                        Please hold yourself and co. on alert from the Ides onward.
                        -the Heretic.


                        "Christ, Damien Tavoy.... god DAMN you, why me?"
                        The Heretic was a name for the man who was the last of the 'Founders of Ranapoor'. They were nothing of the kind, really, they had simply transformed the place into what it was now during the 1970s and early 80s. Damien was known to Dutch, but had not been seen in Ranapoor for a Decade, or more.... but there were rumors of more recent visits, the more recent on the day after the Night of Terror.
                        A bad man to cross, he had just used half an ounce of gold to make a point; here was a man who always paid his debts, one way or another.

                        He scanned the words again before crumpling the gold into a small knot. "may need your help".... "please".... interesting words from such a person, ominous even in the form of a direct appeal.
                        "Ides".... Damien must remember that Dutch had a thing for History. The 15th of March, two weeks before he would have to hold himself "on alert", or readiness within 24 hours.
                        For how long?
                        The wad of gold in his hands asked why should worry about that. "Yeah, I know, more where you came from , isn't there?"

                        Well then, that means he had a window open wide enough for one good job, and two to choose from.
                        On the one hand, there was piracy to be done down by Panay. A large and illicit shipment of industrial diamonds from the worst part of Africa was coming through, just begging to get pinched.
                        And the other one; a ship leaving Haiphong in 2 days, asking for an escort all the way to Balikpapan. Tight scheduling, but paying almost as well and maybe even safer. Maybe.

                        Decisions, decisions, and thankfully something to think about for a while that did not involve the Heretic, damn and blast all Ghosts from the past.

                        There was no need to rush to a decision. Even if he made up his mind now he would still have to wait till every body was here. Still he needed to do somthing and looking through the rest of the mail no longer seemed intristing. Makeing surre to put the rather expensive note in is pocket he got up to make breakfast. Nothing speciol just fried egg and bacon.

                        Walking past the fridge he grabed a Heinken. Sosciety looks down on those who drink eary in the morning but they also look down on piracy and murder, not that the people dutch killed would ever win a nobel peace prize. Though with the way the world was going Balalaika may win it soon. Sitting down to enjoy the peace that he knew would soon vanish and got down to thinking.

                        With revey injured she was not on her top form so it would be the esscort. Hopefully it would proced with out a hitch and if somthing did go wrong revy could soften them up from the black lagoon. Got make sure sure to bring with 50cal ammo for the rifel.
                        you think you a real "bleep" solders you "bleep" plastic solders don't wory i will make you in to real "bleep" solders!! "bleep" plastic solders

                        CPO Mzinyati

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                        • #13
                          Chris never takes his eyes off of his targets, a small smile tugging at one side of his mouth. With lightning speed borne of years of practice and real life need, his hand flies to his pistol, drawing the hammer back as it clears the holster and putting his first two shots instinctively into the man facing him, before firing into the others.....no need to let them turn to face him....and readying another shot to deal with any survivors.....his left hand drawing his big forty-five in case it's needed.
                          Tacitos, Satrap of Kyrene

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                          • #14
                            Lori's fingers fly over the controls like a concert pianist's would. This is the Terran system, but the database for it is completely different... This dicotomy is very disconcerting for her.
                            She scans the EM spectrum, one sweep, as she normally would to leave next to no possiblity of detection. All that comes back is a mix of archaic Solomani dialects and a number of transmissions in languages she doesn't recognize. Even the electronic data is nothing but the simplest binary coding.
                            Are there any threats? The scan reveals nothing in near orbit or out to the FTL event horizon that is. There are just some communications satellites and one unpowered manned orbital of the most marginal capacity on the returns.
                            She turns off power to all non-critical systems to minimize their EM signature.
                            "Muro, we need to get in thermoptic suits" she says.
                            "What happen?" Kasakabe replies.
                            "Insufficent data at this time. We need to get into thermoptic vac suits. The situation could be dangerous."

                            It takes the two about ten minutes in the fairly tight confines of the vehicle to get their suits on. Once ready Lori moves next to a communications satellite and depressurizes the vehicle. Muro gets out and places a tap on the satellite to allow a direct link to Lori's "toys" in the vehicle.
                            Hacking into various computer and electronic systems Lori quickly discovers they have not just mis-jumped but have also moved in time.
                            Looking at Murotsu "This is not good. We have displaced in location to the Terran system and in time three thousand six hundred and three years. It is currently twenty thirteen on the Solomani calendar."
                            Murotsu looks at her apparently unphazed by this revelation. "Fix?" she asks.
                            "No, I am unable to do anything to correct this misjump. The nearest jump capable civilizations are the K'Kree and Vargr. Both are approxmately five hundred light years distant at their closest point. We are stuck here."
                            Murotsu shrugs. "Dinner, room?"
                            Lori thinks for a moment. "Given the options that is an acceptable plan. I can use the tap on this comm satellite after we reach the surface for a data link."
                            She turns the gravcoupe towards the planet and dives for its surface making sure to pick an approach route as free of sensors as possible.
                            Last edited by T. A. Gardner; 27 Jul 13, 22:46.

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                            • #15
                              Originally posted by andrewza View Post
                              With revey injured she was not on her top form so it would be the esscort. Hopefully it would proced with out a hitch and if somthing did go wrong revy could soften them up from the black lagoon. Got make sure sure to bring with 50cal ammo for the rifel.
                              Technically speaking, Revy is about as healed as she ever will be, buit don;'t tell her that! The nerve damage to her arm (I forget which one) is something she is trying to overcome with physical therapy. Time will tell...

                              Ranapor, March 3rd, 2012

                              All is in readiness, but you must leave early to make your meeting with the ship as it leaves Vietnam's territorial waters. As you are leaving the Harbor, Rock points back and where you left from. There is a man there, not a young one but you can't really tell much more from here, save that it's not Damien. For some reason, you get a cold, creepy feeling, the old "some just danced all over my grave" feeling looking at this man. You don't have to ask Rock, one look tells you he feels the same way.
                              The od thing is, there is nothing at all that is outwardly threatening about him... just utter isolation from the world at large.

                              You can't even get this much detail, but this is the one pic for him;



                              2 days later, you pick up the Cargo ship. You have 2 speedboats to intercept on different nights, no shooting needs to be done to see them off, but as you get within 6 hours of Balikpapan (a combined oilfield and refinery on the east coast of Borneo) one small flying machine after another flies overhead, and bank to get a better look at you and the ship.
                              Thus far, the 20,000 ton Liberian ship has not been very forthright about answering your questions regarding.... anything at all.
                              "Why is the Rum gone?"

                              -Captain Jack

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