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[Vafhudr]

Prosperity – Prologue

Season: Summer

 

The sky was empty, shining brightly, cloudless, the colour of powder blue as if the very vault of the world had been bleached by heat. And it was indeed very hot. The cicadas had been had it since early morning. We were now in the deepest part of the summer cycle. 23 hour long days. 12 hour long nights. Nightfall could not come quick enough.

 

Or so thought this generic, non-playable character as he hacked away at some dried up trees. Despite the tiresome heat, he was one of the many, many hands of the Ophion gahtering resources in the vicinity of the ship. Despite the heat fire was still very much in need for cooking and for heat when the residual day heat becomes not quite enough for the small colony of people living in the ship's husk.

 

The man's ax struck rhythmically against the wood, dull blows against hard, almost metal-like bark. It was hard work in this heat. His big hat provided him with a semblance of shade, but did nothing to cool him. He was sweating bullets. Or he wished he did. Sweating bullets would make defending against the next raid so much easier. He stopped his work to wipe his brow and look for his canteen.

 

As he looked up at the sky, he noticed that it was no longer empty. A streak of white clouds had appeared. They were, upon squinting, in fact no clouds at all but rather the trail, massive and fuming, left behind by a spaceship coming down from the heavens.

 

Straight at him. Or almost. A fireballl was heading straight into his general direction, at the very least. He swore, the words lost as the silence of the day was replaced by the deafening roar of the ship's struggling reactors and the sheer air pressure it was generating. The man ran. He ditched the firewood, and ax in hand, he bailed. He ran fast, faster than he thought possible in this temperature. He turned to watch as the ship crashed behind him. The impact was like a thermonuclear weapon going off. He was whisked off his feet, pushed by the sheer airdisplacement. A tsunami of dirt rose forth from the earth and it rained pebbles and moats all around our man.

 

Shaken, but hardly stirred, the man gets up and decides to go check out the crash site. A certain logic pervades scavengers – in disasters lies opportunity. The crash site was considerably further away then expected, but he made good time. The ship had crashed in a canyon system – or rather, it had expanded a canyon system. It was a rather large ship, it's smouldering carcass adding to the heat of the day. And among the wreckage he noticed forms moving about.

 

There were survivors.

He had seen enough. He turned around and, as quickly as he could, returned to the Ophion with the news.

 

[...]

 

Click.

 

Four was the number that sat around the dark table.  Each shrouded in their own silences as they focused on their own thoughts to the exclusion of all else.

 

Click.  Click.   Mmmmm.

 

A young looking man with his hair tied in an elaborate and random assortment of weaves sat happily atop the cold metal floor.  His eyes wide shut while the rest of his body twisted in and out of increasing complex shapes as he hummed complacently to himself as if even if only for that moment the worries of the wider world were gone.  The low hum reverberated through the room and filled the chamber.  This was Yogi Masadi and his was the silence of complacency.  

 

Click.  Mmmmm. Click. Click.  Blip Blip.

 

An older man sat across from sat upright at the proper angle to be both comfortable and healthy in the small metallic chair.  His eyes were a light neon blue that almost seemed to glow beneath his almost drooping lids.  They idled easily about the room in a casual way but you somehow knew they never missed a thing.  Those eyes that pierced sat sunk into the worried look chiseled into his face from a life filled with necessary cruelties.  His hands all the while methodically loaded shells into the chambers of guns in a steady pattern.  This was John Flynt and his was the silence of fear.

 

Click.  Mmmmm.  Click. Click.  Blip. Blip.  Mmmmm.  Click.  Scritch. Scratch.

 

A young woman leaned over a pile of overlapping diagrams without thought or concern for her appearance.  Dark smudges of oil and graphite marred her skin while her light green hair sat like a tangled warren in challenge to any brush that might dare approach.  None of it mattered to her.  The green eyes only had time for the pile of diagrams and schematics before her as pencil frantically danced across them.  She was a wisp that could disappear into her work and sometimes she wondered if it wasn’t better that way. This was Alex Shelby and hers was the silence of distraction.

 

Click.  Mmmmm.  Click. Click. Click.  Blip. Blip.  Scritch. Scratch.  Click. Click. Crash.

 

The remote that smashed into the wall came from the outstretched hand of the one that would lead if only in name.  The char wrapped around her like a protective shell far too large for her small body to fill as she peered out from it with a fiery looked that dared anyone to question her right to sit in it.  It was her that broke them out of their silences and forced them to join her.  She was Rollo Vandel and hers was the silence of desperation.

 

“Dammit Sparks!  You told me you could fix it”, she gestured at the remnants of what had once been a remote but now resembled a pile of scrap.  

 

“Could not would.  Priorities probably?” It wasn’t a rhetorical question that Alex asked.  It was as genuine as it was innocent.  The unspoken part was the fact that her priorities had included explosives.  She didn’t mention this because Rollo already knew and would take her toys from her.  That made Alex sad.  She disliked being sad.  

 

“It’s just lights, ya know?  Got us a nice groove here no need to hit them on. Too bright.  Oppressive man.  Shine a light in too many shadows just going to end up regretting it.  Or disappointed.  Not to mention lost,”  He trailed off as though he lost his train of thought and punctuated his words with a serene grin of self satisfaction.  That was sort of Yogi Masadi’s modus operandi. Everyone hated it but with time the crew had learned to tolerate if not indulge it.

 

“About the ship..”  John spoke rarely and even then was sparse with words.  

 

“Yes!  That’s why we are here if you forgot”  Her tone of accusation was at odds with the realization in her eyes that she herself had indeed forgotten.  “Sparks talk to me.”

 

“About what?”

 

“The ship, Sparks, the ship! Tell me about it.”

 

“Well it crashed.  So it probably came through space and then its systems were all like WAAAAAGH SNIZZLE SNAZZLE WOOP.  Then the ship was like SWOOSH CRISH CRASH BOOOM.  End report.”  Alex Shelby was actually very good with sound effects and could in fact duplicate just about any mechanical sound which meant the authenticity of this report was as spot on as it was useless.

 

“Please.  Sparks?  Stay with me, okay?  Tell.  Me.  Information.  About.  The. Ship.  That.  Would.  Help.  Us. Capiche?”  Rollo was almost proud at how patient she was being.  Point of order, this was her third chair.  The prior two had been tragically lost during previous meetings.

 

“Strip the bones.  Salt the wounds.  Put it out of its misery.  The reactor is still giving off radiation.  Could blow it up?  Might have a science team with a lot of shiny doowhickies.  I could do stuff with those.  Good stuff maybe?  Definitely stuff though.”

 

“So.  Strip anything useful and then break it so it can’t be used against us.  Righteous.  What was that about a reactor though? You want us to...that can’t be safe.  John that would be bad right?  For us and health reasons right?”

 

“Could be done safely.  Could also make a trap.  Can’t say now.  Should let the team make the call.”

 

“Awesome.  Now, I’m afraid to ask but does your team need anything Masadi?”

 

“Music.  Would make me feel better.  Softer mats too.  Ahh, they gave me a list of other things.  Medicines and such.  We don’t need it but it’d make them feel better.  Not all of them are ready to leave behind such preconceptions and are shackled to the old ways,”  Yogi tossed out a heavily crumpled sheet of paper filled with important and super necessary things the medical team needed.  The manner in which it was written was excessively showy and the paper itself smelt of lavender.  

“Great.  We’ll make sure they get what they can off the list and uhh guess we can see what they can do about the music,” The thumbs up she gave him was excessively shaky.  “That just leaves the survivors which I don’t even need to say anything about right?  You save them.  Or salvage what you can of them.  I’m not picky.”

 

[...]

 

The party set out at dusk. For clarification, dusk and dawn last about 5 hours on Prosperity. This 10 hour window is largely considered to be the best to do anything and people tend to be at their liveliest at those hours. The sky was bright orange and purple and stars were beginning to appear. Strange and foreign stars.

 

The group left in two vehicules – one mostly empty, the other carrying most of the group. Whatever they find at the ship, they would have to be picky. The ride was smooth – I mean, as smooth as driving on difficult terrain can be.

 

The smouldering crash was quite a sight to behold in the dying light. The smoke rose dramatically over the half-destroyed ship, highlights blue, black, and orange playing within the billowing mass.

 

They were greeted by an armed party. They shot a few rounds over the party's head.

 

A man, with a rather impressive beard, stepped forward.

 

“NOT ONE STEP CLOSER, VULTURES, OR YOU WILL GO BACK WITH A FEW MORE HOLES TO SHOW TO YOUR FRIENDS.”

 

The man was flanked with at least 10 armed dudes. You can make out that behind there are at least 30 survivors. Considerable amounts of material has already been pulled out from the ship. You can spot crates that promise food, medicine and ammunition. You also spot they managed to salvage at least one all-terrain caravan from the wreck as well, giving you some options. 

 

What do you do?

 

Remember the objectives:

Secure survivors.

Secure medical supplies.

Secure food supplies.

Secure any spaceship parts that can be salvaged.  (this requires you to have an engineer go in and assess) 

You can't bring back everything with you. 

[Johnny Paradise]

Martin Tanaka -- Entrepreneur

 

Martin's day began much like any other. He awoke in a cold sweat, acutely aware of his social and emotional isolation, and wept for fifteen minutes. What still needed getting used to was the fact that he did not wake up in his studio apartment, but in the decrepit husk of the Starship Ophion. The place was derelict and terrifying and Martin longed to return to his old apartment. Unfortunately he had already sold it.

 

He peeled the thin cloth he used as a blanket from his skin, folded it neatly, and tucked it away with his things, away from the prying eyes of the others--along with this cloth, he counted among his possessions four (4) t-shirts, one (1) dress shirt, one (1) neck tie, two (2) pairs of pants, one (1) pair of shorts, five (5) socks, and three (3) pairs of underwear. He had amassed most of this collection on the first few weeks on Prosperity (prosperous indeed!), but managed to finagle the rest of it from the others over the course of the past 3 months. He had lost many things, among them his pride, but he had not lost his business savvy. At least that's how he liked to think of it. In actuality, people died and their stuff was just up for grabs. Sometimes they didn't die, but it was still up for grabs--that's why Martin hid his things. He was a keen intellectual, just the type to survive in this corporate jungle.

 

Though the day's beginnings were quite innocuous, today was an auspicious day indeed for the aspiring businessman. Having already accrued such a wonderful amount of capital, the opportunity arose to make an acquisition of materials and medicine. Though lacking in experience in the pharmaceutical industry, one can't be picky when the economy is in the state it was in. That was Martin Tanaka's philosophy, at least. Grab the bull by the horns, as they say in some quadrants. Quadrants that Martin had never been to (nor were they quadrants he wished to visit), but that wasn't important.

 

Accompanying a large group of business rivals, Martin rode out on one of two jeeps to the operation site. To the untrained eye, it was very similar to the Ophion: terrifying, broken metal structures screaming as harsh winds whipped through them; a workforce deprived of good pay or benefits, yet too mentally exhausted to unionize; the crushing atmosphere of destitution and hopelessness. Yes, many things were indeed similar, but there were greater things to be had here, Martin could tell.

 

For one, their supplies were not four months old. That was basically it. Martin did not have a trained eye for these types of things, but he assured himself that there was likely more to the site than that, because he desperately wanted his life to turn around. Thus far, it had careened further downward (into a planet, even), but he had persevered through worse. For example, he had gotten over the 2 and a half months of hysteria after surviving the crash! Nothing could be worse than that!

 

But of course, that line of thought only leads to greater and greater misfortunes. Martin's newest great misfortune was the group of armed men and women. He could tell from their uncouth demeanor and backwater accent that they would make terrible business partners. They, however, made up the only--and therefore the best--option for Martin to get his business off the ground. Indeed, Martin was a man faced with increasingly grim misfortunes.

 

Martin cleared his throat, adjusted his necktie (which, he lamented, did not match with any of his other clothing), and stepped forward.

 

"Hello!" he called out, "My name is Martin Tanaka, CEO of Tanaka INC, Prosperity's leading producer of medicine and medical equipment. I've come seeking a merger with your company. May I speak to whomever is in charge?"

Edited by Johnny Paradise, 26 January 2015 - 06:05 AM.

[Muninn]

Matias Ibarra

 

Matias woke this morning to sound of liquid slowly dripping into a bucket at his bedside. He leaned over to gauge how full the bucket was, expecting to find it half full of water, moister that had gathered somewhere in the breached hull that the ship decided to piss out right next him. What Matias found was a mixture of a green and blue liquid that smelt of chemicals, like bleach and ammonia, but more pungent. Matias quickly rushed over to a hole in the wall and threw up last night's scraps. The hole was little bigger than his head and went right through the side of the ship. Matias stayed in that position for a little while, inhaling the fresh air and waiting for his vision to refocus. Matias' eyes quickly recovered as he heard yelling from below, just in time to see a rock flying towards him. Matias quickly pulled his head back through the makeshift window in time for the rock pass through the hole and knock over the bucket full of green and blue death. The smell quickly filled the room, and even with Matias holding his nose and breathing out of his second mouth he could still taste it in the air. Matias sat down with his back against the wall and his vomit portal overhead, pondering what the fluid was. "Green... Blue... Syrupy, kinda..." Matias lit a cigarette and inhaled it through his second, mechanical maw to try and filter out the invading stench. "Pra-babe-leeeee... A coolant, and a lubricant. Cheap.... Real, real cheap stuff" he thought to himself. So here Matias Ibarra sat, boxed in his own room by a sludge like concoction that threatened kill him with its impressive stench. As Matias gathered the fortitude to gather his things and flee the toxic sludge, he wondered if he should inspect the rest of this section of the ship for leakage. The fumes could probably kill someone if they didn't wake up from the smell of it, and he wouldn't be surprised if the lubricant was flammable;the cheap stuff usually is. This used to be the engineering deck, and while essentially nothing worked here anymore... "Screw it!" Matias grabbed all of his belongings and leaped over the spill. He landed on the edge of the spill, taking his feet out from under him and sending Matias skidding across the hall and into a new room on his butt. Matias left his belongings in his new, expertly entered and claimed room and jumped back up onto his feet. He ran over to the entrance of his old, now condemned room and closed the door. Matias tore off the face of the panel next to the doorway using his knife and manipulated the wiring, manually locking the door. Hopefully anyone who passed by was smart enough to take a hint and not fix the wiring, reopen the door, and let loose the ooze from hell into the rest of the deck. Matias walked back into his new room. No ooze, no cadavers, no exotic fauna that came in through the miraculously still intact ventilation system to kill off the rest of the surviving crew. It'll do. Matias pushed the riffraff that was undoubtedly once useful equipment to the far eastern corner of the room, pulled over a cabinet that was still in working condition, laid out his bed roll, and there Matias had his new room. Leak free.

 

Matias, having surviving "The Great Big Leak of Matias Ibarra's Room, Never Forget" decided that his morning routine of survival was finished and decided to ascend to the upper decks to find something to do with himself. Matias quickly found work, and was sorted into a scavenger hunt. "Anything and everything that isn't bolted down and useful" was what his list composed of. However, as one of the few engineers left alive, the requirement of "isn't bolted down" was arbitrary. If it looked neat, and might make loud noises it was coming with Matias if he had to hitch an entire ship to the back of a vehicle. Matias headed down through the lower decks and out of the ship with the rest of the crew going on the hunt. As they headed out Matias noted the landscape. It was nothing like his Home planet of Pandora-09. This place was a wasteland. Arid, empty, and had 23 three hours of sunlight. 23 three hours. Of sunlight. Two suns. Two suns providing 23 hours of sunlight, constantly. His home planet was hot, sure. But Pandora-09 was also humid and had more fauna and water than you could deforest in a decade. It also didn't have 23 hours of two suns' worth of sunlight during the summer. Matias could not get over that last part. He would hold against Prosperity and everyone on it until a divine, cosmic event snuffed out this hellhole.

 

As Matias and the group arrived at their destination a shot rang out overhead. At first he ducked, then slowly peaked out. There were 11 armed men from what he could tell, and a lot more people behind them pulling the wreckage apart. A bearded man, their ringleader most likely, stepped forward and warned the Ophion group. Matias payed him little mind, instead focusing on the ship and supplies pulled from there. There were a lot of crates, and a vehicle, from the ship that the group scavenged. Matias figured that if they had a crew over there that knew what they were doing, they probably had the interior of the ship well stripped of all components that could be useful in the hands of a guy like Matias. But if they didn't there should be a decent sized cache of tech in there. Or at least serviceable components. If he was lucky, Matias wouldn't have to worry about the bolted down stuff. That is, if he could even get to the wreck in the first place.

 

Matias spied a member of the Ophion group, Martin, step out and address the rival group. From what Matias could gather, Martin was a corporate type who fancied himself slick. Matias jumped out of the vehicle and walked up behind Martin and a little to the right of him as he tried to parley with the rival group to give him some back up. Matias hoped that Martin's supposed silver tongue was real, otherwise they things could get messy real quick.

Edited by Munnin, 27 January 2015 - 05:56 AM.

[Diabolical Rhapsody]

Tasha Droit

 

 

It had been a few months now in this hellhole and she had met quite a few interesting people from the ship here. But all in all it was a bad call, a horrible call. For the first time in life she had been impulsive and as a result she had fallen back to where she had started.

 

There was no restaurant, no customers hustling for her brilliant beef or sumptuous lamb chops. She hadn't realized ho good she had on Gaia-3 until she became enamored by this shit bucket. There was no quality product, not even a half-decent grain. The suns blasted you for 23 hours a day and the nights weren't any good either.

 

She had thanked god for her timely decision to replace her digestive track, who'd have thought that she'd literally have to survive on iron.

 

A life she had so desperately wanted to leave behind was serving her for her age long loyalty. This past few months her soldier instincts had bailed her out on a few occasions and also help her bond with a few of similar disposition. The hunters and the soldiers had a good group going or atleast she thought it that way.

 

So when the orders got passed around about another fallen ship, she had tagged along other of her team. Upon reaching the crash site she saw what the situation had turned into and she dropped down the windscreen of the truck there in to get a clear shot at the enemy. She'd give them a chance but usually in the wild, it was a dog eat dog world.

Edited by Diabolical Rhapsody, 27 January 2015 - 01:56 PM.

[Officer Judy Hopps]

Dr. Maribelle

 

An adjustment of reading glasses marked the beginning of her day as Maribelle's fingertip wrapped smoothly around the curved, porcelain handle that was full of steaming coffee. The smell in the earliest hours of the morning was invigorating enough to allow her to snap to an alert state, while the taste of the slow roasted beans she held closely dear was truly a blessing to behold. Pouring a sampling of cream and a touch of sugar into the black liquid, she lightly rotated the mug in her hand while she observed the cloudy substance spread across the surface to bring her coffee to a much more delicious looking state.

 

Sipping the hot liquid and feeling the warmth reverberate throughout her body, she could not help but shudder ever slightly. Leaning back into her chair and feeling the creak of the material as she settled her fingertips around the other side of the cup, the Doctor didn't hesitate to take another whiff of the last part of her morning breakfast.

 

It was her gut instinct that told her today was going to be a long, miserable venture. Though she wasn't entirely sure how. Standing up and wrapping her white lab coat around her shoulders to grant a little more warmth that her blue regalia could not, the Doctor stepped into the hallway and meandered her way to the command section of their little community. There she discovered that a ship had crashed and a scavenging opportunity was certainly available. First however, they needed someone to cover for the medical portion of this venture, of which she most certainly qualified.

 

Jumping at the opportunity to volunteer, and much to her joy, Maribelle was hesitantly allowed to go on this mission.

 

Bounding upward to retrieve her mobile medical kit chock full of supplies necessary to survive the madness of the outdoors, she slung the hefty bag laden with a bright red cross over her shoulder before rushing happily off into the hangar to hitch a ride.

 

Rumbling off into the arid sunlight with her haphazard little team, the Doctor held a brilliant smile, no matter how dismal the situation might be. Her happy expression turned swiftly to one that was grave however, as bullets whizzed over their heads and the scene fell into a standstill. Watching as two of their party moved forward to try and talk with the people, Maribelle cringed as she took in the sight that was the crash. Scattered throughout the site was wounded, dead, or close to it, those who had been fortunate or unfortunate enough to escape their doomed vessel. Tightening her grip as she stepped out from the back of the truck, but still leaned up against it to not reveal herself to the opposing party, she softly spoke to the two men.

 

"Martin, Matias...there's wounded on the ship and around it, if I can get to them, I can save them! Help me out here!"

[Rainbow Dash]

Viska cleaned her rifle as the vehicle made its way across the landscape. The bumps in the terrain and the constant jolting didn't really bother her. Each and every stone of this planet was part of the newly named Space Russia. The name hadn't taken off but she was gonna give it time. The little babies she was stuck with would come around sooner or later.

The car closed in on the crash. Viska looked out for a rise while she reassembled her rifle without looking. The last few weeks had helped her cut her time by a few seconds. It was good. She figured there should be some sort of benefit to being stuck on this planet.

She noted a broken hill that ended at it's peak with a sheer face. Good foliage cover. Perfect.

"Is my stop, comrades", she announced and stepped off the moving vehicle.

 

Viska hit the round and dispelled most of her momentum in a roll. The rest of it picked her up onto her feet where she was already into a run, making her way through the dust to the hill. The dust trails left by the car were annoying and horrible but also would cover her movement which was a solid plus. She climbed the hill and settled into the brush at the top, using it for camouflage.

 

She surveyed the situation through her scope. Her allies had made it to the group and some sort of confrontation was brewing. Viska watched the men at the back. Their expressions for their intent. The movement of their clothes told her the wind. The way they handled their weapons let her pick out the ones who were most experienced. There would be gun waving, but it was fairly easy to tell the difference between violence and posturing. Death would come on swift wings for whatever fool would first unload his gun.

[Führer Itulhu]

Eli, The Cheshire cat

 

Eli let out a huge Yawn as he woke up like every other morning… wishing he could sleep more, sadly he had the habit of waking up early. He followed his morning routine, get up, curse something, get dressed and check his weapons before finally pulling out a nutrient bar from a now deplete stash he had hidden away.

“well at least i went through it before someone found it~”

 

After eating he went for a leisurely morning stroll through his now new home... though calling a place home was a foreign concept to Eli so it was a good thing he’s in foreign lands.

As he continued his stroll around Eli saw that people were as miserable as they were a month ago which he just couldn’t understand, people where complaining this place was a hellhole but Eli thought it wasn’t that bad, the only problem was it long hot days which was the opposite of his hometown but hey as he learnt while hunting for some treasures, put some effort in and maybe you’ll make it out alive.

‘pft like thats going to happen’

 

Eventually Eli caught wind of the crash site investigation and invited himself to tag along, he was good at finding things after all.

 

Sitting in the Vehicle as it drove to the destination Eli spent his time whistling random tunes that he couldn’t remember the name to, but he decided it might be a good idea to stop for a bit when bullets were fired. As soon as the vehicle stopped Eli silently took the liberty of exiting and finding shelter behind it as two members seemed to want to talk things out, also it seemed that the medic had also tried hiding from the group.. not that it was really his concern as long as they got the supplies.

 

Eli Checked his gun and prepared for negotiations to fail before quitely singing a tune to himself.

‘Have you ever~

ever felt like this~

Where strange things happen~

and your shootin down bodies~’

“Hmmmmm still need to think of that last part” It wouldn’t be long now before they became friends with the survivors and all worked together to make this a better place.

‘pft as if’

[Vafhudr]

[I love you all]
 
“Beautiful view, isn't?”
 
A foot came stomping down on Viska's neck, pinning her to the ground. Feet shuffled in front of her awesome enhanced views. Military boots, cowboy boots, and a pair of impeccable black shoes. A head bobbed down by her. And I am using the term head rather loosely here. It looked like it was made of papier maché, painted with almost infantile human features. The head was also rather large, kind of like a bubble head, but it was perched on a perfectly human bodies.
 
“Now little girl, won't you be my friend? Everyone here is a friend – a friend of Frank. I just want to make friends. One day, everyone on this planet will be Frank's friend.”
 

[...]

 
The captain and his men where clearly taken aback by the words of Martin. They were confusing words. Is this what they called in the corporate world a hostile takeover? The captain was not buying it.
 
“What kind of proposition is that! This is just a stalling technique, isn't it? I bet you have gunmen getting in positions as we blab away, don't you.”
 
Martin assured him that this was not the case. When the captain raised his weapon Martin quickly changed his tune and assured him that they were in fact surrounded and that they would not hesitate to shoot if they proved hostile. Also his death would totally be avenged. Totally. Yeah.
 
The captain didn't buy it and despite several members of the recon crew drawing and pointing their weapons at the captain and his makeshift defense force, the captain motioned to his people that this would not be peaceful.
 
Until his head exploded.
 
And then all hell broke loose.
 
Matias tackled Martin out of the line of fire. Bullets whizzed everywhere as the two side unloaded on each other. Mostly on the side of the newly crashed. So much wasted bullets. Dr. Maribelle helped the two of them escape behind the heavy duty car as Tasha and Eli provided cover fire.
 

[...]

 
Frank lowered Viska's rifle. His men cheered. With a loud ka-chik the case was sent flying out from the chamber. It hit Viska in the face, singing her skin with the residual heat.
 
“Why don't I show how I make friends, little girl.” the man said in a rather monotone voice from within the head.
 
The men cheered and grin at each other. Viska got to watch as from the edges of her vision motorcycles and cars appeared, leaving trails of dust and dirt in their wake.
 
“This is my territory. My kingdom. We can dance if you want to, you can leave your friends behind, but friends who don't dance are no friends of mine. And if you are not my friends, you are my enemy. Your little community has not sent any gift or even dropped by to say hello. Is that how you treat friends where you come from? Despicable, don't you agree?”
 
Viska could feel herself being pulled from the ground.
 
“But don't worry. Frank is a nice guy. I love you all. Spots and smudges and everything. I don't judge. I understand. I understand. No no no, I do. But our friendship is being tested. I hope you prove yourself worthy of my trust.”
 
Down below she could see that the battle was already over. She could see – and she could see damn well – the survivors raising their hands.
 
“Friendship is fire-forged, little girl. Let me show you how I make friends that don't betray me. That don't desert me. That will never leave me behind.”
 

[...]

 
15 of them had survived so far. They had been made to march under the double suns for more than a day and half. Frank was watching it all, from beneath a shaded umbrella, perched upon a monster truck. His goons on motorcycles, equiped guns, whips, spears, swords, drove slowly beside the prisoner parade, laughing and jeering as they drank water and tormented the prisoners.
 
One of those prisoners collapsed to the ground. Frank raised his hand and the whole procession came to a grinding halt. The mysterious masked man descended from his truck, a canteen in one hand and a gun in the other. He walked up to the fallen man and squatted down by his fallen figure.
 
“Are you thirsty?” the sick fuck asked him.
 
The man's eye rolled upward. Despite his weakness, the expression exhuded “what the fuck do you think genius” as he breathed like a landed fish in the dirt. “Water... please...”
 
“Do you want to die?” another enigmatic question from the weirdo.
 
“N-no.” the man whispered back, his voice raspy.
 
Frank leaned in closer.
 
“Do you want to be my friend?” Frank asked.
 
“Fuck you.” was the laconic response.
 
Frank rose up and motioned to two of his Friends to take the weakened man. The held him up as best as they could as the man tried really hard to make himself into a limp pile.
 
Frank shot him in the foot. He yelped and screamed in suprise and pain. The shot echoed through the empty land.
 
“Ha. This seems to have waken you up. Alright. We can continue, then.”
 
The two goons shoved the poor guy back into the man pile that was the procession. He was wide awake now, alert from the adrenaline and moaning in pain. Blood was pouring from his open wound. Maribelle, despite being bound at the wrists, did her best to stop the bleeding. Still, the man collapsed barelly a mile later.
 
Once again, Frank walked up to him and asked him the same questions.
 
This time the man whispered back: “Please. Please help me.”
 
Frank went down to him and held the poor man's head in his hands. He brushed away at his dirty hair tenderly and then pulled out the water canteen. He nursed the man, giving him water to drink and washed his face with what got on his hand as the man struggled to get the water in his face.
 
“Rise. You are my friend now. You don't have to stand among them.”
 
The man, apparently rejuvenated, rose up, helped by Frank who held his hand as he unsteadily regained his footing.
 
“My friends love me and I love my friends. We help our friend. You obey Frank, because you love me. Because you are my friend. And you will fight my enemies, because they are not my friends. Do you understand?” As he said that he pulled out his gun and handed it over to the man.
 
“Do you understand?” Frank asked again as two goons brought one of the girls from the crashed ship forward. She struggled and screamed as she was held down.
 
“She is not one of my friends. But you are my friend, right?” He said as helped the man point his gun at the poor girl.
 
“You love me, right?” he asked as the gun settled straight toward the girl's heart.
 
The man was now shaking terribly, his face distorted with undescribable emotions. He turned his head toward Frank and said:
 
“I love you Frank.”
 
And shot the girl. She fell limp in the hands of the other Friends. Cheers rose from the rank of the goons. Frank embraced the new convert in a warm, earnest hug.
 
“And I love you, friend.”
 
And then he turned to the rest of the small crowd.
 
“And I love you all. This is why I will give you all a chance to become my friends. I want my friends to be strong, resilient – survivors. You are 2 days away from your ship. Abandon them and become my friends. We will take it and add it to my friendship chain.” to emphasize this he pulled out one of those small paper chains made up of human-like shapes. He folded it up again and tucked it in his shirt. “Otherwise, it is the desert that will claim your carcasses. Frank is generous.”
 
As he said this the supply that belonged to our protagonists was dumped into a small pile in front of the prisoners, along with additional supply.
 
“But Frank also takes. Show me that you are worthy of my love.” he said as he turned away gun in hand and canteen in the other. “Will you take the bullet to the head, or the canteen. The choice is yours. If I can't have you, the ground will.”
 
And like that he and his crew drove away, leaving the group of 18 or so survivors stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Edited by Vafhudr, 30 January 2015 - 05:08 AM.

[Vafhudr]

Update Part II (Technical - or the boring action part) 

 

Viska – Matias – Martin

 

The three foragers had walked quite a bit of a distance when Viska finally noticed a bunch of tracks. Animal tracks, easily discernible from other tracks in that their feet don't look like tires. The tracks looked fresh and Viska went into stalking mode, crouching low. Matias and Martin, unsure what to do, crouched like her. After a few minutes of this Martin had to get up to strech because jesus christ that shit went right to your hamstrings. Matias was regretting right about now that he did not get robo-legs along with his robo-mouth. The brush, dried hard at this time of the year, was like needles to their skin as they moved silently (well, at least some tried). Finally, they found themselves upon highground overlooking a clearing. Down below there was quite a few Zerhorses, or horses that look like zebras. Or is it zebras that look like horses? Nobody knows. Their white and black lines are also horizontal – apparently evolution on Prosperity thought that giving creatures speedlines would actually make them fast. It is the stuff or really dumb tavern argument and wasted inks in pedantic academic journals. Their nickname is “Sneakers” because their camouflage game is next level. They can take on the colour of their surroundings while idle, down to the texture of the surrounding terrain. In fact, Matias and Martin had no idea what they were looking at until Viska pointed out the disturbance in the water hole. Something was moving the water and splashing it about, though it was not readily apparent.

 

Three of them could be discerned. Viska could easily shoot one down, but the creatures were very skittish by nature. One shot would mean one kill and one kill only. What would they do. Behind their little dune, the trio schemed.

 

Viper – Tasha – Maribelle - Gabriel 

 

Water was scarce at this time of year. There's an understatement. The Dry Season, or simply summer, was just a long exercise in drought. The ascendence of the twin suns, along with a change of distribution in wind and precipitations, left this particularl region particularly desertic. A deadland pockmarked with oasises of life. Some were mere puddles of water coming to the surface. Others could be immense lakes. With no particular header, they decided to follow the direction of Frank's goons, hoping they came from a zone where water was more abundant.

 

This turned out to be a rather intelligent move. They found a water spot. The problem is that the water spot was occupied. A small outpost – nothing more than a tower, along with two huts and – a car! No sign of the inhabitants, though they could simply be inside.

 

They would need a plan to approach this. The water was so tentalizingly close, and yet so far, beause of this obstacle. Would this be an opportunity, or just another disaster? The day had been pretty bad already.

 

 

Jack – Richard

 

Richard had stayed behind with Jack to make sure everyone was alright. The refugees were, understandly, rather shocked. Within half a day they had crashed on a planet, got captured, forced to march, and now they were abandonned in the middle of nowhere. The two parties had been gone for almost an hour when Richard saw something shining in the distance.

 

It was motorcycle.

 

Motorcycles.

 

He zoomed in with his bionic eyes. There could be no mistake. It was Frank's gang. Or at least, a small scion. The man on whom he had homed in gave him the finger. Rude from a distance.

 

But the distance, it turns out, was about to get closed pretty fast.

 

From beyond the sound of revving engines was heard. Low, ominous, taunting. Kind of like an asshole challenging you at a redlight.

 

Panic spread among the people. They were unarmed. There appeared to be at least 10 of the motorcycle goons. The terrain was flat, beside some hills to their back. Dust rose on the horizon. The Motorcyclists were making their move.

 

What will the two hardened warriors do?  

Edited by Vafhudr, 10 February 2015 - 05:50 AM.

[Faye]

|| Water of Life, Water of Death

|| Gabriel Derosa

 

What a terrible day today is. Not only was I forced to tag along in an expedition to a crash site (which I assure you is a terrible idea), I am caught by these.. These twisted savages who speaks of friendship and love in a most terrifying way. Heck, they forced that dude to kill a helpless woman just to make sure that person is loyal to their leader? I never knew forced subjugation is considered friendship in this part of the universe. Seriously, this world terrifies me more and more with each passing day.

 

And now, here I am, with a handful of people fortunate enough to not be forced to kill a friend to keep their life. We are tasked to get some water, which happens to be right in front of our nose. Mission accomplished then? Not exactly. Our order was not only to find them, but to take them for ourselves and our so-called 'friends' who are benevolent enough to spare our lives. And finding the water is only 33% of the job.

 

In our case, the water hole in front of us is decorated with a tower, a set of two houses, and a car; all of which seems to be deserted at the moment. Now, this could only mean three things: 1) the people who lived here are out for an errand and we're free to take whatever we need; 2) They are setting up an ambush and will kill us the moment we enter the territory, or 3) They are, for one reason or another, forced to flee the water spot, or worse, died for failing to do so.

 

Option 1 is too good to be true. In the blistering heat of the summer, there is no way people would leave such a valuable resource such as water unguarded. So that leaves us with option 2 and 3. In any case, I believe it's better for us to announce our arrival instead of trying to sneak in. And my team agrees, under the condition that I should be one to do just so. Fair enough, I guess. Nobody wants to be the first in the firing line.

 

After taking a moment to say a little prayer, I step forward and announced our arrival in the loudest voice I could muster. "I am Gabriel Derosa, and I am speaking for my group of travelers. We have come in peace. We have been stranded in this desert for more than 20 hours, and are gravely in need of your water. Would you be so kind to send a representative so that we could talk?"

 

OK, not everything is the truth in those words, but hey, who would be so naive not to tell lies to strangers?

[Diabolical Rhapsody]

Tasha Droit

 

| Nasty Times

 

Literally and figuratively, everything had gone to hell the moment someone blew up the Captain of the other party. Bullets whizzed as guns were whipped out and it soon became a crazed melee. It was indeed lucky in a way that Tasha manage to survive that. Almost everyone besides her in the car were caught in the crossfire. It was a good idea to drop down the car windshield.

 

But, what came after it was rather distasteful. A guy calling himself the friend of the people came upon the scene and by the looks of it, apart from his disgusting features, he had the kind of crazed look in his eyes which were several times highlighted in fiction novels and movies. The one mark of a sociopath that separated them from the rest. They were taken prisoners along with other survivors and taken for a walk.

 

As the day settled in, the great barren desert and the blistering twin suns above made them think about rations. Water and food. As far as Frank was concerned, it seemed he didn't plan of keeping many of them alive for much long. So, in that case, they have to keep themselves alive and hope for an opportunity to escape before there deaths are made reality.

 

Somehow, a few others had fallen in her group. Luckily, both the medic and the ace guard were with me. I surmised that out of all the groups that began searching, ours had a decent shot at achieving something worthwhile and fortunately, the small pool was just that thing. Though, it wasn't without its problems as well. There was a watchtower, as well as two houses and a beaten down car. It look deserted from afar, but in these parts more often than not the looks were deceiving.

 

The brave youngling of our group braced herself and went ahead after I agreed upon a workable action plan with Viper. He'd be our ranged support as I provide a cover for our young missy. Walking just a few paces off her, I slowly and thoroughly traced the area, turning on the infra-red sensor in my right eye. Hopefully, it was as simple as it looked. But that would be too lucky, I guess. Keeping the rifle balanced at the shoulder, I marched slowly behind the girl. Hope the heat doesn't make me itchy.

[Officer Judy Hopps]

The Doctor

 

Dust, dust........aaaaand more dust.

 

"I hate the desert."

 

Grumbling this beneath her breath as she still tried desperately to treat the wounds received by many, the Doctor was just as much a busy bee as anyone else could possibly think. Moving swiftly from one patient to the next, she did her best to disinfect, stem, and patch up any of the wounds or bleeding. Some of which was trickier than others. In such unsanitary conditions, the world was plenty unmerciful in the show of disease, bacteria, or even fungal infections. Thankfully, the latter would be less represented in such an arid environment, but the fact remained that they would still need to be cautious.

 

With the wounds tended as they were hauled off into the middle of nowhere, Maribelle collapsed against the back of the truck to give herself a reprieve. Life had been rather particularly difficult as of late, and the thought of possibly escaping back home from this hellish little shithole was seeming to be a continually more daunting task. In the end, all she could do was make the best of it.

 

While sweat dripped off her fair-skinned cheek and the maniac and his company skittered off like roaches found beneath a light, she watched quietly as the group was divvying up to respective tasks to at least attempt some form of meager survival. For a moment, she watched the rippling air rising off of the burning hot dunes, and quickl came to a sharp realization. Here, they desperately needed to find water. The rule of three was a rather strict one indeed, and with the increased rate at which everyone here lost bodily fluids, it would likely be even quicker than that.

 

"I'll help find water." She wearily volunteered, falling into place beside three others and readying her shotgun. Not necessarily the most brilliant of weapon choices, but that being said, it could have always been worse. It could just as well have been a pistol of some degree, of which were completely ineffective at long ranges. At least with this large-barreled weapon she could shot moderate distances relatively accurately with slug rounds. Not that she had any...of course poor planning on her part there as well. She was a doctor! Not a soldier or an explorer, or even a voyeur! Not that some of the crew would have minded that...wait, that wasn't the word she was looking for.

 

Voyager. Voyager, that was the word she was looking for. Or was it explorer? She couldn't remember.

 

Trudging along at the rear of the group, following the tire tracks left by their new best friend and his crazed compatriots; it did not take them long to happen upon a small oasis. What was troubling was the placement of a building and the position of some vehicles. From a distance, it seemed as if it was uninhabited, whether or not this was a truth was another matter entirely. Huddling together, the quartet of unfortunate souls came up with a decisive plan. One, who fancied himself an explorer of sorts would go forward with one of the Soldiers while she and the other would remain behind; just in case God forbid that someone might need a bit of patching up.

 

This plan as one she could agree with, having never been one to particularly aim and use firearms properly less for the most dire of circumstances. So lying prone atop the near precipice of a massive dune of Sand, she watched, waited, and prayed to whichever God that might be there that the two braves of the four would go about their methods safely.

[Rainbow Dash]

Viska silently watched the stealthy bastards in the water. She reminded herself to fill a canteen with the water because the others lacked her Russian skills and could not be trusted with important tasks. She applied resin and strung her bow, never once taking her eyes off of the prey. With her free hand she drew a rough outline into the dirt. Viska didn't want to speak. The crude imagery detailed that she would move around to the other side of the watering hole and pick one of them off. A noise should send the others fleeing, hopefully towards the two who would remain hidden on this side of the water.

She didn't bother to consult either of them. Viska slowly made her way around the watering hole in a wide arc, scuttling silently and keeping her eyes on the sneakers at all times. Each hand and foot placement was carefully calculated. Finally at her position she crept closer until she was within a satisfying range. She grabbed four arrows in her hand and nocked one, keeping the others in her hand for quick firing.

She waited until she could tell the way they were facing by the water disruptions. The nearest one soon shifted and Viska was sure of it's position. She drew the bow back and let loose the arrow towards the creatures neck.

With sneakers it was hard to tell whether or not you'd hit them at first. A split second after she'd fired - enough for the arrow to meet it's target - she stood and shouted, firing another arrow at her first target and then the other two at one of the fleeing sneakers. She had a good chance to hit, but not a shot worth a damn. If it didn't kill or cripple, the arrow was wasted.

Her role was done, so Viska slinked forward towards the watering hole. She made sure to keep a careful eye out - one never knew when an opportunistic scavenger was lurking.

[Muninn]

Matias Ibarra

 

Matias gazed down at the watering hole intently. No matter how hard he focused his eyes, furrowed his brow, and tilted his head he could only just make out the outline of the the Sneakers. It didn't help that the suns of Prosperity where pummeling his group and he with a never ending barrage of UV rays and heats, causing the few beads of shit that didn't instantly evaporate on his forehead to drip down into his eyes causing him to strain them further in effort to keep them open. Matias was now certain of something that he was wary of nine months ago: He should have gotten the ocular implants instead. His neck-mouth frowned at the thought, Matias didn't even know it could do that. Matias, and his neck-mouth, swallowed in unison at the thought of drinking from the small oasis. They bet that desert juice tasted good. Matias had little to to contemplate whether or not the water would please his palates as Viska caught his attention with her sand doodling. Matias was a trained engineer with a nice, fancy degree who read blueprints for a living, and even he thought that they would need a team of cryptologists to decipher her message. It look like something his youngest sister drew after eating the special brownies she found in his bottom drawer when he was sixteen. Matias was going to whisper to her, but Viska took off in a stealthy crawl before he could. Looking at her and the lines in the sand, Matias began to understand the drawing.

 

Matias crawled to the right and a bit closer to the Sneakers, staying flat on his belly at all times  He then readied his gun and waited. Suddenly, an arrow flew through the air and presumably into the back of a Sneaker. Matias couldn't tell for sure and then Viska popped up yelling as she fired more arrows. Matias might have been able to see them much before, but definitely saw them stampeding now. Matias was pretty sure that this was his cue, popping up as he yelled from both mouths. He took aim and fired a quick volley at one of the sneakers moving towards him. Matias didn't want to waste precious ammo but wanted to bag himself a Sneaker too.

[Johnny Paradise]

Martin Tanaka

 

The merger had gone south. Though Frank seemed to be interested in a team-up of sorts, it was clear to someone of Martin's business acumen that he was nothing more than a tyrant staging a hostile takeover. Martin had already gone down that path of tyranny, and it had cost him everything--Frank too, Martin was sure, would lose everything. At the very least, he wouldn't find any business partner in Martin and his company, as Frank's blase attitude and rudeness made them all feel unwelcome.

 

Knowing that the pharmaceutical route was likely not going to pan out for him, Martin moved to a new venture: food products. With his trusted employees Matias and Viska, he set out in search of what the land had to offer. He didn't find much. Viska, however, found something. In the middle of an oasis there were, she assured him with a well meaning finger point and a crude stick drawing, some animals doing whatever it was that invisible animals do. Martin was not an ecologist, he had no idea what that was. All he knew was that, if he could see them, they'd be covered in dollar signs. Martin could spot a profit from a mile away (ignoring the fact, of course, that even less than a mile away, like he was, he could still not see the sneakers).

 

He deferred the matter of acquisition to Viska, head of purchasing and acquisitions. Once she had done her part, the rest was up to Matias and Martin, and he was sure that two men of their ability would have no problem wrapping up the whole process--with violence and bullets.

 

Martin did not like guns very much. They were loud and scary and sometimes he was afraid that he'd accidentally shoot his foot. But to start a business empire, one had to be strong. Martin was strong. He took his pistol in hand and opened fire with Matias, trying to bring the animals down. Through some miracle, he managed to keep his eyes open.