Dark Future IC, Enjoy!

[m1chael]

Alejandro’s eyes sprung open, the sound of gunfire and screaming deafening. He had a few seconds of confusion, and then he remembered. Laertes!
People could still get hurt, he had to be stopped!

Alejandro sprinted out of the cabin he had been left in, and made for the sounds of the gunfire coming from the deck above him. Bounding round a corner he saw a tall dark skinned man he did not recognise pinning one of the merchants he had come to know up against a wall by his throat. The merchant caught sight of him and screamed
‘Pirates!’ Before being hit across the face with the handle of a pistol.

The pirate wheeled the gun around on Alejandro, but he was too slow. He had streaked along the 50 meters of corridor in a couple of seconds and had leapt into the man’s chest knee first, screaming. The pirate’s ribcage cracked, knocking the wind out of him and dropping them both to the floor. The automatic blade sprung out from Alejandro’s arm and it was plunged into the mans spleen 7 times, each stab accompanied by a more high pitched scream of adrenaline from Alejandro.

Standing rapidly he whirled around to check for other pirates, but there were none in the vicinity. He lifted the merchant from the floor.
‘How many of them! Where are they! Where is Laertes?’
The Merchant looked wild eyed at him, the blood soaked lunatic covered in blades, panting in front of him and stammered out
‘I dddddon’t know.. There are so many dead… on the top deck… they.. The they have the captain!’ before passing out on the floor.

Alejandro leapt for the nearest staircase and headed to the top deck at blinding speed. Opening a hatch granted him access to the deck and he scrabbled up onto it. He scanned around him, and he could see flashes of light in the control room. He could no longer smell Laertes, which was a positive. He crept along in the shadows, and saw a figure darting around at blinding speeds, killing the pirates in the control room. The assassin had things under control on his end. Suddenly a new smell washed over him, and he whipped his head to his right, spotting a man roughly 100 meters away, with what looked like a high-powered rifle.

His target was obvious, Syrion had been a blur but soon he would need to pause, and that’s when this marksman would strike. There was no time for stealth.
‘YOU!’ Alejandro roared in the pirate marksman’s direction, and sprinted towards him at full speed, drawing his shotgun from his holster.
The marksman lifted his eye from the scope to the glance at the source of this noise, and saw a blur of movement heading towards him. On closer examination he saw a small stocky man in a duster pummelling towards him roaring a death cry.
‘Jesus chri-‘ was all he was able to say as he was deafened by the first shotgun blast obliterating the fire hose reel next to him. Alejandro fired another blast, and another. The marksman struggled to train his weapon on the blur flitting side to side, and he was then struck in the arm by the next blast, lacerating it.

Dropping the rifle and scuttling back across the floor he drew a hand grenade, and pulled out the pin. The window frame he had been sniping out from was smashed to splinters as the figure of Alejandro burst through it, stopping only to land, and kick the grenade from his blood drenched hands, sending it flying out of a nearby door. A swift boot was brought across the marksman’s face, swiftly followed by another, stamping his head into the meal floor. The shotgun blast that followed excavated the mans brain from his skull.

The grenade rolled dubiously down a nearby set of steps, right into a group of pirates who had come sprinting up to investigate the noise, and one of them spotted it at the last second, to no avail. He leapt for cover and he was burned to a crisp in the air, whilst his comrades exploded into fire as the incendiary grenade threw searingly hot metal-chemical particles at incredible velocities in all directions.

Straightening up, Alejandro dusted himself off. He felt a lot better now; carnage was his way of relieving all that pent up stress and rage. There were still gunshots to be heard here and there and he jogged in their general direction.

This post has been edited to fit in with what has allready been posted~ Star Eagle

This post has been edited by Star eagle on Sep 10 2009, 01:15 PM

[Antonious]

Sam had been sat attending to his armour when the message blared through the intercoms. With a slight sigh the large soldier flexed his left hand in a certain way, responding to the pressure movement his suit locked down with a quiet hiss. As his helmet visor closed down a smaller rectangular HUD flicked down and covered his left eye. The suit's heat saturation level, or SHL, as well as a self diagnostic of critical armour areas and the battery power left in his shields. Despite numerous stops in civilisation he had yet to find a compatible power source and in all honesty he doubted if he would, so his pack was still only at 71% charge.

"You, out of your armour now and place your hands behind you head. Any stray movement and you'll have a metal slug up your ass." The raspy voice told the large Proeliator that his opponent was to his left. Moving like lightening the temple of light warrior had covered half the ground towards the weedy looking pirate that was now holding what looked like a primitive pump action shotgun before the first shot rang through the decks, a bright flash dazzled the pirates eyes as Sam's shields caught the shot and easily deflected the low velocity weapon with only a 2% readout in shield lose. The pirates second shot was aimed at the head and much closer but unfortunately for him the large armoured hulk had already grabbed hold of both his arms and in mid shot had yanked the pirate up and around, spinning in a half moon circle as he did so. The metal container with which he impacted against promptly buckled... just after the offender head split apart like a juicy melon.

Needless to say such a loud engagement had attracted the attention of the pirates and a group of no less than eight came running down a hatch way, all were armed with basic carapace armour and a collection of gas powered semi-automatic assault rifles. Nowhere near the capability of Sam's hyper accelerated technology but certainly very sturdy, reliable and dangerous weapons. Especially if they had tungsten or uranium shells. As they opened fire in a disciplined volley Sam ducked behind another large storage container. Bullets ricocheted off the metal and shrapnel bounced around the contained area however the low velocity of such objects and the hardness of his armour mean the Proeliator didn't even notice it. In reply he ducked out of cover and with a kneeling shot from his pistol blew shot one of the pirates in the chest from behind the cover he was in. The hyper velocity slug from his pistol went straight through the wooden box, the pirates carapace armour, his body and then out the other side. The pressure difference causing his internal organs to collapse and a relatively instantaneous death. As the other 7 paused for thought another 4 shots broke the side of the metal wall one was hiding behind and tore apart his two knee joints, dropping him to the floor, crippled and bleeding so heavily that the pirate passed out from pain.
Ducking back into cover Sam felt the drain on his shields as a volley from the remaining 6 pirates was stopped although only glancing hits his shield reading dropped by another 5% to 64% and his SHL was steadily climbing in such a close and furious combat. Checking his pistol reading and finding still another thousand odd rounds in it Sam readied a disc shaped fragmentation grenade before his next attack. The pirates it seemed did not understand squad tactics for flushing an opponent out of cover... despite their formidable equipment and weapons knowledge

[Star eagle]

Laertes sat alone in the dark, his pulse was racing and yet there was no escape. He had spent the last ten minutes since awaking throwing himself at the door.
His rage and fury was temporarily at least sated, his body and current state of mind may be that of a dangerous and aggressive monster, but even monsters understand when continued aggression leads no-where or even to injury. And thus the massive bulk of Laertes brooded in the corner of the room, keeping a watchful eye on the crack of light that spilt through under the door.
Syrion had left urgently a few minutes ago and now a new unfamiliar man replaced him.
Laertes didn’t recognize the man’s scent, and the sound of his boots on the floor was almost silent. There was a rattle as the man tried to unlock the door

“Hey I found a locked door!” the man yelled “Might be something valuable in it”
A second man joined him outside
“Go take over guarding the hostages I’ll get the door open… probably just food storage though” the second man replied, and the first took his orders.

There was another rattle as the man tried to pull the door open, then a cocking of a gun and two short bangs as the man shot the lock out.
Laertes had risen at the sound of the gun being cocked and was already waiting near the door when the two shots went off, the sound temporarily deafened him but as the man kicked the door open Laertes attacked.

The pirate didn’t expect a thing, there was a brief silence as the door flew open and then out of the corner of his eye a blur and then he was dead. Laertes slammed the man’s head into the door frame and let him slump to the floor oozing a trail of blood.

The light was different Laertes realised, and there was a strange scent on the air… gun powder… strange men and aggression.
There were new enemies to kill… maybe they are the cause of the pain flittered through Laertes’ mind and at once he started running.

As he did so he let out a roar… a challenge to all who would take it.

The pirates dotted around the ship heard the bellow and some cowered, it was a sound of pure anger as if a new and terrible god of war had been born upon this ship and was now looking for a foe to kill.

Laertes made his way up towards the deck ignoring a flock of sailors who had been hiding in the stair well who fled at his sight, they had seen him already and knew the danger he posed.
As he reached the open air of the deck he noticed that the wind was stronger and the ship was pitching and rocking violently in the waves.
Once more he let out a bellowed challenge, a roar of anger and pain.
A challenge to anyone, be it men or element, the beast that was Laertes would have been ready to fight the very wind had he been able to get a hold of it.

Behind him a cruel mocking laugh rang out
“They’ve been storing a beasty… bet it’s destined for a circus somewhere”
Laertes spun and charged towards the pirate, who levelled his gun at Laertes and let off a blast, the bullet catching Laertes in the chest, embedding itself into his armour plate, but the shock of the bullet’s impact transferred into the monster’s body and cracked a section of his ribcage. Laertes span with the impact but carried on running now even more enraged.
The pirate wasn’t afraid and fired again, the bullet caught Laertes in his un-armoured left thigh, tearing a hole in his muscle.
With a roar of pain Laertes bulled into his foe, catching the man into his run, the pirate flew backwards and landed in a heap some hundred metres away on the floor. Laertes was on him in an instant, despite his wounded leg.

The monster picked up the pirate by one leg as if he was a rag doll and swung him round into floor once more, shattering bones and knocking him unconscious. Then Laertes gripped the man’s head and wrenched. With a sickening crunch the man’s neck broke.
Now bored with the dead thing in his hands Laertes dropped the corpse.


Below the deck on the first level the group of pirates left to guard the hostages changed their plan, there were dangerous foes on this ship and guarding the hostages was as far as they thought a waste of time and skilled warriors.
With a grim look set on his face one of the pirates turned to the hostages gathered in the Sailor’s Mess
“Sorry about this… nothing, uh, personal you know” he said before laughing out loud at the terrified look on the hostages faces as he raised his gun and pulled the trigger, beside him his companions followed suite and the screams of the dying hostages was drowned out in the barrage of automated gunfire.

[Mr Marshmallow]

Westronia... Youth...

BANG

"Dammit, another pipe burst! We need to hurry up and fix this, now!"

Argaven jumped a little, woken from his half-sleep. Some scared young man with wide eyes had dragged him out of bed, spouting nonsense about a werewolf and the engines being destroyed. Well, the engines being destroyed wasn't nonsense. Something massive had been thrown into the row of pipes that brought coolant to the large engines that powered the ship. Along with the pipes countless control wires had been snapped, which had left them stranded with no power.

Helping the mechanics when he could, Argaven did all he could to keep from falling back asleep. Old-man habits die hard, and he was used to a good night's sleep every night. The violent rocking of the ship and the shouts from the workers didn't let him doze off for too long.

"Could anyone take over here? I'm out of wire and'll be going to the storeroom for more."

Seeing a spot were he could help out, Argaven moved in and pulled out his kit. He began re-stringing the wire, when the mechanic burst back in.

"Everyone! The cap’ns been taken prisoner by pirates! We’re supposed to just sit tight.”

The hush that had fallen over the engineers broke in a wave of noise, everyone clamoring to be heard. Someone ran out the door, disappearing into the passageways. One pushed himself to the front and held up his hands.

“Calm down! There isn’t anything we can do. Let’s just keep working on the engines.”

They turned back to re-wiring and re-piping the damaged sections. As they were working, they talked quietly among themselves, and one murmur grew louder than the rest.

“Why are we fixing the engines? So the pirates can have a free ride back?”

“Better that than having them sink the ship,” snapped the one who had heard the announcement.

“Yeah, well if we fight them, we’ll have our ship back and then we can fix the engines afterwards! Right?”

Standing up, the dissenter flung his hands wide, one of which was holding a piece of equipment. As he slowed, the tool didn’t and flew through the small hold, crashing into one of the engines. Sparks flew as warning klaxons sounded, blaring over the noise of the waves. Half running and half being pulled from the hold, Argaven wondered which was more dangerous: an unstable engine or pirates. With his multi-tool gripped tightly one hand and his laser-pistol in the other, he wondered if it was really worth going back to Westronia.

[Gramlin Aletracker]

A fragmentation grenade flew through the air, landing a feet away from the nearest pirate shooting. Sam had aimed it well, and it landed right in front of the six still living men. Timed it right too, as it blew near-instantly. But the effect wasn't as expected.
Having seen a grenade flying through the air, one of the more experienced pirates knew his moments would be counted if he didn't react fast. He also knew that his friends wouldn't hear anything because of their thirst to shoot. Instead, he acted on his own. He had enough insight to know where the grenade would land - neatly in front of the man next to him - and he knew the man couldn't be saved. Stopping his shooting, he went for the best solution at the time: one man's life for 5 others to live was a good deal. Dropping his gun, his hands moved towards his neighbour. His right foot also followed, placing itself in front of the doomed man's left foot. As the grenade bounced for the first time, the 'salvation' pirate jerked his foot backwards as he shoved the rest of his neighbour forward. Keeping control the whole time, he only let go at the last moment ensuring the doomed soon-to-be body fully landed on the grenade. Not looking back again, he turned and jumped to freedom. A grunt was the last thing the other man said; one splattering later it was the last thing that still existed of him. An echo of a grunt.

As soon as he heard the frag explode, Sam was up on his feet with his pistol aimed up. The first pirate, bloodied by his neighbour's leftover's and confused by the frag's sounds, never saw the deathblow coming. The second did, but it didn't help. The third would've followed too, if 'salvation' pirate didn't reenter the scene again, with yet another gun in his hand. The first salvo barely missed Sam and the Proeliator jumped for cover.
"Move it! Move it! We don't want another of those grenades," he could hear someone shout from where he sat. The gunfire made it hard to hear - very hard to hear - but somehow the other two men understand. Three pairs of heavy boots thundered away, covered by fire. Soon both stopped, the silence proclaiming Sam was alone.
He moved to where he had sat and picked up his last two grenades and an incindary grenade too. He would use them later, for sure. In the back on his mind he noted he'd need to fill his stack up in the next town where he could find some. Two grenades wasn't going to be enough for a long journey such as they were expecting. Later that worry would come, not now. Now he ran after the pirates who had turned left. Through the door, right into another body. A body he instantly attacked for fear of more pirates. A body who turned out to be Isao.

Axe raised, Isao realised who Sam was the moment Sam's finger stopped on the pistol's trigger. Confusion hit him face followed a stern resolve. Isao had just seen 3 pirates run, his good ear had heard a grenade of some sort explode and Sam was covered in blood. Hopefully not his own, but at least the Sharii knew what had happened. The cowards had attacked Sam when the man had merely been on his own. He respected the Proeliator's fighting skills all the more now, seeing that he had managed to live through it. Then he saw Sam's face, confused and unsure whether to talk or hunt pirates. Sympathetic, Isao spoke first.
"Nice to see you, my honoured friend. I saw enemies. Say we hunt them?" Not waiting for an answer, Isao led by example and followed the bloody footsteps going through the corridor. A nice amount of blood that was and he did not want to know from where it had come.
Frowning a bit, Sam nodded and followed.

***

The last of the hostages fell down dead in pools of their own blood and flesh. Even Hap was slightly sickened at what he had just done, even though it had been his command and his mocking voice that had said it wasn't personal. The amount of bodies and heaps made him slightly regret his choices, but they always did. Once he returned home to the ladies, it usually left him. So he ignored it.
"Men, rank up!" he shouted. These weren't important men or women, nor had they been very good hostages. He reckoned it was merely the ship's crew, with all the merchants elsewhere. At the time it hadn't been important, as the ship wasn't able to go on without crew. Now they hadn't mattered anymore; dangerous enemies were on board and they needed to deal with them first. Crewing a ship was something he could do himself.
Ordering his group of seven, they left the mess hall towards deck. Rounding the corner, they saw the stairs that would bring them up to the decks. They also heard a grenade explode. Followed by shooting and silence. Hap wasn't about to get caught on surprise, though. Speaking the usual words of recognition, he hoped to hear a good answer.
"Fly low and high; speak or die!" But nothing came back. So he repeated his call, hoping for the right response of 'Speak to give, I have yet to live!' Yet nothing came, again. Signing to his men, they cautioned on.
Turning yet another corner, Hap spotted a brightly coloured coat turn the corner followed by the bloodied suit of armour. Not one of us, so they die, he thought. Hand up, he ordered for a stop and took out a grenade. Covered by his team, he made his way to where he had seen the two strangers turn the corner. They would be nearing the bunkroom now. Not caring, Hap took out the grenade’s catch, counted to two and lobbed it. Two dead strangers coming up crossed his mind grimly.

***

Surprised by a bouncing sound, Sam knew what it was before he looked back. A grenade had its own unique sound and this one was no different. If the one who threw it was like any of the pirates he’d fought with before, he didn’t have much time to use. Warning Isao would be too late, leaving him with the last option. He lunged, taking two big steps, picked up the smaller Bushiõ warrior and jumped into the closest door. The door leading into the bunkroom. The bunkroom the pirates had entered in trying to escape.

Isao landed hard and painfully, but he was up straight away. He did not know why Sam had grabbed him when he was yet again thrown to the floor. This time it was an explosion and he understood that Sam had saved his life. And not just that, the explosion had too. A salvo of bullets sprayed the spot where he had just stood.
He was in a room, the bunkroom. Beds were all around and he was laying behind one. Sam was too. When he had stood up, he had incidentally moved away from the beds’ cover and into the free space between the rows of beds. And in that space someone had shot, most presumably the pirates they had followed. Looking at Sam laying next to him, he saw that the big guy had come to the same conclusion.
“I have a flash bang, Isao. Close your eyes and ears. Um... when it blows, attack,” Sam spoke in an unsure voice. Unsure for speaking, not for what he was saying. Isao merely nodded. The words ‘close your eyes and ears’ he had understood, just like ‘attack’ made sense to him. Now he had merely to wait for what a flash bang was. He understood quickly.

When the blast came and went, Isao was up instantly followed by Sam. Together they raced to the other side of the chamber, right to the three pirates. For some reason though, they seemed physically unaffected by the flash, standing still without moving. Till Sam shot one down. Then two awoke from their dazedness. Too close to fire their guns, the four men landed into a hand-to-hand; two versus two. Sam with his fists, Isao with his axe and the pirates with blades they had taken out from a hidden place. Not having the space needed, Isao could not use his axe properly and was left with stabs and half slashed to use. Which saved the pirates from instant death.

***

The sound of water reached Miyuki as she opened the door into the engine room again. She had to go back to get some of her tools and was ready to help, but what she saw made her drop the tools. Five, six, no seven small, mechanic spiders were crawling on the walls, spraying acid on one point. The gap they had created so far let small waterfalls in, and it was growing at a fast rate. The EMPT was already in her hand triggering the mechanism as she threw it. ‘Get out!’ The mechanics had all bunched up in a corner, scarily staring at the destruction. At the sound of Miyuki’s voice, however, they responded. The spiders did so too. One crawled towards the door, and stunned a mechanic as he tried to escape through the entrance. The EMPT should’ve triggered by now, Miyuki thought as she jumped back to let the remaining mechanics run. Another was stunned, but the rest managed to get away safely.
More seconds passed, and the EMPT still hadn’t detonated. Then it hit her; she had already used the bomb on Laertes on deck. It had to be recharged. More spiders gathered – ten of them were now using their acid to make the hole even bigger, and water continued to flow into the machine room. One spider – the eleventh, she bitterly thought – was on the ground, water covering it up. It had short-circuited. These creations were vulnerable to water. They were digging their own grave, but would take the entire ship and crew with them if possible. Not that they had any emotions; they were simply robots, programmed to act like this. She would have to warn the others. There wasn’t much time left, and she couldn’t close the door. She lacked the strength to push against all the water pouring in. Leaping upstairs, Miyuki made her way to the upper levels. Where was Tanak?

***

Fires everywhere. Blasts running through the area. Where was Miyuki’s trail gone? It had suddenly stopped. Trails of lightless fires came across it instead. Small fires, like the bright green ones the rats had. Small fires, yet not lights. Tanak did not count. Counting did not matter, but eleven lightless lfires had gone by. And Miyuki’s trail was gone. Gone!
Danger!
Tanak roared, stopping where she stood. She was in the middle of a tight area, not able to turn. Only able to move forward. Miyuki’s brown fire she searched. Searched and did not find. The trail was gone! She roared again. Why, how? Lightless fires would die. Black they would go. Extinguished.
Danger!
Unsure what to do, Tanak followed the trails to the bottom of the ship. Turning corners, the Sandbiter ran as fast as possible, deeper and deeper. To a sudden stairway that disappeared into water. Water rising. Tanak could swim well, but the lightless fires’ trails led into the water. She wouldn’t follow lightless fires into the water. Looking around, she suddenly spotted something. Something that heartened her again. She had found Miyuki’s fire again. Just above her, leading away, she could see the brown fire illuminating her soul. And her trail had come out of the water. Still...
Danger!

***

Hap did not see any bodies. He heard fighting though. Holding his hand up, stopping his team again, he assessed the situation. Two doors led into the only room the two strangers could’ve used to escape. The bunkroom. Not wishing to speak, he signalled with his hands. Two left. Follow me. Four right. Meet me. Nods affirmed that the orders were understood and the team rushed in.

***

Sam’s ears twitched. Noises other than the ones around him. Noises coming from behind mostly, with a big in front. Running boots, like those the pirates had. This wasn’t good, more danger. He had to warn Isao. Gaining a moment through a feint, he spoke,
“Look out Isao. Danger from behind and front. Need to drive them forward.”

Isao nodded in understanding, busy in his fight. He blocked blow upon blow, always on the edge of being too late. The small swords the pirates used surely had the upper hand on the long axe he used here and he realised now that it was going to cost him his life soon. He needed to switch. Trying to gain time too, he suddenly threw Haru Akane into his two opponents, stunning their movements for a needed split-second. Instantly he had Aiko in his left hand, ready for fighting. It was the thing his body needed. It seemed as if suddenly the Colours agreed to join in the fight. No longer were his moves forced, they flowed. Yellow was silent as ever, but Red cackled in near-crazed happiness of being able to avenge Kouki. Blue smiled grimly and joined up. Blue and Red first, Yellow covered the retreat. Together, Isao and the Colours gained ground on the two men. Sam was all but forgotten as Sharii took on both enemies at once. Step by step, the three fighters moved to the middle of the bunkroom. Now equal distance from both doors, they were surrounded by beds.

Sam saw the three pirates coming in from the front just as he heard the four entering behind him. The three in front weren’t dangerous, unless they chose to shoot through their friends, but the four had free shots at both Sam and Isao, now fighting alone. He had to think, think! Then he stopped thinking, remembering his teacher once more. Is it not true your body does the work? Let mind and body work together. Let it free. Don’t think, do. Act. And Sam shot his pistol. He could no longer help Isao in his one-on-one fighting, but he could save the Bushiõ warrior from an honourless death to bullets in his back. Pinning down the four pirates, Sam knew that this was the last fight he would do. Time was against them and eventually one bullet to go through his shields, pinned down or not. This was his last chance at living and he would make the best of it.
Sam ducked behind a bed, continually shooting at any body part he saw, withholding the pirates from shooting. Isao kept the two on the other side busy enough to ensure the other three were useless. Occasionally Sam shot that way too, through the bunk beds. Making the best of life. Living it out as long as possible. There it was, the first answering shot. Still missing, it was merely one of many shots that would come. And Sam was running out of shots of his own. Then he remembered his grenades. He could force them into hand to hand battle. Taking out both grenades, the Proeliator unpinned the latches holding the blasts away. Both at the same time. Counting the seconds, he threw when he knew it was time. Years of practice made his throw a perfect launch and the grenades landed where they were meant to land. One on the ground behind the pirates, another in the doorway. They blew instantly. The pirates would have been dead, if they had not moved forward. Seeing the grenades fly, they had moved forward to escape sudden death. Right into Sam’s arms. The first pirate died a painful death as he broke the man’s throat in one punch, knocking him into the two behind him. One pirate had been too slow after all.

The fight moved on. Isao had gained ground, but with the three helping out, he was once more forced back. A pirate dropped down dead of his wounds, but four more kept moving. Sam, only ‘armed’ with his hands had the same problem and soon both warriors stood back to back, fighting for their lives. Once more, without hopes to live. Whenever Sam managed to get one blow in, he had to block two of his own. Every time Isao hit an enemy, Red hissed in injury as a sword sliced through the clothes. Two dead men standing, fighting for a worthy end. An end for the pirates to tell to their mates, in respect to these fine warriors.

An end that didn’t come.

Shouting, Logan turned the corner, shotgun’s barrel first. On the other side of the bunkroom, a crossbow came in, followed by Scott. The bolt that flew on skewered a neck and impaled into another man’s shoulder. Clicking the crossbow, another bolt came up and flew. And another one. Logan pulled the trigger and a pirate dropped. Pump action. Trigger. Another pirate dropped. All the while shouting.

The fight was over as fast as it had once began. Isao wanted to thank his rescuers, but he was never able to. The ship started leaning over backwards in a dangerous manner and the men saw water entering the room. Adding two and two together, they raced to the decks. The decks that they found empty of enemies. It turned out Alejandro, Rafaèl and Syrion had finished off the last of the pirates on the deck. One with his shotgun, the next with his swords and the last with a crappy rifle, borrowed from a dead pirate. The same rifle that was aiming at the pirate captain, still a hostage.

***

Without time to properly search the ship, the seven men did a quick search of the top decks; the mercenary living quarters were already flooded. Everyone they found was hurriedly put into a lifeboat and each time it was full, the lifeboat was dropped. Just before the last of the six lifeboats was to be dropped, Fern arrived with a body on his back. It was Laertes, now back to normal again but unconscious too.
As the last of the boats left the ship, the ship disappeared into the void, without hope to be found again. Soon the boats could not see each other anymore either. The storm blocked a lot of the vision and it also made the ships uncontrollable.
Later that night, as morning came and the storm ceased, the lifeboats hit land. All separate, everyone would have to find each other first.

[b][OOC: Ok, Star Eagle will make a modpost next, describing the area each lifeboat landed at. Please PM Star Eagle for that if you want to post. I'd do it myself, but it's late and I need to go.

In boat 1: Laertes and his cat, Scott, Fern, and Three wounded Sailors

In Boat 2: Syrion, Myuki, Tanak, Three Traders with a few goods, and One Sailor.

In Boat 3: Neela, Sampson, and Two dieing Sailors.

In Boat 4: Farasaki, Raphael, Two Proeliator Mercs,

In Boat 5: Argaven, Chakuntra, Isao.

In Boat 6: Logan, Two Biker Mercs, One Sailor, and Alejandro.

[Star eagle]

Six lifeboats bobbed across the furious waves into the night, behind them the dying wreck of the cargo ship, was slowly dragged down to the sea floor.
The currents and waves pushed the boats through the night, off course, northwards, and towards land.

As the sun rose the six tiny boats had spread apart and were now barely visible to each other, however in the distance they could make out a hazy outline of land. The previous night’s stormy weather had all but disappeared in the early morning, leaving the survivors with a calm sea and a cool breeze. Slowly they drifted towards the land.

Syrion sat awake in the prow of his boat, his companions had drifted off to sleep. Fully aware of the danger that they were in he had stayed awake, watching as the other boats had drifted away, helpless to the currents. Now the sun was climbing the heavens, it was probably about seven o’clock and the small boat was sped by the waves towards an island. It looked like a good place to land he noted to himself, there seemed to be greenery on the solid land, and there were sea birds circling above it, they’d make a good source of food if necessary. The sailor stirred at the new noise, the cry of sea birds interrupting the monotonous splashing of the waves.
“Could think of worse places to land” he muttered groggily to Syrion
“Give me a hand with the oars and we’ll row ourselves onto the beach”
They grabbed an oar each, stepping over their sleeping companions on the floor of the boat and sat on the centre bench.
Together they steered the small vessel towards the beach and in half an hour they heard the crunch of the hull gliding along the sand onto dry land. By this point the other inhabitants of the boat had woken up and as soon as they reached the beach. Syrion and the sailor dragged the boat up out of the surf and above the tide line before collapsing in the sand.

******

On boat Number One everyone was asleep, Laertes had begun his transformation back to his normal human shape shortly before he’d been dragged onto the boat and had promptly fallen unconscious at his companion’s feet. The others had drifted off to sleep after a few hours at sea and all awoke as their boat ran aground. Laertes was first to pull himself up and look around. The small boat was on a beach surrounded on three sides by tall and imposing cliffs, dotted with plant life, with a noisy nest of birds at the top.
“What the fuck…” he muttered half to himself
“The cargo ship sank” replied the least wounded of the three sailors “we managed to drag you aboard the boat… lucky for you; otherwise you’d be at the bottom of the sea dining with the Mer-King”
Scott Laertes and Fern pulled themselves out of the boat and into the surf, and half asleep dragged the boat up onto the stony top of the beach before sitting down on the nearest boulder.
“What do we do now?” Fern asked

******

Alejandro and Logan sat next to each other on the centre bench, each had an oar and they were trying their hardest to get towards the land, struggling against a current which seemed to be dragging them out into the sea again. But with about an hours hard labour they had managed to pull themselves into a beach. At one end of the beach there were cliffs with caves, but the cliffs sloped down in the middle leaving only a short scramble from beach level into a wooded valley, the beach itself was stony and near the base of the cliff there were variety of plants and pools of what looked like fresh water.

******

Argaven, Isao and one of the other mercenaries who sat in silent fear sat helplessly as their boat was slammed up onto a rocky beach. The current had whipped them towards it at breakneck speed, and they had narrowly avoided smashing up against the jagged rocks that dotted the approach to the beach.
Now however the tide had left the boat on a small outcrop of stone at the base of a slope of rubble from a landslide. This was dotted with exotic looking bushes. At the top of the slope there seemed to be a stretch of grassland before a dense and wild looking jungle.

******

The inhabitants of boat four had slept through their landing, waking only when the sun reached it’s zenith at mid day and the heat woke a myriad of noisy creatures, ranging from biting insects and raucous birds to bellowing toads. As they awoken they looked around and all they could see in about a mile in every direction was swamp, no solid land and nothing taller than the occasional patch of reeds. However to the north east they could make out the edge of what looked like a forest about a mile distant yet there was no discernable route towards it.

******

Neela and Sampson had been awake all night, trying their hardest to tend to the two horrendously wounded sailors. The stench of blood clung to the boat and drew a haze of flies from the mainland as they drew close. Half asleep and concerned for the lives of their companions in the boat neither had tried to row the boat towards a half ruined jetty they had passed as the high tide dragged them up the mouth of the river. However they were deposited on a sand bank. On one side the river flowed past, now that the tide was flowing out it was a raging torrent, the previous night’s storm had obviously swollen it and there was a large amount of flotsam racing along in the current. On the other side there was land. A dark and wild jungle crowded the bank, right up to the sand, some of the plants even growing half submerged in the river.

[Lord Blackstaff]

Syrion's face was black behind his mask as he stepped off the boat onto dry sands. The loss of his chest was more cutting then he'd ever imagined. It had held more value then the entire merchant's cargo put together, to him, and he would never be able to replace the equipment and items inside.

His fists curled as he stalked off, catlike in his movement, vanishing around a bend for a moment. His entire body quivered with a pent up rage, before his face went blank and he relaxed completely.

The contract was terminated. He was done with this whole fucking deal. He would find Laertes and deal with that pendant. But that was it. He wanted nothing to do with its fucking inhabitants or the bloody cocksuckers who thought themselves merchants. To the hells with them and their greed. He was done. He shouldered the rifle, made sure that the two automatics were securely holstered on the bandoleer he had taken from on of the pirates and that all the ammunition he had collected from their corpses was accounted for, and climbed up off the sandy beach and onto the grassy stretch in front of the jungle.

After checking that everything was accounted for, he started a steady jog north; there was always something north. He could run like this for hours if necessary, before switching to a fast walk, then going back to jogging. It wasn't fast, but it ate up the miles in a steady rhythm that was calming to the assassin.

There had better be some kind of docks on this island, he was going to need to get off this place if he was to get anywhere.

[Hawkeye]

It was gone, gone with no chance of it ever being recoverd. That Bike had belonged to his best friend before his death, now all he owned was his weapons and what few things he'd put in his rucksack. Logan laid out his Pistol, the shotgun he'd taken from the ship and the contents of the bag on the beach. Four mags for the USP match, fourty eight rounds in total, and twelve shells for the shotgun. His clasp knife needed cleaning as well as the hunting dagger he carried on his belt. The tool kit was fine in its watertight case but the lockpick was gone, must of been washed away in the storm with his stove, med pack, the radio Leartes had given him and most of his food. Still had the fire lighters and flint and steel kit in the bag though.

Not much left.

Logan lit his last dry cigarette and started cleaning his weapons, to avoid anymore corrosion from the salt water, as he watched the others check over their own gear. Cleaning quickly and efficiently Logan then packed his few belongings back in his bag. He stuck his hands in his damp pockets and brushed his fingers against the keys to the lost bike. With a cry of anguish and rage, that startled the others, the Outrider threw the keys into the rolling surf. Falling to his knees in the soft sand with tears freely rolling down his cheeks Logan whispered three words.
"I'm sorry Joe."
Kuar and Finn came over to Logan and help pull him to his feet.
"You okay Logan?" Kuar asked carefully
"I will be." was the stern reply "once i find that bastard assassin."

[Tassadar]

The room was brightly lit by chandeliers hanging on the ceiling. Large, brown support beams kept the structure standing; it was far too big to rest on just the walls. Miyuki took a small sip of her red wine. Port they called it here, and it warmed her body up slightly. The men and women around her were talking rather loud, and some of men around the table in the corner could be heard laughing. Miyuki smiled; the mood seemed so idyllic to her. Why she couldn’t remember, but it felt like that.
She was cold to the bone, and that continued even now. Which was weird, now that she thought of it. She’d been in this room for some hours now. It was time to go. Time to go to where she belonged.
But go where? Not knowing why she did it, she finished her wine and opened the door outside.

Opening her eyes, Miyuki woke up with small drops of water running down her face. The mist that had been around for at least four hours still hadn’t been dissipated. The three merchants were sitting around a small fire, next to the boat. The sailor was… Where was the sailor? And where was that assassin? ‘What’s going on here, guys? Where are the others?’
One of the merchants looked up. ‘That sneaky guy ran away. 'e left us behind, just like that. Didn't trust 'im in the first place, ye see, but 'e'd be useful. The sailor… C’mon, go with me. I’ll show ye.’ Thinking a short 'Men!',Miyuki stepped out of her small shelter. It had been enough to keep her fairly dry, but the mist came everywhere. She sighed; at least her dream was peaceful. ‘Just a second.’ She kneeled down in order to put her equipment back in her pocket. Fortunately she’d gotten her tools before even finding out about the spiders, or otherwise they would’ve sunk together with the ship and the other people’s properties. Grinning slightly she turned towards the merchant who’d spoken to her. A small gesture with her hand ordered him to lead. She didn’t care about Silvertongue; he’d never bothered talking to her, and the fact that he left the group behind meant he didn’t care about them either. He could die for all she cared.

It was only twenty metres ahead, but because of the mist even that much was hard to see clearly. What she saw wasn’t nice; both of the sailor’s arms were broken, and his neck was twisted in an irregular way too. He was dead. ‘What happened?’ The man smiled. ‘Not much. ‘e helped us out with getting the fire started, and ‘e even was so kind to share ‘is knife with us… we repaid him. Fer ‘is kindness, ye see. Killing ‘im was our way of doing that. Yer the next, missy.’ Another merchant had the flare in his hands, and aimed it at her. It was used to light a distress beacon, but when fired at this range it could kill someone with moderate ease. Trusting her instincts, she jumped up, and bended her legs again. The momentum gained in doing so was then used to thrust herself forward, to the first merchant. Knocking him to the ground, she kept running towards the jungle with large leaps.

Heading deeper and deeper into the jungle, she could slowly recognise a dark shadow, who disappeared behind trees every time she got in range. It was Syrion for sure. Even if he didn’t want to have anything to do with the group, she would have to at least warn him about the merchants. She didn’t know their plans, but it probably didn’t involve Silvertongue and her staying alive. So it had to be something bad.
‘Wait!’ The figure disappeared behind another tree again, and she was starting to get frustrated. Gripping one of her wrenches, she started running harder. As she was about to shout another time, she stood face to face with him.
He stared at her. His face was like a rock; hard and emotionless. On second thought, he was wearing a mask. It frightened her, even if only a bit. Eyes always told something about people, but his were covered.
‘It’s just… – her voice trembled a bit, she thought angrily –Why did you even leave the group? You’re supposed to stick with us. We can find the other back, you know. It doesn’t matter, though, because the merchants…’ She paused for a bit, catching her breath before she continued again. ‘They killed the sailor, and intend to kill us too. Now I don’t know what they intend to do, but it’s not anything good I think.’ She looked at Silvertongue, but he didn’t show any emotion at all.
Pulling up his mask, so that only his mouth and nose were visible, he spat on the grass beside him, turned, and left.

Miyuki clenched her fists. So he dared ignoring her? Men! They really were the worst. Not even realising she did it, she grabbed her wrench and threw it against Silvertongue’s head, knocking him out. He didn’t see that one coming, now did he?

OOC: LB, feel free to wake up any time you want. You're not tied or anything, and Miyuki's with you. She just knocked you out, releasing her frustrations on you. She took care of your wound.

[Star eagle]

Laertes sat alone in mute shock, the boat had sunk. Last thing he remembered was sitting in his room in agonizing pain, and now he’d lost all his possessions, his sword… his guns… his cigars. That was the most painful blow, they had been the finest ‘Meric cigars money could buy, his one link to his home. So not only now was he without all his important possessions, he was without nicotine.
And aside from that apparently everyone who had escaped from the boat knew about his problem. Life didn’t get much worse, except that it did, he was marooned on a beach which could be anywhere, stuck with two green mercenaries and a trio of good for nothing wounded sailors, except that the number was now two, one had apparently died on the boat.

No-one tried to rouse Laertes from his state of practically catatonic shock, he was a dangerous man, and everyone else on the beach with him had seen him in his mutated state and despite the fact that he looked normal now who knew what beast might be lurking in his mind. One of the remaining two sailors wasn’t exactly in any state to do anything aside from lie groaning in pain in the boat, his leg was shattered by a bullet wound and despite the fact that it had been bandaged tightly it was still bleeding and Fern who had been trying his hardest to look after the man seemed worried that it could get infected.

Eventually Laertes came round to normality again and let out a heavy sigh; now that the shock had passed he could move on and cope with the loss of pretty much everything he owned. His hand reached up to the necklace absent mindedly and a flicker of hope glinted in Laertes’ mind. If he had that there was a still a fortune to be had somehow. Satisfied that his luck hadn’t abandoned him yet Laertes stood up and stretched before strolling down the beach towards where the boat lay with the wounded man in it. Fern looked up as he approached.
“Where’s Scott?” Laertes asked as soon as he was close enough to be easily audible
“He’s gone looking for a way up those cliffs, and the other sailor, Rex his name is, has gone to see if there’s any fire wood” Fern replied, looking up from the wounded sailor.
“what’s wrong with him eh?” Laertes asked nodding towards the groaning figure in the boat
“Bullet to the leg, close aswell, pretty much tore it apart.” came the reply.
Laertes looked over at the blood stained rag of a bandage, and tutted.
“Doubt you’ll save the leg now mate… best to amputate and cauterise… it’d hurt like hell, but it’s better than having an infection.”
Fern stood up and nodded for Laertes to walk away from the wounded man with him; once the two were out of earshot Fern shrugged his shoulders
“That was the plan… we would have used the axe that was in the boat, we didn’t want to let him know, it could be too much for him, he’s lost a lot of blood and seems to be getting weaker by the minute”
“Seems kinder to me to put the bugger out of his misery” replied Laertes gruffly

Rex by now had returned and had a large pile of drift wood in his arms ranging from great branches to small twigs and handfuls of leaves taken from the bottom of the cliff. Fern turned to see him and smiled.
“Put it near the boat and we’ll make the fire there” he called, indicating to a patch that had obviously been levelled out in anticipation of the fire.

The cat that had been strolling around following interesting trails of scent reached the cave mouth and felt a breeze coming out, something smelt odd and sent the fur on his back standing up in fright. The cat hissed and turned and fled, pelting back towards the boat and Laertes as fast as it could run.

[m1chael]

Alejandro gave Logan a firm pat on the shoulder.
‘I lost someone once too friend. And there will be a time to cry. But for now, we must rest and recover our strength. I propose we form a shelter of some kind and eat. What say you?’
Alejandro extended a scarred, dried blood covered hand out, which Logan carefully considered and then took, which hoisted him to his feet with surprising strength.

‘Ok, I don’t know about you guys but I can smell animals near here, and these tracks would confirm that it could be a boar of some kind. I have decent experience with this sort of thing, so if it’s ok with everyone I’ll leave you all in charge of shelters and fire, whilst I try to get us some food?’

There were several nods of agreement, and without a word Alejandro limped off into the wooded area nearby, following his nose. As he cleaned his weapons of salt water whilst walked, he stopped to eat several orange coloured bugs that were on the floor. They had many vitamins and some substance too them, but this served only to make him more hungry.

Several hours later he wandered back to the group with a small pig over his shoulders that had one huge gaping slash wound across its neck. He was greeted by several hungry faces, an impressive temporary wooden shelter made from driftwood and other materials, along with a decent sized fire.

‘Excellent, we have done well considering the ordeal we had last night friends. Once we’ve bled this pig we can cook it, and then have some well-earned sleep. For we will, I feel, need it for the energy to search for our friends at sunrise.’

[Star eagle]

Laertes stood over the now unconscious sailor, the axe which had been heated in the embers of the drift wood fire was in his bionic hand.
Fern and Rex had spent all the time while waiting for the fire to get hot enough to sterilize the axe explaining where the blow needed to fall, above the bullet wound but above the knee, and now that the man was unconscious from blood loss and pain they had drawn a mark on his bare leg with a piece of charcoal taken from the fire.
Fern sat read with the alcohol liquid from the first aid kit to splash into the wound once Laertes had chopped the leg free, and Rex with his hands wrapped in one of the padded life jackets waited to grap a solid flat stone from the bottom of the fire in order to cauterise the wound once it had been sterilized by Fern.

Laertes swung the axe down, the first blow landed slap bang on the charcoal mark, and with strength leant by hydraulics and mechanical muscles the axe sheared through flesh and bone, coming to a dull thud in the sand below the sailor’s leg. Instantly a flood of blood gushed out onto the floor turning the golden sand crimson in less than a second. Fern jumped in and squirted the alcohol onto the wound, if the sailor had been awake and dealing with the pain of the axe blow he would be torn to pieces by the pain now, but mercifully the man was comatose. As Fern stepped back Rex heaved the stone still covered in burning embers and slammed it into the ragged wound. The smell of searing flesh spread across the beach and finally the comatose sailor awoke, he took a brief second to register the pain and breath in and then let out a resounding howl of pain, so loud that it echoed off the cliffs and a cloud of seagulls who had been roosting in the crags of the cliffs took off in fright and circled round the bay screaming their own cries of fear and challenges which mingled with the sailor’s screams of agony leading to a cacophony worthy of then deepest pits of hell.

The cat who had been skulking around the boat hoping to scavenge food from the humans who were with it on the beech jumped at the screams, it’s back arched and his fur stood on end. It let out a hiss and ran to hide under a nearby drift log which lay half submerged in the sand.

Scott who had been about half way up the cliffs looking for a way off the beech was caught of guard by the cries of agony emanating from the bay below. One hand slipped as he jumped with the shock, and he fell, barely catching himself with the other, one hand precariously held onto a thorny vine which clung to the cliff. He scrabbled for a hand hold and managed to lift himself back up to his previous place on the cliff. His heart was racing at a million miles a second and all around him a swarm of angry gulls swirled through the sky.

Below him on the beach Laertes had dropped the axe and stepped towards the screaming sailor, his fist impacted on the man’s jaw shutting him up in a second by knocking the man back into senselessness.

“Bloody wuss” he mumbled below his breath as Rex looked at him with shock, not moving as he held the smouldering hot rock to the unconscious sailor’s stump.

“I think you get used to it…” Fern said quietly to Rex “I haven’t been in his company long, but I think… that there are plenty… maybe some people who get along with him… I hope”

[Antonious]

Sam looked over at the human in front of him. Fatigue from so many hours without sleep was taking its toll even on his more resilient body, it came to a surprise to him then that she was still awake. Aware that back home he would be expected to find food, shelter and a place for the wounded while the human tended to the wounded he spoke. The words seemed forced and it was obvious he was somewhat uncomfortable.

"We need to find shelter. These men will not stand a chance without somewhere that protects them from the elements. I still have a lot of my medic pack left perhaps with that we can stabilise them?"

Sampson quickly stripped off his medic pack and placed it on the ground by the men, removing his survival rations he placed that with them as well before taking out a pack of what looked like some kind of biscuit.

"Shall I scout for some kind of shelter, it will not take me more than an hour, in the meantime you could set up some kind of rig for the wounded that will allow us to carry them once I return?"

[Lord Blackstaff]

"This had better not be another arsed report about them making good headway." Sayuri snapped as she heard the door open behind her. She pulled a silverworked brush through her hair as she watched a stocky man enter the room with her mirror. He looked at her with a certain amount of amused tolerance.

"Wake up in a bad mood did ya?" He asked.

"He's days late! Of course I'm getting shitty. I've been waiting to get that fucking assassin for the last ten years!" Sayuri said, her voice rising towards the end.

The man didn't even blink, but Sayuri caught the faint twinges of unease as he stiffened slightly. Good. At least he won't be so bloody pert this time. Her second in command was a reliable man, and had been with her since she was a teenager rising through the ranks. She allowed him a lot more free reign then most. But he could get annoying.

Bagman sighed, before striding over to the table in the centre of Sayuri's room. Brushing away several papers on jurisdictions and the odd blackmail letter, he spread out a large map of the continent. Weighting down the corners with odds and ends from the table, he looked up at Sayuri. She was in a black mood today, he would have to be careful. They had worked together for decades, and he had been her lover, once. But her towering rage was as legendary as the insignificant things that could spark it within the underworld. She was called Spider by most, the centre of a huge web of people, and by some, Mistress. He was one of the few who called her Sayuri.

He watched as she brushed her hair, taking the time to tame the long black tresses. It was beautiful, that hair, long and lustrous, shimmering in the faint morning light and in the light of the oil lamps. She didn't look it, with her slender frame, and beautiful careworn features, but she was one of the most feared leaders in the world. Even Westronia paid special attention to her actions, for though she did not rule by military might, she had a firm grasp upon all those who populated the prisons across the world. Even if they weren't a part of her organisation, every working man knew that if he fell afoul of the law, Spider would take him. As long as he adhered to three rules.

You never betray the organisation.
You never leave.
You follow the Spider's orders.

In return they recieved a sanctuary to hide in and brothers and sisters to work alongside. Sayuri was a relatively benevolent leader, however, and it was common knowledge that you were free to live as you wanted, as long as you never broke rule one and three. 'Leaving' was allowed as long as it was an unofficial, "I'll leave you alone, and you leave me alone." thing. You never officially left, but to all intents and respects you had left. But break the rules. The real ones. The ones that mattered. And you were dead. There were plenty of assassins and thugs who enforced these rules mercilessly, and if you caught the eye of Sayuri, you were as good as dead. She was not cruel, but nobody ever mistook that for a lack of ruthlessness. To do so was a fatal mistake. And one she took advantage of extensively.

Though it was understood by nations and rival underworld leaders that she was not powerful enough to challenge them, it was equally understood that they did not have the power to challenge her. She knew too many secrets. The only person who had ever shown her no fear at all, who had never offered his knee, was that assassin, Silvertongue. A man who bowed to no one, and came and went as he pleased.

She was unique in the world in having created an organisation. A thing that no longer needed her exclusive attention. Indeed she had indicated that she had been long intending to leave, and pass on the reigns to him. As she finished brushing her hair and turned to him, he could see why. Her face, once the picture of perfection, and beauty that had driven men wild, was now engraved with the tolls that her life had taken upon her. Lines of sorrow, of happiness, and of simple enduring were marked upon her. Though he had long been used to them, and found her beautiful, she was no longer the smooth skinned youth she had once been. Her eyes, possibly the most beautiful things she had ever had, dark and lustrous, the colour of rain, shimmered faintly as they studied him, revealing nothing.

"I take it that storm got them then?" She asked at last. Her face betrayed nothing of what she felt.

Bugger. She's so damnably quick! "Yes,and no." Bagman replied. "Another tradeship picked up their distress signal, they were attacked by pirates. We don't know which ones yet. From the scattered reports, the ship sank and the pirates seem to have disappeared. Maybe with the ship. We don't know if there were any survivors." he continued.

Sayuri frowned for a minute, "Tell me," She said, "If they were to have survived, where would their life rafts have beached?"

Bagman grunted, "I consulted with several of the local mariners. They rekonned the storm would have blown them against this stretch of coastline." He circled a large area of inhospitable and largely uninhabited cliffs and beaches with his finger. "It's a large area, but they'll take weeks to get back on foot. And it's unlikely many will have survived."

Sayuri was grim, "If there's anything that man is a master of apart from killing things and finding secrets you thought impossible to find, it's surviving. He's probably not even been critically injured yet. Let alone dead. " She shook her head, "He'll be on one of those survival boats, you can be sure of that."

She frowned for a long moment as she studied the map, then looked at him, her face was set in a way that told him she'd reached a decision and he'd better not argue.

"I'm going to go get him." She said.

Bagman opened his mouth to argue, but she forestalled him with a sharp look, he snapped his mouth shut as she continued, "I've waited a fucking decade for this opportunity," her voice was chilly and her eyes flashed with a deadly look he'd seen less times then the number of fingers on his hand. Wherever that man is... When she finds him, he is sooooo fucked. "So unless you plan on dying early, I suggest you find a good seagoing vessel that can take twenty people, and you do it fast." Sayuri said, her voice implying that if he disobeyed, death would not be quick.

Bagman touched his forehead and bowed. "Consider it done my lady." He said, and left.

Sayuri watched him hurry out of the room and close the door behind him, then glided to the window doors of her large suite overlooking S'cron. She felt a fierce joy at the prospect of finally tracking down Syrion. Whether or not she died, it would be good to finally confront that stone hearted bastard. She'd lost track of how many times he had slipped out of her grasp, from vanishing in her very own conference room to slipping through tightly woven traps and plans. No matter how many times she had tried to net him, he had managed to escape. It was like trying to grip a well oiled eel. No matter how you tried, it always escaped.

A strange look crossed her face, a mixture of woe, fierce elation, relief, and firm resolve.

"Wherever you walk assassin. This time. This time you will not escape me." She whispered.

And indeed, nobody escaped his first and only pupil.

No matter how long it took.


OOC: Yay! Sayuri is in at last! I checked with Star Eagle and Gramlin guys, so don't worry, it's ok. Unless I'm mistaken, she should take about two days to get to the area, and probably another day or two of scouring the coast to find everybody, depending on whether I can catch Star Eagle, and what happens in between.

Woot! 1006 posts!

[Gramlin Aletracker]

It was a hot day. The leaves had fallen and soon the winter would start anew. The months of summer had been short and autumn was skipped altogether. Isao stood on the hill, looking down to his village, Yashuutoku. It had been named after where it had been founded; Valley Founded. A small village surrounded by the mountains of the south, he had grown up here. The roofs of the buildings were covered with leaves, orange coloured instead the standard black. The training dojo had smoke coming from the chimney holes already, even at the early hour.

Isao shivered.

It had been long weeks. Very long weeks, filled with hunger and sleepless nights. He had just come back, early this morning. Everyone would be sleeping, except those in the dojo, starting their morning exercise. Sensai Hai-Ti would be awake too, even with his reverend age of 71. The old master would be happy to see him, though whether he would show it would be another matter. A though nut to crack, Hai-Ti always saw flaws in otherwise perfect sessions, or wanted more when the body had long given up. Now as well, Hai-Ti would find something he did wrong. A chain of Feral Tigers' teeth would not be enough, it had to be a series of chains from multiple tigers instead. A pair of Yahi-bull horns would not suffice, a threefold amount would have to do.
Good thing Isao had both the needed chains and that threefold amount of pairs of horns. He smiled. At last, home again. Ready to be accepted into becoming a Sharii. Mother would be proud. And Sensai Hai-Ti would not have a retort when showed that he got more than what was needed. Grinning now, he moved down the hill.

Isao shivered and lay on the ground. He had lost a lot of blood and the other two mercenaries weren't sure he would make it another night. For two nights now, the Bushiõ-warrior had slept and dreamt, without awaking. They fed him water and soup, but it did not seem to help.

[Lord Blackstaff]

Syrion's senses returned. Along with a splitting headache and a throbbing in the back of his skull. He kept his breathing regular and gave no signs that he was conscious. Techniques that he'd learned in his training let him distribute the pain and dull it almost completely.

He listened carefully, and tried to work out his surroundings and how badly wounded he was. He could feel bandages, or some sort of cloth binding his head. It had been crudely done, but well enough. He sensed the presence of someone nearby. They didn't seem to be moving, and his usually sharp sense of danger was not alerted at all.

So Miyuki had attacked him. A fiery little backstabber she was. He decided that killing her would be a waste of time and be pointless. He opened his eyes and sat up slowly. Technique for reducing and ignoring pain or no, he didn't know how hard he'd been struck, or what sudden movements would do.

Miyuki leaned forward, to help, he guessed, but he sharply held up a finger and ran his hand gently around the throbbing pain. There was a large bump, somewhere in the middle of the back of his head, he examined Miyuki and spotted a bloodstained wrench. Damn! He was lucky she threw like a girl, or he'd be dead. He tested the bandages, torn from her clothes most likely, he could see the tattered edges. Unwrapping the bandages he emptied the remains of his flask, which had been attached to his belt, onto the bloodstains to clean them as best he could and rewrapped them properly, making sure they were tight as he did so. The liquid doubled as an accelerant for healing wounds, but only a very mild one. Not unlike the medicinal effects of honey.

Miyuki watched him silently, and he say the worry in her eyes. He almost sighed, she would be a burden, but he couldn't leave her alone. Not here. Honour dictated that he take her to somewhere where she would be able to fare for herself. He hadn't worked out where they were, but he had a vague inkling of the direction they had travelled in the boat.

Standing slowly, he waited for the moment of dizzyness to pass and tamped down the increased thudding in his head. Casting about, he looked for a plant to help him. It was a jungle. And they were literally gold mines of plants and herbs. He walked a few steps into the jungle, and when Miyuki stood to follow he held up a hand and indicated he would be back. She stopped and sat down again. It was lucky, because any more trouble, and he would have killed her. Or given her the slip.

It took him half an hour before he finally found several roots and a vine that had a powerful anaesthetic like effect. Returning to the clearing, he was surprised to see Miyuki was still there, and then realised that she probably didn't have anywhere else to go, or even knew where she was.

He had lost his tools with his chest, but he still had his tractor. He put the bundle of roots and leaves down and tried to activate it. Nothing happened. He smacked it. Still nothing happened. Flicking open the control panel, he ascertained that it was on. And the power hadn't failed. He sent another command, nothing happened. He ran a diagnostic, but it came up with so many errors that he gave up and tried a manual start. A low hum told him that it was still, amazingly, operational. Whoever had made it, had made it to last.

He directed the beam to encompass the roots and leaves, lifted them into the air, and then applied a general, constant force around all of the objects. He then held the flask under them and formed a funnel like cone of force, one that was over three thousand newtons.

The roots and leaves pulped instantly. He angled the force so that it was more like a cylinder and caught the juices that ran out of the escape hole he left. He frowned in concentration. The chip in his head could only run through simple commands, and using such a rudimentary system to guide the tractor into even simple shapes was quite taxing. Normally the tractor simply locked onto a specified target and automatically enveloped it, or the point he specified.

The juices stopped running and he retrieved the flask, letting the stick, now nearly completely solid, fall the the ground. He then steeled himself and took a long drink from the flask. He couldn't stop himself screwing up his face as the horrifically bitter combination of juices ran down his throat. They were absolutely disgusting, but would take away the pain and hasten the healing process. Normally he wouldn't take something so strong, but he had little choice.

Screwing the cap back on he indicated to Miyuki to follow, glanced at the sky through the trees for a bearing then began a quick walk north. He wouldn't be running till the pain had subsided.

It took the pair several hours to finally reach the edge of the jungle. Syrion surveyed the area. It was an abandoned village that led to a quay. He didn't care much for whatever was left, so he accelerated into a quick jog through the village. It didn't take the pair long to reach it. When they arrived, Syrion surveyed the area again. There was a boathouse nearby. Walking over to it, Syrion found several upturned rowing boats.

He walked out and scanned the horizon. There were cliffs in the distance. But damn! It was a long way to row. Oh well. Too bad. He had long ago learned to push himself past his limits before. It was a matter of mind over matter. And his matter was firmly in check.

Hauling a rowboat out, he hoisted it onto his shoulders with the help of Miyuki and carried it to where they could push it into the ocean waters lapping at the beach.


****

What would have been a day later found a near catatonic Syrion crawling out of the waves shivering and bedraggled. His normally water resistant suit thoroughly soaked. His numbed mind a haze of pain. They had taken it in turns, but her weaker arms and lack of experience had meant that he had rowed for most of the time.

To add insult to injury, the boat had been capsized in the surf and they had been forced to swim the last stretch. He didn't know where she was, and didn't care. Staring up at the cliffs, and the beach, his foggy mind dimly realised that the tideline would eventually drag him out to sea if he stayed here.

Exhausted beyond imagining and shivered, he staggered to his feat, and half falling, half walking, he stumbled to a flight of stairs cut into the cliff face. Habitation. People had once lived in the area. His mind followed that to shelter from the pelting rain that had struck up in the last hour.

He didn't know how he did it, but a period of time later found him dragging himself, hand over knees over the last step and flopping down, panting. For some reason, he was absurdly glad his mask kept the water out of his eyes.

He looked up, and almost groaned. The first house seemed so far away. But he could still move. He rested for a short while, until his breathing had eased. Then steeled himself, and slowly dragged himself up onto his feet.

He started staggering to the village that would have been a mile or two away. Across fields a patchwork of fields. Syrion would have collapsed and slept immediately if he had not known that in this environment, cold, wet and high up meant a likely death of hypothermia unless he got to shelter. Once the rain stopped, the wind would freeze him.

He had barely gone a hundred metres before he fell to his knees. Catching himself, he paused to catch his breath. Ignoring the pain, he forced himself up again and continued on. Only to fall again.

It seemed an eternity, and easily could have been several hours before he finally stumbled and pitched into the door of the first house. Scrabbling at the handle, his frozen hands couldn't get a grip. Finally he managed to turn it and fell into the house. Crawling another metre inside, he kicked the door closed. He spotted a bed, and with a last effort of fading will. Pulling himself up with the help of a nearby chair and table. His shaking hand skittered across his suit until he found the pocket in which he kept his 'unzipper'. Pulling it out, he ran it down the clasp links and they popped open. Dropping the unzipper on the table, he stripped and folded the suit over the chair back.

Staggering the last few metres to the bed, he flopped into it and pulled the covers over himself.

And then he knew no more.

[Gramlin Aletracker]

"Mum! Mum! Isao is back; he's back. Come, come look. Mum!" little Sah called from where she sat. Lush black hair, like Isao's, she was one of his favorite cousins. And the youngest one, at 4. To her, he was heaven and earth in one, she adored him. When mum didn't react, she gave up on that and jumped to her feet, running at Isao. "You're back! And, and, did you bring me a necklace? I want a necklace. Please? Did you bring it?" Easily excited, she had always wanted a necklace of Feral Tigers' teeth. She didn't even know what a Feral Tiger was, but such a chain of teeth had always mezmorised her.

Isao smiled and held up his hand to stop the flow of words. "Calm, little one. You will get what you want, in time. But now, show me where my sister is. I want to greet her." Sah nodded and ran back off to fetch her mother, his sister. His only sibling now; brothers had never quite made it far enough. He had never known most of them, as he was the first to reach the age past 6 years old. Haira had never seen his first birthday, dying in that year's winter when the house collapsed in a storm. Thaira, aptly named to follow 'Haira' had drowned. And then his sister had been born. Unlike her brothers, she had been strong, unwilling to die. Koraho, they had called her. Unwilling. He liked her name. And he wanted to see her.

Memories swept and blew, along the plains of gold. Blue haze, unyielding, showed their source; black thunder their end. On and on it went, feverish. Why feverish? And they continued again.

Koraho came out of the hut, cleaning her hands of the dough she had been battering...

And Isao dreamt.

[Star eagle]

Night had fallen and Laertes and the other survivors from his boat huddled round the fire they’d built in the entrance of the cave. The flickering lights of the flames illuminated the inside of the cave, throwing sharp but mobile shadows across the walls. The tide had come in and was lapping up the beach about a hundred metres away.
Scott had grudgingly volunteered to have the first watch and was sitting with his back to the fire; crossbow loaded and cocked lying next to him on a flat and dry stone.
Fern was next in the night followed by Rex.

Laertes’ eyes were heavy, and sure enough sleep claimed him, even his reinforced paranoia couldn’t keep him awake, his body still ached from the previous night’s transformation, and yet his rib had knitted itself back together, aside from the dull ache of over exerted muscles he was as usual uninjured despite his other self’s furious habits.

Along the coast there were similar scenes being acted out, groups of survivors huddled together for warmth or sleeping next to camp fires, ears open for the slightest hint of danger.
Men and women, most of whom fought for a living were dotted along the coast line, with no chain of command and little weaponry between them. The shock had reduced many to confusion and unnatural silence.
Others like Alejandro had revelled in the unusual circumstances, for him the hunt had been good and the gift of boar to the melancholy bikers had cheered them up a little despite the loss of their vehicles.

Aside from the crackle of the campfires dotted along the ten mile stretch of coast and the noises of creatures in the jungles there was silence. A silence that was broken shortly before dawn by the rhythmic and unmistakably mechanical sound of a boat’s engine.

A mile out at sea scouring the coast line a rescue vessel puttered along, over waves that were a fraction of the height of those in last night’s storm.
On board the boat men worked nervously, they were under the eyes of someone powerful, someone powerful and cruel. Terrified that if they were seen to be lazy or inefficient they would be thrown over board or worse subject to a slow death on the deck the crew worked harder and more efficiently than they had done for years.
The boat was chugging along at a slow speed, eyes scanning through the pre dawn gloom, looking for a fire, or some other sign of life.
Then they spotted it, two fires, barely two miles apart.
The man in the crows nest shouted out his spotting, there was a hubbub on deck and the boat laboriously turned and began moving towards the flames, search lights were turned on and a flare was loosed from the crows nest.

Rex’s head snapped up, he had seen a splash of light out at sea, and sure enough there was the tell tale sign of a flare, it’s glowing smoke trail up, and the incandescent spot floating downwards into the sea. There was a glowing out there in the black sea, search lights flicking back and forth across the shore.
He scrambled towards the life boat that had been dragged up the beach so as not to loose it to the tide.
Franticly he scrambled around in the boxes and cubby holes that lined it’s hull until he found what he was looking for.
In his hand was a flare gun, he aimed it upwards, winced and looked away before squeezing the trigger, the light rocketed up before floating slowly down, he stared towards the glowing that was almost definitely a rescue vessel, and sure enough a green flare burst upwards from the ship. They’d been seen… they were going to be rescued!
“Fern! Scott! Laertes!” he yelled, not caring that he was waking the men up from their precious sleep.
Laertes was first to rise, jumping up into a defensive position looking around for a foe, before realising that it wasn’t a cry of war, but a cry of joy that had awoken him.
Then he saw the fading spark of the search vessel’s flare.
“Shit!” he swore under his breath
“Everyone grab a weapon…” he yelled to the able bodied men with him on the beach, the legless sailor had slipped into a deep sleep and no one had been able to wake him up since the amputation.
“Did it not cross your mind that the same pirates who got us into the fucking mess could be out looking for us?” Laertes bawled at Rex, and had to restrain himself from hitting the sailor.

The rescue vessel sped towards the coast, aiming for somewhere between the two flares, as they reached a relatively calm piece of water below tall cliffs topped with jungle they dropped a pair of small speed boats into the water, in them were groups of armed men, more for their own protection than for aggression.

The first rescue squad sped towards the beach where Alejandro, Logan and his friends waited, weapons ready in case their rescuers were revealed to be foes.
Their caution was for naught as the speed boat beached itself and a man with a megaphone stepped forwards
“Are you from the trade caravan under the protection of Iron Hand O’Rosen?” his voice came distorted and amplified by the ancient technology he held in his hands.

Logan stepped forwards,
“And so what if we are?”
“We’re here to rescue you, is the assassin known as Silvertongue with you?” came the reply,
Logan looked at his mates and then to Alejandro who shook his head.
“Nope… can we come aboard now?” Alejandro shouted out, sheathing his sword which he’d drawn in anticipation of a fight.
“Very well, come with us” the man with the megaphone replied, and the group of shipwrecked mercenaries walked down the shingle towards the speed boat.

Just down the coast a second speed boat beached itself on the beach below Laertes’ group.

“Are you with the trade caravan under the protection of Iron Hand O’Rosen” the leader of the rescue party bellowed across the small stretch of stones and sand between them and the hostile group of four men standing in front of a fire.
“Who are you?” Laertes bellowed out, tensing his remaining biological arm.
“A rescue squad, with orders from The Spider herself to pick you up…” came the cautious reply.
Laertes rolled his eyes, he had had run ins with The Spider’s men in the past, but then again he had also been hired by those in her organization too, so her reaction to him could be good or terrible. However he knew for a fact that to stay on the beach was tantamount to suicide, better to risk whatever the rescue party had planned than to stay on this beach surrounded by cliffs topped with deadly terrain and most likely no people for miles around. Even if he had been armed and prepared he would have though twice about staying.
“I am Iron Hand…” Laertes replied stepping towards the group, the axe he’d been planning on using in self defence was lowered and his bionic hand held out in an almost peaceful gesture that also served as identification.
The rescue party raised his eyebrows, and looked Laertes up and down, before smiling and nodding to his team
“It’s him alright, I’d heard you were a paranoid, cocky bugger” he jested.
Laertes frowned.
“Less talk… we have a wounded man by the fire, he’ll need carrying, and I’m not happy going in a boat with those armed thugs unprotected”
The leader looked at Laertes in confusion, then shook his head.
“The stories were true then I take it” he muttered shrugging before continuing.
“Nothing I can do, but you have my word, we won’t shoot you unless you try something stupid”
Laertes rolled his eyes in disappointment and turned back towards the camp fire followed by a pair of the rescue team who had left their guns back on the boat.
The trio reached the amputee, and one of the men from the rescue team checked his pulse. A grim look flickered across his features before they lifted the man up and transported him down to the boat.

Laertes, the cat, Scott, Fern, Rex and the Amputee sped back to the rescue vessel, not quite sure of what lay in wait for them, but glad to be free of the beach.

The two rescue boats reached the main vessel at the same time, the sun was rising, throwing a dim light across the long stretch of coast line visible from the boat.

The vessel chugged along the coast line slowly as the sun rose, searching for signs of life, they wove through the cluster of islands that connected the largest island to the mainland, and found no-one. On the shore of a lagoon the bloodied corpse of one of the merchants was visible lying next to life boat number two, but no one else could be seen. So after a brief search mission which discovered nothing the boat turned to sail up the mouth of the river.
As they turned another flare erupted from the mainland, the beach it was on was too far away to see, but the people stranded on the beach had obviously seen them.
They made their way towards the beach and another rescue party was dispatched in one of the speed boats.
They returned about ten minutes later with a tired and ragged looking mercenary and Argaven, as well as Isao who was unconscious, his body covered in small wounds, but there was one probably taken in the fight with the pirates that looked bad, he was carried down to the make medical bay in the bowels of the ship to lie next to the amputee.

Eventually the vessel started making headway down the river mouth, luckily the river was both wide and deep, leaving plenty of room for the vessel to search for any survivors.
Boat number four was discovered stranded in a murky swamp, and it took the rescuers the better part of the morning to retrieve the inhabitants of that boat, Raphael was badly sunburnt and trying to maintain an air of innocence while the two proeliator mercenaries were murmuring about swamp monsters and worse monsters in the boat with them. Farasaki was silently confused; having slept most of the night he did not know what the mercenaries were on about.

The final boat was discovered on a sand bar on the edge of the jungle, Sam and Neela emerged from their shelter in the jungle when they heard the roar of the rescue boat’s engines. The speed boat returned to it’s mother ship with Sam, Neela and two grievously wounded sailors who despite being close to death’s door were hauled down into the medical bay to accompany the amputee and Isao.

The search mission was confounded, Syrion was nowhere to be found and no one knew whether he’d been on a life boat, if he had been on one it would have been boat number two, as no survivors had been found.
Regretfully the boat laboured out of the river mouth passing a small partially ruined village.
As they passed it the man in the crows nest spotted a fire, shortly followed by the bouncing waving figure emerging from one of the huts shouting and crying for help.

A speed boat was dispatched and docked on the quay, two figures embarked, one seemed uneasy in the presence of the armed rescuers, the other seemed more than happy to get on the boat.

When the speed boat made its way back to it’s mother ship it became apparent that the two figures were Syrion himself, who looked furious, and Miyuki who seemed glad enough to be rescued.
With what seemed to by the only survivors of the ship wreck the rescue ship turned for home.
It would be a good day’s journey before they reached S’cron, but now that they had given up the search they could travel faster than the crawling pace they had been travelling at as they scoured the coast line.

Laertes watched the shore where he had spent a night in the cold with little hope of rescue vanish into the distance, he was glad, it was a god forsaken place. His hand subconsciously rose to clasp the pendant, there was a sudden feeling of being watched and he spun round to find Syrion standing, an unreadable look upon his face.
“You have the pendant still?” he spoke, almost in monotone.
“Yes” Laertes replied, starring at the emotionless assassin, trying his hardest to find some shred of humanity in him.
“Good” came the reply before Syrion turned and glided away.
Then it hit Laertes, people saw him like that too… he was as much a cold blooded killer as the assassin, sure he wasn’t as sneaky and untraceable, but he killed for money. What difference was there between the two really?
The thought chilled him so he stretched and went in search of a beer.

Star Eagle; We are on a rescue boat headed for S'cron. We will arive there after a night IC. I'll make a mod post soon (Monday hopefully) where we reach S'cron. We'll then be brought before The Spider and we'll start on the quest properly. The trade caravan thing was just a bit of a warm up. Now begins the dangerous and fun part! Also you'll maybe find out a bit about why the pendant is so important

[Tassadar]

With her hands clenching the railing Miyuki pondered slightly about what had happened. Boarding the ship had been a relief to her; being around some talkative people would put her at ease. Anyone was better than Silvertongue, who seemed to only care about himself. While it was true he had been the one who did most of the rowing a couple of days ago - she was never one to keep track of days, estimates would do just fine! - Silvertongue had also spoken a maximum of ten words to her. And that was an estimate too, probably off by ten. And when she had cut off a small piece of her clothes in order to stop the bleeding... That man had no respect. Men!
In fact, she had no idea what would come after this. Their reasons to go to Westonia had been sunk to the ocean, together with the cargo. That cargo had been the reason in the first place. Why would they continue to go there anyway? As for her... Well of course she intended to go there. It was a long way back to the Indo'rift Tundra and even longer to go to Westronia - putting aside she would have to get back to the Indo’rift eventually - but in spite all of that, she had to see Westronia again. They had technology far superior to hers in some aspects. Yes, gain that knowledge and put it to good use, that was how she thought about it. And even if none of the others came along, she would get there. Somehow.
Yet there was something even more important she had to find out right now. Westronia was none of her business today, nor in the next few days to come. No, what mattered right now was Tanak. She had not seen the sandbiter ever since the cargo ship sank. It was time to ask around.

OOC: If you guys want you can make up something about Tanak. I'll happily make a joint post with someone if needs be about that. The main idea is Tanak sank with the ship and died.