Paige Demore
Athena Captain
[AWD:01160502060d0e]25 Years Old Mercenary[M:0]
Alias: Priya Sanai
Posts: 90
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Post by Paige Demore on Dec 5, 2012 21:54:20 GMT -5
Priya followed silently as the large group of people were led to the showers. She looked around her, observing those near. Not the ones who were leading, they didn't seem like they would matter for long. Whatever was going on here was bigger than them. No, her interest was with the others who had been numbered. Did they all have something in common? What was the connection? Unless it was all random. It wasn't as though many people would know who she really was after all. If they did, why wasn't she in a jail cell instead.
There seemed to be a mix of folks, at least that's what it looked like on the outside. There were some who obviously would have some fighting skills, the others could be better at hiding it. Perhaps that was the common thing, but there was no way to be sure. The end-all be-all questions of the day of course was what the hell was going on and who the hell was responsible. Priya would need to know the second answer if she was going to get blood for what was going on. She was obviously angry at this point. All of the unknown answers to so many questions.
Priya continued to follow instructions, she would bide her time on this. As she sat there was a sigh let go from her lips, one that was filled with rage. What she wouldn't give to have her weapons and a fine distraction of course. She shot a glance at those who sat close to her, there was no smile given, but her anger was not directed at them. They were all in the same situation she was. The question in regards to that was what kind of part would these people play in the next phase of this.
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Ari Deschain
Lenore Admin
[AWD:01050607080a0d0e0f1517101c]30 Years Old Mechanic Played by Ari[M:3665]
We applied the cortical electrodes, but were unable to get a neural reaction.
Posts: 451
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Post by Ari Deschain on Dec 6, 2012 3:40:05 GMT -5
Ari woke up quickly and stood up, completely disregarding the warning they were given about remaining calm and still. She immediately regretted it. The room spun around her and her stomach rolled. Her hands gripped the edge of the cot she had been in and she leaned over the waste receptacle. After gagging into it, she lifted her head just in time to see a dreadlocked man attempting to fight back. It didn't take long for him to be subdued, and Ari realized in that moment resistance was futile. She had to comply...for now.
She scooped up her bag, 008, and hugged it to her chest. Falling in line behind a cute brunette and a man, she quietly followed them through to the showers. She stuffed her bag in the locker, still staying as inconspicuous as possible.
Not usually a shy person, Ari hid her heavily scarred and tattooed body as much as she could from the other women and guards, then went through to the other side.
She grabbed out her bag again and dressed fast, hugging the pack to her chest and keeping her head down as she went out into the field beyond. Once out there, she surreptitiously kept an eye out for the man with the dreadlocks. She had an ally in him, she was sure.
When they were made to sit, Ari found herself a couple of people down from the man with dreadlocks, and she tried to catch his eye. If he looked at her, she'd nod slightly. Then she stared back at the person to her left. The cute brunette from earlier, 012. "Hey there, killer," she said softly. "Any idea what the rut is going on?"
It could only be sinister. Ari tried to remember what had happened before she had been asleep. It was gone, like before when she had the disease. The last thing she could remember was walking to the docks, towards her beloved but empty ship the Lenore. She raised a hand to her eye, wishing she had her patch on. the mechanic felt naked without it.
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Onas Knox
Resident Staff
[AWD:0105060d0e070215141718]28 Years Old Mechanic [M:0]
Post Up! Let's do this! Leeeeroy Jeeeenkins!!!
Posts: 201
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Post by Onas Knox on Dec 6, 2012 18:21:21 GMT -5
Onas woke from the first decent rest he'd had in so long he couldn't remember it. He'd slept so long his legs had hurt when he'd rolled off his stomach to his side. His left hand cuddled more pillow under his head, while his right ajusted and scratched as due for to his gender. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and reached for his drink on his nightstand, inevitably clasping someones ankle. Things like this may happen quick, but it takes a second to figure out why your drink is wriggling our of your grasp, and why its warmer than your room... and why it has hair..
Onas snapped upon his elboe, recoiling his hand back to his side and stared. He looked around the room, not with his head, just his eyes, an odd look on his face, somewhere between suprise and confution. 'Well,' he thought, 'I've woke up in a jail before, but never a . Uh,' What the heck was this anyway, a white barracks? Then the intercom sounded. He followed the mans words down to his chest, and his bunk, and to his, er, footlocker. So much for formal names, 61. 'Oh,' he thought suddenly, 'It is a jail.'
He sat all the way up and discovered he had terrible heartburn, Onas leaned forward to ease the acid in his chest only to relize it wasn't heartburn, it was vomit. He snatched up the pale as the bottom of his stomach wrenched to the the bottom of his eshopagus, and thick clear medigoo came flushing through his throat and nostrils! Once, then twice, then a third time. He dry heaved a minute, but then it subsided. He didn't have a towel, wait, no thats right he did, Onas grabbed the prison's rediculasly sanitary white sheets and spread his now pale yellow slime as far as possible. No need to ruin his shirt.
It wasn't the first allience wakeup call he'd gone through, but it'd Gorram well be his last he thought, and then something hit him, salt on an open wound. That was why he couldn't get ajusted when he woke up, he was wearing boxers. Great, Thank you allian...
The speaker started up again, and people were milling out allready dressed and more waken than he. Onas got out his.. wha...bigger pajamas? 'These dont even look diferent,' he thought, 'I mean whats the point?' Blessings of all that was good and holy there were briefs in the footlocker, which he pocketed for after the shower, well assuming there would be a shower.
No one around him looked particularly pleased and the mixmached group certainly had no shame, if blondie could change next to the giant samoin towering over her, who was also nearly naked, then he could too. Onas started to change, but decided to turn around first. When he did, he was staring at bars, it was an eight man cell thing, and the walkway was right there infront of him. An endless line of people were mear morning breaths from him, sepreated only by a three quarter inch tube of painted steel set every four inches. Onas retied his pants, it could wait.
Onas kept the steady pace of the crowd milling down the hallway. Had he missed breakfast? Was he the only one who cared? Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of it. If the briefs were his first miricle, then after this, it would be a ship with the keys left in it. A gaurd in the middle, seperating the men from wemon. His right front pocket had the perfect box shape. Three inches by four inches, O'l bullhorn here was a smoker. Onas slipped inbetween the crown working his way to the middle and weging himself between two rather oafish getelmen. He wanted a ciggerette so bad he could taste it, and here was a whole pack in reach. Just as he was within reach, Onas bared his heal down into the guy left of him and stepped forward on good step. The man responded in kind and shoved him into the Mic. guy, Onas slipped his hand into the pocket and withdrew it as smooth as you could only imagine, gripping the whole pack. Mr microphone was tough, he had snatched Onas by the collor and forced him to the right flow of traffic and went on with his job. Not bad, now all he needed was fire.
Onas only stayed long enough to rinse his mouth out and change drawers before leaving, lest his prize be lost or damaged. He found himself seated at a table maybe ten feet or so from a familiar face. The galaxy is to damn small, or the alliance was behind this after all. He dismissed any thought of conspiricy right after he'd woken, there was indeed a rational explination. He was out after curfew on a core world, detention for a day sounded about right for that punishment. Specially how he'd been drinkin the night before. But now all that changed. Odds just dont play out that well. Onas looked over his shoulder to be sure no lightfoot was attending them, then he leaned out and not wispered, but certainly not hollered;
"...Priya..."
(((OOC- Sorry about the spelling, workin from an Xbox 360, some things work, some dont. Im just siked about bein back. Wassup team!)))
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Corran Boid
Drifter
[AWD:01050d0e]Chief Pilot 32 Years Old[M:0]
The only good Reaver is a dead Reaver.
Posts: 62
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Post by Corran Boid on Dec 7, 2012 20:03:50 GMT -5
Before the dredlocked one could respond the group was moved forward into a showers room. Looking at the water flowing made him forget the bothers of where he was. He had never had a shower like this with fresh water, well fresher than six times recycled. Moving over to a shower two thirds of the way down he stepped under the shower head with hisgown still on.
The water felt very good and he drank heavily the water. It was not ice cold but cold enough that it felt good to drink and shower with. Grabbing the gown he pulled it off and let it fall to the floor. Resting with his left hand on the wall he let the water flow over him. If one looked close enough they could barly notice the color change between the synth flesh and his own which made up the majority of his left side. With a sudden start the water shut off and he was forced to leave. Gathering his bag and getting dressed he moved to where the rest had been stationed. He moved to the back of the pack. Now that it wasn't just a few he noted more and more were joining them. Sitting down he quietly looked over the group.
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Valentyn Rooke
Drifter
[AWD:01]23 Years Old Mercenary Played By Jove
Just... get outta the way and lemme handle this?
Posts: 7
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Post by Valentyn Rooke on Dec 8, 2012 19:04:18 GMT -5
The young merc had been quiet for a while, now. With everything going on, and no one to recognise or trust? Tyn found it hard to say anything to anyone here. They were all just as clueless, and they didn't have the answers. Only people that did weren't saying a gorram thing. Or less informed to keep it that way. Having a grasp of the situation was empowering-- not knowing was supposed to be the scary part. More and more, it just made Rooke angry. She stood in the line, not exactly anything of an imposing sight without all her gear and armour. The dawning of the lack of her sidearm rang a small alarm bell. That was one thing she'd make sure she got back. The REX was goddamn expensive to a mercenary on regular pay. Plus, it being her old man's, she guessed she was supposed to have some kind of sentimentality about it...
As it stood, she was still unarmed, unarmoured, and standing in a line of people she decided to look over. Conversations had been listened in on, and still she learned nothing much. Just everyone with more questions-- the same questions. The entertaining part had been the big guy starting to fight the guards prior to him entering the line. That had even quirked up the beginnings of a little smirk on Tyn's face. Made her feel like joining in. Yeah, Valentyn could tell one of her own kind-- soldier of fortune. Everyone else was a little fuzzier. She was never good at people. Just about knowing when they were looking to get violent. The signs of guns about to be drawn and all that. She stood behind the tall fighter, and his new-found friend. Small-talk exchanged as the merc just absently ruffled at a dark blonde mop of hair.
In the showers, they were separated. Age-old division of society right down the middle. Various jobs as a two-bit hired gun had left her with little care for modesty. Always packed into bunks with five other terrible merc-types like herself. Communal showers. Awful conditions. Getting this kind of treatment was a treat for Rooke. She stood the other side of the short blonde, unashamed, unabashed. Scars littered the young merc like proud displays of valour. Like medals she never got to earn. A kid that missed a war. That was Rooke. Always looking for a fight because she missed the big one.
Not much more than grunts as she washed and changed, a mental list of what particular awful things she could do to those that brought her here and took her stuff. Again, fleeting, momentary joy in those fancies. Then she was dressed, in that rough, ambiguous clothing provided. Nothing about it seemed to scream protection, and that annoyed her more than it worried her.
A heavy slouch of her form into one of the chairs, having found the 'big guy' again amongst the crowd. Tyn cleared her throat, and made other noises as this screen and introduction started, slumped down all the way in her seat. Almost bored and obnoxious, or trying to act like this was some class-- something she'd never experienced in her time. Maybe a brief, poor education on Dyton.
"Load'a shee-niou go se. If I 'ad a grenade I'd ram it down 'is throat, pull th'pin. Turn 'im inta a fount'in." The merc finally muttered, with kind of a dark little laugh. More bitter, less humoured. All this for one announcer, right? Shoot the messenger. Actually, if she had a gun, she would.
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Drevin Bendis
Drifter
[AWD:0105]24 Years Old Mercenary[M:0]
Posts: 33
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Post by Drevin Bendis on Dec 10, 2012 13:32:21 GMT -5
Drevin had found a seat whilst waiting for whatever was to come next when he heard someone murmur near him. He wasn't able to make out everything, but he was able to hear the words "grenade", "ram" and "throat". Smiling, the merc turned to look at the murmurer and found himself face to face with a woman that had the urge to murder something written across her features. His smile turned into a full grin as he said to her, "No, you got it all wrong. A grenade would be too obvious. You need to use something like a knife or crossbow. That, and grenades are expensive."
Of course, Drevin had no idea who this woman was, but if this "contest" was going to be anything like he predicted it was going to be, he would need any allies he could find. "My name's Drevin, by the way, and you would be...?"
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Kate Arjen
Drifter
[AWD:01]25 Years Old Medic
"Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent."
Posts: 6
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Post by Kate Arjen on Dec 10, 2012 23:33:12 GMT -5
Kate's eyes opened slowly, the surrounding light of the chamber filtering through her eyelids little by little as if time had slowed to a crawl. As her eyes fully opened, she sensed movement all around her, blurred shapes changing form as they shuffled to-and-fro. Kate saw, but her mind did not process the information her eyes were bringing her. She thought of nothing as she sat up, her hands reaching out to push away the covers of her bed. Finally, the physical contact her of fingers brushing against fabric stirred her mind, awakening her from the drug-induced stupor. Blinking, Kate realized her eyelids felt heavy, but that she felt well-rested, which was strange because she had spent the last two nights pulling all-nighters for her studies...
With a small gasp, Kate bolted upright, her eyes scanning the room around her frantically as she realized she had no clue where she was or why she was there. Countless others around her were doing the same, and as she met the eyes of the boy next to her, the pair of them witnessed their own fear mirrored in each other's gaze. The boy was the first to turn away, as he was suddenly sick, heaving into a smallish waste receptacle by the side of his bed. There was a time when such a sight would've induced a rather unpleasant reaction in her, but the last several years of medical training Katherine had received had quelled any such worries. At last, Kate realized that their was a voice echoing around the room, being broadcast through speakers high up on the walls and on the ceiling.
"...You have been in medical hibernation. You will probably feel somewhat unsteady, so please refrain from standing for at least thirty seconds. If you are going to be sick, there are waste receptacles next to all of your beds."
Kate's brow furrowed and she took another survey of her surroundings. Medical hibernation? But why? ...Where the hell am I? The voice on the intercom continued, instructing them to retrieve the items stored in the footlockers at the foot of each of their beds. Something pushed her to obey, to move and not to think, but still the young woman hesitated. Kate's fingers traced the numbers sewn into the front of her medical gown: 006. She then swung her legs over the side of her cot and stood up slowly, trying not to upset the clenching feeling in her gut. She walked over to the footlocker marked with a matching "006" and snapped it open, not really sure what to expect. What she found was a backpack, also marked with two zeroes and a six, and tan brown fatigues. Kate was disappointed not to find her own clothes and personal belongings, and from the reactions she heard from around the chamber, so were many other people. Then something burst into the woman's mind, a thought that felt like she'd been socked in the gut. Her necklace. Where was her mother's necklace?! Kate strove towards the side of the room, peering out through the bars at one of the uniformed guards standing nearby. "Excuse me," she called out to him, but fell silent as the intercom came to life once again.
"You will now be escorted by a Keeper to the next facility, to change and shower. Please keep a close eye on your possessions, as they can and will not be replaced. Everything you have been given has your assigned number on it, to help avoid confusion. Please follow all instructions quickly, and without any conflict. The guards will not hesitate to get involved."
Something was definitely wrong. The place did have a slight clinical feel to it, but it was definitely no hospital, and if there had been some kind of contagion, patients would've been place in individual clean-rooms, heavily sterilized to prohibit further infection. The bars separating each group were meant to contain each room's occupants, not some kind of pathogen. They were prisoners, caged like animals. They had even been assigned "Keepers" and were under heavy guard. Kate felt panic creep into her chest as her heart-rate increased. Her hands shook slightly as she took hold of the bars separating her from the guard outside of the cell she shared with the ten or so people around her.
"Excuse me!" she called out again, this time much louder than she had before. "What's going on? Where are we? I... I need to know please! ...My clothes, where are my clothes? Hey, answer me damn you!"
Kate knew the guard had heard her, but he stood perfectly still, hands resting across the combat rifle clipped to his chest. He looked at her very briefly when she started shouting at him, but still he made no reply. The Arjen woman felt weak in the knees as she turned away and returned to the footlocker. Who was behind this? Was it the Triad? ...Or the people that had murdered her mother? Why would they bother with such an elaborate scheme? And why were all these other people here? Steeling herself, Katherine snatched up the supplies that were thankfully still waiting for her, wondering what was inside the pack. She didn't have time to investigate though, as the others in her cell were already being escorted into the adjacent chamber, where they were expected to shower and change.
Seeing she had no choice at the moment, Kate fell in line with the others, just behind a woman several inches shorter than her that had spiky bleach-white hair, goldened skin, and an abundance of tattoos. Pockets of violence broke out as they went along, their guards reacting quickly and with overwhelming force. The handsome, taller fellow a few people away from Kate even received a crack to the head just for putting his hand on the shoulder a "Keeper". Kate's first instinct was to help in some way, but with not even a cloth to so much as mop up his bleeding forehead, and the severity of punishment being brought down on them, there was nothing she could do. In the meantime, she tried to keep her eyes and ears open, hoping to glean some information that would help her in some way.
Katherine Lynn showered and dressed as quickly as she could, for neither the cold water nor the public nudity were welcome, even if embarrassment wasn't an issue. After getting dressed and securing her pack, Kate stepped out onto the open field just outside and was escorted through a security gate, where it was recorded that #006 was present and accounted for. She had stolen a glance just then, and was shocked to see the numbers go all the way up to three hundred. Three hundred people? How do they think they can get away with this? Who are these people? Controlling her breath to remain calm, Kate took her place with the other prisoners on the grass in front of a huge screen. As she sat down she heard plenty of hushed chatter, and she then realized she was once again behind the short-haired blonde woman with the tattoos. She also saw the brown haired man that had been hit in the head by one of the guards to her immediate right.
She decided to speak up. If nothing else, talking to someone might make her feel better, even if they were as clueless about what was going on as she was. "Hey, you ok? I saw you get hit by that guard. You could have a minor concussion..."
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Post by A Face in the Crowd on Dec 11, 2012 21:33:11 GMT -5
The head keeper moved to the front of the assembled mass. He was joined by the two deputy head keepers, who had been in charge of the other two medical facilities. He stepped up to a podium, and tapped the microphone. A loud ringing sound carried over the crowd, and silence fell. After a slight pause, the keeper spoke. "Ladies and Gentlemen," He paused. "Welcome" He paused for a moment. "If you will now direct your attention to the screen..."
The screen came to life, and a dark figure was visible. His face was obstructed by shadow, and his gloved hands were folded in front of his chin. When he spoke, his voice was deep, and mysterious.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. How kind of you to join us."He chuckled softly. "You may be wondering how, and why you are here. That is of no consequence. What matters, is what you do next. That is entirely up to you. You will be turned loose in a moment, and then your destiny, your success, and indeed your very survival will be determined by your own skill and drive." The brim of his top hat became visible as he nodded, and then he laughed again. "You have all been given the same items. Clothing, and a pack containing provisions for a day, and a map. Now, this is not to say you have only one day to experience the adventure. In fact, there is no time limit. In this game, for in fact it is a game, you are all competing for your very lives." He gestured, so it looked as though he was pointing below the screen.
"When you exit through these gates, the challenge begins. There are supplies, and provisions located throughout the surface of the planet. And you are limited only by yourself, as to how far you can travel. There is food, water, clothing, shelter, and even... weapons, but only the ones who are willing to do anything to survive will succeed." He smiled. "There is only one rule. Survive." He pointed a white gloved hand directly into the camera. "If you survive, you win. You will receive all your personal effects, and a large sum of money. But if you try to escape...."
A man in the crowd had risen and was sprinting for the exit. The man on the screen snapped his fingers. The runner was instantly gunned down by at least five separate snipers, positioned around the area. Then the man continued to speak as though nothing had happened. "You will die." There was a slight pause. "Please, do not think that you are safe from the guards once you enter the arena. They are everywhere, and you will be found. Now then, go on little ones, have fun. But remember." He paused once more, "Il Diablo is watching."
The screen went blank, and then the Keeper spoke again. "If you will please stand." There was a great amount of noise as people stood, and then they fell silent. A large gate opened, and the guards herded the men and women into the area. They were funneled into long gated rows, and positioned in lines. The keeper's voice was still heard above the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you once again for joining us. We hope you enjoy yourselves." A pause, and then. "Ready set go." There was the sound of a starters pistol, and the gates at the far end of the rows opened with a snap, and the people stared at the apparent escape. The game, had begun.
The captain of the guard stood above the fenced funnel like entry to the arena, watching as people milled about. There was a lot of confusion, and a bunch of people simply stood about. The captain remembered the order he had been given for a situation such as this. He glanced over to one of the men armed with a precision rifle. "Do it."
The man nodded, and fired into the crowd. A scream ran out as an older man was cut down. The guard smiled, grimly. Perfect. The captain raised the radio he carried. "Number 399 is down. Cause of death, motivational." **********************
After they were all gone, the head keeper sighed, and headed back to his office. He had massive amounts of paperwork to finish. While there was no definite timeline, he could guess. There would probably be new "participants" by noon. In a few weeks, or once this round ended, they would start all over again.
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Blane Stark
Alliance Official
28 years old " Specter "[M:0]
Posts: 13
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Post by Blane Stark on Dec 11, 2012 21:53:25 GMT -5
[[At this point, everyone can, and should split into groups. After some RP in the confusion, we can split it off for specific groups to have a thread. The idea is to have everyone sorta end up together eventually. But that can take as long as we want. If you have someone(s) you want to group up with, get a plan, and start a thread.]]
"I'm fine." He said, to the woman who had asked about his head. "I've had worse." He fell silent yet again, as the voice from the screen started. He didn't like where it was going, and the shadowy face, well... He had heard rumors.
As the equipment was explained Blane nodded. He had already done a brief inventory. He thought he could maybe stretch it to two days, if he had to. But it would be tight. Blane didn't flinch as the runner was executed.
After the nut case had finished his speech. He stood with the rest. Sicne no one was regulating them anymore, he started to move. He made his way towards the front, pushing through the rows of worried people. He ended up next to a woman, who looked oddly familiar. Her number, 013, was not the only thing he noticed about her chest, but he shook it off. This was about as far as you got from the right time to notice women. Alternatively, it may be the last chance he got.
His mind was wiped clear as the gates opened, and he moved forward. The woman moved with him. They walked somewhat cautiously, as everyone else seemed to hang back.
Blane stepped out of the fenced area, and looked around. He glanced at the woman, as others started to shuffle past. "Hell of a place to be, huh?" But before she could answer, a shot rang out. Blane's eyes saw the guard who had shot, and he immediately launched himself into number 13. They crashed to the ground, just to the side of the main entry, as the people stampeded.
Blane stood, slowly, and looked up at the fence. He saw a few guards point and laugh. He shook his head, and offered the woman his hand. "Sorry bout that." He said, eyes scanning as he helped her up. "Lets get out of here."
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Paige Demore
Athena Captain
[AWD:01160502060d0e]25 Years Old Mercenary[M:0]
Alias: Priya Sanai
Posts: 90
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Post by Paige Demore on Dec 12, 2012 16:07:26 GMT -5
As Priya sat there waiting for things to proceed she heard her name. Her real name, spoken out loud. She looked up to find the source of the treachery, found it she did. In one Onas Knox. What the hell was he doing here? She shot him a glare for speaking her name, not that he would know any better. It had been a long while since the woman had heard her real name spoken outside her own mind. It was a reminder of the past, before so much blood had been shed. The deaths had been necessary though, for many reasons. Highest of which was her own safety, too bad it hadn't done any favors for her sanity. Before she could react any further there was more announcements started, she turned her attentions there. At the moment it was more important to find out what was going on, not to mention how the hell she was going to get out of here. She could deal with Onas later. While Priya couldn't see the person speaking as well as she'd liked, she memorized his voice. Closing her eyes to better concentrate on remembering it. At the mention of weapons Priya grinned. Things were starting to clear up. They were here for the man's entertainment. She didn't enjoy the thought, in fact she wanted his head on a stake. That didn't mean she would refused to participate, it was for survival. One of the reasons she had killed all those other people. A reason she had no problem justifying to herself and it was no matter what anyone else thought. Her eyes snapped open when the gunshots went off. It only took her a moment to assume what had happened. The poor idiot. This was entirely serious, like her this man...this "Il Diablo" had no problem killing anyone. Or in this case having people killed. Priya didn't hesitate in getting to her feet, she wasn't going to chance getting shot. Not even having the chance to get some revenge. Unfortunately for now some people who were probably innocent would have to pay with blood so that she could make her way towards that vengeance. She knew her best chance was to be one of the first to get out of the gate. Find some weapons and supplies, then get to work. There wasn't an abundance of excitement about what tasks were ahead of her, but again it was necessary. Making her way toward the front of the group she ignored anyone who attempted to talk to her, the worried looks on so many faces. At least not everyone here was a killer. Priya had taken no notice of the man who had ended up walking next to her at first. Until he spoke up, for some reason she looked over at him. That's when there was another gunshot. Before she could react in any way the man had tackled her to the ground. First thoughts that ran through her mind was that he was getting a head start. Her instincts started to kick in but then she realized that he was making no effort to injure her. They were no longer in the front. People had started to scramble out of gates like a scared herd of cattle. "Lambs to a slaughter." She mused out loud as the man removed himself from the ground. Then he had the nerve to offer her help up. His offer was received with a glare, but she took his hand anyway. Once she got to her feet however Priya re-payed him with a fist to the jaw. Rather than wait for him to retort, she began to move. "Yeah. Let's do that." They needed to get away from here and find supplies, most of all weapons. Priya wasn't sure if it would be smart to team up with someone else, at the moment what could it hurt really. This man looked like he could do some damage of his own. He wasn't a pushover. It would make him an entertaining challenge to kill later. --------- ((Lars! Let me know if the ending is okay you weren't around for me to ask so let me know if I need to alter it <3))
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Post by Friedrich Hoffman on Dec 12, 2012 18:51:43 GMT -5
So that's what this was, the most dangerous game all for someone's amusement or possibly the amusement of many others. The "rules" if you could call them that were odd in that there was no mention of killing others. Certainly, it was implied that there were weapons, you needed to survive, and they even executed men for trying to escape and for not being properly motivated but there was nothing in the objective of the game about being the last man standing or reaching some sort of goal like twenty kills.
The goal was merely survival. What exactly that meant was ambiguous as the instruction on fighting each other. There were no time limits set and with a goal such as that you need a time frame. Did they need to survive for days, weeks... years? Was the goal indeed to be the last one surviving? The lack of clear instruction made it all the more difficult but perhaps that confusion is exactly what made the game so much fun to observe.
The single greatest threat to their survival beyond getting killed in the first few minutes was starvation. Each person had one day's worth of rations. From there they'd need to make due. Hunting or foraging would probably be a poor supplement with so many people scrambling over this area. There were rumored to be supply dumps around but that was something one could not count on. The other choice was physically taking from others, where violence directly met survival. In an instant, Friedrich knew his course of action.
While others began to stampede to escape, Friedrich instead approached the executed man and relieved him of his pack. As he rejoined the crush of people, he emptied the contents into his own and discarded the now empty bag so as to avoid undue attention to himself as one who already had a leg up.
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Onas Knox
Resident Staff
[AWD:0105060d0e070215141718]28 Years Old Mechanic [M:0]
Post Up! Let's do this! Leeeeroy Jeeeenkins!!!
Posts: 201
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Post by Onas Knox on Dec 12, 2012 23:36:03 GMT -5
Onas looked at Pryia for a minute, it was a bit much to figure. How could they both be here? The odds of that were astronomically low, flatlining to zero in fact. Who were these people and why bring her into this? This was no prison. Unless...
Oh God, Marcus?
His worries about old problems washed away, far sooner than they had any chance of getting the icy grips of fear dug in. The lead lackey introduced the man of the hour, Onas prescribed a nickname imediantly. The Voice spoke. It fit rather well considering you didn't have any other way of identifing the man later, other than memorised audio sample. He tried to get the rough edge of his vowels, and the itch of his consanants stored away. If there was an opertunity later to... repay his host... Onas would not want to miss it. A man many rows back stood and started to make a run for it. Onas' first reaction was one of wonder. Was the man on drugs? Honestly? Where do you go untill the friggin gate opens? But he still wasn't prepared for the punishment.
Onas felt no shame as he jerked and blinked simultaneously from the jump-scare of a high powered rifle. At this close range, a bullet of that caliber? Overkill was an understatement. You'd of had to be blind to miss the druggies head open up like the red sea. Spray painting the walls in brain matter grey, and highlighted in humanus hemoglobus. The Voice was laughing like a B-movie bad guy.
Okay. Not a good sign.
Then the keeper spoke up again after self-named El Diablo bought some leave. It was time to go, everyone stood up at once and sort of milled about. Untill a second shot rang out, an old man, maybe sixty? They just shot him like he was nothing. A big, I mean big, sonufagun behind him must have decided it was best to vacate the primises forthwith, and it obviously didn't make any difference who was in front of him. Onas got his head palmed out of the way, his head smashed to the table he'd been sitting at. He barely had time to look up and see the guys form plow through everybody on the way out before someone else forced their way past and knocked him clean to the floor. It was the disorientation. Honestly. His eye had opened up like a waterfall, and blood pored straight to the floor, gushing into a puddle of his life.
He cupped the wound and tried to get out from under the table. But too many people were pushing by. Onas' temper flared and he forced his way out, sideswiping a passing panikeer, inevitably knocking a woman into the next table so hard it knoced the wind out of her. He tried to stop and help her, he tried to at least say he was sorry, but he caught between a lot of people, all of them moving fast. Onas gave up on the girl, he didn't get a good look at her anyway. He turned and looked for Pryia, he turned around while trodging forward, but she was nowhere in sight. His eye started swelling, he squeesed the bloody opening tightly and felt something under his skin pop. His spine shivered, Knox did not want to know what that was.
He didn't know what part of this was worse. Crazy people were armed, heavily. He was bleeding like a stuck pig allready. A man was gunned down and they called out a number, not a name. Another had been shot for being scared. He had barely gotten past his table's conector to the next table and he'd allready hurt a woman. They were being herded and prodded like cattle. The mastermind of this whole thing reminded him of Renfield... Take your pick, none of this was okay.
Onas got outside the doors finally, he had the fullest of intention to look for Pryia agin, find out what she was doing here, did it have anything to do with Marcus Lee? But truth be told, when he got outside the door, all he could do was lean against the metal wall and bleed. A few people looked at him and said something, one tried to help. Could have been a girl or a guy, he couldn't tell over the pounding headache. He just needed to rest. Just... just for a moment.
Some kid from inside saw him on the way out, he couldn't tell by the face, you see, but his voice, he sounded young. "Watch Yurself!" The kid said harshly, and grabbed Onas' pack. He didn't care at first, there was just way to much pain behind his eye. Then the kid tried to dig into Onas' pocket... Later, in hindsight, the kid would have to 'of noted that a snatch-and-grab isn't a hold-up, ya take someones crap quickly, then ya get one shot to get away clean. Now... had he just grabbed the food and bolted, he would have gotten away scot free.
As it were, Knox reached up faster than the punk could get his hand out of Onas' pocket, and he got a hold of the kid's hair, a good full handhold. He let go of his open wound and grabbed a bar from the window just a foot away, and using his left arm as leverage, he slammed the kids face against the metal building side with his right. Ol' buddies' body went limp from his knees down. Onas now got behind him, and grabbed his head with both hands, his face was set, and angry. Despite the blood freefalling from his face, he found the strength to bash the boys head again. Then he leaned down real low, and whispered in what amounted to his finest chinese/portuguese combination cursing, just loud enough that only his would-be robber would hear him. He stood there a moment, holding the kids head back. He tried to clearly make out the kid's features, letting his blood pour onto the punk's now-broken face. Unsatisfied with his own bodies lack of cooperation, Onas released the boy by tossing his head to the pavement as hard as he still could.
His bleeding was getting worse, with his heart rate up. He looked around, someone was bound to have seen that, but it didn't seem anyone cared. His vision was waning, if someone had seen it, he'd be a pretty easy target right now, better that no one bothered with him. Onas maintianed long enough to recover his food, and the kids, and his smokes, and the extra socks the kid had in his pocket. Onas looked at the socks for a second, he was about to leave them, then he srugged. Couldn't hurt. And he used to be such a nice guy...
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Kate Arjen
Drifter
[AWD:01]25 Years Old Medic
"Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent."
Posts: 6
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Post by Kate Arjen on Dec 14, 2012 0:49:03 GMT -5
"I'm fine. I've had worse," the man replied. Kate nodded and let the man be, turning her attention to the huge screen that was set before them. Something about it was foreboding. There was its size for one, and like everything else around her, its purpose -or message- was unknown, and completely outside of her control. Just then, the Head Keeper spoke to the assembly of prisoners, directing their attention to the massive screen, which crackled to life but a moment later. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. How kind of you to join us. You may be wondering how, and why you are here. That is of no consequence. What matters, is what you do next. That is entirely up to you. You will be turned loose in a moment, and then your destiny, your success, and indeed your very survival will be determined by your own skill and drive. You have all been given the same items. Clothing, and a pack containing provisions for a day, and a map. Now, this is not to say you have only one day to experience the adventure. In fact, there is no time limit. In this game, for in fact it is a game, you are all competing for your very lives."
"When you exit through these gates, the challenge begins. There are supplies, and provisions located throughout the surface of the planet. And you are limited only by yourself, as to how far you can travel. There is food, water, clothing, shelter, and even... weapons, but only the ones who are willing to do anything to survive will succeed. There is only one rule. Survive. If you survive, you win. You will receive all your personal effects, and a large sum of money. But if you try to escape... You will die... Please, do not think that you are safe from the guards once you enter the arena. They are everywhere, and you will be found. Now then, go on little ones, have fun. But remember. Il Diablo is watching." The color drained from Kate's face. Game? What kind of sick... The young woman steeled herself once again, silencing the thoughts beginning to race through her mind. She had to stay calm and face the reality before her, and she needed a plan. She would travel as far as her feet could carry her, gathering the supplies she needed along the way. That she knew she could do. Her childhood on Aesir had been spent climbing mountains and trekking through forests, and then there was her Companion training, as well as all the knowledge her father had instilled in her over her lifetime. Yes, that was it. Kate would survive, but she would not play this sick "game". Kate resolved to avoid the fighting as much as possible. Maybe she could convince some of the others to join her. I will not allow myself to become like some kind of animal, preying upon others. I will outlast them, carry myself as far away as I can, then find some way off of this planet. But if she couldn't find a way to leave? Once we're away from the guards, maybe then we could set a trap for them, take their weapons... It was a rough plan, and Katherine knew there might not be that many willing to hear her out, much less side with her. But it was all she had, and for now, that was enough. The screen went blank, and the Head Keeper spoke again, beckoning them all to rise to their feet. Again seeing no other choice, Kate did so, falling in line with the others as they were herded towards row after row of fencing, each leading to a gate that opened to what would soon become the "game" map. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you once again for joining us. We hope you enjoy yourselves." There was a pause. "Ready, set, go." The sound of a pistol rang out making several people around Kate jump in surprise. Despite this however, there was no great rush made for the gates at the end of the rows. Until the man in front of her was shot dead. Gasping despite herself, Kate knew at a glance that there was no chance of saving him, and with countless people now pushing behind her, she wouldn't have had time anyway. Forced to step over the old man, Kate sprinted down the path, trying not to get knocked over and trampled by the frenzied crowd. When she finally reached the gate, Katherine dashed to the side instead of charging out into the forest ahead. She knew well the perils of trying to move too quickly through unfamiliar terrain, and she needed to pace herself. For the moment however, Kate was still trying to make sure she didn't get killed by the crush of people who were afraid they'd be shot next if they didn't move fast enough. Catching her breath Kate tried to think, calm her nerves, and quickly re-evaluate her plan. Had the guards heard her talking to the old man? Was it her fault he was dead, a warning? Eyes scanning her surroundings, she dared a few quick glances at the guards positioned above the gate. They didn't seem to be paying her any attention, but it was impossible to be sure. In any case, she would definitely need to wait until she got farther out before attempting to recruit others to her cause. "God be with us," she whispered. ((OOC: Terrain check pl0x? Is it more field for a while, or a forest nearby like my brain wants to imagine it? ^^ )
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Valentyn Rooke
Drifter
[AWD:01]23 Years Old Mercenary Played By Jove
Just... get outta the way and lemme handle this?
Posts: 7
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Post by Valentyn Rooke on Dec 14, 2012 11:23:41 GMT -5
Apparently, she was overheard, and as the young blonde cocked her head to the side, Tyn found herself snorting with amusement. Even went so far as to consider carefully-- or pretend to-- what the tall guy said. A like-mind, kinda. At least in the area of discussing tactics-- or whatever you wanted to call the craziness that Rooke provided in a fight. Arms had folded across her chest, and she gave a vague little indication towards the Keeper.
"Who said anythin' 'bout bein' subtle?" She grinned widely, her violent intent far too clear in those brown eyes. "I was goin' for flashy. Can't put a price on flashy."
If it wasn't for the fact they were debating ways of mutilating another human being, it might've been considered a friendly conversation. It was what it was, though. Two mercs shooting the go se. Nearly had her forgetting about this whole mess. Clearly, they'd make some pretty powerful allies with one another. Without any weapons they could even still do a far amount of damage to those untrained in hand-to-hand. Then he offered out his name pretty freely. A man without fear of who he was, and if people knew. Nothing wrong with that. Her old man had sung his own praises in the middle of jobs-- advertised himself to opposing forces like they could buy him across with a better deal. Valentyn nodded in an oddly civil 'nice to meet ya' way.
"Rooke." The last name thing was a habit. Always came first. "Tyn Rooke" Though, she didn't rightly care what she was called, as long as she recognised it for a 'look out!' or 'behind you!'.
"Nice touch with the crossbow idea, though. Very old-school. 'as a certain charm."
And then the screen changed, and everything changed. In that instant of one shadowy piece of work talking away like this was his best wet-dream ever, Valentyn had just been scowling hard at the screen. The murderous glint was there-- jackpot. This ghost of a man hiding behind a screen and darkness and most likely planet-wide distance was her target. This was who needed to see his grave mighty quick-like. Bet she'd never see him come handle a fight himself. Yeah, she knew the type. Even Harmin had handled his business personally-- but then he had been an armed drug runner. Even before this delightful speech had finished, Tyn was gesturing towards the screen.
"I take it back. I wanna shove a grenade down this hun dan's throat. Three of 'em. And one up 'is--"
They were getting told to move. The livestock of this 'game' or battle royal or whatever it was. Tyn fancied her chances pretty highly. But then, she was her father's daughter, and a hard-headed, overconfident gunhand. So it was understandable that she assumed a victory. Mostly because she wanted more than anything to find the guy in-change-- Il Diablo; whatever the hell that meant-- and gut him like a New Melbourne bass. Then get her weapons back.
Bang. The shot startled a lot into moving and there was some screaming, but Rooke was the first to show that she was used to getting shot at. She ducked low amongst the crowd, keeping tabs on her things and forcibly shoving people out the way. She'd seen the runner get taken down easily. Clean shot. If it wasn't for the fact she hated the sight of these guys, she might've commended the shooter. Kind of an easy shot. One target moving in a straight line. You gotta serpentine, idiot. But that second shot had been the warning, and no doubt someone had taken the hit. Tyn didn't care who as long as it wasn't her. The thought to rob his corpse didn't dawn on her until it was too late. She wanted out of here and away from these people. Some were already fighting. Taking the opportunity of the rushing crowd and using it towards their advantage. Rooke just kept moving, elbow digging into someone before she was shoved. A stagger forwards until she stopped against a wall-- or a really tall sonova--
"Drevin." Tyn noted in wry greeting. It was doubtful they could ever fully trust one another to survive this-- and may even turn on each other further down the line-- but for now a little more muscle and some numbers was going to help in thinning out those that came after them. A quick glance back showed they were already out of the gate.
"Shall we?"
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Corran Boid
Drifter
[AWD:01050d0e]Chief Pilot 32 Years Old[M:0]
The only good Reaver is a dead Reaver.
Posts: 62
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Post by Corran Boid on Dec 16, 2012 22:53:50 GMT -5
Corran had closed his eyes as he was waiting for things to start. Within his dream-like state his mind wandered. Flashes of past visions snippets of people shreiking and blood covering every where. Words from the outside world were muffled yet they were having their effect upon him. His nightmares had tormented his life for a great long time.
Corran's left arm was starting to shake and twitch by themselves. The fits were coming upon him and they were never a good thing. No seditive, no containment, no reaver to vent toward or at which meant that only the people around him was the only thing standing between his normalicy and utter madness. The last time the fits came upon him and anyother beings lasted for four hours. At the time fourty people died before he came 'round. Only those that hid themselves or ran to space survived. Here no leaving to space and around 400 beings were going to see what reaver madness was.
The shot rang out and awoke Corran from the nightmare of sleep but he was still fighting to keep calm. Ai had taught him how he could focus his mind. He was trying to do so at this time. Keeping his eyes closed shutting the outsid world out was becoming harder as the murmurs and cries of the crowd worked on Boid's nerves. When the crowd were forced to rise and move Corran kept his eyes shut. The guards picked him up and pushed him into the crowd.
Stumbling and shaking Corran tried to follow the group, yet when no one moved the shaking got worse. Only when the second shot rang out did the final straw snap. People around him shrieked some fell to the ground the sound of a head shot was very close to him. The spray of blood and fluids hit him it was then that his hands stopped shaking, his mind set. The madness finally set upon him. A cold chill came upon the air as he listened to the beings around him. Reading the emotions and heard actions he opened his eyes. Looking over at the bloody body he watched as one man took the deadman's survival bag and ran. Boid's eyes did not follow the bag but stayed upon the downed body.
Others rushed the body as started to strip it of it's clothes.
They never layed down. They never found peace. We will have vengence!
Corran moved to the body to get a closer look of the face as it was rolled over. Getting near some man looked back and rose and smashed him in the head with his fist. Boid was spun to the right from the hit. The pain gave him that final push toward madness. With lighting reflexes he swung back with his left arm. The hit landed on the man's chin. A snapping sound followed by a gurggling sound as the man's jaw was not just dislocated but broken. Reaching from behind Corran place his right hand in the other's mouth and left arm upon the back of his neck. A loud cruch followed.
Hissing Boid rose from the body as other people around him stared in shock. Movement of a predator became his. Another rushed him quickly he shifted and kicked the upper thigh of the on coming person. The pop of a femmor bone made everyone jump. The following upper cut that nearly removed the man's head and made him flip backward. Three others tired before everyone dispursed. Those that tried met with the same fate.
Stooping back down to the dead body his fingers ran up the body and played around the gapping holes that became the final markings of the being before him. The blood coated his fingers as he touched the ground and messed with the wounds. His fingers played back down the body. When he rose and moved away his face was covered in blood in the look of a skulls. As for the dead body the holes were connected and the body tattooed in blood with the words 'Serenity'. Turning Boid looked around and looked at ones around him waiting for some one to run. In a few second a female ran and Boid ran after her howling that familuar reaver howl. Then people shreiked as they relised what was in their midst. Reaver madness was unleashed and now hunting them. Heaven help all those that were found by him until his madness fades.
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