[Ironsight]

He looked at his hand angrily, forcing it to stop shaking, silently cursing himself for being so nervous while he did so.
He glanced at his watch. 5 minutes left.
He took swig from the drink at his table and looked around.
The men around him all worked for him as of now. He had hired them, and paid to get them here, in this seedy bar.
They were mercs, all of them. Some, he could he, were hagard veterans who kept casting shifty glances at everyone around them. Other were nervouse greenhorns, lured onto the job with promises of thrill and adventure. And they all worked for him. He had his own personal army in here. Well, maybe not an army, but a good 30 or so assorted killers, scum, and vigilantes under his controll.
It had not been easy getting them here, no. But he was hoping the pay-off would be worth it. A chance to be part of the pags of history made a man do extraordinary things.
He shook his head and took another drink, grimacing as the drink went down his throat. He wasn't used to being in places like this. He had only arranged to meet here to keep his men occupied while he tried to find the right words for his speech.
He grimaced again. He hated giving speeches. He hated writing them too, which was why he didn't have one prepared.
He looked at his watch again. 2 minutes. Most would have arrived by now.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to think. But his excitment quickly got the better of him and he opened his eyes, continuing his observations on the strange characters that surrounded him. In a way, he understood why the greenhorns had joined. The mercs around him reminded him almost of the knights and heroes of old. Each one was truly an individual. They all had stories to tell to eachother of exciting raids or frighning firefights. He tried to listen in on a few, but the buzzing of the crowd drowned out anything interesting.
His watch made a noise, alerting him that it was time to go up front and tell everyone why they were here.
He got up, pausing to takew one last swig of liquid courage.

There was no podium. No powerpoint. It was just him, standing in the middle of the crowd.
"Gentlemen!" He yelled, trying to get their attention. "Gentlemen!" he repeated. The noise died down as everyone turned their attention to him.
"Ah, good, now I can tell you why I just spent half my fortune buying you drinks." He aid, smiling.
The veterans stared mirthlessly. The greenhorns let out nervous laughs, then fell quiet. The promise of money catching their attention.
"Some of you may know me as a historian. My name is Malcolm, Malcolm Gere." he paused. No more jokes, now all was serious business.
"Tomorrow, at first light, we will be transported by truck to a remote locationroughly ten miles from here."
A hand raised in the crowdn calling on it, Gere was supprised to see it was a woman. He menatly scolded himself for not remembering therer were women in the crowd as well.
"Yes?" he asked.
"What's out there? And why do you need so many of us?" she asked him
Gerer smiled now. He already had an answer prepared for this question.
"We're going to an old, isolated 1800's fort that was once thought lost. As for why there are so many of you coming with me...it's very possible that I'm not the only one who dicovered this town. You're here to make sure the for stays mine while my team and I do our business."
"You'll be meeting back here tomorrow, where you'll receive further instructions." He nodded, signifying that he was done talking. "I'll see you all tomorrow." he said walking towards the door.
Gere let out a sigh of releif. he hated speeches.
As he left, he heard greenhorns and veterans alike muttering to each other. Why is this town so important? Does he really need so many of us for guard duty? All of them quickly stopped asking the questions when they remebered how much they were being payed for this job.

[Blue]

What RP is this that your starting?

[Ironsight]

Can you reword that?

[Blue]

Is this part of another RP or are you starting your own?

[Ironsight]

This is a brand new RP. Seperate from any others, past or present.

[Blue]

Alright. I'm afraid to post because I don't know what the RP is about. D:

[Ironsight]

Hm, I was hoping to Parent Post would explain it. Do you need a summary or something?

[Blue]

From what I can tell, theres an old fort that this rich man found, and he's hired a bunch of mercs to help secure the site while people look around?

[Ironsight]

Yeah, that's pretty much it.

[Blue]

Alright, I'll just use the merc I made for Skidz RP. I'll post tomorrow

[Ironsight]

Alright, cool. I know Skidz will be in this too, so we should have enough people, I think.

[Caael]

I'm gonna start getting into RPs soon, so give me an hour or two and i'll make a profile and join.

[Blue]

Name- Joshua Stevens
Age- 29
Sex-M

Appearence- Black short spikey hair. Dark clothes and long black trench coat with a black cowboy hat.. Carries two .45 calibur revolvers and a dagger.
Backstory- A man normally feared by many as a deadly assassin, he traveled the world, dealing death to those that had a price on their head. After receiving an invitation to an opportunity for a life time, he took off for a few years. Now he's returned at the request of a anonymous letter had reached his secret getaway.


Well, a man willing to buy drinks can't be all bad. Josh took a swig from a bottle of Whiskey, listening to the proposal by the nervous man in the middle of the room. There was a collection of mercs from around the world, some new, some experienced. Some in it for the prospect of fame, others just want some money. Josh just wanted to get back in the action, he had been gone from work for too long. Taking another drink, he kept listening to the man, hoping to grab some more details from his speech. He then saw a woman raise her hand and asked a question. He recognized her from some where, but couldn't remember. At the end of the speech everyone started talking amoung each other. Josh just adjusted his hat and walked out.

[Caael]

OCC: I'm guessing it's modern, seeing as you mentioned trucks and powerpoints. Is it going to be strictly realistic or will magic be allowed?

Also you havent mentioned the setting, just a pub and a fort. Country and details on surroundings would be nice.



Okay i'll give it a shot.

Name (primary alias): Caael, Pyromancer
Age: 36
Sex: Male

Appearance: Scrawny, tall figure wearing a black pinstriped suit with a large brimmed fedora covering his eyes. Carries a silver Colt Python at all times, with a concealed Balisong (butterfly knife). Skilled in all things explosive and flammable, he carries a vintage metal cigarette lighter and a can of gasoline in his briefcase at all times.

Backstory: A man with a fairly simple backstory. He grew up in a relatively rich background, was well educated though since an early age had an obsession with fire. In his spare time, he was obsessed with finding new things that burned, or creating makeshift bombs. Unfortunately, his skills were not accepted in many career fields. His obsession with flames got him kicked out of the army due to a friendly ammunition truck mysteriously exploding. With no other options left, he turned to mercenary work. After 11 years of assassination jobs, he has built up a reputation of "the Pyromancer" due to his fiery methods of dispatching his targets. Recently he obtained a letter detailing him to meet in a tavern not far from one of his safehouses.

Caael walked through the tavern door, water dripping from the brim of his hat.
" Sorry i'm late, chaps. Not an easy place to find in this weather".
He placed his briefcase on the nearest table and sat down next to a largely built man. A barmaid walked past, and Caael grabbed a mug that she was carrying on a pewter tray.
During the speech of the anxious man in the centre of the tavern, his eye caught somebody sitting opposite him. He was wearing a similar type of hat, which is what caught Caael's eye.
" I'll have to have a word with him about his hat after this speech" Caael thought to himself.
When the speech concluded, Caael saw the darkly dressed man in a hat leave the tavern, so he was prompt to pick up his briefcase and follow him.

[Ironsight]

((Strictly realistic. No superhumans or anything like that. As for the setting, I haven't really decided on a country yet, but I like the idea of somewhere in Europe. If the season matters at all, lets say it's a rainy night in early winter.))

Name: Nathaniel Lorry
Age: 21
Appearence: Greyish-blue eyes, short black hair. When on the field, he wears his combat fatigues and harness.
Backstory: Not quite a veteran, not quite a greenhorn, Nat sits conforably between the two social classes as a regular. His reputation as a crack shot with a rifle earned him a recruitment letter from Gere.
Weapons: M41 rifle, Glock 22 sidearm


Nathan's thoughts swam pleasantly through his head admist a sea of booze. Around him, the other mercschatted away with each other, some still talking about what thatman had said to them all. What was his name again? Gaw..Ger..Geer? Did it really matter?
The room buzzed, and Nat took another drink.
Some people were leaving after the man, but Nat didn't pay any attention to them. He probably couldn't even if he tried.
Deep down in the still lucid part of his mind, Nat was bitterly dissapointed in himself. He didn't usually drink this much.
Nat stumbled out of his chair and shuffled over to a man as he was leaving the bar.
"I'm going with you." he muttered sluggishly, dreading tomorrow's retribution on his body.

[Blue]

Stepping outside, Josh looks over the row of taxi's and limo's waiting outside the pub. He chuckled and reached into his jacket, pulling out a pack of Camel Wides and a Bic lighter. Sliding a cigarette into his mouth, he noticed two men coming out of the bar. One was leaning against the other as they were walking to one of the taxi's. "Boy, must of had a lot of them eh?" Opening the door he put the other man in the back seat. He closed the door and walked back in. "I could use a few more myself." He walked back in, heading straight for the bar. Josh looked back over to the taxi to see it drive off. He then light the cigarette and started smoking.

[Caael]

((I'm guessing i'm the guy carrying DS's character seeing as I came out of the bar as well))

Caael sat at a bar stool, sipping a martini casually, while looking around the bar to see any friendly faces. He was the man with the hat walk back in, though he hadn't had a chance to talk to him yet. He recognised nobody.
"The guy running this really must be on edge about this expedition he is leading. What exactly is he expecting during a dig? What danger calls for several dozen mercenaries to be hired?"

[Caael]

Dead already, eh?

Ah well, I tried.

[Blue]

I was waiting for DS to post something. Oh well.

[Ironsight]

I was waiting to see if Skidz was going to be in this. I'll post something in a bit if you guys want to keep going.

[Drizzy Drake]

Kite Woods drowned his shot of Bacardi 151, and headed outside. He didn't much care for formalities. He wanted to get in, get out, and get paid. Not only for the bills but...

He shook his head. This wasn't the time.

When he got outside, he pulled out a pack of Players' Lights, and lit one up. He noticed anyother one of the mercs smoking. Kite nodded to him and decided to walk over. The men both shook hands. "The name's Kite, you?"

"Joshua."

"I see. Now Joshua, I'm curious as to why you decided to join this mission? Why anybody here did. This **** isn't normal." Kite took a long drag from his cigarette, and looked over at Josh.

[Ironsight]

Nat rolled around in the back seat of the cab as it drove through the cold night back to the hotel he was staying at. The cab made a sharp turn and Nat suddently felt sick. He stuck his head out the window for a few moments, letting the cool night air whip across his face.
Feeling a bit better, Nat pulled himself back into the cab and cursed himself for his stupidity. I'm going to regret this tomorrow he thought.
A few more uneventful minutes passed before the cab slowed to a halt. Nat gropped for the handel, missed a few times, then got out and handed the driver a fist full of bills. He stumbled inot the lobby of the hotel and sleepily asked for his room number.
Nathan then made a beeline for his room, threw up once, set his alarm clock, then passed out on his bed.

[Caael]

Caael was sat in a hotel lobby, awaiting his room. He sat there without uttering a word to any of the staff around him. He was tired from his journey and he wanted to get ready for the job at hand. A receptionist called out his name and he walked to the desk, picking up a key with the room number ""688".
" Up near the top then i'm guessing"
He wasnt incorrect. The lift wasn't working, so he had to traverse 14 flights of steps to reach his room on the second to top floor. By the time he got into his room, he collapsed on the bed and drifted into a deep sleep

[Blue]

Taking a quick drag, he exhaled out his nose. "My cash flow from a previous job is wearing a little thin. Plus I haven't had anything exciting going on, thought I would try something weird." Taking another drag, he looked around the dark road, noticing one of the street lamps was out. "Eh, can't be too bad, with this many mercs, who would want to **** with this?" Taking his last drag, he flicked the cigarette in a puddle next to the curb. "I'll see you tomorrow." He pulled his hat down a little and waved at one of the taxis. The driver unlocked the door and Josh pulled it open. He went inside and closed the door gently. After a few seconds the taxi drove off.

[Drizzy Drake]

Ya, tomorow, Kite thought to himself. He too had finished his smoke, and decided to head back to the hotel like the rest of the other drunks. He searched for his car for 10 mintues before realising he was too drunk, and hailed a cab.

"Where too?" the cabby spoke.

Kite reached into his pocket and played with something for a short second. "****," he muttered under his breath. "Downtown, the Rez."

"Are you sure mate? That place isn't somewhere you want to be at this time of night."

"I'll be fine." Kite stared out the window into the dark night.

"Allright, if you say so." The cab spun it's wheels and sped off.

[Neo]

OoC: Hello all. Yup, it's me. I'll be posting a profile later. At this time, all that is important to know is that my character is male, aged 31, and is named Brandon.

A strange meeting at a strange place, with many awkward people. Had quite the change of turning out to be a strange mission. He had two concerns. First of all, was he going to show up at all? And second, if he decided to show up, was he going to help Mr. Gere. If this was such an important task, and Gere was able to afford so much money, wouldn't it be obvious to state that the intended treasure -- it had to be a treasure! Why else would a historian be interested in an old fort? -- had a value much greater then the payment?

While walking to his temporary apartment, he made his decision. Yes, he would show up. And yes, he would be part of the team and help out the Historian. But that would only last till Gere would find what he was looking for. He would take it from him, with violence if necessary.

This was not doable alone. He had to find other people willing to risk their necks. Other people who would also be interested in a greater income. Trustworthy people -- Brandon smirked at this thought; finding loyal and trustworthy people among these mercenaries? Not a change -- who would back him up, help him, and not stab him in the back as well.

He sighed. This was going to be a hard job. Really hard.

[Drizzy Drake]

The second cab dropped Kite off in front of his hotel. He smiled at the short blonde. She was much preattier than the fat man that had picked him up. He looked up at a broken sign, The Marriotte it read, and walked through the doors. With all the money this malcolm guy had, he sure didn't show it.

Kite had made sure to get his key earlier in the day, as to avoid the drunken conversation he'd have to have with the clerk. The black man sitting at the desk chuckled as Kite slipped onto the floor. He picked himself up, and threw himeself into the elevator.

When in the moving peice of metal, Kite reached into his pocket, and fiddled around with something again. He smiled for a second, and then stood there as if somebody had told him his wife had just died. When the doors oppened, he quickly made his way to his room.

37.

[Ironsight]

Nat groaned and forced his eyes open, a habit he had devolped a while ago calling him back to the world of the awake. A desire to be prepared bringing him out of a happy, hazy world.
It was late at night. Morning technically; 3:03.
The sharp ringing of the alarm clock next to his bed felt like someody was jabbing a dagger into his skull over and over again. He turned it off, releiving silence filling the room.
Nathan looked around. The apartment he was staying in was an average one bed one bathroom deal. He'd hurriedly rented it out before he went to the bar.
The bar he thought, groaning again. Last night was an aching blur in his mind he barely remembered.
Nat pulled himself up and undressed. Turning the coffee maker on along the way, he walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower to it's coldest setting. Nat took a quick breath, and stepped in. The cold water shocked him, but in a good way. Nat could feel his focus comming back to him.
Once he washed up, he dried off and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Nat gullped down his coffer, trying to wash out the alcohol in his system. He looked out the window into the black Winter night, appreciating the lack of noise.

Nathan pulled his military-issue forrest-camo-pants on, followed by a black T-shirt, then a thick grey wool sweater, and finaly a forrest-camoflage jacket of the same origin as his pants. He pulled on a pair of thick black socks, put on a pair of grey fingerless gloves, and covered his hair with a grey beanie.
Nathan jumped a couple of times, trying to get the thick clothing to settle comfortably. Once he was satisfied, he gathered last nights clothes into a pile and stuffed them into a traveling case full of spare clothing, then moved over to a long, thin plastic case underneath a plastic square case.
Inside was his prized M41 rifle and Glock22 pistol. He quickly inspected both for anything that might have been damaged during the trip. Satisfied nohing had ben broken, he gently put the weapons back into their case's along side a box full of ammunition.
He opened the traveling cart full of his clothing and removed a tangle of straps and buckles. His harness. He buckled everthing on and resumed his previous task of trying to flush the alcohol from his system by drinking copious amounts of water.
He had a massive amount of time to waste. Gere wasn't setting out until 9:00.
With nothing better to do besides drink water for the next several hours, nat decided he would get some more rest and sleep off the worst of the hangover. He read a small peice of paper given to all the mercs last night whe they enterd the bar last night. Apparently, they would be meeting at a local suppermarket parking lot, where they would be told where to go and who was in charge. Nat folded the paper up and stuffed it into a pocket, letting his head fall into the pillow.

[Blue]

Josh opened the door quickly and shut it fast. He didn't feel like staying up later than he had to. Five seconds into the room though, he had a feeling it was going to be a long night. There were woman's clothes lying on the floor, leading to the bathroom. He placed his palm on his face and sighed. He tossed his hat onto a chair and took off his jacket. Folding it and placing it on the bed, he then headed towards the bathroom. He noticed that the shower was running as he got closer. Just as he got to the door, the shower stopped and a glass door slid open. The door to the bathroom itself was left a little open, so Josh looked through the crack. The woman had just wrapped herself in her towel, her red hair going down to her ass. Josh sighed again as he pushed the door open. "I was wondering when I would see you again, Rebeca." He could see in the mirror that she was smiling.
"I missed that bright smile of yours so much." She took another towel and started drying her hair.
He couldn't help but smirk a little. He walked away, back towards the door to the room. Opening a door, he took a sign from the table next to him and placed it on the knob.
Do Not Disturb.

[Neo]

He could not sleep. He was wide awake in the chair, watching some boring program on the television. A beer in his left hand, a cigarette in his right. Thought were killing him. Thoughts of the past. Guns, explosions and people screaming. He closed his eyes, he did not want to think about this. Standing up, he decided it would be best if he went to sleep. Tomorrow would be a long, and exhausting day. He threw his cigarette in the ashtray, and threw a half full bottle of beer in the garbage can.

--

"Down! Get down! Incoming RPG at 6!"

A large explosion knocked the living daylight out of him. He knew that he was on the ground, looking towards the sky. His view blurry, and with only a beeping sound in his ears. What happened?

"..et up! ...andon, m...ve ...ur a....!"

What was that? Was someone talking to him? He tried to move to a sitting position, but as soon as he lifted his head and saw his body, he turned into a state of shock and fell down again. He saw his intestines. Grenade shards all over his body and his legs. Did he also see some white from a bone? Oh God, was he going to die?!

"Jackson, Cross, get Danniver and move your asses to cover!"

He felt two men grabbing him at his shoulders, and he was moving. Now he was lying behind a large container, and he saw several faces above him. He could hear them clearly now.

"Sergeant Brandon Danniver, you listen to me! Don't you dare to die on me! I'll follow you all the way to hell to get your ass back. Stay with me! Jackson, where is that medic?!"

"On his wa...."

--

"No!"

Awake, finally. Again the dreams of the past. Why wouldn't they go away? Had he not resigned so that he could let go of these memories and these cruel scenes? But it happened every night, over and over again.

He looked at his clock. 05:36 AM. He'd better take a shower and get ready. He didn't to be late.

[Ironsight]

Nat woke up again, and hit the off button on the clock next to his rented bed..
He sat up and cluched his aching head, cursing. His head was throbbing something terrible.
Nat got up out of bed, and looked out the window. The once black winter night was now the pale grey half-light of morning. He glanced at the clock. 7:41 AM
Alarmed by the time, Nat immediatly made a dash for the bathroom, but stopped when a pile of baggage caught his eye. He smiled and thanked fate he had the foresight to prepare early.
Natahn splashed some cold water from the bathroom sink onto his face one last time, grabbed his bags, and locked the door behind him.
It wasn't a very long walk to the lobby. The hotel was two stories, but he had only rented on the first floor, a few rooms from the hallway that led to the front desk.
He stopped at the desk and dropped his bag. The receptionist looked at him with bored eyes.
"Lorry," Nat muttered, 'I'm checking out."
He handed the receptionist his key and sped out the door to find a cab.

[Caael]

Caael's home-made alarm clock went off at precisely 6:45. By alarm clock, he really meant a small explosive with a timer on it. He got up, showered and dressed in his pinstriped suit, checked his briefcase for his equipment, which was unharmed, picked it up and walked out of the room, shutting it behind him. He checked out in the hotel lobby and started walking down the street. It was Autumn, so the sun was only just beginning to rise. He squinted as he saw the top of the sun peek out from over the hills in the distance.

(OOC: Where do our characters actually go now?)

[Ironsight]

((Just a Supermarket parking lot, where they'll be told who's leading them, and what truck they're assigned to. From there they ride to the fort for a couple of hours.
That's the plan anyways.
You guys decide what trucks you want to be on. We could all be in one group on a truck, we could be split up seperatly, or anything in between. I'll post something constructive when I get home.))

[Caael]

Caael found himself in the empty supermarket parking lot. He saw a few other people standing around, though he wasnt sure if they were other mercs or just loiterers. While he waited, he had to restrain his childish urges to sit in a trolley down a ramp, and instead just stood there with his briefcase, not moving a muscle. After he saw a few more people turn up and stand around, he decided to make conversation with the one closest to him. He was wearing dark clothes, with a headscarf and only a small portion of his face exposed. Caael figured he must be from the middle east, and after recieveing a scowl from the middle-easterner, he decided against making contact and went back to standing awkwardly next to a bus shelter.

[Ironsight]

It was a short drive to the market, so Nat arrived a little early. He pulled out his bags from the trunk of the cab and payed the driver, then turned and looked the gathering crowd over.
Before him stood a small crowd of mercs. None of them appeared very tired, just annoyed for some reason.
Nat glanced at his watch and found out why everyone was getting pissed. It was Mr.Gere's turn to be late apparently.
Nat looked around, looked at his watch agin, and then at the market owning the parking lot they were standing in.
Nathan started walking towards the market, a bag of chips on his mind.

[Neo]

As Brandon arrived at the destination, he saw that he was not that first. Several other people were already waiting, but there was no sign of Gere. Was this all one big joke? It better not be, otherwise Gere would have a short time to live.

Walking around a bit, Brandon noticed a man with standing there with a briefcase in his hand, staring at nothing particular (Caael). He decided it was time to get to know some of these men, if he wanted to find some trustworthy men who would want to help him.

"Seems we're earlier than Mr. Gere. Not really a good start for our little historian, won't you think? My name's Brandon."

[Joek2]

Kite woke up in a daze. He stared at the ceiling until his vision cleared up, and then looked over at his clock. "****," he screamed. He was allready 10 minutes late. He quickly threw a pair of jeans on, and tossed a camo BAPE hoodie over his white tee.

He packed his phone into his bag, and grabbed a Players smoke in the process. He lit it up, and left the room. He was in such a hurry, he left the door wide open. Didn't matter much though, everything he had brought was either in the bag or his car. His beat up red Honda S2000 was the only car in the shitty hotel's parking lot.

Kite knew he had little time. He got in and sped off with little warning. He blew through stop signs, went 30 over the speed limit; anything to get to the market.

When he finally got there, he scanned the crowd, and noticed the Gere hadn't even arrived yet. What the.. he thought the himself. Well, if I have some time to spare..

Kite rolled up the tinted black windows and reached for his bag.

[Caael]

Caael looked up as a largely built man approached him, and began conversation.
"Good day to you Brandon, my name is Caael. Or rather, my alias for this mission at least. I'm sometimes known as the Pyromancer; you might have heard of me."

[Neo]

Brandon smiled. "I'm sorry Caael, I haven't. I'm very new to this..." he paused for a moment. "This business. I did some other things before, mostly in other countries. But if you have such a nick, this surely isn't your first large job. You did any other things recently?"

He offered a cigarette to Caael, trying to keep the conversation going.

[Caael]

Caael declined. He liked fire, but not the smoke.

"Oh, most of the time they're mostly small-time contracts for disputes or silly little things like that. I dont mind them though, they keep me fed. Although every so often I get issued an order from a large corporation to eliminate competitors. I suppose my largest job was taking down Universal Petroleum headquarters; burned the building to the ground with personel still remaining inside. I wouldn't say what i'm doing is right, but nothing beats that satisfaction of incinerating a target with a home-made flamethrower."

Caael looked at the now drawn-aback man before him.

" I'm sorry, sometimes I get a bit carried away describing my work. So how about yourself; what has your mecernary history been like?"

[Neo]

This man was interesting. Friendly, open and yet very, very dangerous. A possible friend indeed. His story was amazing. Brandon had never met a pyromaniac before. This one was a pro, no doubt.

"Well, my history in being a merc doesn't go that far back. Before this I did one simple, small hit on a store owner. That's about it. Before that I was in the army. At one point I got wounded so badly that it took me almost five years to recover. When I was ready to get back to my men, it turned out they had honorably fired me without notifying me. Seems that they didn't want me anymore. I turned my back to the government, became an anarchist. Turned out that I could not survive like that. I prefer order over chaos. Yet the hate towards the government still burned inside of me, thus I decided to do work like this. Strange, how one's life can change so drastically."

He too, was getting carried away. He noticed he was staring in the distance over Caael's shoulder.

"Sorry."

He looked around him. Although more people had joined the group at the parking lot, there was still no sign of Gere.

"He better show up soon. We draw too much attention this way."

[Ironsight]

Nat walked out of the store, a bag of oreos in hand, just in time to witness a convoy of 6 moving vans, followed by a small black car, pull into the parking lot. Out of the black car, covered in a brown trenchcoat, came Gere. Following him out, came a tall military-looking man in black clothing.
Nat hurried over to the group of mercs, that snack food rattleing in his hand. He scowled, slightly embarrased. He had an unusual liking for the child-snacks.
Gere was in the middle of introducing the man standing next to him. "This is Mr. Johnston. He's my military advisor for this excursion, and you'll all be reporting to him."
Johnston didn't waste any time. He nodded to Gere. "Alright, well be heading to the location in these vans here," he said, gesturing to the orange and white trucks beside him. "I want you all in groups of five, one group for each truck. Truck six belongs to Mr.Gere, his team and I. Once the trucks start up, we wont be stopping until we arrive at our destianation, so I suggest you take care of anything you need to do before we set out. I'll leave you to decide who you're going with on each truck. Once we get to our destination, I'll be giving you further instructions." He stopped, signaling everyone that he was done talking.
Nathan moved closer to get a better look at Johnston. He was tall, but muscular, and had a hard stare. He was wearing a thick jacket and boonie hat over his short, brown hair.
When Johnston had finished speaking, everyone around him began to move around, gathering into their groups. Nat ambled around aimlessly for a few moments until he noticed a couple of men standing besides each other, one with a face that could have been carved from stone and carrying a breifcase. The other stood tense, as if he were trying to watch everyone at once for suspicious movements.
Overhead, the grey sky finally began to let down a light drizzle of rain.

[Caael]

Caael turned to look where his new companion was looking.

" Drawing attention? Yes, I suppose a crowd of about 20 people armed to the teeth would be rather unnerving."

He paused for a second, contemplating his thought.

" Would you mind telling me what this 5 year wound was? It's quite interesting and it can never hurt to know about somebody you're going to be working with."

[Neo]

Brandon smiled, and tapped his left leg.

"Fake from knee down."

Then he tapped his chest.

"Pacemaker."

His smile turned into a grin.

"Yes, my friend -- if I may call you that. You are working with a disabled mercenary. But don't worry. This heart hasn't given up and me yet, and as long as we don't have to do sprints for a long time, I'll also manage to keep up with you guys. The first year after the accident was spent entirely in coma. After that I had to learn to walk again. Took me a while, since I was a slow learner.

He heard a noise, and turned around. He saw the armored trucks approaching. He turned to Caael again.

"Let's go over there, see what Mr. Gere has to say. Meanwhile, tell me; have you ever burned yourself?"

[Caael]

Caael removed his hat and his neck scalf that concealed most of his face to reveal the charred flesh on his skull, hair no longer growing on the dead cells and his totally burnt face that looked like an over-cooked turkey; the dry skin cracking. His jaw muscles were clearly visible through his bones. The scarring continued down his neck, and although he didnt show it to his new-found friend, across half of his chest.

He saw Brandons shocked expression.

"Ah, dont worry about it. Had it for years now. Its how I got kicked out of the army. Word of advice- make sure you keep tabs on your allies at all times. I was in charge of the C4 in that particular mission. Turns out the charges were set 30 seconds shorter than we were expecting, so the building blew before we could get out. Only me and one other survived. I was lucky; I retained all of my limbs...

Oh, sorry, I trailed off there. To answer your question, this suit is lined with Fyrepel which can withstand temperatures of up to 1816 degrees celcius- i've carefully controlled my equipment so none of the temperatures exceed that number- if flamable substances are involved in the mission, I calculate the maximum heat output they can produce. Only in very rare cases are there substances that excess 1816 degrees."

Caael realised that Gere had already arrived, and apologised to Brandon.

"Sorry for rambling on, I get like that sometimes. Just remind me if I do natter on for too long in future, its a terrible habit of mine."

Caael replaced his hat and scalf and walked over to Gere.

[Joek2]

Kite leaned up from his nap in the back seat to look out his window. "Oh, he's here.."

Kite quickly combed his hair with fingers. He then searched the car for his pack of smokes and upon finding them, lit one up, and took a long drag. "Ahh," he sighed.

He grabbed his cellphone and tiger stripped Desert Eagle, and stumbled out of his car. He looked around, nobody saw him. He got up, shook his head, and locked the door. Kite took another long drag from his smoke, and grinned at the group of mercs. He slowly walked over to the others, eyeing each one of them.

"What'd I miss?"

((ugh, that was horrible. sorry, a ****in burnt.))

[Blue]

Josh finally arrived at the location of the meet point. He took a taxi from his hotel, but there was some traffic so he was late. He walked through the crowd of Mercs. He took his hat off for a second and scratched his head. I'm sure this is making some people paranoid that theres a random group of people in a parking lot. He thought back to last night for a moment and smiled. He then reached into his pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. Sliding one into his mouth, he started walking around in between the crowd.

[Ironsight]

Nat was about to say something once he got closer, until he noticed the pair talking. He didn't want to interupt these people, especially snce he usually had trouble holding his own conversations. So instead, Nat decided now would be a good time to make a quick inspection of the trucks before they left on them.
He walked over to one of the vehicles, its bright white and orange paint clashing fiercly against the drab morning climate. The mist falling of the clowds collecting onto the winshield in miniscule dropplets. Circling around brpught Nat to the back of the truck. Nat grabbed the handle on the back door and pullled it open, revealing a decievingly spacious interior large enouge for five or six people to fit into with relative comfort. Inside was dry and cold, the floor worn down and filled with ruts from furniture being moved in and out.
He grabbed his bags and lifted them into the truck, then pulled himself in He pushed his bags onto the left side wall and took a seat in front of them, watching the other mercs organize themselves. Outside he could hear Johnston's harsh voice yelling at the mercs to hurry up, causing Nathan to release a grin of satisfaction. By keeping to himself, he ensured staying out of his supperior's focus and worked faster.
Nat removed one of his fingerless gloves to look at his hands. His dark black hair and naturally pale skin, combined with the grey morning sky caused him to look almost ghostly.
He quickly put the glove back on as he heard Johnston's voice getting closer.

[Caael]

((DS, we cant do anything until you post Gere's speech))

[Drizzy Drake]

DS...

[Caael]

Cmon DS, I want to actually go somewhere with this.

[Ironsight]

((Alright. I'll get it done tomorrow; my batteries are dying.))

[Ironsight]

Gere watched cooly as Johnston started fufilling his role as supervisor. Recognisable clusters of hired grunts were begining to form already, loading gear into their respective trucks. Most of the mercs reacted in a somewhat predictable manner of confusion. Thye were tryong to be discreet, and yet they were traveling in a convoy of bright orange and white trucks? Gere shook his head. These people complained about every discomfort without putting any tohught into it. It would be more discreet to ove around in inconspicous moving vans instead of all those limos they had splurged on.
A quick look from Johnston told him it was time to adress his help. Gere felt himself slowly go from mellow to nervous again. He hated speeches.
Gere cleared hos throat loudly. Apart from the occasional car passing by, the weather had quieted the mercs, and his call for attention was heard clearly.
He put on a smile. Stay friendly.
"Er, hello everyone. Glad to see you could all make it over here. I appologise for us having to leave so early, but we have to stay in the dark on this one."
Gere made a gesture towards the trucks.
"These are our rides. Sorry about the lack of comfort, but it was the best we could do after you spent all my money on booze last night."
A few laughs, everyone else grinned silently.
"We'll be sitting in these thing for a while unfortunalty, it's about a four hour ride to the Fort. Look on the brightside though, at least you'll all get to know each other on the way there."
Silence.
"I just want to assusre you that pretty much everything has been taken care of. We'll be up there for up to a month, so I just want you to know that food and water wont be an issue. All I need is for you to look tough while my team does their work. Easy in and out operation - I'm not even sure why you bothered to bring ammo."
Again, silence. Gere couldn't tell if they were listeing intently or ignoring him now.
"So, uh, good luck, enjoy the ride, and I'll be seeing you when we get there!"
Gere clapped his hands together and beamed at everyone. What a terrible way to end a speech, he thought. Bah, they don't care either way I guess.
Gere walked over to Johnston. "I'm ready." He announced. "Lets get out of here already."
Johnston gave Gere a look of annoyance. "I'm going as fast as I can, it's these thugs slowing everything down. Don't worry about it, Mr.Gere. We'll be off soon."
"Ten minutes." Gere warned, before striding off towards a truck reserved for him and his team. A group of loaders moving equipment into the back of the truck.
Johnston growled and spat onto the pavement, then proceeded to return to his shouting.

[Quacnar]

(What happened to this?)

[Caael]

Got bored.

[Quacnar]

((That's to bad. I was really hoping there was an active RPG for me to join in in my return.))

[Drizzy Drake]

Miley failed with pushing the RP forward.

[Quacnar]

Is it at all possible for someone to start a new RPG?

[Caael]

I wouldn't call 4 members "active". If you want an RP, go to an RP forum or something.

[Drizzy Drake]

Killer, I'd write a fanfic, because there's not enough people here that will continuesly progress an RP.

Looking back, there was only 5 active RP's in 2008.

[Snow]

I'd join in if someone made a new one. The only RP that I ever used to post in was that All You Can Eat Buffet or something like that.

[Ironsight]

Neophyte, on Dec 10 2008, 06:50 PM, said:

Miley failed with pushing the RP forward.

And here I was thinking I had done too much railroading.

[Quacnar]

Neophyte, on Dec 11 2008, 10:06 AM, said:

Killer, I'd write a fanfic, because there's not enough people here that will continuesly progress an RP.

Looking back, there was only 5 active RP's in 2008.

How many people do you think we need? Because there's Darksword, Blue, Caael, me, you, apparantly Haaris, probably Icy, a couple of others...

[Ironsight]

Most of the people on that list either aren't on consistently or are not that interested in Role-playing.

[Numenor]

And I'm getting banned soon.

[Quacnar]

Miley Cyrus, on Dec 12 2008, 04:34 AM, said:

Most of the people on that list either aren't on consistently or are not that interested in Role-playing.

Oh well then...