IC- Chapter Three: Lone Wanderers

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:shock: uh-oh...

Right, lets see what Zoe can do to get rid of a "fate worst than death"....

IC:

Some time later, her eyes opened, slowly.
Alive!
Zoe regained consciousness and looked around. She was in some kind of tent. All was way too silent.

She sat in the stretcher where she had been, and noticed her wound was treated.
That was good. She touched her arm. Who had helped her?
She realized she was not wearing the upper part of the armor, that had been loosened to get her wound treated, but she was still wearing the sleeveless blouse she wore under the armor.

She tried to get up. Head a bit dizzy. Somehow she had drank water. There was a canteer over a doctor's bag. She took the canteen and opened. Water! She was about to drink but was not sure if that water was good. Probably was.
Where is my backpack? she thought, and found it in the tent as well. It seemed untouched, maybe cause she did not have any credits there or maybe she had met good people?
A noise, a faint noise outside: a horse's neighing.
She took her backpack and left the tent.
But...
There was someone outside!

OOC: Right. Your turn :)
 
Joey sprinted into combat, against the wind, and now looking dirty from the dust. He was a bit scared, but for the most part excited. He had always wanted to be in real combat, and when ever something big happened everone told him, "Your just too young". But now he was sixteen and ready. Joey held his rifle high and aimed...
 
OCC-

Ok Zoe, i will continue this a bit for you. But note on the OCC. You have a lot of autonomy to write here, but note the pattern in posts. They are usually pretty long and self-contained that conclude with an open ending. So feel free to write more and develop the scene as you wish.

Syphon- send me a pm with what you have in mind.

This will be a short post. Zoe, your next post could address what happens to her next, including a potential escape. You develop your character by her actions.

ICC-
Zoe had gotten barely a foot out the door, the brilliant sunlight blinding her, when she felt something powerful hit her mid section. She felt herself knocked backward and to the floor.

The guard stepped into the tent and looked down on her, laughing. Then he said something in a foreign tongue that Zoe couldn't understand.

Zoe tried to get up, but the man backhanded her down again.

He seemed to be enjoying himself.

She tried to crawl away, but was kicked down. THe man was still laughing.

When she turned around, he could see that he was licking his lips, and his hands had gone for his belt.

OCC-
Lone Wanderers is a tough world. ZOe this might be an opportunity for escape. Or you could have the commander step in and begin interrogating her. Or you could do both.

Most role play is very much a minute- to- minute affair. Here the intervals can last hours
 
He was unzipping his fly.
Zoe did not think twice: in a swift movement, she kicked him where it hurt more. Taking advantage of the fact that he had his guard down, she took his ears, pulling his face down, and hit him with a fast move up from her knee.
"That will teach you!"
She released him. He fell on the ground, unconscious.

She took her breath, made sure she was composed and left the tent.
There were many men in the camp, but luckily for her, they were busy having a meal. She had the way clear.

She walked as stealthily as she could to the place where they kept the horses together.
She approached them. But she was not sure if she would be able to ride them, she never did ride a horse in her life.
Then the unmistakable sound of guns being cocked was heard.
Slowly she turned around.

There were three man, guns pointed at her. One stepped forward.
"I knew you were different the moment I first saw you... You
almost escaped from my camp!"
She looked at them, evaluating her chances... She was serious. Her dark eyes, under the long eyelashes, fixed themselves on the one who stepped forward. She spoke:
"You really are not hospitable, eh? Your guard tried to..."
"Let me guess: "take advantage"from you?"
She blinked: the cold way he said that was not soothing at all.
He saw the shock on her face and grinned. With his deep voice, he said:
"The only reason you are unharmed and was tended to is that you intrigued me. Bring her to my tent. Now."

The two guards took her by the arms. She protested: "Let go of me! I will go but keep your hands off!"
The men smirked and ordered:
"Handcuff her."
"Yes, commander!" said one of the others.


Minutes later, in the tent:
The tent was the largest in the camp. She was sat on a chair fairly well improvised with flat stones catered at that same site, probably. And she was still handcuffed.

The commander steeped forward. He had a riding whip on his right hand and a cruel smile on his face.
"So tell me, what's your name?"
She sustained his gaze and replied;"Zoe".
"What is your mission, Zoe? What they sent you for?"
"What are you talking about? I am traveling alone."
"Wrong answer." He whipped her in the leg. Even through the armor, she felt some of the impact.
"Its true, I am here alone. Nobody sent me."
"I searched your backpack. You came from the vaults! You deny it?"
"No, I don't deny it. But..."
"What would a vaultie be doing alone in the desert? You sure are up to something!"
He was whiping her hardly. She did not know what to say - that man looked like some kind of fanatical, a freak! If she told her about her beliefs, how would he react? She then said:
"Look, what.... What do you want?"
He paused for a moment., and looked at her. He said:
"What I want?"
"Yes, I am just a doctor. And a resercher biologist. I have nothing to do with martial...With war matters. I am not a soldier."
He looked at her, breathing hard, but listening with attention. She breathed deep, wet her lips and said:
"Let me go. I am just doing research, science is what matters most to me. If you really want something from me, I could, as a doctor, help your men before I leave, but as I see you already have a doctor. So just let me go!"
He walked, took a hunter's knife from his boot and stood behind her. With his strong hands, he pull her hair, bending her head back.

She tried to suppres a moan of pain. He pressed the knife against her throat.
"Nobody ****s with me, Zoe"
"I am telling the truth."
well, not all of it, but mostly she thought. He whispered in her ear: "I will let you go."
Surprised, she said: "Really?"
"Yes. But if I find out you did not tell me all the truth, I will hunt you down and will not be so kind!"
Then before she could react, he kissed her in the lips. An intense kiss, in an agressive way.
He then stood up and left the tent. She heard him say to the guards:
"Release her and give her a horse!"

She was blushed and breathing hard. What a nerve! Who did he think he was?
But then, he did not know about her, who she was.
She would teach him a lesson, another day, when she would not be in numeric disadvantage.

Few minutes later, she left the camp, riding badly the horse cause she never had riding lessons nor had chance to ride a horse before.




"New orders, Commander?"
"Yes. Follow her, but keep a distance. Allert me if anything interesting happens."
"Yes, Commander!"
 
OCC- Damn! Long post got deleted because this board was too busy.
Lesson to all- if you post long, save a copy on a world processor. If it gets deleted than-

:wall:

:badmood:

Ok, couple things
(1) OCC messages belong on the OCC board.
(2) No map, sorry. I wish there were one and asked Fang for one at the beginning of lone Wanderers (see archived posts). No luck. Anyway, we take great creative license with geography as "where in the hell did a rift come from in Texas?' No worries.
(3) Rule of thumb, often repeated- we are just fucking around here. Have fun.
(4) Feel free to curse. See above.
(5) Orezki don't speak English- at least not generally. Some might speak Spanish, maybe even Portuguese. Most speak this very strong, gutteral tough language. But more on that later.

Ok, I will ICC soon and edit here. Hopefully make sense of this.

----

icc
Zoe got on the horse and tried to settle in. But they had offered her little but a riding blanket to sit on, and with the reigns in her hand, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. Even the horse grew impatient, and looked at her through one eye.

“Well, go.” Said Zoe.

Finally the commander walked over and smacked the horses rump. It began galloping off, going South, to the far end of the Canyon.

As she road south her eyes continued to adjust. She had been brought to a canyon, and while there were many men and horses, there were also many who were laid on stretchers or on the floor getting medical treatment. It was if a whirlwind had blown through. Tents were damaged, cooking fires knocked over. And while they buried their dead, many corpses were still lying under the sun.

Zoe was getting used to the ideas of the reigns as a means of steering the horse while it continued through the canyons, when she saw the people crucified. Men, women and children had not been spared. They had been strapped on cross of wood, some knocked over, and she could see the long torment these poor souls had suffered.

She kicked the horses a bit and got it going, eager to be out of this place of death.


The commander of the fourth column was watching her leave, wondering if his ploy might work, when he heard the commander of the third come up.

“Otto, you have a good reason for letting the girl go, I suppose.” Said the commander, who was known among the leaders as Anatoly.

Otto continued to watch her, as well as the three following her. “Yes, I think she might lead us to our lost horses.”

“Perhaps we could have interrogated her first.” Said Anatoly, also watching her now.

“Yes, perhaps. But she has spirit. I think she might have taken awhile to break and I am not sure we have enough time.” Said Otto. Technically she was still his captive to do with as he wished, and this was a tactical decision under his choice.

Anatoly did not comment, quietly annoyed not to have been there for the torture. One so pretty would have been delicious to watch as the interrogator did his business. It had been long now. “What did you find out.”

“I show you.” Said Otto, leading Anatoly back to his tent. The fourth column had come in later that morning, and had set to work helping the third column. The third column had split in two. Half of which was to act as a blocking force to the DeSilvas. Perhaps not enough to destroy their prey, but enough to slow them down long enough to bring the rest of the Oprezki force to bear.

Anatoly was known for his valor and daring, Otto for his judgment and discretion. Yet this time Anatoly had been cautious. His first step had been to reinforce the damaged first and second columns. Then the blocking force had been deployed North.

Of the 200 men of the first two columns, only 78 would be able to ride. The others were evenly divided between dead and wounded, and most of the wounded would have to be put down. The fourth column had arrived shortly afternoon, bringing with it their captive. They were still waiting on the Fifth column to arrive before their attack. But pickets had been sent. The De Silvas were surrounded. If they sought to leave their mission fort, they would be delayed and the rest of the Oprezki would be brought to bear against them out in the open. Trapped now like a bear in a cave, the Oprezki were merely waiting until there was a sizeable enough force to destroy their prey, once and for all.

When the Fifth column arrived there would be nearly 400 riders against the DeSilvas and their allies. They would attack using the darkness to their advantage.

Anatoly was thinking about this as he entered Otto’s tent. On one of the blankets were the items found in Zoe’s minus some of the clothes she carried and a few of the other goods. Her journals, and most of all her map, had been taken, as well as some of her samples.

Otto picked up one of the Journals and gave it to Anatoly. Although Anatoly couldn’t read the language, he could see the Vault 53 clearly visible. “A vault dweller? Then we should have interrogated her.” He said with a start.

“I doubt she found these items. They are too new. And this map has the location of many of the Eastern Vaults.” Said Otto. “I also suspect they were behind the raid here, last night.”

“We are closer to their homeland than ours, surely.” Said Anatoly.

“Very close to this city, here, what they call ‘Big Easy.’” Said Otto. “Perhaps they attacked us last night to slow us down. I doubt it was the DeSilvas or their new friends.”

“They are perhaps more tired after these many months of travel North. And we have killed their raiding force.” Said Anatoly.

“Yes, so perhaps strike us a blow now. While we are far from home.” Said Otto. Both of them agreed, the Oprezski had gone too far, and too fast. They were the vanguard of the army, not it’s strength. This was still far away.

“But if so than she should be interrogated for all she knows.” Said Anatoly.

“I thought of that, but I think she would take too long to break. She’s spirited. Yes, we would have gotten much from her, but it takes time. And the more time we lose the more we lose our opportunity to reclaim the horses stolen from us, and we might let these DeSilva bastards escape.”

“The horses are more important to us, at least now. More than the League, more than the De Silvas.” Said Anatoly. “You think she will lead us to them?”

“If not we can bring her back for our enjoyment.” Said Otto. “News from the Fifth Column.”

“Boris will bring his riders here before night. It is not enough time for us to rest, but we cannot let the moment slip by. Tonight we attack.”


The raiders had made good their escape and soon were back at the Mission Fort. Grim had ridden behind, watching the pursuit. They had recovered quickly.


As the nearer rifle range, the riders stopped and Raoul took off his hat, waving it twice. The signal not to shoot. Then the rest had returned to the Fort. All save Gruug and Grim.

Gruug looked uncomfortable, even on the big charger. The big mutant was a burden even for the large horse and Gruug wasn’t comfortable riding yet.

But both men were more concerned with those that pursued them. The riders that had chased them from the canyon had taken to either flank, and further behind was a larger plume of smoke. A strong force, but still far away.

“They are going to surround us.” Said Gruug.

“Yep, looks like it. But how many of them are there?” Said Grim.

Gruug shrugged. “Better if they came in and fought it out.”

“Maybe they would prefer it if we came out.”

“In the end we may have to.” Said Gruug.

The two turned back to the mission fort. Grim was surprised to see that those inside the fort had not yet packed, but many were waiting on the battlements, perhaps expecting a fight.

Isabella and the man she had spoken with the night before were waiting. “Success Lucas.” She said.

Grim was surprised by the lack of formality and of being called by his first name. Only Ibis had called him by his first name. “Yes, we were lucky. But they have regrouped and are coming.”

“Many?” She asked.

“Looks like it.” Grim said. “What about the horses.”

Before Isabella could answer the other man said something quick in their native tongue. Although Grim had learned about of the speak in Old Hispaniole, it wasn’t enough to follow their exchange, although he did catch the man say. “Don’t trust the strangers.”

Hell, he couldn’t really blame them.

Isabella looked up to Grim, still on his horse. “They are safe. We don’t have the place for them here. But we will take them with us soon.”

UP on the battlements, Rogue called out, “Riders approaching.”

Grim quickly dismounted and went up the ladder to see for himself. “How many?” But he could see those in front even as he spoke.

“Well hard to say.” Said Rogue. “We got pickets moving around us, just out of rifle range. About 20 in all. Then there is this lot.”

Standing still outside of rifle range, 50 riders had formed a skirmish line. Each had a rifle, and even from that distance Grim could see their swords.

“Damn fast regrouping.” Muttered Grim.

“Don’t think so.” Replied Rogue, looking down the site on Syphon’s rifle. “Look “here.” She passed the rifle.

Grim looked through. “They look like their pretty fit and ready.”

“More than that. Notice they are wearing red sashes?” Asked Rogue.

“Yep. Funny that.”

“Especially as those we stole from last night wore Orange and Purple Sashes.” Said Rogue. “These are different riders.”

Isabella had come up on the battlements as well. “The Oprezki wear different colors depending on their column. Three different colors means that there are three different columns out there. Maybe more.”

If there were another column of a hundred men, it was enough to hit the caravan and the De Silvas hard if they ventured out. At the same time, it wasn’t enough men to expect to hit the fort.

“We better check on food and water. Might be in for a siege.” Said Grim. “But maybe we can figure a way to attack.”

OCC- Zoe, I think you should PM Syphon as his character might bump into yours. His character is a survivor of the town that got wiped out by the Oprezki, and whose bodies you are seeing crucified. THere are other survivors. But its important to note that this town is South of the canyon where the Oprezki are currently based. THe Mission fort with the caravan and De Silvas are to the North. You will still need to get there.
 
The scent of the new comer was coming down wind, the smaller pack male could taste the scent molecules on his tongue. It could sense the prescense of something... something that radiated violence... a ebing who seemed to be without fear.

It was bait...

Stryfe drew his sword and readied himself for the behmoth to show up. To know thy enemy... is to know thyself. Stryfe mentally quoted what his mentor had taught him all those years ago.

One pack male began to ascend the hill, traveling through shadows, using its enhanced sight and smell to find this intrepid travller who was trespassing upon their territory.

Stryfe was readied, behind the fragmented wall, like a spectre, waiting to know his enemy.
 
OOC: Hmmm, I'm a little disoriented, but I think I get what's going on. Let me know if I write something that's off, 'cause I'm basically writing on a guess here.

IC:

Tyler's head was clear now, and he felt capable of fighting at full capacity once again. The man from earlier, the one with the revolver, had split off from the rest of the group, while the others rode with Tyler into a fortress.

It didn't take much to realize that the people in the fortress were fighting a losing battle. All around him were the signs of stress, fatigue, and the fear of impending doom. Many of the fighters in the fortress looked young enough to have never seen death before, and competent warriors appeared to be few and far between.

Tyler paid no mind. Instead, he turned his attention to the caravaneers who had brought him to the fortress. The man with the revolver and the woman from earlier were talking, and Tyler interjected as they finished. "I think introductions are in order if we're gonna be situated in this place for a while."

The two looked at Tyler and nodded. "I'm Grim, this is Rogue."

Tyler bowed his head slightly in recognition. "Tyler Bellford."

For a moment, Rogue's face seemed to hint at a glimmer of recognition, but it faded almost instantly. Grim added, "So just what the hell are you doing out here, Bellford?"

Tyler gave an amused chortle, and reached into his pocket to produce an old pack of Marlboro cigarettes. "I guess you could say I was in the neighborhood when my car broke down."

Grim looked at Tyler skeptically. "And you're not at all interested in the horses?"

Tyler grinned and lit a cigarette. "I didn't even know those things hadn't gone extinct until today."

Rogue remained silent, until the spark of recognition from before lit again when she looked at Tyler, and she drew her weapon almost instinctively. "Tyler fucking Bellford. The St. Louis Slayer? I've heard about you. You're only the most dangerous goddamn person this side of the Great Divide."

Tyler raised his hands, cigarette still dangling from his lips, with a sly grin on his face. "Hey now, darlin', no need for that. I'm just here by accident, that's all."

"Yeah, bullshit." She said with a line of venom in her voice.

Grim chimed in, ready to draw his weapon at any moment, but not entirely convinced of Tyler's deceitfulness. "Let's just calm down for a goddamn minute, all right? What's this guy done, Rogue?"

Tyler chimed in. "I think I can explain... See--"

Grim shot a wicked glance at Tyler. "I asked her, not you."

Rogue explained. "Bellford's on the wanted list of every syndicate from Chicago to OKC. They say he's faster on the draw than any man alive, and even quicker unarmed."

Tyler shook his head with a smile. "I'm fairly certain those rumors are exaggerated. I know quite a few people who are quicker than me, in fact--"

Rogue interrupted again, to which Tyler replied by rolling his eyes. For the moment, he was giving them the benefit of the doubt, but there would be a point when his patience for being cut off mid sentence would come to an end. "AND, he was born and raised in the thief capitol of the world, which would lend suspect to the idea that he's thinking up a few plans for stealing away with a few horses of his own."

Tyler frowned, and blew a thick plume of smoke into the air. "Hey, look, I may not be perfect, but I ain't a goddamn backstabbin' thief. And I take it your knowledge of me only goes as far as the Midwest, but I'll have you know that I've been to a helluva lot more places in the past nine years since St. Louis. Here..." Tyler reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge that read "To Protect and Serve", with the name "Bellford" underneath.

"I'm not in the syndicates anymore. I'm a free agent now."

OOC:

Took a lot of liberties here. Hope it was okay...
 
OCC- Ok, Ed, as Rogue is a regular player and you are telling a bit of her back story, if indirectly, please give her a PM and explain. Shouldn't be a problem for Rogue, though.

Ok, some have been asking about the lay out of the mission, characters, etc.

______________

ICC-
Zoe continued to ride through and then out the South of the canyon. She had stirred her horse into a gallop, more for the hope to escape that place of death than because she was comfortable.

As she came out the land began to rise again, and she went up the long slope until it's peak, from which she could see the land stretched out to the South and wet. Further on horizon, almost invisible, she could see black smoke rising.

These villians had sacked a town, certainly. Perhaps it was still in danger or perhaps there were still survivors. She turned the horse in that direction and urged it into a quicker gallop.

Behind her the three Oprezki men followed, carefully at a distance.

__________

Meanwhile, at the Mission.

Grim looked from Rogue to this new comner. He had been a badge for a long time, and then a bounty hunter. He had worked the territory near bordertown, beyond which were the raiders, the tribals and beasts that men whispered about in the night.

But he'd never heard of a Tyler Bedford. That Rogue had suprised him. But then Rogue had worked the caravans, and had perhaps worked the ones that went North.

But just as easy as it was for a good man to turn bad, perhaps it was true that a bad man could turn good. Privately, Grim hoped so, for his own sake.

Still this little problem would have to be resolved.

"Rogue, I appreciate you telling us this and Tyler, we'll be keeping an eye out on ya." Grim said.

Rogue was surprised. "You're going to trust him?"

"Yep, for now. There aren't enough of us as is, and it seems Tyler has wandered into a serious pisser of a war."

Then Grim turned to Tyler. "I don't know anything about you, Mister. And you might shoot me in the back for trust you. But there are a lot of good folks here, and while you might kill a lot of them, I doubt you'd kill them all."

Tyler didn't say anything, but was aware the others were watching him. "You've also seen the lay of our little fort here, and you can see we're pretty stretched out. I'd make a pact with the devil himself if we can get out of this mess. But if you go off and try to sell us out to them bastards, you won't get much further past the perimeter."

"Now, Grim, I'm not like those stories...." Spoke Tyler.

"Tyler, maybe you are, and maybe you aren't. I have seen what a good story told by the wrong people can make an honest man look like a villian. I'm willing to turn my back on ya, because I don't have time to consider whether I can trust you. You're here now, and I'll take that as given."

Grim looked back at the group of men lined against the fort, as one by one they began to go North, further down the road. That was the road to Grey Cliffs. Go South on the same road and you came nearer the canyon, and were out in the open.

Grim looked for the other fellow who had showed up during the battle at the Canyon, but didn't see him.

"Well Tyler, hope you are ready for a fight." He said, then to the others. "They are trying to box us in, hope we will run for it and they can cut us up in the open. Otherwise keep us here until they starve us out or become strong enough to attack."

Isabella gave Grim and Raoul an update of what had occurred within the mission-fort walls while they had been gone.

While she spoke Grim looked over the fortress quickly, now that he could see it clearly again in the day. There has been some changes. The school and the church had been fortified. Sandbags in the window and the door made stornger. It was an old adobe building, formerly a mission church and was probably old before the war.

The main building was the church, with a steeple tower. Snipers and observers had been placed in the tower now. Adjoining it via a narrow corridor was the school house building, a large if less impressive construction. Someone had secured the corridor so that if either building were taken, the other could be secured as the corridor became a kill zone. There were adjoining buildings, a repairman's shed, a garage, etc. Atop these were firing platforms and sandbags, as were sandbags piled around them, making each a small fortified position.

The walls of the church and school formed the perimeter wall along the South and West walls respectively. Another long wall set the peremeter to the North and East, with a long gate to the North and a smaller gate way to the East. If they came from the South, the Oprezki would have to ride around to hit the gate, or would come straight on against the church and school. Both buildings looked of sturdier construction than the walls.

In the courtyard in the middle was a working fountain. Many of the carts had been placed there, and the brahma were drinking from the fountains. It was becoming crowded inside the perimeter fence. Too many brahma, people.

Once this had been a place of worship and education. Sometime after it had been converted into a stronghold and a fortress. Probably after the war when things were most desperate, perhaps repeatedly. Parapets had been built, walls fortified, and strands of razor wire circled the compound. While the raiders had gone, the De Silvas and the caraveners had been busy rebuilding what had fallen. Mines had been laid around the building.

Not for the first time, the building reminded Grim of the battle in Wainright Park, when they had faced off against hordes of deathclaws. He didn't welcome another defensive fight. Like then, the trick would be to escape. Unlike then, there would be no rescue force.

Isabella pointed out were they had reorganized their defenses so that the machine guns could better cover the perimeter. There was still too much permeter to cover even with the added fire power brought by the caravan.

Jim and Virgil had finished their inventory of the weapons of the caravan. The 4 PTRS rifles were slow firing and useful for heavy targets, but would find little use. The dozen grenade launchers had been dispersed to the perimeter walls, and loaded with fragmentory shells. The caravan had brought a total of five M-60s plus the two machineguns that Grim had seized during the raid which added to the De Silva's vickers and bren guns. The three mortar tubes had been set up in the central courtyard, where the Desilvas were digging them in. Grim couldn't see where the rocket launchers had been set up although Gruug was reloading.

Many of the men carried their rifles, better for long range. But most kept an assortment of carbines, assault rifles and shotguns for closer range, and an even wider assortment of melee weapons for when the Oprezki came in close.

It was still too much ground to cover. The walls were the most vulnerable, and when the Oprezki breached the gate, the people would withdraw to the church and the school

But these were a mix of people, towns folk. Many of the old ones had died on the way up as had many of the children. They were hardy and tough, but they were tired and scared. On some was the look that they had gone a long way only to find doom. Even the caravaners, who had survived so much, including the plague, were looking dispirited.

"We have found a passage out." Said Isabella. "In many of these old missions the padres used to keep an exit under the church. But it has suffered much and we are trying to clear it. Passage ways below us. A crypt. And an exit out."

OCC- Ok, that's the lay out of the mission fort for you. THe mission is to the North of the Canyon. Further North the Oprezki have sent a small detachment to stop the caravan and the de silvas from escaping. We don't know where the horses are.
 
Joey had decided to quit while he was ahead and turn back. He began walking, but he heard something off into the distance. It was the sound of a hammer hitting a stake into the ground making a loud CLANK!. It was west of him, so he gave a glance. It was an old establishment far off into the distance, but he noticed a plenty amount of ant-sized figures walking around it. He knew it wasn't the Oprezki, so he ran.
 
OOC- Part Two of the Battle of the Blades

The explosion of the camp’s ammunition dump signaled the charge for the rest of the Blade infiltrators. As the League mercenaries and slavers scrambled to find order in their camp, no one noticed the forty masked men slipping into the valley.

The Blades fanned out across the lip of the valley, each yards apart. To decrease the possibility of detection, each warrior made his way into the camp on his own. Once infiltrated, they were to do as much damage to the camp and then link up.

Abel made his way to the back of the camp where there would not be fires or watchtowers. He was an exceedingly tall man, a behemoth that would have stood out in the midst of a crowd. He was easily the largest and strongest of the Blades, characteristics not necessarily useful among his brethren.

Ducking low to the ground, the massive warrior edged himself out of the cover of night. Across from him, on the other end of the valley, Kino was continuing his shooting. Each merciless shot rang out distinctly, followed by an earsplitting howl of agony or a rumbling explosion of ordinance.

Abel could see the men in the camp scrambling. Some were working to douse the sudden fires with pails of urine and alcohol, water seeming to be lacking. Others were grabbing guns and rushing towards Kino’s position. But the sharp, echoing shots did not stop on Kino’s end.

The massive Blade warrior made ready. It would be mostly knife work; he could not take the chance of firing a shot. He could not shoot if he wanted to, anyway. Though a five-shot revolver was strapped to his thigh and a M1 rifle slung over his shoulder, Abel was restrained from using either because of his healing wrist. He had already discarded the plaster cast after it was severed by the Slayer assassin sent for Dante.

He looked across the lip of the valley. Spread out were his fellow Blades, all masked and armed with their traditional knives and the tried and true M1 carbines. It would take observant eyes to spot all of the concealed men. With the ensuing chaos below, fear of being spotted wasn’t on Abel’s mind.

Abel scanned the Blades and locked eyes with Dante, warleader of the Grey Cliffs encampment. The Elder, dressed sharply in tooled leather, nodded almost imperceptivity back at Abel. He drew his slender stiletto blade from its sheath, raised it, and then dropped it.

At this sign, the forty Blades moved out.

Abel eased himself onto the lip of the valley. He took a deep breath, tying down all lose bits of equipment, before sliding down the inclined slope of the valley. His scuffed combat boots skidded against rock. The tall Blade flattened himself, going with the slide so a cloud of dust would not give away his position. The other Blades followed his example.

Finally, Abel landed in the midst of a few threadbare tents. As they were near the back of the camp, away from the fires and booze, the tall Blade assumed its occupants would be pariahs, of the lower caste of League society. Inside, he heard men talking. Without a sound, the Blade drew his knife clumsily with his left hand.

Abel snuck up towards the mouth of the tent, rolling on the slick and rundown pads of his boots. Inside the tent, he heard thick and heavy breathing.

Finally, one voice asked, “The hell is going on out there?”

Followed by an angrier voice, “Why don’t you find out yerself?”

“No thanks,” the first voice said sullenly. “I’d rather keep my head on me shoulders.”

“Then shut your fucking mouth.”

Abel contemplated killing the two men inside but then judged against it. In his condition, the likelihood of finishing off two possibly armed men was nil. Instead, walked to a low burning fire pit and picked up a dying ember. This, he flung into the tent. The greasy canvas caught fire quickly, burning into a flaming inferno. The series of tents lined next to it also caught fire.

The massive Blade made himself scarce as its occupants ran out of their temporary homes, some on fire and some merely looking pissed.

He melded easily back into the shadows, despite his massive frame. Around him, from every corner of the camp, Abel could hear the rattle of gunfire, roar of explosions, and the crackle of fires erupting. He heard a particularly loud exchange of gunfire close to him and made his way closer.

Abel passed an open yard of the camp. There, badly burnt and bleeding victims of the ammunition dump explosion writhed in agony. As the Blade was about to duck under the shadowed cover of a watch tower, an arm restrained him. Abel turned around and saw a slaver.

“Help me out here, brother,” the slaver panted. Either he could not see Abel’s garb in the shadow or he was too panicked to realize he was talking to a Blade. He handed Abel a bucket filled with what looked to be piss. “The fires are spreading.”

Abel glanced around, saw only the dying patients on the ground, and accepted the bucket wordlessly. As the slaver walked away, Abel overturned the foul contents of the bucket onto the slaver’s head.

“Wafuck?” the slaver howled, his words muffled by the bucket over his head. Abel grabbed his shoulders with his good hand, turning the bewildered slaver around. Then he backhanded the scum hard against the throat. The slaver gagged and collapsed onto the ground, his windpipe broken.

Abel left the dying man among the other Blade victims.

The massive warrior marched off to the sound of gunfire. He heard urgent shouts and erratic bursts of automatic rifles flying. Underneath the howling dim, he heard the regular and crisp shots of M1 carbines.

Abel broke into a dead run, not caring if any of the slavers or mercenaries saw him. They were too busy with their world falling apart around him.

The enormous Blade rounded a corner, coming to an open courtyard of the camp. Billowing white canopies of tents surrounded a massive bonfire. On one side, huddled together behind a stack of metal crates, were three Blades. On the other side, a few yards away, was a literal firing squad of League gunmen. The mercenaries were unloading their weapons with abandon, pinning down the three Blades. Some rounds skipped against the crates but for the most part, the mercenaries missed completely. Occasionally, when the gunfire broke, a Blade would lean out and fire his carbine, dropping a gunman.

Neither the three Blades nor the firing squad saw Abel. He positioned himself to the flank of the mercenaries, ducking into the shadows. Though his wrist pained him, Abel unlimbered his own carbine. He placed the butt of the rifle on the left side of his hip, using his good hand. Then he wrapped the sling of the M1 carbine around his wounded wrist, balancing the length of barrel.

Abel unloaded the fifteen round magazine of the carbine into the bunched up firing squad. He aimed in the general direction, not bothering to draw a bead. He only pounded relentlessly on the trigger. A good quarter of the firing squad went down before they started turning towards his direction. Abel slung his rifle and started running towards the Blades.

One of the three Blades saw Abel running towards him. He snapped up from his cover, shouting to the other two Blades, “Suppressing fire!” As Abel ran, three M1 carbines sought to further diminish the number of League gunmen.

Abel dove into the pile of metal crates. The three Blades ducked down as a volley of bullets screamed for their blood.

“Hail,” panted Abel to the Blades looming over him. They curtly returned their own hails, popped in fresh magazines, and returned to shooting, leaving Abel gasping for breath.

The firing squad across from them finally found enough wits to find cover. The gunfire abruptly stopped from their end as they readied their weapons and gathered their fallen. The three Blades popped a few shots before ducking down, waiting.

Stalemate.

Abel could hear footsteps advancing on them from all corners, reinforcing the firing squad. Two mercenaries stumbled from the tent directly behind the three waiting Blades. From the ground, Abel muttered a curse and clumsily hauled out the five-shot revolver from his holster. He winced as the weight of the gun weighed down his arm but brought it up and emptied its chamber. The two mercenaries, about to flick off their gun’s safety and unload, instead dissipated into gore as the five shots tore through them.

The three Blades turned around, saw the dead bodies of the mercenaries about to ambush them, and nodded wordless thanks to Abel. Then they returned their attention to the amassing force in front of them.

Abel held the revolver numbly in his hands. He could hear the harsh patter of footsteps echoing towards them. He peered over the metal crates and saw the mercenaries of the firing squad doing the same over their own cover.

The second the first shot went off, Abel nearly jumped. The man who was shot, a ragged slaver, stared in horror at the hole in his chest, the blood pluming out of it. Then he fell over dead as dead could be. The first shot was followed by forty more, each one claiming another slaver.

Abel leapt up, glancing about. Around him, advancing in a phalanx formation, were the forty Blade warriors. At their apex was Dante. The Blade warleader pointed at the rest of the shocked firing squad and the other Blades advanced with bloodcurdling howls.

Not a squeamish man, Abel still turned away as the mercenaries and slavers were slaughtered.

When the butchering was done, the Blades fanned out over the center of the camp, holding the highground from hundreds more slavers and mercenaries. The advantage of surprise was surely lost now and the League soldiers would recover from their shock.

Dante rushed over to Abel, picking him off the ground. “Hail,” he said, lifting the big man easily too his feet.

“Hail,” Abel replied tiredly, wincing at his sprained wrist.

The warleader ignored the pain in Abel’s voice. He merely handed the big man a machete. Abel looked quizzically at knife.

“What’s this for?”

Dante glanced around the camp, assessing the forty Blades standing guard, before replying, “We’ve found the elders. They’re at the west end of the camp, directly across from here. They’re chained to posts.” The elder’s eyes burned in rage at this. “We’ve tried unlocking them but their shackles have been welded together. They can only be broken free.”

Abel, easily the strongest man of all the Blades, nodded in understanding. He slipped the two-foot long blade into his side sheath. “I’ll not fail, elder.”

“No,” agreed Dante. “For the sake of us all, no.” Then he turned to his nephew, Kino, and urged him forward. The scout left the ring of Blades surrounding the camp and hustled to his uncle, who merely pointed to Abel. It was enough for Kino, who saw the machete slung into Abel’s sheath.

“Let’s go,” Abel said.

Kino nodded.

The two Blades started on the treacherous length of campsite they would have to travail as their brothers fought to hold the center of the camp.
 
Know thy Enemy

sniff, sniff...

The flaring nostrils could be heard in the twilight air as the Replicant stood behind his pillar, Sword drawn, ready to strike down when the abomination came within reach. It was as if the beast were reading the air for who had been strolling by.

The beast could smell something yes, but it smelt different. Smelt very foreign, almost... alien.

The large horned head and rippling scales came into view. Dilated red eyes now expaning to take in every inch of light that could possibly be syphoned from the air.

SNIKT!!!!

A silver light flashed through the air molecules and cut right through spinal column and scaly flesh with the ease of a of knife through butter.

The large scaly head loped to the ground, blood and spinal fluid dribbling to the dusty earth. The eyes had captured the being who had struck it down, it could see the green eyes and dark suit that radiated the violence it sensed. Als, it was far too late to even make a warning cry for its brethren.

"Curious." Stryfe said coldly as he watched the head. It looked like a death claw, except a death claw that may have been a product of a psycho addicted mother death claw who was just doping on FEV II. If Stryfe had missed, the error may have cost him dearly. The rest of the body seemed like heavy armor, the Eagles he was packing wouldn't be able to penetrate. More like irritate the beast.

And fr4om the look in the distance, more would come. They were near something of importance, and Stryfe was about to risk his life to find out what.
 
Dreg had rode up ahead. He'd heard something about a Tyler, supposed to be one hell of a hand to hand man, and pretty good with a gun. The latter, Dreg cared little about, as he could not properly use a weapon, and he distrusted weapons other than his body and a good hard pole. The people had made quite a fort here. Although, it looked like the walls would not hold for very long. They most likely had not been built with a full scale battle in mind. Well, he would be able prove himself, hopefully without been filled with lead.

Minor edit- yes, actually the mission was an old pre-war spanish mission that was built to withstand attacks by indians and bandits. I am also going to put Dreg outside the fortress for now. You'll see why, in a moment.
 
OCC- Gruug- glad to see you're back. you asked for advice with your posts so I am borrowing Dreg a bit. Please note what I do with him. He really shouldn't have any idea who Tyler is as Dreg has been down south with the Oprezki for all these years and Tyler has been traveling about the country. So please edit. ALso you might PM Rogue about what to do with Sarge.

ICC-

Unlike the others who had rode into the mission fort, Dreg had dismounted, letting the horse run ahead of him. Then, using the grass for cover, had gotten low. Moving like the giant predator cats that roamed the mountain country of Mormos or further east in along the Great Eastern Spine, Dreg moved slowly away from the fortress.

He had been around long enough to have an idea what the Oprezkis were doing. Concentrate forces than attack. But these had attacked first, upsetting the Oprezki plans. Well, at least temporarily.

They would attack at night, when they could get close. They would use mortars to breach the walls, then they use darkness and the dust kicked up by the horses for cover as they approached the walls. Once through, they would break open the gates and kill everyone inside. In the morning, there would be a line of the crucified along the road and a pile of skulls to mark where the Oprezki had been.

Rule by terror.

For the fear of death is worse than death itself.

They were like wolves who had killed the sheppards, and now wished to control the flock. But they had no reason but to rule and to consume. It was their reason and why they would eventually fail.

He moved his body with the win, low, often on all fours.

Closing in on a pair.

Peering up he could see the sentries. While they gathered their forces they would encircle and watch, hoping to keep the De Silvas pinned until they could crush them.

There were sentries on all sides of the fort, but spread out. They were watching for movement from the fort, but would not expect it from behind them.

Dreg got between two pair of sentries, waited, patiently. One pair was talking but one of the sentries was looking in Dreg's direction. The other pair were both facing the fort.

The one facing Dreg laughed at what his friend said. Using the moment, Dreg moved past the perimeter and was now behind them.

Quietly, like the wind on the grass.

Concentrate, breath. Be at one with the world.

Be the panther, and feel his claws. Strike suddenly and with complete ferocity.

He moved around, far in a circle, picking his approach carefully. Considering the wind and its direction. Careful to attack from downwind, so the Oprezki would not sense his coming.

Closer now, concentrate.

He could smell them. He could hear the horses breathing. The Oprezki were speaking in their strange foreign tongue, but the horses could sense him. One began to move from side to side nervously, it's rider patting him to calm.

Closer, almost there.

The one who had been looking at him looked over the fort, probably thinking about the attack that night.

THe other was concentrating on his nervous horse.

Neither paid attention to what came behind them.

Dreg was practically next to the horses when he sprang.

Grabbing both men in his might arms, he pulled them each down from their horses. Both men were caught surprised. The horses darted in either direction. One of the men rolled away, but the first fell on his back.

A quick strike, into the nose, driving the bone into the man's head. Then another chop, the strike of the cobra, into the man's larynx. If the first blow had not killed him, the second would. The windpipe broken, he would die for lack of air.

THe other turned, turning to face Dreg, his right hands on the hilt of the sword. The sword coming up through the sleath. Up, a cut to Dreg's head. The curved sword, a cavalery sword is heavy, and sweeps through the air. Dreg ducks down as the blade goes overhead. THen Dreg moves in, blocking the right hand hand down and away with his left forearm. Then both of Dreg's hands, like might fists , coming together into the man's temple.

The other Oprezki collapses to the ground, unconscious. Dreg finished him with a death dealing blow to the neck and the nose.

But now the other sentries are alert. Both are riding towards him, blades high.

Dreg sees this and moves, towards them. Then ducks down and rolls to the side, hidden again in the high grass.

When they approach he can hear them coming. They move so fast on the horses they don't have time to manuever towards Dreg.

Dreg leaps up to one as they past and drags the man down. He grips the man's neck between his arms and twists, and hears the satisfying crack. The man falls limp with his neck broken.

Now the other see him and is coming. Dreg turns to face this one.

And a loud shot rings out. From the fortress.

There is an explosion of red from the Oprezki's chest. Then he rolls off his horse, over and falls into the grass from which he doesn't rise.

Dreg looks back at the fortress and see's Rogue, behind the big gun of Syphon. She seems to offer him a smile, and then he can see the one called Grim waving him towards the Fortress.

The other sentries are now coming, their carbines drawn, they are coming near.

Best not to tempt the fates.

Dreg runs for the fortress. Shots ring out from the Fortress, signalling to the Oprezki that they are entering dangerous rifle range.

____

Inside the fortress Grim is watching. "Well at least that's four less Oprezki. Now what about that tunnel."

Isabella is nearby. Grim notices that she has taken an old Thompson submachinegun as her weapon, and that it is slung around her back.

"It runs to the south, about 300 yards."

It's far out but not far enough to get past the Oprezki positions.

Grim looks, from Tyler to Rogue, to Isabella, Talon and Raoul. "It's not far enough. We need to figure out what to do. They will probably wait until dark to hit us, and when they do, it will probably be strong. I'd like to hear any ideas you might have."
 
OCC- Ok Syphon I want to put Joey in a position so she meets up with Zoe.

ICC-

Joey had left a fortnight ago to go hunting. Wolves from the south were praying on the herd. But these wolves had eluded him and he had chased them further South.

That was when he had first seen the work of the Oprezki.

A village, south of here. THe buildings burnt, the people crucified along the road and a pile of skulls near the small mud fortress the villagers had tried to use as defense.

He heard seen the word Oprezki painted in blood on the walls. Only one survivor, an old man that had gone mad, had told him what had happened.

"They come.... In the night.... Kill... everyone, everything..... Devils."

He had since gone North, home.

But too late.

As he climbed the less ridge before home, he had seen the smoke rising from the village by the banks of the river. His home.

As he got closer he could see that they were still crucifying the people.

He heard heard the screams.

The tall dark riders, their swords swinging. Laughing. He had seen them run down a child with their horses until the child had been kicked underfoot.

He had seen them play some strange game with their horses with what looked to be a ball, only to realize it was the head of a man he probably once knew.

So he had run. North, away. To go back meant death.

Scouts had seen him, had chased him, but he had escaped.

But there were more, apparently using the big Snake Canyon as a meeting point, he had seen more of them.

So many.

Now, in the distance he saw an old building. At first he didn't realize what it was, but as he got closer he remembered. An old warehouse and factory building that had survived the times somehow. As he got closer he could see people, perhaps his people.

He looked about and then saw something else,

A lone rider, coming in his direction. Smaller and dressed differently than the others, the horse moving in a tired gate.

A scout? Looking for survivors which to kill?

Do I warn them, or do I kill the scout?

OCC-
Ok Syphon and Zoe, this group is indeed survivors that have come either from Joey's village or from the South. They are running from the Oprezki.

The scout is not an Oprezki, but Zoe. However, Zoe is still being followed.

The building is fairly close to the Mission, within a few hours walk. You could get them to the Mission Fort soon. Joey would know about it and would think it a good place to dig in. That should bring you together with the rest of the people.
 
IC-

Caleb was walking on his own now. He was not only walking again but also gun slinging again. In fact, he was gun slinging while he was walking.

Jeeva watched, exasperated, as the old man hauled the revolvers from his holsters in a quick-blur of motion. The guns seemed to materialize before his eyes, too fast for him to register. When Caleb had started this disturbing trend, Jeeva had watched with fascination. Now, after the hundredth or so draw, it only gave the ex-slaver a headache.

Caleb twirled the guns nimbly on his fingers, catching them, reversing them, and returning them to their holsters. For a while, he walked with his guns stilled. Then, when Jeeva was about to daze into the monotony of the distance, the Blade pivoted on his heel, hooked a finger around his right gun, and snapped it up from the its tooled leather holster. The wooden grip of the revolver slid truly into his hand. Caleb lazily leveled the barrel at Jeeva and dry fired.

“Ka-pow!” Caleb shouted, clicking his tongue for added sound effect.

Jeeva rolled his eyes. “Very good,” he said dryly. “That’s, what, the twentieth time I’ve been shot dead?” He picked up his pace, walking away from the Blade, and called back, “But who keeps track when you’re having fun?”

Caleb smiled sardonically and returned the gun back to its holster. But not before adding a twirl.

The path to Grey Cliffs didn’t seem any shorter.
 
Tyler chimed in. "We draw them closer."

The others looked at Tyler, waiting for the drifter to explain. "If we're trying to make it through that tunnel, we need to pull them closer to us. That way, three hundred yards will bring us past them, and we can make a run for it."

Grim folded his arms. "Yeah, the only question is how do we draw them out?"

"I'll do it."

The others looked at him as if he were insane, but Tyler continued. "Give me a decent rifle, in low light, I'm good for about a hundred-fifty yards. I take position near the tunnel, I take a few Oprezki out, they pull in closer to engage, and we all slip away unnoticed."
 
Zoe wondered if those Oprezky had taken things from her backpack... She did not check but she realized that supposing they did not was not realistic. That guy who lead them - he was creepy! Just to think of the camp gave her chills. She put the thought aside. And the crucifying camp came to her mind.

Zoe was still impressed with the crucified people - it was a horrible and dramatic scene she doubted she would be able to forget very soon.

What was more painful to her was that there was nothing she could do to help them. They were already dead when she found them. She felt a deep pain in her heart and ws grieving. What could have happened there? Some group of armed people was killing just for fun? The idea was hideous and she tried not to think about it... She kept her head low, for a moment of silent in honor of the dead, as her horse galloped along.

Then she noticed something... On the sand, for a moment she saw something that should not be there.
A shadow.
She blinked and looked again. Then discretely took a glance back.
There was indeeed a shadow that last a few moments before it retreated.
up from the high dune of sand she left behind her.
"Someone is following me! I almost did not notice that!

Her heart beat fast. What should I do?

Ahead was a building. Zoe decided to take her chances.
Whoever they are I dont think they are up to something good - else they would have tried to make contact... "They?" I dont know how many people are up there, but could be more than one...Oh god....

She breathed deeply and hasted to the building. She was glad to notice the horse was responding better to her commands.

* * *

Minutes later

(OOC: I am supposing Joey did not shoot)

She made the horse gallop to the back of the building. She could hear there were otehr people in there, unaware that danger was near.

She took her rifle and her tiny makeup mirror and and decided to get down from the horse and hide at one corner of the building.
She took a look from the corner with her mirror and could see one man on a horse coming galopping towards the building. She gasped as she recognized the uniform. "Oprezky! Oh gosh..."

She aimed and fired the rifle. A good shot in the shoulder! And another, as she fired again. The man fell back just when he was trying to react. On the soft, hot sand, he shot back at the building.

But he missed and Zoe said: Surrender and you will be spared! We are in bigger number here!
But he fired again. And so did Zoe. His shot hit the wal near the corner where she was hiding. Her shot hit his head, instantly killing him.

She was breathing hard.
"He is dead. He is really dead...." She never did kill anyone before, and even though she knew she had to, she was not feeling good.

Then she heard a faint sound behind her and turned to see....
 
The two other guards watched as their colleage fell.

Both shook their heads. They had told him it was a bad idea.

The corporal looked to the private. "I want you to go back and tell them that the woman led us to a building. I will circle and do a recon. The commander will probably send a stronger force. I will wait here for their arrival. Understood?"

"Understood, be careful comrade." Said the private, using the old way of greeting.

"Dah! and you too private. Be quick." And so the private turned his horse about and galloped back to the canyon while the corporal began to circle the building.
_____________

Anatoloy was speaking to Gregor, the surviving officer of the first two columns. They had gathered some 83 men, although more than a few were walking wounded. The best news was that of the six mortars, 5 were operable. Each column carried three mortar tubes, bringing the total number that could be deployed against the De Silvas to 11, plus three more if the Fifth Column were to arrive.

Eighty three men walking of 200. Most of the others dead or so crippled they would not walk again. These men would have to be put down. The Oprezki were fast movers, they couldn't be slowed down by wounded. Those conscious would be given the honor of finishing themselves. Those unconcious would be put down by the doctor.

Gregor was asking for the right to be among the first wave. It was a matter of honor and not privilege. Privilege belonged to the ranking officer. But in this case, the honor of two columns needed to be avenged.

Otto found them going over their notes and record. "We have news."

Anatoly looked up, "The fifth column arrives."

"Yes, they are south of here. Going through the town that the second column destroyed two days ago. They will be here this afternoon."

Gregor smiled. He had been there. They had come against the town in the morning, when the villagers were only just waking up. His sword went red that day.

Anatoly nodded. "Then we attack. Three more mortars should be good enough to destroy that wall and create confusion inside the mission. They are still there."

Otto nodded. "Yes the blocking force is in place. They have ventured out and killed a few guards that were not so alert, but have not otherwise moved."

"We have them trapped!"

_____________

Above the canyon, Gabriel watched as the troops moved.

He had been at the forefront of the stampede out and had been with the DeSilvas as they herded the animals far north, finally gaining control of his animal.

He had asked the lead rider, the only older man of the herding crew named Montoya, where they were going.

Montoya had spoken, in his broken English, "North and away."

"What about the mission?" Asked Gabriel.

"No, too dangerous. Oprezki." He had replied.

Gabriel had gotten the impression from Montoya that the Oprezki would try to steal the horses back, so it was better to keep the herd moving North. Perhaps they had found a hiding place.

Gabriel had said he was going back and had seperated from the others.

But when Gabriel had come close enough to see the Mission he had identified the riders to the North waiting to ambush the caravan as it came out. He had also seen the pickets.

Perhaps he could have slipped through, but there was something strange about these riders. They were not the same. Perhaps the Oprezki had been reinforced.

So instead Gabriel had gone back, and had found a place along the edge of the canyon to watch. Indeed there were more. Now it seemed that there were more Oprezki than before, but that these wore different colors.

When he looked to the South he could see a rising plume of dust. More were coming.

____________

Isabella listened to Tyler's idea.

"It is an interesting idea but I am afraid, Senior....." She didn't know this one.

"Tyler Bedford."

"Senior Tyler. The passage way can only fit one person at a time, and as you can see there are many of us. Also we would leave not only our belongings, the carts, the brahma and our horses behind. They will not be here when we return, if we return. And then, even if we escape, what. We will be caught in the open and slaughtered."

Grim nodded. "Yep, that's the problem. Plus we got these carts of weapons and a job. We need to get these to Grey Cliffs. Can't give them up now, not when we are so close. Besides, I don't like being caught outside and without supplies."

Dreg had gotten through the gate by now, and was catching his breath. Nearby were the two machineguns that Grim had brought in.

"Another question, what did they bring to the part?" Said Rogue.

Grim looked up into the sky. It was a bit past mid-day. "They will hit us by tomorrow morning for sure. Probably earlier. Shame too. IF we could use night to our advantage, we might be able to hit them first."

Raoul looked North. "Yes, we could hit those to the North but they are waiting for us. ANd besides, we will still have to fight them."

"But even with those horses they won't be able to bring down those walls." Said Rogue.

"Yes, but there is more. They have artillery.... mortars.... These can be used to blow down the walls."

Isabella looked outside the walls, towards that long slope and the tree under which they had buried her husband.

"I agree with Senior Tyler. We must bring them close to us and kill them. But we must kill them all tonight. I will tell the children and some of the older ones to find shelter under the church. The floor of the church is stone and strong. It will be safe from blast. We can store many supplies there safely."

Then Isabella turned to Tyler. Isabella was an older woman than most Tyler had known, in her late 20s or early 30s, but age had only made her more attractive and her eyes were full of dangerous fire. "It is a good idea and I am glad you are hear with us. But tonight it ends. Either they die or we die. There is no other future for us."
 
OOC: Just to clarify, it's BeLLford, with two LL's, not a D. ;)

IC:

Tyler looked at Isabella, a latina judging by her accent. He had run into a few people, women in particular, who had a similar accent throughout the course of his travels. One in particular, he remembered, was the prostitute from Chicago's south side; the one with breasts like nuclear warheads, and a butt that danced from side to side as she walked naked down the stairw--

Tyler immediately forced the image out of his mind and looked at Isabella again, this time without the nostalgia of sex. "Guess there ain't a way out of this one."

Tyler looked around trying to think of something, when he noticed a soldier walking by with grenades strapped to his armor. Suddenly, Tyler had an epiphany. "That's it!"

"Señor?" Isabella looked puzzled.

"That passage can only fit one at a time, right? That means if the Oprezki were to chase after someone in the tunnel, they wouldn't be able to do it very well."

"What are you getting at, Bellford?" Grim wondered.

"I'm saying we hit them with a double taste of hell. Toss a few grenades up through the tunnel exit, scatter their forces, and then hit 'em with the mortars. That way, during the confusion, we can pick 'em off as they're running. Create total chaos."
 
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