BigPapaBelial

Vigil!

Name: Austin Martin

Age: 35

Occupation:
Legal: General Repair man: owner of a small but somewhat successful shop in the suburbs. Was a former Marine marksmen, not a sniper, as he didn't have the eye for it, but a Marksmen, firing mid to short range in the thick of combat.

Illegal: Fixer: Runs a highly lucrative Fixing operation out of one of the small warehouses he uses to store things for the shop. Runs guns, armor, explosives and ammunition out of the warehouse thanks to a great deal of old connections he has from his Marine days. Old friends "losing" a shipment of weapons or ammo and shunting it over to him. For that service they get a cut of his revenue from the Fixing.

On and Off again Operator: Though he was discharged from the military honorably and given his walking ticket, he still retains the skills of his Marine past. Still able to handle a weapon, and is quite a decent shot still.

Appearance:

Standing a nice decent five foot ten inches tall. With a Thick set body, muscle under a layer of slight fat. A big bushy beard and thick mustache graces his cheeks and chin. Makes him look like a big ol' bear. He tends to wear very common clothing. Short sleeved t-shirts, with this or that logo for this or that company, show or movie. With a variety of khaki pants and shorts. A single nose piercing through his nostrils. He perpetually has a disarming smile on his face. With a slight twinkle in his eyes.

Personality: Kind, warm, gentle, cuddly almost. He loves to laugh, loves to joke, always has a kind word on his lips. And speaks in a gentle way. He's continually donating money to charity, and helping the homeless. He's a paragon of his community and is so very well received among friends. This carries over atleast partially to his more illegal business. His customers are a very unique clique. Mostly mercenaries and people who don't want to go through proper channels. But even then Austin goes out of his way to be helpful and cheerful. Even going out of his way to get the really hard goods that his clients might need.

History: Oh what do you say about the average guy? Austin did his time through his schooling like alot of people did. He did okay in his marks, and really didn't distinguish himself. Even when he joined the Marines he was average, didn't stand out in many ways. He was given the role of Marksman in his unit. He proved to be rather good at it. Not to distinct, he made an okay recon and spotter. And did his fair share in conflicts that his unit were sent too. He did score some kills while out there. Out beyond 400 meters usually. But never beyond 600. He left those for the snipers.

When he left the military he came back to civilian land and drifted for abit. He had married during his time in the military, and had two kids. A boy and a girl. His wife and kids welcomed him home with open arms. When he went opened his shop his family was a little surprised but still happy. For about a year they were unknowing of his other business. Then his wife found out. And through her his kids. Amazingly enough they were not angry, or scared. In fact they thought it was fine that the father figure in the house had a second income. Strange people coming and going at their house sometimes. Odd shipments arriving at the store warehouse. A time or two Austin came home covered in blood. His wife instead of being scared would help him clean up.

So what can you say about the average guy? It's always the quiet ones.

Skills:
- Small business acumen, runs his own business
- Black Marketeer, has his eyes and ears on the underground market. Small time though so as not to make some people notice him.
- Decent Shooter, Using marksmen rifles, assault rifles and pistols. He can hit a target in the chest at 400 meters almost everytime. Up to 600 and it's hit or miss.
Gear:
- HK417 Recon, the sixteen inch barrel accurized mid range rifle. Firing 7.62 rounds, usually with Armor piercing rounds. A C79 3.4x scope attached, Muzzle break and green tri-beam visible light laser sight. Carries eight clips.
- Taurus "Raging" Judge revolver, 6 inch barrel, chambered in .45 colt. Simply put one hell of a side arm. Carries ten small speedloaders.
- One handed beaked style war hammer. Forged cold steel with a reinforced steel handle.
- Hornets Nest grenade, containing about 20 compressed hard rubber balls. Tends to carry five of these awesome little grenades.
- Combat vest with combat webbing attached. Plenty room for ammo and kit. The vest has a little armoring just in case.
- His ride...the family minivan, or well the one that his wife hasn't tricked out for her use anyway.

Other:

- Vigil, yeah I saw it. Vigil...fucking Vigil! (spot the reference)
- Won't take just any customer, they need to prove they aren't going to try to betray him.

****************

I hope this attempt is okay. If not, let me know. This is the character I PMed you about Vilhelm.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Victor walked into the Arsenal building. The lights were set on low. Just a few supplying light. Several of them casting beams on his armor. He smiled brightly. He had some things he needed to do with it. He stepped up onto the platform and began to suit up. Leg, torso, chest, armor, shoulder and helmet. All things had their place. And each fastened carefully. Layer of kevlar, steel and other protective materials. Soon he is locked within. He raised his arms, rolling his shoulders, loosening up the armor. It's good to be back inside it. Newly refurbished since the mission that had ripped it apart. Stepping down off the platform he walked over to a section just beside it. A series of pistons and various linkages hung from a trio of hooks off the cieling. He pulled it down, then stepped into it. The strength enhancing robotic exo-skeletal array whirred up and connected to the HUD in his helmet. Specs flickering up on the updated interface. Victor began to grin broadly. He headed over to weapons and began to slot the things he'll need. Clips for his shotguns. His tomahawks into their arm holsters, his shotguns themselves, grenades, C4 and Semtex. Onto his left shoulder went a rocket pod. And he was about to reach for another when he stopped. He hrmed then turned to his prototype table. He looked it over carefully, He had an honest to god Gatling rocket launcher on the table, a Metal Storm weapon that he is outfitting to fire grenades. But they weren't ready yet. No he reached for a long tube with a feeder cable. He attached it to his shoulder, then attached a carrier hopper on his back, and loaded it with munitions. The exo skeleton on his legs whined as they got to work.

Soon he's in a C130, with PMC soldiers piling in behind him. As he walks in, the plane visibly dips a little under his weight. He calls forward. "Once were loaded get us off the ground ASAP. I have a fiance I need to catch up too." The soldiers quickly boarded. Finding seats in the massive plane. Victor grabbed a handhold as the ramp closed. The plane began to roll. Victor stoic within his armor. All he could thing of us, "I'll be there soon my Russian beauty.

--------

And soon they were. As they were passing into position Victor slipped into his drop pod. The launcher settled onto the floor of the plane. The back door opened and the soldiers were putting on parachutes. Victor locked himself in, and hit the release button. The pod jetted out of the bay. And the soldiers followed behind him. He fell. And grinned the whole way down. He landed some distance outside the compound. Crashing down in an old disused business center. No one would notice. And the recovery team for his pod would be able to get in and out easy. He crawled out of his pod. The troops would be coming down by chute now. It wouldn't be long.

In the meantime Victor picked his way out, and out into the open, looking about curiously, planning and visualizing his route up to the complex. He began to move. pulling his GMG off his back. From above his radar began to ping the soldiers dropping in by parachute. Victor grinned broadly, giving a wink, his HUD hard loading both launchers on his shoulders. Natalie might be here to do quiet work. But if he made enough noise, they'd concentrate on him over her. Challenge accepted then. He blink locked eight targets. Eight points along the walls of the compound. As the first of the soldiers touched down in the town behind him, he twitched his left cheek. The rocket pod on his left shoulder hissed, eight mini-rockets punched up out of the pod, caught their engines, then raced out. They were in the air for only a short time, grey smoke stitching out their paths. Then at nearly the same instant eight explosions rock the compound. Victor took the first step out as the soldiers all started to move into position. They weren't there to take the facility down. That was Natalie's job. Victor had made that very clear, they were there to take the weight off her. They'd move up to the compound slowly, making themselves targets, doing everything they could to make as much noise as they could to take the weight on them.

Victor smiled, whispering to himself, "Game on. Do your thing babe."

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Carl snarled snatching up the C6 from where he had set it. He set the gun against his hip and began let rip. The GMPG growling as he fired into the mass of men approaching them. The big rounds cutting into them. Carl growled, "This is going to be tense. I like our chances of surviving, but I'm still a little nervous." He mowed down a line of AQ soldiers with a roar of the GMPG. Carl kept firing keeping head down and heads exploding too. He wasn't about to let them die out here atleast not without a fight. He kept firing even as the AQ fighters crept further and further up the hill. He unhooked a grenade pulled the pin and under handed it down the incline, watching it bounce, skip and thump to a stop at the feet of a man with an RPG. He went flying moments later. Carl chuckled deeply as he watched the man flip through the air. Carl kept firing, he didn't want to stop until they were clear.

He turned as the SEALs broke for cover. He purposefully put himself between them and the fire coming at them. He stumbled with a growl of pain as a rifle round clipped his sprained knee. He snarled, pushing himself back up, "Ross, where's our CAS?" He fired until the C6 clicked empty, he didn't have time to reload it so he grabbed his 249 up and began to fire with that. "On my mark run like fuck, Ditch everything but your M249." Carl turned and in a limping run began to trail behind Ross. Turned at the hip to fire back behind them.

Then the bombs hit. And the shockwave caught him, lifted him and carried him forward. He hit the ground and rolled a short distance before coming to a stop. He coughed as the ringing in his ears grew louder. He groaned and watched Ross pass him, "Sure...just gimme a little...I'll...be good..." He got to his feet. Gritting his teeth. That sprained leg of his really pulling. He proceeded up the hill following after Ross, "This...has been an amazing operation."

---------

Victor sat on a bench in the Mess hall. He knew Natalie would be in the Arsenal at the moment, getting ready for that op of hers. He intended to follow her, but he didn't want to be there when she left. He wanted to show he trusted her, that he knew she could take care of herself. That didn't mean he wouldn't be suiting up minutes after she left and jumping aboard a C130 to follow her.

For now he sat in the mess, a bottle of Pepsi at hand. Listening to the other grunts of the PMC shooting the shit and bragging here and there. There were stories about the shit they had gotten into while in this or that army. One man telling a story about a massive fire fight his platoon had gotten into, one hundred Taliban fighters had taken up the defense of an ammo cache in a small town somewhere in Helmand, and his platoon of sixteen was out on patrol. They had moved into the town which had earlier that week been pinned as safe. His platoon had walked in, expecting no worries at all. But had found hell waiting for them. Their leap frog retreat barely got them out with only one man wounded. They had called in CAS to help clear the town.
Victor smiled a little listening to that story. Sounded like something that happened to the grunts a lot.

The conversation moved on, another story being retold. After that one was done, one of the grunts looked over and spotted Victor. He smiled, “Hey Victor, big guy, didn’t you used to be Tier One?” Victor toyed with the cap of his drink, “Sure. Long time ago.” The grunts seemed to see where this was going. Another man asking, “So you got some stories don’t you from that time huh?” Victor nodded, “Sure, none that are all that interesting. Tier One isn’t all that different from other special forces.” The grunts began to get insistent, “Come on man there has to be something. You almost never talk about your past come on. Give us something.”

Victor hrmed, “Alright fine.” He thought for a time. Going silent again, the grunts watching him wondering what he was going to do or say. After abit Victor began, “You guys remember Bin Laden right?” The grunts nodded and one of them even said, “Naw no way you did that Boss. It was all confirmed by FBI and CIA bro.” Victor grinned, “No I didn’t do it. I did something else.” He began his story…
____________

“Third floor…ladies underwear…” Victor looked on as Seal Team Six began to drop their intelligence off in the tent. Everything from hard drives, to binders and folders filled with information taken from the Pakistani complex where they had killed none other than Osama Bin Laden himself. They weren’t Cowboys, but damn did they act it sometimes. They’d just come from a life or death situation, and come out with the code word of Geronimo.

As Victor watched a suited CIA agent stepped up beside him. The black haired man watched the Seals celebrating. And another CIA agent verifying the body. The man beside Victor said softly, “They got the main target. That’s what we’re going to tell the world. But they’re going to need you now Master Sergeant. They didn’t demo the chopper correctly, there’s still debris left. And there is a lot of people that know who are still in Pakistan.” Victor pushed off the pole he’d been leaning on, and nodded, “Insert me then. As usual this will be Blacker then Black right?” The CIA agent nodded.

Victor went to the private little building the army and CIA had set up for him. Inside it was every weapon, and equipment piece he could ask for. Even prototype weapons and items that weren’t available yet to standard forces. Victor suited up in dappled, grey, black and dark red stealth fatigues. A combat harness with an integrated combat vest. A silenced pistol and silenced KRISS SMG were slotted into place. As well as a pair of reinforced tomahawks that had become his iconic weapons a while ago. Lastly were clips and magazines, as well as a variety of explosives and an interesting little thing in glass vials called hyperacid for dealing with the chopper and getting rid of anything that might come up. As the Seals wrapped up, Victor jumped aboard a chopper and headed for Pakistan.

They had put him down in a field outside the city. The Abbottabad area was still on high alert. People were worried, scared, a lot of people are angry. But no one expected a ghost to be picking his way through the city. Even at top speed Victor had to traverse part of the city to get to the warehouse where they were keeping the last of the information from the complex, the bodies of the adults, and the helicopter. His job, to liquidate as much as he could of all that. A the moment he loped low and easy through the streets, the night his friend tonight. The dappled clothing he wore broke up his large frame, making it hard to see him. Lots of people said all black was better to use during night operations. But that just turned you into a big black blob in the night. The dark colors in a random pattern made it harder to see him.

Victor reached the warehouse. And of course, found it heavily guarded. Pakistani Army and what looked like AQ and Talibani soldiers. Victor darted across the spottily lit ground around the warehouse, and hopped the fence. His silenced pistol is soon in his hand. Edging through the grounds carefully. He had to make this quiet and clean. He had care blanche to leave a body count, as long as no one could track it back to the States or anyone else. So it’s no surprise that when he came on patrols he put them down quietly, hiding the bodies and continuing on. The lower cracks of his pistol drowned out by the sound of people talking, and the sound of boxes being moved around or soldiers yelling orders. He cleaned out a third of the soldiers to make it easier on him. All in complete and utter silence. They wouldn’t know anyone is there for a while yet. Victor, for such a big guy, slipped quietly into the main warehouse. Gaurds, engineers, technicians are everywhere. He wasn’t going to have to be careful. Set the charges and explosives carefully so they weren’t spotted immediately.

He ghosted along the side of the building, taking out several soldiers as he went. He didn’t want a dead body found this close. So he instead clamped his large hands over their mouth and nose and locked an arm across their neck, choking them out quickly and silently. A knocked out body is less suspicious. And can be passed off as fatigue. With several of the gaurds and soldiers placed in hard to see areas he finally made it to the evidence. He placed a few thermite grenades among the piles of paper, hard drives, binders and folders. He made his way over to the bodies next. Placing more Thermite grenades among them as well. He felt no remorse burning them. There’d be a cover up over it. Or people would be too centered on Osama more likely.

Lastly was the helicopter. He placed several incendiary devices and a few of those hyperacid capsules on the partially demolished helicopter. He meant to make sure the stealthy technology and any way of IDing it back to the Joint Forces is gone. As he placed the last device he had to duck into a shadow as a guard came patrolling by. The man looked right at Victor in the belly of the damaged chopper. But saw nothing concrete. As the man walked on Victor decided that was enough. He made his way out.
As he neared the outer wall. He reached into a pocket, and with a depression of a button and the pull of a trigger. All of the devices went off simultaneously. Fires roared, small shaped charges denotated, and the acid burned through metal and plastic. He could hear shouts and cries of surprise and pain as soldiers and support personnel scattered.

Victor leapt off the wall and disappeared into the city.

------------

The Grunts stared at Victor in astonishment. One of them dropping his class of juice on the table. The whole mess was quiet, as they had all tuned in on Victor as he told his story. Victor took a sip of his Pepsi, he didn’t smile he didn’t show anything. He just nodded, “That good enough of a story for you?”

The soldiers in front of him nodded slowly. Victor grunted then got up, “I have somewhere to be. Anyone who is registered for back up ops on Natalie’s operation, get suited up. I’ll be in the Armory getting kitted up.” He left the room to silence.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Carl leapt up into the back seat of the ASLV. And got the 40 up to snuff. As they pealed out he was just swinging the thing into position, and had to crank it back around as they roared passed those technicals. The big 40mm launcher began to cough, ripping into some of the technicals. He jerked and rolled with the ASLV as they bumped out of the town and onto the road. He twisted the gun around and began to fire back the way they came. The Forty growled as it unleashed rounds, crashing into the technicals. Carl called to Ross, "Our tailgaters don't like our gifts. I'm gonna keep giving them until they accept it." He cackled, still firing without remorse.

As they barreled down the road he kept firing. When the Apache passed by and hammered the last of them he grinned broadly, "Good effect on target there Whiskey Six. Fly low, fly well. Thanks for the help." He tucked the Forty off to the side as they continued on.

Carl grinned broadly as they approached the LZ, "RCAF to the rescue, only a matter of time until the Canadian Master Plan comes into being and all of the world will bow before us."As the Chinnok came buzzing in the pilot chuckled over the radio, "That's supposed to be private information. You guys must be Knight. And that SEALs team that went missing. Or what's left of it." Carl raised a fist in greeting to the CSOR operators as they passed. Carl hopped out and placed a few safety straps on the floor and onto the ASLV he then nodded to the CSORs, "Audeamus gents. Good to see that I'm not the only Canadian out here." He shook hands.

As they took off he came back to join Ross and the SEALs, "Like a little glimpse of home you know?"

-----

Carl had decided to take a quick nap, they were more or less out of danger they could afford the little luxuries. He jolted awake though when the Chinnok jerked. He himself jerked awake and grabbed a suppport spar for security. He looked about, then heard it, "MANPADS! We're taking rounds." He gripped the spar tightly, "Fuck me!" He grit his teeth and held on for life. His armor wasn't going to keep him alive from this he thought just as everything went black.

-----

Awhile later he heard something bang against his armor. He coughed, and heard Burns, "Lt. Cardinal? LT? Can you hear me? Come on big guy." Carl coughed again and reached up to push his visor up, "Holy shit...I'm alive...Burns? Who's left?" He got up with the SEALs help and took stock. The CSORs dead, as he got up to his feet he felt something click in his knee. Carl limped forward grunting painfully, "Think i sprained something...fuck me sideways...where's the Captain? Ross? Buddy!" He limped over and looked into the chopper spotting Ross. Carl grunted, "Keep an eye on him...Burns help me with the ASLV...I think we might want it's firepower..."

-----

Sometime later he heard Ramsey, "Carl! Ross is up!" Carl came limping back as quick as he could looking in to see Ross getting up, "Fucking hell Cap. Thought we might have lost you." He grunted, the pain killer her had taken a little while ago still hadn't worked it's way into his system. So his knee which could very well be sprained and twisted hadn't stopped hurting yet. Carl limped inside to help his partner up. Then followed him out, "Well I guess all of this is going to be something we can tell our kids in the future." He grinned broadly.

As they went about their planning Carl kept looking down the way the enemy would be coming. "This is going to be one hell of a fight." He got up to follow Ross into the chopper. Spotting the weapons as they came to them, "Well well...gifts from on high." He reached down to where he had the three CSOR dogtags tucked into a leg pouch, "Thanks boys." He patted the pouch then gathered the weaponry, "With this Timby I ought to be able to give those guys something to think about." He grabbed the Timberwolf and the C6, along with their clips and magazines. He carried them outside, setting them down where he can get at them. He set up quickly, unstowing the Timberwolf, popping out it's bipod and readying it. He turned to assist in taking out the quick responders. But as soon he could he was back on the Timberwolf. He cycled the bolt, and fired, the roar of the .338 Lapua round shattering the air. A man screamed in pain as he fell to the ground, missing his arm from the shoulder down. Carl wasn't trying for instant kill shots. This wasn't the time for lined up firing. He could do it. He'd been in the Arctic Rangers before this, he'd landed shots with that Enfield. But this wasn't the time. He just wanted to land shot. Take enemy out of the game. Lessen the tide that would hit them. He fired again and again, he had a limited amount of those five round box magazines. But he intended to use them all to their fullest.

He made that trip up to them one hell of a rigourous trip. Anytime someone came out onto open ground there was a round hissing down towards them. He kept it up until he heard a crunch. He looked out from the scope to find a round jammed into the bolt, "Shit! Timberwolf is down!" He grabbed got up and ran for the C6.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Carl nodded, trailing Ross, then breaking off and making his way up the stairs. As he went up a concussion grenade came clacking down. Carl pressed his front against the stairway wall and weathered the sound and flash. A few of the men upstairs began firing down into the stairwell. Carl growled, turning, his ears rung from the grenade, but he wasn't even remotely concerned. He headed up the stairs, M249 chattering punching up through the wood and mortar barrier at the top of the stairwell. He jackhammered rounds through the wall and wood, and heard cries of pain, death and horror. By the time he made it to the top he saw men running, trying to find new defensive positions. His LMG roared as it cut through the wooden and brick cover. He hammered into them cutting them down, no mercy here. You don't kill off good soldiers, and leave one hanging rotting and festering. Carl knew only rage at the moment. He just wasn't going to let these shitheads get off with it. He swept through 90% of the upper floor when Ross called him up, "Carl, I got our SEALs alive. Come down to the kitchen. If you want, you can drag a survivor in." Carl let out a sigh of relief, "Fuckin' Eh, Cap. I'll be down in a moment." He tossed a pair of frags into the last room he was about to clear. listening to the frantic yelling, and even teep kicking one man back into the room. He walked away as the frags went off. Ripping apart the last of them. On the way back he encountered man who somehow managed to get away from it all just barely alive. He grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the room, "Hey, found this guy outside. Managed to get away with just a round to the ribs. Anyone wanna take care of him?" He tossed the man to the floor in front of the SEALs, "Someone can take care of this guy if they want." He then gave the SEALs a fist bump each, "Follow us now. I almost feel sorry for them now." Carl and Ross lead the way. Taking the attention off the unarmored SEALs. Carl took a number of rounds to the chest, but gunned down atleast three more in tune with Ross' three. Carl also winged a few others, but not killing them. He snarled, "Half mags? I think I'm pissing mine away. Might be less then a quarter left." Just as he said that he heard a click, "Well fuck. Reloading!" He dumped the empty mag off his LMG, leaving the unmarked ammo bag lying. He quickly reloaded the another 150 round ammo bag onto his M249. Flipping the belt over into the receiver and pulling the loading handle. Right back to business, it all took him about 2 and a half seconds to pull off. "Anytime we wanna leave?" He pulled a pair of C13 frags out, "Explosive Ordanance used up! I got nothing but C4 left over." He spun around as he felt rounds dig into his back armor. Seeing a technical racing towards them. He shouted out, "Clear my back blast!" He let his LMG dangle, and pulled the Carl G off his shoulder, quickly loading a Dual Purpose Rocket off his back into the tube. Then let if fly, hitting the engine of the technical and sending it tumbling to land against the front side of a closed up store. Carl slotted his Recoiless Rifle back over his shoulder and grabbed up his LMG again, "Let's get while the gettings good Cap! We got our boys. I say we beat feet as fast as we fucking well can before they manage to let everyone else know we're here."

Backdrifts (Space Survival RP)

Neil searched through some lockers when the module rocked. He looked over, seeing one whole connector start to sheer away. He lashed out and grabbed a handhold as the entire section rumbled and tumbled abit. He threw himself upwards making for the connector back into the area they came from. HE made it just on the heels of Ellie. Twisting as soon as he's through and sealing helping Ellie to seal the lock. He looked through the small window looking back through it, watching the remains of the module drift. He could see Victor and King floating away with it, both men tucked into balls to weather the storm of shrapnel and and debris as the module drifted and came apart. Neil slammed his palm against the inside of the door, "Fuck...fuck...FUCK! That's two more! What the fuck is happening up here? This place was designed to weather meteor storms. How the hell does the fuel packs go up? How the hell is this all happening?" He took a couple of shallow breathes to try and calm himself. Fighting down the urge to take long deep breathes. He groaned, "Whatever happens Ellie, we need to try and keep our heads. Makoto too...fucking hell eh...this is just too much to take in." As they made their way through the pods he kicked and guided himself along. Then grabbed a handhold as they came to the blown out section. He looked out into vacuum. He gulped, "My god...this was...this was part of Medical wasn't it? Dear god...I almost expect Doc Johns to float around that far corner and ask if we're okay..." He started to unspool one of the safety lines on his belt. Handing the end with the safety lock too Ellie, "Okay, lock that off to something...and keep your eye and hand on it. It's strong enough that you'll be able to pull me back along it if need be. If it stays taut, I'm still going. If it goes slack...well you'll be on your own and you'll need to reach Makoto on your own Ellie girl..." He smiled at her. Then swallowed, "Okay...here we go." He took a step then pushed, using the power of the kick to get him moving, wanting to save his thrusters as much as possible. He drifted out. He cleared the ragged edge of the module, floating out into the sub-zero clear vacuum. He grit his teeth. Listening to the safety line spool out. His on board computer beeping as lines of measurements and code flashed across the inside of his face plate, "I'm clear of the edge..." He drifted on. His hand going to the thruster control. He kept going, giving himself a light boost to send him forward, "The other side is one hell of a wreck..." He gave himself another boost. Reaching out to bat a piece of debris out of the way, and then to push the burned and frozen body of young Jack Boyer, one of the med-techs. He winced, "Boyer...I just floated by him..." He could see the other module edge getting closer, "Just a little further. Is that line tied off Ellie? I'm about to enter the other side. Use the line to bring you across. I'll tie the spool to a handhold. That will be stable enough to get you across." He drifted closer. He caught a handhold as he entered the shadow of the other side of the ragged tube. He grunted, then quickly tied the spool off to another handhold, "Ellie...I'm across. Carefully come across. I'm not going to crack the lock until you get here. Be careful. Take it gentle. Tease your way across. Survival is more important."

Zailing the Unterzee: Bring me that Blessed Darkness

"Ten crates of food and water, twelve bales of engine fuel. The three...ummm passengers below in their coffins. A crew of twenty. Our deck gun is settled in. Our glim-light mounted atop the bridge. We are ready sir." The First Mate, a dangerous looking sort of man, tall, scarred, angry looking but with a wit, charm and personality that is positively beatific. The First Mate looks up at the young man leaning on a railing along the bridge deck looking down at the cargo deck below, "Very good thank you. What about our crew? How many are old hands and how many new?" The first mate checks another page on the clipboard he holds, "Ummm twelve stand from the old crew sir. While the others are new comers. A few just coming out to zee for the first time in fact. They might expect your welcome when we set zail." Konrad Ward nods, "Alright I'll give them a welcome later once we put hull to the dark waters. For now, prepare the cargo, make sure it's all strapped down." The First Mate made a salute then trotted off. Konrad gave a nod. As experienced as he is, this is the first time he'd going to be the actual captain of his own ship. It'd likely turn out to be a voyage to remember. He'd never had the chance to make it up to Venderblight before. As he leaned there the speaking pipe that lead down to the engine room hummed. He got up and went back into the bridge room. Tapping the pipe then speaking, "Bridge, everything ready to go down there?" The Chief engineer called back, "Aye sir. Ready to set zail on your command." Konrad nodded slowly, "Very well. Wait one." He took a step to his right and spoke into a pipe that carried his voice ship wide, "This is the Captain speaking. All crew, secure cargo, cast off all lines, man the watch posts and ready the lamp and deck gun." He looked out over the deck. Waiting and watching.

Zailing the Unterzee: Bring me that Blessed Darkness

I will make an IC post within the next little bit.

Zailing the Unterzee: Bring me that Blessed Darkness

There is always room for more people to join either now or later. It doesn't matter. The Zee is always here.

Zailing the Unterzee: Bring me that Blessed Darkness

Name: Konrad Ward Gender: Male Age: 31 Apperance: Standing a fine 5 feet 10 inches tall. Profession: Zee-Captain, has worked his way up from the bottom, from Cabin boy to ships hand, able zailor, and tried his hand at Gunnery and Engine tending. And now, stands at the helm. Ambition: Become one of the Greatest, Most Remembered, and most Storied Explorers in all of the Unterzee. Watch as his name is spoken of in awe and listen of the stories told of him. Past: Long ago in a time that's beginning to feel like a dream to the man. Well he was just a wee mite, when London was taken. He came down with the city. His parents and older sister with it. They recovered. And they made a living in the deep dark. But their family couldn't survive as they were now. So when he was old enough by his eyes, he fled. He didn't look back when his mother screamed for him to return. He stowed away on a ship that sailed out onto the Zee. The First Mate almost threw him overboard when they found him. But the Captain stopped him. They had need of another pair of hands. So the young boy became the ships Cabin Boy, running errands about the ship that could fit into his little hands. When they returned he opted to stay aboard. The crew grew to like him, and his young energy. He didn't experience the terror quite like they did. When they hove about to get a bead on an Angler Crab that bore down on them, he hung over the side of the ship to get a better look. It still scared him, but not in the same way. As he got older, he followed the old captain, who died at zee. The First Mate, the new Captain, kept him on, by then Konrad was old enough to man the railing and guns like the rest. He survived the sinking of that boat, and with barely a handful of zailors made it back to London, where he signed on with another ship. Working there. Long did he roam the zees. And worked his way up. Captains and Crew welcomed his exuberance. His keen eye, and jokes and tales of adventure. Before long, the Captain he signed on with retired, one of a few who managed it. And the ship was passed on to Howard. The crew voting him Captain. The First Mate agreeing. They now pull out on their first major voyage together, with new and old faces. A new Captain's maiden voyage. Onto the Dark Zee.