Polyphemus

Closed

I apologize for KB's often incomprehensible Kiwi slang.

Closed

Engrossed in his food, KB was more than a little surprised when the newcomer in the lounge spoke to him directly. He hurriedly swallowed a mouthful of beef before putting on a smile that seemed to lean more on the side of a grimace. "You can call me by whatever name pleases you, lass. They only call me that because the world of martial arts ain't a piece o' piss, you gotta be a right bastard to be the best. Join me for brekkie?" He politely waved at an unoccupied chair. KB figured that a little courtesy might not be a bad idea now. Not that he was good at making friends. But if they were stuck working together might as well try to make it pleasant.

"That stuff you do with fire- right proper flash, that. That's really the sheep's arse. Saw what you did just now with those knives, too. Beaut stuff, there. I'm sick of these drongos who only want to use guns. Guns for show, knives for a pro, eh?" KB took in her more casual clothes. He hadn't thought to look through his bunk for clothing, he was still wearing the orange bottoms of his prison uniform. He'd have to lay his hands on some more comfortable duds.

Taking a swallow of his Scotch, he charged forwards with his awkward attempt to be friendly, choosing the only subject he felt comfortable talking about. "I've done some knife fighting, here and there. Texas, Corsica, Manila, Ostrobothnia, the Pampas. Folk know what they're doing with a blade in those places, no two ways about it. What I'm saying, lass, you ever want to swap a couple tricks that'd be right by me. We could both learn something useful. I mean, a bloke never knows so much he can't learn more." He wondered what else to say, couldn't think of anything, and instead shoveled more food into his mouth.

Closed

Karate Bastard passed the submarine ride in stony silence. It was partially to more quickly recover from the strain of using Buddha's Palm- simply using the technique had killed lesser men. Much, much lesser men. But mostly, he was taking stock of his new allies. If teamwork was to be forced upon him, it was best to know who was capable of what.

And it seemed teamwork was indeed being forced upon him by this mysterious Mr. Sinister, whoever he was. Unlike some of the others, KB did little more than raise an eyebrow at the mention of the nanites- which, it turned out, were poised to release enough curare and cyanide to kill twenty normal people into KB's bloodstream should Keith try anything. Enough to kill him two times over.

Oddly enough, he was not insulted in the least by Mr. Sinister's need to put a leash on him. Instead, KB took it as a mark of respect. A gesture between equals. Mr. Sinister was clearly aware enough of KB's abilities to feel the need to take extreme precautions. The older rogue knew exactly how dangerous Keith could be. So much the better. There would be no misunderstandings.

When Jenkins finished their briefing, Keith found his marked bunk. He shook his head at the laundered sheets and soft pillow, before tearing them off the bed entirely and leaving them in a heap on the floor. KB would sleep on the bare mattress. A man ought not have too much comfort. It makes him soft. That's how men became sooks, like that whimpering little girl. He couldn't believe that weakling Ellie had come along with them, asking other people to fight for her. Pathetic. That bizarre creature, though, the General. The one who had thrown the tantrum. Now that was a creature Karate Bastard could respect. The big pale one seemed alright as well. Maybe working with these people wouldn't be quite so bad.

He spent a few minutes cursing as he tried and failed to work the tablet, before giving up and tossing the thing carelessly onto the bed. Still bare-chested, KB made his way to the lounge in search of food and drink.

He was not disappointed on that front. A fully-stocked bar and a table greeted him. After months of prison food, both looked sumptuous. Although Keith was generally suspicious of luxury, he felt mealtimes were a good time to indulge. Good food was part of a strong body, and good wine part of a happy soul. Smiling genuinely, KB piled a plate with high-calorie, high-protein offerings, then ambled over to the bar and had a look through the glassware. He briefly contemplated a small shot glass before tossing it aside with a sneer. Instead, he grabbed a large water tumbler and filled it to the brim with Lagavulin. KB had picked up a taste for Scotch during his whirlwind tour of Scotland. He had left knowing how to fight with claymore, Lochaber axe, and dirk, not to mention a bevy of traditional wrestling techniques. And of course, he had left behind twelve dead martial artists. He smiled at the memory. Good times.

With gusto, he began to wolf down the food, pausing only to slurp down mouthfuls of expensive whiskey. Keith Blackwell was enjoying his newfound freedom.

State of Siege

Major GM-controlled characters

General Leopoldo Cortes, Leader of the Anti-Government Forces

Name: Leopoldo Cortes

Age: 47

Gender: Male

Nationality: Valverdan

Occupation/ Employer/ Rank: General, anti-government forces

Psyche: Cortes is a man of immense pride, even arrogance. He believes greatly in discipline, self-sacrifice, and clean living- he never drinks, smokes, or swears, though he will tolerate this behavior in others. He is something of a conservative stick in the mud, unwilling to accept new ideas or "unmanly" behavior. Despite his impatient attitude, Cortes takes the responsibilities of leadership very seriously and treats the troops under his command with great respect.

History: Cortes was born into a well-off landowning family in the rural areas, operating a fairly successful plantain farm. With his older brothers set to inherit the farm, Leopoldo was free to choose a different road. He was the first Cortes to attend a university, and from there accepted a commission in the military- a respectable career path for a man of good conservative family. He took to the rigors of military life extremely well, and his serious-mindedness and sobriety were held up as examples to other officers. In the mid-90s, Cortes was among the young up-and-comers of the Valverdan military to be sent to the United States for special anti-narcotics training at the controversial School of the Americas.

Extremely popular with his men and well-liked by the establishment, Cortes was the first name on the officer rolls to receive promotion when Ochoa was elected in a landslide. Jumping from Colonel to General overnight, Cortes was the logical choice to be placed in charge of the President's new Army Anti-Narcotics Division, a move that received massive acclaim.

It was a meaningless, hollow title. Cortes found that his job had become mostly to give interviews on television and crack down on El Presidente's enemies under the flimsy guise of "drug-related offenses". Cortes grew more and more embittered with the deceit as the years dragged on, but continued to keep his mouth shut and do his duty.

Cortes finally lost his temper six months when ordered to apologize to a cartel capo who had killed several of his men. Cortes turned on El Presidente, his men loyally following him. His reputation alone has brought many other military figures around, and the cash (and sale of cocaine) has allowed him to purchase the services of several others, along with foreign mercenaries. Now, victory is within his grasp. Cortes' main goal to expose Ochoa for the hypocrite and liar he is, and international law is only a slight boundary in his mind.

Marten Loos, gangster and mercenary

Name: Marten Loos

Age: 44

Gender: Male

Nationality: Dutch

Occupation/ Employer/ Rank: Mercenary, anti-government forces. Former Captain, Netherlands Marine Corps.

Psyche: Marten Loos has lived his life according to the principle of unmitigated and unapologetic self-interest. Accordingly, Loos is both greedy and something of a coward, though he feels deep shame about the latter. His experiences in Afghanistan have left him with a mild case of PTSD, which he self-medicates with alcohol.

History: Born in Rotterdam, Loos was something of a drifter early in life, unable to decide exactly what he wanted to do. He muddled his way through college, earning a degree in Russian Literature while mostly keeping himself in excellent condition. Loos passed the rigorous tests to join the Netherlands Marine Corps after graduating, mostly because he figured a few years of service in a respected force would look good on a resume and help him land a cushy job in London or Paris, somewhere cool.

Despite his lack of pure motives, he was still selected to ship out to Afghanistan and join the Dutch forces in Uruzgan. There, finally, Loos was confronted with the reality of his decision. Men under his command were dismembered and killed by IEDs. While he led his troops with a sort of minimum competence, in reality Loos was barely holding himself together.

Finally, after seeing one too many legs blown off, he cracked under the pressure and confined his men to the relative safety of their camp, refusing to go out on routine patrols. While he soon came to his senses and realized the magnitude of his mistake, the damage had been done.

His superior officer was surprisingly sympathetic, arguing to a disciplinary board that Loos had acted only out of concern for his men's safety. In the end, the higher-ups were unwilling to compromise the reputation of the Marines in front of their American and British allies. Rather than receiving a court-martial, Loos was promoted to Captain and quietly dismissed from service with a full pension.

Even Loos saw the injustice of it. The shame forced him out of Holland, and he ended up settling an ocean away, on the Dutch island of Curacao just off the coast of Venezuela. A tropical paradise full of rum and beautiful women, just what he had dreamed of. And yet it seemed so hollow. He took to drinking in a futile attempt to erase the guilt and the sight of bombing victims.

In his self-imposed exile, Loos fell in with the No Limit Soldiers, a group that fell somewhere between street thugs and sophisticated and organized gangsters. They were one of the primary links in the chain between the cocaine cartels in Valverde and the massive demand for crack in Amsterdam. Loos' military past, checkered as it was, saw him take the role of training the young thugs who made up the muscle for the No Limit Soldiers.

When Cortes took over the cocaine trade and began putting out feelers for mercenaries to swell his army, Loos jumped at the chance. Not only was the man paying top dollar, this represented a chance for the No Limit Soldiers to get in good with the new power. And maybe, just maybe, he could do things right this time.

Loos, in the guise of a Dutch businessman, was stationed within the city of Esmarcion itself and placed in command of several other foreign mercenaries in the employ of Cortes. When the time was right, they were to retrieve their hidden weapons and commit acts of sabotage and ambush that would aid the advance into Esmarcion.

State of Siege

Lewis Bastion is accepted.

Also, just to let everyone know, I have designated kingkonrad as co-GM. He is free to accept or decline any characters as he sees fit.

State of Siege

Edward Reese looks good to me, consider him accepted.

Closed

Well, I'd better post this NPC hero then.

Pokerface

Appearance:
Name: Gavin Hardesty
Alias: Pokerface
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Faction: Vigil
History: Gavin Hardesty has long harbored a strong sense of obligation and responsibility. After graduating from college, he turned down several high-paying job offers in order to work as a lowly social worker, solely in the hopes of helping people. His family had left him a great deal of money, he didn't need a high-paying job. However, he was soon frustrated by the system and how difficult it was to truly make a difference in people's lives within a bureaucracy. He was particularly embittered by the common phrase "Oh, I wish there was something I could do" and the affected facial expressions used by bureaucrats while denying help to the helpless. Gavin pledged to become the exact opposite- a man who doesn't betray what he thinks or wishes, but instead acts. Thus, Pokerface- his expressionless mask says nothing, his voice is solely in his deeds. Pokerface acts outside the system where Gavin Hardesty cannot. His actions are not limited solely to crimefighting- Pokerface is just as likely to commit to mundane but helpful actions like bringing food to homeless people or helping addicts get counseling.
Equipment: Pokerface wears leather gloves with lead shot sewn into the knuckles, giving his punches extra power. He also carries small pellets that release his option of tear gas or smoke when thrown against a hard surface. He carries lockpicks, a camera, and small listening devices that can be planted.
Powers/Abilities/Skills/Talents: Hardesty is a good (but not great) hand-to-hand fighter, and is trained in stealth and B&E. His main skills, though, lie in his patient and careful detective work. He thinks nothing of long hours of surveillance, and his familiarity with records and paperwork allows him to look through paper trails for anything suspicious.
Weakness: Pokerface is compassionate to a fault. He will drop everything to help someone in trouble, even if doing so will be to his own disadvantage. He is somewhat naive, trusting in others to keep their word. Finally, he is a normal human being and can be killed as easily as anyone else.
Relationships: He is a trusted member of Vigil.
Extra: He keeps close tabs and surveillance on any major active or inactive supervillain in Lochwell, which is mainly what Vigil considers him useful for.

State of Siege

Should anyone be interested, the OOC can be reached here.

State of Siege

Okay, guys, thank you for your patience and your support. It's a little rough, but we're ready to go.

State of Siege

In global news, the civil war in the South American republic of Valverde has taken a dramatic turn. The anti-government forces of General Leopoldo Cortes are confirmed to have entered the capital city of Esmarcion and are meeting only token resistance in the suburbs. Elements of the city's garrison are believed to have defected rather than fight against Cortes, who has been denounced as a terrorist by the US State Department. Spokesmen for the anti-government forces have released a prepared statement, announcing their intention to place the President of Valverde, Augustin Ochoa, on trial for charges of alleged war crimes and corruption.

At this time, the whereabouts of President Ochoa are unknown. There are unconfirmed reports that he has sought shelter in the United States Embassy. . .

Background: Civil War in Valverde

When Augustin Ochoa was elected as President of the Republic six years ago, there was general optimism- a hard thing to come by in a country like Valverde, where cynicism is cheap and loyalties can be bought and sold. Ochoa ran on an appealing platform, promising to jumpstart the struggling economy and combat the endemic problem of the cocaine cartels operating in the rural areas.

Six years passed, and none of these promises seemed to have materialized. While Ochoa has greatly strengthened ties with the United States, unemployment is still sky-high and the Valverdan peso is next to worthless. The only people who seem to have gotten richer are the cartels and Ochoa himself- a fact that few people are willing to attribute to coincidence.

The seeds of the war were planted when a popular general in the Valverdan Army, Leopoldo Cortes, was ordered out on maneuvers against “illegal squatters”- in reality, a harmless Native American settlement that was being scapegoated for the rise of crime. A militia of cartel mercenaries who happened to be in the area and feared arrest ambushed Cortes. The clash resulted in dead on both sides before the mercenaries withdrew. Incensed by the deaths of his men, Cortes requested reinforcements in order to pursue and engage the cartels. The requested armor and air support was denied by the orders of the President. Instead, Cortes was ordered to directly apologize to the cartel leadership. Ochoa went so far as to send Cortes a shopping list of rare wines and brandies that the cartel head would consider acceptable as gifts.

This was too far. General Cortes led his men on nothing short of a rampage against the cartel, seizing numerous warehouses full of cash and drugs. Units of Military Police sent to bring Cortes to heel were fired upon, and the point of no return was crossed. The drug money went to good use, “convincing” other officers in the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Military Police to help- those who did not join Cortes willingly. Not all of the military joined in, however, a good percentage stayed loyal to President Ochoa. Fighting throughout the countryside and smaller urban areas has led to thousands dead and sharply divided loyalties among civilians. However, Cortes' revolution has continued to pick up steam, until now, after six months of fighting, they are at the doors of the lightly defended capital city.

The Present Situation

In the capital city of Esmarcion, the streets are quiet. The once bustling city now holds only a fraction of its usual population of three million. Many of the locals have fled for the relative safety of the coast. Those that remain behind have sought shelter in basements or the tunnels of the Esmarcion Metro. The streets are patrolled by blue-helmeted United Nations peacekeepers from several different nations, attempting to bring some some sort of order and stability to the war-torn republic.

Many of these peacekeepers have been assigned to protect the legitimate, UN-recognized government of the country- none other than Ochoa. Although the man has tripled his bodyguard with hired guns from all over the world, he remains jittery and paranoid.
When the news breaks of the fighting in the suburbs, Ochoa finally comes to the realization that all hope is lost for his regime. Leaping into his Presidential limousine, he drives to the US Embassy compound, bodyguards and Blue Helmets in tow, and demands protection from the country that has been his longtime patron.

But General Cortes is making rapid progress through the city, and it will not be long until they reach the compound. And there is nothing Cortes wants quite so much as to see Ochoa pay for his crimes. The war for Valverde has come down to just one office building and a mixed bag of defenders- Ochoa's bodyguards, United Nations peacekeepers, and of course the United States Marines tasked with the security of the Embassy.

Notes

The game will be primarily set in and around the United States Embassy Compound in the city of Esmarcion, Valverde. Both the city and the country are fictional, of course, allowing us some creative leeway. For general visual reference, I have been using the beautiful city of Cali, Colombia as a stand-in for Esmarcion. Details on the Embassy will be posted shortly.

Players will play as the people trapped inside or actively defending the diplomatic compound. I, the GM, will assume control of the opposing force- Cortes and his men.

This is a RP that encourages improvisation and negotiation as tools in this conflict. You guys will not have a lot of overwhelming force at your disposal- you're highly outnumbered and lightly armed, with no backup or support.

Finally, please be aware that I will not be forgiving as a GM. The possibility of your character being killed or seriously injured is always present. Actions will have serious consequences.

CS Template

Please post character sheets in the OOC for review. Once accepted, then and only then you may post under the CS tab.

Appearance: A suitable photograph(no anime, no drawings) of your character.

Name: Your character's name.

Age: Your character's age.

Gender: Nonbinary genders are totally fine by me.

Nationality: What country are you from?

Occupation/ Employer/ Rank (if applicable):What do you do and what company or entity do you work for? If you are military, police, or something similar, what rank do you hold?

Psyche: What makes your character tick? How do they view the world and people around them, and how does this make them react to things. No one's perfect, everyone capable of greed, pride, and other vices.

History: I don't need more than one or two paragraphs here, but the more detail the better.

Rules

All rules of RP Guild apply.

Metagaming, godmodding, munchkins, all that stuff isn't allowed. You guys know what constitutes fair play, and I expect you to abide by it.

As GM, my word is absolute. That's not to say it can't be questioned, though, I'm human and I'm not immune to mistakes or misunderstandings. If you'll feel I'm being unfair, please let me know.

Please leave all OOC in the OOC thread. Also, keep OOC civil and polite. Remember, we're all doing this for fun, there's no need to get uptight or rude. Keep it loose, keep it fun.

Foul language is totally fine by me. We're roleplaying a violent and stressful situation, it'd be pretty ridiculous if no one swore while being shot at.