Everything seemed to go down the drain. First the mutants. Then we get attacked by someone. And then the old shaggy man dicided to run into some semi collapsed buildings. Was joining this group for something to do a mistake? What was i getting my self into? I was the last person in the group and so i didnt really see the explosion. All i could see was a cloud of dust and debris. And the ground beneath us about 5 meters into every direction from the manhole slightly collapsed about half a foot. This explosion was loud. Loud enough for more attention. And before i could try to figure what to do i saw one of our men run into the buildings on the other side of the street. half a block away from the building that i positioned myself in a few minutes ago. We could not see Dima. He was somewhere below the ground. Under a pile of rubble and dust. The whole group was in shock. And so was i. i saw a couple mutatns enter our perimeter and i slowly took 2 of them out. I appraoched a old bus with no wheels and motioned for the other remaining group to follow. I was silent and let the others do the work until now. But this has gotten too far. In 15 minutes we went through more chaos then a man goes through in his lifetime. "HEY! over here! Try to stay hidden and conserve your ammo. When the mutants leave or slow down we can go take a look for Dima. And that other dude. What was his name? Thats his problem for running away like this."
I take it the 'other dude' is me? xD Well, nothing we can do now that I'm being chased by a bunch of 'pussies'. lol
I had just climbed into the manhole when I heard a gunshot followed by an explosion. "Fuck, Dima" I thought, and climbed as fast as possible to the top. I could hear my heart beat so loud it was practically deafening. When I got up to the surface, a quick glance at the mayhem was enough to find out what happened. Dima, that helpless prick, I thought. I slight smile appeared on my face, but a tear also cornered my eye at the same time. The bastard had just taken torture and survived a horde of mutants, and now he blew himself up to save the rest of us. I couldn't blame him, though. It was the lot of the warrior to do deeds like that, something most others could never understand. As my sadnesss turned more and more into anger and regret, I heard a stunning sound from one of the nazis, laying on the ground with his leg blown off. I needed no interrogation to know he was a nazi ranger, and not affiliated with Glock directly. I got down on one knee next to the nazi, then almost yelled: "You fucking sonuva bitch!" through my teeth, before punching him repeatedly in the lace, stomping on the stomach, kicking him in the face, and lastly, slit his throat. It was a true pleasure to get my revenge, and get all the severe hatred out of my body. When I got back in the manhole again, I took Dima's dogtag and put it in the pocket closest to my heart. The "Sonuva bitch" sentence would sound a lot like this: http://youtu.be/bo-YaefSPr4?t=1m39s
Since this is getting sort of hectic, I'm just going to update everyone on where people are currently in the roleplaying: dahksinol is booking it away from a bunch of mutants on the surface and told us he'd be back boris13 is still uptop, saying we should go after the above dreadlocks, odessa (i'm assuming here), lagtagbag, thestalker, darkbringer (just executed last nazi), and myself are all below ground through the sewer grating aaronpoitras just blew himself up and is appearantly buried under a pile of rubble i don't know where anyone else is or if there is anyone else(haven't met all the players really) darkbringer, i'm assuming when you say took dima's dogtags, you mean out of thestalker's hands? Since he indicated he picked them up.
You can assume that, UltimLux, but I didn't know that when I did it. It would fit fine with my character to take it from mr. volt driver though, as Darkbringer might be pissed that he took the dogtags like his own personal prize.
I think we need to calm things down a little now, and take it a bit slow. things are getting too hectic to follow properly. what u think guys? *hell had just broken loose again. we needed to regroup and take a breather. I sat on the damp ground, took my mask off and lit up a smoke. passing my hand over my short hair I shighed* 'oh Dima, you made the ultimate sacriface for us, didn't you friend? you were a good stalker. I'll miss you' I said to no-one in particular.
I could barely hold my thoughts together with the pain exploding in my head, pulsing with every heartbeat. It all had happened so fast. We got down in the sewers when suddenly there suddenly was a yell and a gunshot followed by an explosion that made debris fall down on us. I got hit by a big chunk of concrete in the head and my vision was blurred, I could feel the warm blood seep down my forehead. I staggered up on my feet and tried to follow the voice of zhenya who shouted something. Hobbling forward I eventually found someone who I grabbed hold of. C-can't see, lead me the way", I said in a slurred way and grabbed the hold of the persons rucksack.
I would agree with odessa on this. Need to get it a little more coherent. A few questions, though. Who's the person besides zhenya who has some medical experience/ is a medic? Also, anyone mind if I reply to lagtagbag? If someone else wants it, I can delete the below part. I froze as I felt a hand grab my backpack. "Can't see, lead me the way." A voice said. I turned slowly, sticking the magazine that the man in the brown coat had given me in my pocket. It was hard to let go of it, I had it gripped so tight. Man, the guy had a lot of blood caked onto his face. It was a head wound, and those tended to bleed. A lot. So it probably wasn't as bad as it looked, though a little voice in my head said it could be quite bad and began listing off increasingly horrendous possibilities. I ignored the voice and said quietly, trying to calm the guy down "We're not going anywhere right now, comrade. And you especially are not. Lets get a look at that." I gently pushed him into a crouch against the tunnel wall as I set down my backpack and pulled out the long black flashlight from my pocket. With only the light coming in from the sewer hole, it was pretty tough to see down here.
*I saw Sergei and the newcomer crouched down on the ground and what looked like a nasty wound on Sergei's head. getting up I pulled a couple of slugs from my ruckpack and went to Sergei's side. carefully, we cleaned the wound and his face and bandaged it, puting the slugs in between bandages* 'there you go Sergei. it looks worst than it is. let the slugs do their magic' *I could see the newcomer looking at me with a weird expression, so I explained to him what the slugs were* 'I used to live in the Exclusion Zone in Chernobyl. I was a muttant hunter, a Stalker, and also collected artifacts. these here little things are Slugs. the speed up the healing process, and slow the flow of blood, so Sergei's wound will heal much quicker than normal. he'll have the mother of all metro headaches for a while, but he'll be ok' I said, finish my smoke.
As I ran across the streets of dead Moscow, I leaped inside an empty corporate building and into its lobby, all the while gripping my rifle tightly. As I entered, I vaulted over the receptionist's desk and turned back to the crowd of howlers and lurkers that were behind me, leaping through the building's glass windows. I opened fire at them as the whole world began to slow down, as if time itself wanted to savor my moment. I grinned at the thought. One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. I shot at them. Don't ask me how, but as if I was one with my rifle and bullets, I felt each shot land into the bastards' hides, and felt myself burrowing deep into their marrows. It made me feel alive, killing these shit-fuck-revelers. One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. More toppled down as my shots hit their marks. Know I know this feeling. It was the feeling I had when I was a boy, no older than fifteen. Out in the woods, hunting game with the same rifle I held with my hands. It was like a memory brought before me. A way to relive a life long gone. A life I still want to live, despite my achievements. One. Two. Three. I didn't stop. I shot them more and more, killing Lurker and Howler without much discrimination. One. Two. Three. One. Two Three. One. Two Three. One. Two Three. One. Two Three. One. Two Three. As my rifle's magazine emptied, I dropped it to the floor and drew the two Stechkins from their holsters simultaneously like the old cowboys little Misha, my youngest brother, idolized. Holding a number of twenty rounds per magazine, and a rate of fire of six hundred rounds per minute, the Stechkins made short, but well done mince of the eight howlers and three lurkers closest to me before they too ran out. As I dropped to reload one of them, I noticed a dead stalker's body lying beside my foot. I grinned as I thought to myself, 'Well, friend, looks like we'll be getting to now each other soon!'. As I said so, a shimmer caught my eye. Strapped to the dead man were four pre-war grenades hanging by the bandolier slung over the man's chest. With haste and determination, I grabbed one of them, pulled its pin and lobbed it at the growing horde of lurkers. It exploded, a mix of shrapnel and pain. I dropped to the ground as my ears rang and whined, but I forced myself to look forward and reload my two pistols. As I turned forward, the howlers and lurkers, confused turned on each other, going at each other's throats. I stepped backwards, not wanting to draw their attention and went back to the dead body. The dead man was propped up against the wall, gripping a FNC rifle with both hands, holding it to his chest. I pried the Belgium made assault rifle from the dead man's hands and checked its magazine. Empty. I released the magazine and felt through the man's load bearing vest, something I haven't seen in quite a while, and pulled out a fresh, heavy clip. Sliding the magazine up the rifle, and feeling it 'click' into place, I felt my heart warmed. I pulled two more magazines from the LBV and slid them into my inner coat pockets, the ones that were located at the middle section for easy access. At the back of my hand, the song 'These Colors Don't Run' by Iron Maiden began to play as I raised my newly-found friend in triumph and pride. "Come on you little fuckers. Let's see how you like a bit of good ol' sweet belgium... firepower." I muttered as the howlers finished off the remaining lurkers and turned their attention back to me. As they lunged, I pulled the rifle's trigger. The FNC kicked back strong, but I held it down as it spat out hot lead at the incoming howlers, ripping through flesh, meat and bone with ease as if it were steamed noodles. If I could name it, 'Drake' would do quite fine, as I've never seen anything as good in spitting fire as the FNC I held in my hands. Going rock 'n roll til it went click, though exhilarating, was a waste of ammunition. Soon enough, in a matter of seconds, I burned through the whole magazine, but killing half of the remaining horde as I dropped my empty clip. As I turned to draw a new magazine, the remaining howlers retreated. Finally, they've decided I wasn't worth the trouble. As they left, I felt the strength inside me leave and slumped backwards onto the wall ad slid down, dead tired. As I slid the new clip into the FNC, I grinned at it and stood up again, before drawing my knife. First things first. I picked up my Saiga Hunting Rifle and scratched thirty notches on its wooden furniture. I then grabbed my two Stechkins, the first with seven notches, and the second with six notches, and added three on one and four on the other before turning to the FNC. As I slung my Hunting Rifle over my shoulder, and holstered my pistols, I counted how many beasts I felled with the FNC. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Not bad for a newcomer, I'd say. I sat down again and added ten notches on the FNC, careful not to do it on any important part of the rifle. As I finished, I turned to salvage the remains of the dead Stalker, in hopes what my dead friend has might help me live to see the rest of my companions.
I was worried it would be a C-concussion, but I think I-i'll be fine. T-thanks." I said gratefully to Odessa and the newcomer as they tended to my wound and touched the bandage with the slugs in them. They seemed to emit some heat radiation, and hopefully only that.Looking around I noticed we were a few men short. "W-where is Dima and Pyotr?" I asked with a gnarling feeling starting to grow in my stomach.
This was getting bad to many lives being lost so i yelled with all my effort "this is to much we gotta retreat". "My shelter isnt far we can stalk up and survive" "we find the members leave and then avenge whoever we want and that guys home station" "ooops" i squealed I had let out why I needed to go to tulskaya first
When running on the surface, I was so disorientated that I did not notice that Pyotr and Zhenya had lost us. Down in the sewer, the newcomer asked "What's with the gasmask, dreadlocks?". I carefully grabbed the spikey gasmask and pulled it off my head, revealing my moist face. "It is a souvenir I located when we took down a Satanist station. It is not a representation of the Satanists, but a represantation of their fall", I answered in a serious way. Just as Darkbinger climbed to the bottom, there was a gunshot followed by an explosion, and I could see Darkbringer immediately climbing straight back up. "Darkbringer, no!" I yelled out dramatically, but he kept climbing determinedly. I heard his sorrowful avenging before he came back downstairs. I looked at Darkbringer in a way of being worried and sorry, and also asking him about the situation, although I did not say a word. My face expression already said a thousand words. I waited for him to say something while Odessa and the newcomer took care of Sergei's injuries. I also completely ignored the Daredevil's suggestion, in a way of saying "No".
It took a while before I noticed Benjamin's worried look, and when I did, I looked at him in the eye, and gave a confirming nod, as to whether Dima had died. I then looked down at my boots, as my eyes again began to water. I didn't want to show any tears. It wouldn't be fair to Dima either. He wouldn't wish me to be sobbing and sighing. We had to focus on the mission.
Damn, that's a lot of posts while I was gone - and a new thread. :shocked: Alright, I'm seriously all out of ideas right now and finding it hard to keep up with the speed at which yous are posting at. I'm gonna leave for now. Since I haven't contributed to this in a while, just assume that no one saw what happened to my character among the chaos, but I'm definitely separated from the group or dead. That way everyone can continue without having Volk as a mute and I'll be able to return at some point when it'll be appropriate.
Aww, Bamuuul! :c We have moments like these often. When there's no action at all, like being in a safe station or sitting around a campfire, it can take a week, sometimes even two weeks before we get our asses on the move again, and when the most intense action is at hand, we make four pages a day xD I know it's difficult to keep up with it, but that's just something one has got to live with I looked at Darkbringer, inhaling and exhaling heavily because of the extreme ammount of adrenaline that was slowly leaving my veins again. "No", I said as I shook my head slightly and looked into the air with an empty face expression. "No", I said again, this time more concious, looking at Darkbringer, to Sergei, then back at Darkbringer again. "No, they can't all be dead?", I asked in a rather confused way. I just could not believe it. Were all the four of them dead just like that? I was still breathing heavily, and the cold air made my breath visible as a fog that emerged from my mouth like the fire from a dragon's throat before slowly ascending up through the manhole. "Zhenya? Pyotr? Dimitri? Volk?", I asked, raising my voice more and more for each name. "We were so close. They can't be dead", I said. "They cannot be dead", I repeated as I shook my head in disbelief. For your information, Benjamin thinks that they all were just outside of the manhole when the explosion happened.
Well, these people were just full of surprises. Taking down satanists, producing radioactive slugs. Lovely. I straightened from patching up ... Sergei was what the woman had called him. There had been a lot of blood, but the flow of it was slowing now. Wiping my gloves on my pants to clear away the blood, I glanced around. The guy with dreadlocks and Dark both appeared to be in shock, or at least mourning the loss of their friends. 4 people, all experienced stalkers probably, gone in the space of an hour (I'm just guessing). Then, I thought back, and decided to try to cheer them up. "I think at least one of your friends may be okay. He took off, yelled that he would be back. He seemed pretty self sufficient from what I saw. Don't worry." Pulling my gloves off and letting them fall to the floor, I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. It was a nervous habit... I went to run my hands through my hair, and then, realizing I hadn't pulled my mask off yet, pulled the straps over my head. Setting the mask on top of my bag, I ran my hands through my short hair and said " I'm Grigori, by the way. Most people call me Melkov, though."
