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Merry Marauders Mouser's PbP game.

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Old 07-11-2014, 01:40 AM
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Salah_ad_Din Salah_ad_Din is offline
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Default Kaue, shamebearer and Marine recruit

Name: Kaue
Age: 21
Birthdate: 3rd full moon after the longest day
Birthplace: In the waters of the great river called Amazon
No Formal Education
No Hobbies

Cyber Enhancements:
Basic Processor (Roll 1d6 for empathy cost)
Interface Plugs (Base of Skull) (Roll 1d6 for empathy cost)

Possessions:
Standard Colonial Marine Recruit Fatigues

STATS:
INT - 8
REF - 7
TECH - 3
COOL - 8
ATTR - 4
LUCK - 5
MA - 4
BODY - 8
EMP - 4

Professional Skills (40 pts)
Combat Awareness - 5
Awareness/Notice - 4
Handgun - 2
Brawling - 4
Melee - 6
Weapons Tech - 2
Rifle - 4
Athletics - 5
Submachinegun - 2
Stealth - 6

Pickup Skills
Ambush-5
“Common” Language -2
Wilderness Survival - 5
Endurance - 3


Kaue watched closely as the spinning spear came to a stop, pointing directly at him. As he had dreamed last night, he was among the chosen. He would bear the shame of his people, and carry it from them. A proud warrior people could not bear to live as a conquered people. There was a price, and the shame must be purged.

From his birth he had respected the weapons of a warrior -the blowgun, the bow, and the spear. It was not skill with the weapon which was most important. He had learned the ways of the warrior -how to determine the battlefield, how to gain advantage, the ways of survival. If the spear had not chosen him, he would have taken his place among the warriors and learned more of their ways.

He heard his mother sob softly from the sitting place of the women. There would be no grandsons to chop firewood for her, or to bring water for her cooking. Kaue's sisters were already married to the Chicopatan tribe, and now he was chosen. His name would be blotted out from among his people; it would not be spoken again to remind them of their weakness. When his mother was old, she would walk to the spirit river alone.

Shuffling along behind the others, he made his way to the canoes that would carry him down the river to the logging camps. Each year it was the same. Young men from the village went down the river to serve the masters, and they spared the village from the great beasts who eat trees and vomit them back up.

The Fibria Corp supervisor was waiting to receive them. He shook his head as they walked up the loading ramp from the river's edge. "A sorry lot you are," he grumbled. "Some tribute. It's about time we put an end to this and logged out your swamp."

Kaue spoke the tongue of the tree killers, but he didn't understand all of his words. He did understand the supervisor's sneer. Kaue had to remind himself that he was the bearer of shame. He bought another year of life for his people with his surrender.

The supervisor lined them all up. "This year is different," he announced. "Some of you will pay our taxes with your worthless hides. The Marines need a few good men, and we're sending them you instead." With a stick in hand, he tapped every second man, including Kaue. "You will go downriver to the lumber mills, where they will take you on to the recruiter. Just do what you're told and your family will live." He turned to leave, and called over his shoulder "At least die well."

The comment caught Kaue by surprise. He had not hoped for the chance to erase his shame with a good death. The shame of his tribe, and his people, was his to bear, and now perhaps to erase. His death, he thought, must be an especially good one. There was much shame to erase.
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In a world of violence, the cross, that eminently counter-cultural symbol that lies at the heart of the Christian faith, is a scandal. -Miroslav Wolf

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Last edited by Mouser; 07-13-2014 at 05:27 PM. Reason: 21 years old minimum.
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Old 07-12-2014, 11:07 AM
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Default

Kaue stepped forward as the line advanced. He had already been probed, pinched, and poked more times than he could count. The med tech moved a needle gun toward the back of his neck, muttering the same line for the 532nd time that morning. "You will feel a sharp stick, then a numbness in your neck. This will allow for the painless insertion of your interface plug."

Kaue stopped and turned, interrupting the dull routine of the med tech's morning. "What is 'in yer face plug'?" he said, touching his face unconsciously.

The med tech stared at Kaue. "Dude, were you born under a rock? Most of the recruits already have one, and better than the crappy one we replace it with." He turned, sowing the data interface plug at the base of his own skull. "Everyone gets one, it's in the contract."

From behind Kaue, another recruit chimed in "Yeah I just sold a kidney last year to get this smokin interface plug. Now they're gonna pull it out and replace it with that cheap piece of crap. I told them they better put my plug in my personal belongings bag."

Kaue pointed to his lower back. "Kidney?" The other recruit nodded. "Why sell your body for this plug thing?" Kaue asked with shock. "Your spirit will walk crippled in the new forest."

The recruit laughed, along with the med tech. "No, man, it's a saying -like 'It cost me and arm and a leg' it just means it was expensive. If I really sold a kidney last year I'd still have some grocery money and wouldn't be in this line."

"What's the holdup here?" yelled a drill sergeant as he stomped toward the line. "We got to make production, get a move on!"

Kaue shook his head at the med tech. "I do not need your medicine. The pain is nothing to me. I can bear any pain."

The med tech moved the tranq gun back toward his neck. "It's also paralyzes your neck so that you don't move and end up in a wheel chair if the implant goes wrong."

Kaue looked confused "Wheel chair?"

The drill sergeant grabbed the tranq gun and shot Kaue in the neck with it. "Now go up and get your implant, you worthless waste of human flesh."

Kaue stepped forward to the implant machine. "I do not want this. When I die must rip it out so my soul is clean in the long walk."

"Don't worry, recruit, it will get pulled out," the sergeant growled. "Yours has probably already been in a few Marines. We don't waste nothing in the Corps. You'll get a dead Marine's plug, a dead Marine's rifle, a dead Marine's bunk, a dead Marine's gear -we might even give you a dead Marine's toothbrush. All of this gear costs money -it's worth something. The only worthless thing here is you, and there's a line of sorry, good for nothing losers waiting to take this gear when you die."

Kaue stared straight ahead as the machine inserted the interface plug. "How they die, the Marines?"

The sergeant seemed taken aback by his question. "They died fighting, at least. The ones who run or hide -well, the bugs don't give parts back, if you know what I mean. That's how a Marine should die -fighting."

Kaue rubbed the numb spot on his neck, feeling the implant. "I wear it with honor. When I die fighting, give it to a new Marine."

The sergeant chuckled. "First you have to become a Marine, boy. You ain't down in the jungle huntin' varmints no more. Where you're going the varmints hunt you."
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In a world of violence, the cross, that eminently counter-cultural symbol that lies at the heart of the Christian faith, is a scandal. -Miroslav Wolf

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Old 07-15-2014, 12:29 AM
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Kaue pulled the straps tighter on his protective mask. He hated the mask. He hated how it fit on his face. He hated how it felt like some monster that was smothering him. He hated the stench of raw plastic that must surely smell worse that whatever this was filtering out. He put his hands over the filter openings and tried to inhale. Nothing. The seal was good.

Drill Sergeant Tanakah opened the chamber door and waved the squad inside. His wide Samoan smile almost made them feel good about what lay ahead. Almost. They stumbled down the dark hallway to a misty room at the end. Three drill sergeants sat behind a table, all dressed in full biochem protective gear.

Several of the recruits began to gag, choking and coughing. Drill Sergeant Smith began reading from a card. "For those of you who failed to seal your mask properly, the burning sensation you are feeling now is from Cyano Capsicum gas, a non-lethal agent used for crowd control. In the field, you would be dead now." He looked up from the card. "No, only the lucky ones would be dead. Some of you would be suffering from such horrible pain that you wished you were dead. You would be begging one of your buddies to burn a hole in you." His voice rose to a squeak "For the love of God, kill me now! Please, kill me!"

Returning to the card, he continued reading. "This lesson is intended to show you the importance of a proper seal on your mask." Whimpering, one of the recruits ran for the door. He scratched and beat on the door. Two more followed him and together they attempted to break down the door. Calmly, Drill Sergeant Kane walked over and hit them from behind with a stun baton. As the panicked men clawed and screamed, he beat them to the ground one by one until they stopped moving. Pulling a key from his pocket, he opened the door and threw their limp bodies outside. "Medic!" he yelled, as he slammed the door behind him.

"The rest of you are probably proud of yourselves," observed Drill Sergeant Smith. He smiled a huge smile and his white, pearly teeth glistened in the dim light that hid his dark face. "But this is also a test of your will. It tests how you handle panic." Looking over at the door, he said "They failed." Standing from his seat he said "All of you remove your masks." When several recruits hesitated he bellowed "NOW!" in a voice loud enough to shake the metal walls of the hut.

Kaue pulled his mask off. Folding it calmly, he tucked it back into the pouch. He remembered how he lay in the river, holding his breath until the long boat of the loggers passed by. He thought about the river, calm and slow, and pictured himself lying on the bottom, staring up at the sunlit surface. He could hear others around him choking and gagging.

Drill Sergeant Kane walked up to the recruit next to him, a stout farmboy from some land called Minnesota. "What is your name, recruit?" he shouted.

"Robert Banks, Drill Sergeant!" replied the recruit. He began choking, unable to control his breathing.

Kaue felt his eyes burning, and heard two more recruits begin choking.

"It looks like Big Chief Kaue from the Jungle can hold his breath a long time," observed Drill Sergeant Smith.

Kane nodded. He walked over to Kaue and leaned in until his mask touched Kaue's nose. "Don't you like my air, Jungle man? You got something against breathing my air? Too good for you! Name, rank, and serial number, recruit!"

Kaue knew he had to answer with as little breath as possible. "Kaue de Bare, recruit private, 34 Sierra Alpha 9346423"

"Wrong!" yelled Drill Sergeant Smith. "I've got your number right here, Chief, and that ain't it. Try again."

Kaue pictured the sunlit river surface, hoping he had enough breath. "Kaue de Bare, recruit private, 34 Sierra Alpha 9346432." As he finished speaking, Kaue knew that he was at the end. He had to breathe, and soon. Around him, recruits were gagging, rolling on the floor, and gasping for air. Some were crying.

Unable to resist any longer, Kaue inhaled a deep breath. The noxious gas filled his mouth, throat, and lungs. His eyes and nose were on fire, and it felt as if someone had poured lava down his throat. Kaue fought for control, trying to control his breathing and bear the pain. He managed to stay on his feet.

Drill Sergeant Smith looked at Drill Sergeant Kane. His expression of amazement was also one of amusement. Drill Sergeant Kane said "You just need to breath in this fresh air, jungle boy," as he pounded Kaue on the back.

Shocked by the blow, Kaue drew another deep breath. The gas burned him with an unbearable pain. He sank to his knees, unable to stand any longer. His vision blurred, he began crawling toward the door. Drill Sergeant Kane opened the door, and allowed the recruits to crawl outside. Each found a place in the grass to vomit, as had countless recruits before them. The stench of vomit would have been overpowering if they had been able to smell it.

Drill Sergeant Kane leaned over where Kaue lay in the grass whimpering and choking. "You were pretty tough today, Chief. But we break everybody. It's more fun breaking people like you. We always break everybody, and don't you forget that."
__________________
"When I was young, I used to admire intelligent people; as I grow older, I admire kind people." -Abraham Heschel

In a world of violence, the cross, that eminently counter-cultural symbol that lies at the heart of the Christian faith, is a scandal. -Miroslav Wolf

Visit my blog!

Last edited by Salah_ad_Din; 07-15-2014 at 12:33 AM.
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