Character Outpost

The Italian man looked up when he saw the young woman come back outside.

"Is... everything okay?"

"Everything is roses," Yomiko replies. "Maybe something bad hit his gut?" She tips her hat down as the sunrays come across the clearing. I better be cautious about the food..

edited 21st Feb '11 5:28:02 PM by QQQQQ

Upon approaching, the oddity of his position seemed to gradually increase. A bespectacled, hawkish man with what might have been a gun talked with a hulking blond fellow (also armed) and a woman in a filthy suit. A small woman in a white dress gutted a snake, aided by the tall, well-dressed man he'd run into earlier. A taller, possibly quite beautiful woman emerged from the hut, her movements indicating bemusement.

He felt as if it would be prudent to say something.

But what was to be said? "Hello, I'm an imbecile who started the day thinking that being dragged along by his brother to Mexico City on business might have been a good thing! I have no idea how I got here, but I'm certain that I'd rather be at home, or at least in an air-conditioned hotel room! I'm seventeen, and therefore have no life experience whatsoever with which to relate this to, and with my luck, I'm going to die! Painfully!"

He stopped in his tracks. Had he just said that out loud?

Yes, he thought. In Welsh.

With fitting velocity, he brought his right palm to his forehead.

"Maybe he didn't boil the water enough?" Adel mused in response to the safari-lady's report.

Further discussion was stalled by the youngest newcomer rambling something in a language that Adel didn't know and then facepalming. Strongly.

"Uh, care to share that in English, or German?"

(OOC: Figured I'd stick with my favorite character for now: Gant. Incidentally, for anyone needing a quick frame of reference for body type, he looks somewhat like this, minus wings and face.)

There are a lot of trees in the jungle, as most know. What most do not is that certain trees have deep secrets, and the older the tree, the greater the danger it carries. For instance, at a tree not ten meters from the outpost, two and a half tons of camouflaged metal sat in a hunched pose at its roots, overgrown by moss and other plants, resembling nothing more than a miniature hill.

Its former designation had been GANT: General Armament, Neural Transfer. He had adopted it as a name, seeking to make himself the avatar of the destruction his kind once caused; it stuck. He was in mourning, already having sat in the hot jungle mire for a decade. Utterly alone. But the sound of voices awakened him, and he slowly lifted his head, visual sensors taking but a moment to regain their focus, plant matter falling away as his limbs rippled and settled back, clean and exposing the dark gray of slate once more.

His blank faceplate swiveled about, and he began to walk toward the outpost, gaunt frame sliding easily between the trees as he slid from the shadows. The raw muscle was showing on his arms and chest, but he had no time for basic amenities; while he was alive, it mattered little what form he took.

"It is good to see people once more." His voice had suffered most, the long years of disrepair twisting the synthesizer's pure notes into a hoarse and grating whisper. "In... ten years. Maybe more. What brought you to the dark side of hell?" He stepped fully into view, back sagging, one arm still not entirely calibrated, dangling nervelessly. None of the others appeared threatening, at least.

edited 21st Feb '11 9:34:15 PM by Morgulion

Aleister trudged back with the bucket, swishing and spilling water. As he crossed back into camp, everything looked normal, until he saw the metallic giant parked in the middle of the place. The bucket dropped and Aleister blinked. This had to be a delusion. A simple trick of the mind.

He opened his eyes. It was still there. It was real. Without warning, reason gave way to instinct and the skeletal gold wings erupted from his back, kissing him with lips of white hot pain. The wings dripped with a viscous red fluid and burnt with bright gold. They practically heated the air itself.

"Who are you?"

Yomiko — jaw wide open gaping and so do her eyes, watching the wings rip out from the man's back. Something dripping down its outlines. The man stares intently on something— somebody.

Is this a..

Yomiko — her eyes open wide, turning around to face the thinly nanomechanical construct, a human stretched upwards like pastry dough to its limits, and given a rustic finish.

Instinctively, she pulls a hand to her safari pockets holding the 8 x 12" placards.

edited 21st Feb '11 9:47:07 PM by QQQQQ

Gant looked at the... companion machine. Without a word, he stepped back tiredly, feet scuffed by the mud and dirt, and raised his one good hand in front of his body, letting it grow into a set of sharpened claws,tips pointed back. He only wanted to defend himself for now. And he should have expected this, but he had been too overcome by the concept of human company once more. But things never changed.

"I am not here to harm any of you." He was growing tired of the rasp the synthesizer gave him, and slammed a hand against his chest, feeling something snap into place. The static was gone from his voice, leaving it deep but clear once more. "I am not here to fight." That made it twice that he had said that, over a span of 253 years. "Put away your weapons, construct." At least he had no grown unused to command.

Just then, his body finally snapped back to its full state, searing him with pain for a moment as he shifted muscles that had atrophied over the years. Now, he no longer needed to guard himself. Gant wrenched himself upright, shaking off the last of the growth like a dog, and folded his hands behind his back. "That is far better." Once more, he was glorious.

Confronted with this vastly strange sight, Yomiko is reluctant to let go of the paper in her pockets. She eyes the figure top to bottom. "Who are you?!" she squeaks out with a high voice.

edited 21st Feb '11 10:08:12 PM by QQQQQ

(OOC: Good night, everyone.)

"It would take quite a while to explain," he said. "If you want a blunt answer, I am a renegade soldier who grew tired of war." Although his perfect exterior did not show it, there were scars on him. Deep scars that bled occasionally, and far too often when it came time to fight. He had been right to turn to fatalism and slash the bonds that tied him, for now the burning was but a small ember in the back of his skull. Inconsequential.

"If you want a detailed answer, there is none. I have no desire to speak of events past, and they no longer matter unless I am the one remembering them. For those of us who wish to find knowledge-" he looked down at her, stretching his back and rolling the muscle over his shoulder blades, trying to work out the kinks, "-there are certain walls that ought not be crossed. My past and present nature is not one of them; suffice to say that I am merely an observer."

edited 21st Feb '11 10:21:45 PM by Morgulion

Adel said something short and not-so-sweet in German. Well who wouldn't? One machine looking like a mangled and stretched Terminator walks out of the jungle, and the guy who's porch your standing on sprouts wings.

"I don't remember licking any tree frogs," Adel said to himself, "Well that's just magnified my bill."

This wasn't the first time things had left the realms of normal everyday understanding. But normally it wasn't a) so sudden, b) he knew going into a job that something odd was going to be waiting for him. The rate for weird shit was five times normal shit, the rate for unwarned weird shit was ten times. And he didn't have any of with weird weaponry. Great.

There was nothing that could do justice to the ascendant ridiculousness of the situation, he reasoned quickly, but to accept it for what it was.

He lowered his head and, staring at his shoes from between his fingers, began to laugh softly.

edited 21st Feb '11 11:01:19 PM by JHM

Aleister cocked his head to the side, almost curious. In his mind raced a thousand possible courses of action, while Aleister tried to find which was the best. He could see it in the metal titan's... well, not his eyes. He didn't have those. But body language said enough. He walked the same way he did. Like a tired soldier.

He sighed once more. How complicated things became when you added other humans into the equation. Submitting to the circumstances, he retracted the wings, opting instead to head back inside and fix himself a cup of black coffee. On his way through the door, he stops to ask the metal man.

"Why are you here? What soldier would take respite in a warzone?"

"Is it really?" Gant asked. "It had been silent when I came here. Was, in fact, the reason I chose this place. I have slept for quite a while." So, it truly was fate, the all-consuming war that followed him. Now that he mentioned it, there was a certain tang of human suffering permeating the air, and Gant raised his head, trying to see what else the air held, but found almost nothing.

"I see. Well, let us say that I had not expected this development. So, if this is indeed such a war zone, my presence here is almost natural. But then what are your ends here?" He realized that he was still keeping the same 2.5 meter form, and forced himself down, crushing the form to an all-too-human two meters, tall but nothing out of the ordinary.

He hoped that there would be no fighting. It was not problematic in its details; his body was still the same machine engineered for purest war, but he needed time to consider things, see how to act once he had scouted the path before him.

"I would assume that at least a few of you are soldiers. The rest, then, are mercenaries and the accompanying group of technicians seeking something of value. Gems? People? Weapons?"

edited 22nd Feb '11 6:08:05 AM by Morgulion

Elena was not half as surprised as most of the other camp members. Many of them had stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of Gant and Aleister sprouting wings. For Elena, however, their appearance was only one more threat. The problem lay in determining what kind of threat.

“Mind if I ask a question?” She continued without waiting for a reply. “How old are the two of you? More than a billion years?”

The last question was the important one. The difference between a great one and just some guy.

Pela Springs. Isaac had heard of her. He hadn't read any of her work — as far as he was concerned, botanists were essentially flower collectors compared to biochemists such as himself. But she was definitely an academic and, to judge by her style of dress, she wouldn't work in the industry if someone put a gun to her head.

His thoughts were interrupted by the woman in the suit. "Oh, right! The flower! Yes, it's... well, its monetary value is nothing compared to its potential applications for the good of the human race." And Sigmund's wallet, but best not to mention that now.

Glancing at the Sicilian, Alice said, "thanks for the hand. Actually, can you finish up?" With that, Alice slipped out, investigating. She passed by a man speaking Welsh — she recognized the language, but didn't know any — and paid him no heed. Disappearing into the jungle, she eyed one of the stranger things she'd seen in her life. The man who had first greeted them had sprouted wings, and there was a tall machine, which had clearly seen better days. But it was still clearly a weapon of war. She listened into their conversation.

The machine was... weak. Its physical strength was no doubt impressive, but Alice could not respect it. It had grown "tired" of bloodshed. Alice couldn't imagine such a thing. And the man — the man who had sprouted wings — he was a similar soul. Perhaps it was a tendency of soldiers; Alice had always been an assassin. She didn't have to worry about anyone but herself and her friends, and didn't have to take any job she didn't want to. Still, as strange as they were, they had done her no wrong. So she would let them be. The wings and the machine were odd, like nothing Alice had ever seen, but so long as they only inhabited the ordinary three spatial dimensions, and followed the usual flow of time, she could tolerate them.

Alice slipped out from the jungle and greeted the machine with a curtsy. The suited woman had asked how old they were, but as far as Alice was concerned, so long as they had ages, as opposed to existing beyond time itself, they were fine in her book. She said, "there are two 'things of great value'. A flower, and a botanist. The flower is... well, talk to Isaac. Black guy, glasses. Flowers look the same to me. The botanist... some idiot, but one of the mercs is getting paid to look for her. I'm planning to help, got nothing better to do."

Alice also made a point of examining the machines. She'd never fought one before. She hoped not to. She always said she could kill anything that bled — technically speaking, machines weren't covered by that promise.

Isaac, standing in the doorway, snapped a photo of the machine and attached it to a message he sent to Sigmund via satellite phone: "we're gonna need backup."

edited 22nd Feb '11 9:28:06 AM by KillerClowns

So, without even glancing at the odd machine and guy with wings now with him, the seasoned chef started working with the snakemeat. He opened the smaller bag, which turned out to be his bag of professional-level set of cooking knives, cut a few unusually large pieces down to size, then began cooking the meat, ensuring that it would get hot enough to neutralize any possible toxins.

I guess you could consider it odd that the machine and wings didn't seem to bother him, though being a chef really isn't really a line of work where odd things are seen frequently. It was almost as though... stuff like this was normal to him.

Because it is.

Gant looked at the suited woman. "Younger than that. Only 210 as a machine, the other 43 as a human. It has still been enough time to waste."

That other woman was a soldier. He could feel a certain cadence of her movement and an anticipation that hovered around her, coupled with the thin reek of blood on her clothing. She was looking at him proudly, and it was true that his new appearance inspired no particular respect. Still, if a fight were to break out, she would be the one to start it, or at least one of those who would willingly participate. He had to watch her, not intently, for she posed no threat, but to see how it all would develop.

"Mercenaries hunting flowers?" he asked mockingly. "That is a fascinating employment indeed. Well, de gustibus non disputandum. I had not been aware this was such a hotspot of activity."

"My purpose here... As a soldier yourself, the answer should be apparent." Aleister looked into what he imagined to be Gant's face. Lines and creases dug deep into Aleister's face and his milky eyes stared blankly. His actual age was 23, but he looked at least three times that.

"I have no purpose. I have no reason. I have no dreams. I only have orders."

Alice replied to Gant, "an object's value is what one will pay for it. For reasons only a scientist could explain, these flowers are worth a very impressive amount of money. I assure you, if I were offered enough, I would go skipping through fields, picking dandelions while singing songs from The Sound of Music."

She had made up her mind. The others, the old soldiers, the machine and the winged man, they were agreeable. She relaxed her stance; they would not seek a fight with her, and she had no reason to start one with them. Perhaps she could talk one into a friendly sparring match, simply to test herself, but aside from that, she was content to leave them to their own lives.

At any rate, there was plenty of prey — human and animal alike — for her to hunt. She returned to the hut and briefly watched the Sicilian work. He was clearly an experience chef, and seemed remarkably at peace. She was glad to see another competent individual, and wondered if he'd be any use in a fight. Perhaps he had some sort army experience? She decided she'd ask later, and began digging around until she found a broom. She promptly hacked off the sweeping end, then found a small but serviceable knife, and some twine. She fashioned a spear from these, and then said to the Sicilian, "smells delicious, but I don't think that snake will feed us all. I'm gonna go stab something bigger." She turned to leave, but then stopped and said, "hey, would you mind extracting the venom glands for me?"

edited 22nd Feb '11 12:51:16 PM by KillerClowns

Well it appeared the weird shit wasn't going to be attacking him, so Adel relaxed a little. The others had started interrogating them, a very weird line of questioning to be sure. What did it matter how old they were? Though Adel had trouble believing that machinery was that developed two centuries ago. That would place this guy in the middle of the seventeenth century.

"I wouldn't really call this a war zone," Adel noted, "That would imply sides, and treaties, and rules of engagement. This is just an area with a lot of groups with guns."

Feeling a little frightened of the two, Yomiko decides to follow Alice into the wild for the hunt. She glances once or twice over her shoulder, perhaps imagining that some things would blow up. They don't, luckily enough.

She pulls out her jeejah, making it play some nice tunes as she walks alongside Alice. Her feet break vines and slosh the muddy ground brimming with wildlife. A centipede crawls along the moist and decomposing remains of a fallen tree.

After a while of walking through the dense brush, Yomiko thinks it better of herself to get to know her companions while she's at it.

"Say.. why don't you tell me about yourself?" she asks. "What brings you here with your partner?"

edited 22nd Feb '11 2:24:53 PM by QQQQQ

Alice responded by gently tapping the blunt end of her spear on the jeejah. "No music," she muttered. "Keep quiet." She slipped silently through the underbrush, spying a large boar chewing on vegetation. Pork: her second favorite meat, and it would make a proper meal for anyone who actually ate meat... or, for that matter, anyone who ate at all. She suspected it wasn't native, but a feral pig, some descendant of escaped livestock. With a twisted hybrid of a smile and a snarl on her face, she stooped low and crept up upon the boar, and then, before it even spied her, she thrust her spear into its mouth and through its brain. It didn't even get a chance to squeal before it died.

With a satisfied smirk, Alice went up to the board. Then, turning to Yomiko, she said, "ah, yes. Me and Isaac. Hey, get ready to grab an end of this pig, will ya? Anyways, Isaac's the one talk to if you wonder about things like 'why'; I just... I solve problems. Me and Izzy go back. We're old friends. Nothing more, let me make that clear. I've never had any interest in love or sex, not with men or women. Anyhow, Isaac got a job with Western Amalgamated when Sigmund found out that he was not only a brilliant biochemist, but a tough bastard. You can ask him for his life story, but cut it short, growing up in the wrong part of Detroit taught him some skills they don't teach you in any college I know of. Ooh, hold on!"

She looked up and spotted a tree with some bananas. "Stand back; this is no throwing spear, so this could take a while." After several attempts, Alice managed to knock a bunch of bananas to the ground. Satisfied, she continued, "me and Izzy go anywhere a sane scientist wouldn't dare, we get whatever chemicals Sigmund — that is, Sigmund Clark, the CEO of Western Amalgamated and our employer and friend — thinks might help our bottom line. And me? I'm me. Like I said, I solve problems. I could make up some bullshit, but why bother? We're in this together. So, the truth: sometimes I steal things. Sometimes I leave scary messages in places I shouldn't be able to get to. Sometimes I bug places. And occasionally, I slip something toxic in someone's food... or a knife in their ribs. Poison's better; I like a good fight, but a smart hunter doesn't play by the rules. But I don't kill innocents, no matter how much I'm paid. I'll steal from them, frighten them, maybe break a few of their bones if they're assholes, but I'm not some common thug. Right now, here in this jungle, I'm making sure Isaac get his damnable flower and gets out alive. I suppose I'll help out anyone who can't protect themselves as well but — nothing personal — Isaac gets first priority."

She then examined her haul; an impressive boar, slightly larger than herself, and a bunch of bananas. "Shit," she said, "I don't think me and you are gonna be able to haul all that."

edited 22nd Feb '11 3:31:29 PM by KillerClowns

Yomiko had remained silent when Alice went on her digressions, her rants. Alice certainly has the shady history behind her — she would even go up to petty tricks for her needs. Yomiko can only speculate the possible experiences behind Alice's words (Did she grow up struggling? &c.)—

Oh, no time for that now, we've got to haul our prize in. This stinking pig carcass, flies whizzing around the fresh open wound. Pigs go through their food like butter. Sixteen pigs can run through 200 pounds in as little as eight minutes. One pig alone goes through two uncooked pounds, every minute. Hence the well-known expression "as greedy as a pig."

Yomiko is not going to bother getting her hands that dirty, she has some of her own tricks up her sleeve. She yanks out a strand of placards from her pockets — the 8 x 12" pieces seem to flutter down like overtaxed butterflies for a moment, and she focuses her energies, forming a concrete instrument out of these pieces.

She makes two strands of sturdy, lengthy rope for this job. Made of tightly compacted paper.

"Here," Yomiko says nonchalantly to Alice, "we can tie knots on him."

edited 22nd Feb '11 4:12:00 PM by QQQQQ

The chef nodded in response to her question to extract the venom glands for her before she left. The snake pieces were browning nicely and actually smelled pretty good, so he flipped them over to finish cooking. He then turned his attention to the snake's head, staring at it for a moment as he decided on a plan of action. Recalling that most snakes use their fangs like hypodermic needles when injecting venom, he decided to split the head all the way open along its jawline and then locate the glands.

Why did she want the venom glands again? Who knows. Maybe she wanted to take it back with her, like that multicolored flower they were asking about earlier. He switched to his paring knife and started to remove them carefully, not knowing if this was going to be like preparing fugu or not. Ugh, fugu...

edited 22nd Feb '11 4:29:02 PM by CrystalGlacia