01-03-2015, 04:30 AM
Several years in the military service of sleeping in armor has probably ruined my back beyond all hope. But it meant that I actually felt well rested when my internal clock told me to get out of bed, you lazy bum, which judging by the lack of light pouring though the porthole . I threw the bug ridden blanket I wrapped myself in, got to my feet, checked that my weapons were loaded, and got through the morning routine of exercise and hygiene (bar shaving, which I chose to wait on until I was back on terra firma) with minimal amount of kinks and I was out on the deck just as the sun started to rise on the horizon and the morning bell rang out.
I passed by the night crew and a few other early morning risers as on my way to the mess hall , the changing of the shifts and otherwise military setting making feel right at home. Complete with ornery greenhorns trying to drown their sorrows in coffee and the bowl of slop they were feeding everyone. I didn't see what everyone else was on about, it was not worse than the rations the USSMC fed me. I gave a grunt of thanks to the four armed man that handed me the bowl of food, and I was about to find a corner of the room to eat at I felt a hand tugging on the bottom of my backpack.
I spun around, ready to force feed the wooden bowl and the sludge it contained down the throat of whoever felt like such a wiseass to mess with my stuff, when I found blue-skinned hobbit-sized woman wearing smithy's clothes, and holding a gun bigger that she was, looking up at me .
"The boss wants you in the officer's quarters, ASAP" She practically ordered with a stoic and no-nonsense tone, the type you'd expect form a ship's quartermaster (the big gun was also a tip). I gave a shrug, and followed after her, leaving the slop in the unsuspecting hands of some sea dog as I left. I could hear the brawl start before I even got out of the room, and I'd remember to come back to it when I'm done talking to the captain.
If you thought that the food in the officer's quarters was any better than what was in the mess, you would be just as disappointed as I was. Disheartened, even. The long dinning table had in the center what looked to be slabs of meat and mugs of alcohol, but the meat was a vibrant red I would normally accommodate with a rotten tomato, and the beer was green and looked to have the consistency of grits. Captain Choprot wolfed down his share, but everyone else at there was just as happy as me to not touch the food as I was, so I kept to just picking at what veggies and fruit that wasn't already nabbed.
"You've been pretty friendly so far, captain" I complimented the ork as I faked drinking my thick green grog. At the very least the little I could eat tasted much better than the slop "We're already on our way, and you haven't even told me what you want out of it"
"We're 'alfway, actually" The ork corrected me, taking a much more real drink of his swill, grabbing Perry's mug once he finished his own "and I generally prefer to not wait. Plus, I find deals go much more smoothly when the other side doesn't know how to get back home" Both me and the captain let loose large laughs at that bit of humor, up until I stop and felt my heart sink into my gut as it finally sunk in that the joke was on me. He was right: They had sailed when I was asleep, and I had no idea which way port was. Even if I could fight my way off and steal a boat, I'd be going around in circles without any kind of map. I stared daggers at the freebooter, who simply gave me a wide and toothy predatory smile. "Aw, don't be sad, 'doomy', I'll keep a fair deal. So long as you 'old up your side.
Once "breakfast" was over, the table was rearranged into a square so everyone accounted could look over the map that the captain spread out upon it. I noted the familiar glum faces of first mate Perry and the quartermaster, and I noted the still completely covered Patches guarding the other maps when I attempted to sneak a look to which way port was. I gave a grunt of annoyance towards the mysterious bodyguard, and focused on the sheet the ork captain had spread out before me.
"What the Imperial gitz left behind isn't what's important to me," He explained to me as he chewed through a bit of red meat he had in his other hand "but I'z splitting whatever you bring back 'alf 'n' 'alf. So the more you get will only be better for you" The words he was using may have made him sound fair, but his toothy grin reminded me that he could take any amount he wanted. And he knew it. "But a rival captain decided to run his boyz into it, and no one's 'eard from him since. Either 'e trapped in there, git him out. Or the git iz dead. In which case, bring back proof of it. 'E 'as a gold ring with a heart shaped ruby, with a star cut into it. Don't ask why, 'e's a git. But it'z unique to 'im, and it would be proof of 'is deff. This will be your way in," At that, he looks down at the map, tracing his finger from a model of his ship to the sole land mass drawn onto the map: Crescent Lagoon, with a set of drawn on boxes with "Imperial Base" written in the largest square, The map was incredibly bare, but I got the impression they hadn't had much chance to scout the place before opportunity feel into their lap. my landing was on the western shore on the "outside" on the moon, opposite of where the base was "It's likely the imp's defenses are still active, so land as soon as you can see it"
"What's to stop me from just running with the loot myself?" I asked. Not because I planned on running, but because I wanted to know how they were going to trap my boat if they were to double cross me.
"There'll only be enough fuel to drive there and back. And if you try one of those sneaky prime tricks, Caral here will blow ya 'ead off" He glanced over to the blue skin girl, who gave a professional nod in confirmation. I could almost respect that stoicism if that rifle wasn't going to be pointed at me. "You got one 'our"
The alleged boat was not too unlike it's grown equivalent: A rusty piece of crap that was likely made from the parts of ships that sank years ago. At the very least the motor on the back worked. I had not intention of rowing towards the island that I could barely see at the horizon. Stuffed inside the back of the dingy were several empty duffle bags and, although Choprot claimed it wasn't important, I expected the green lug wanted me to have all of them full before I ran back. No food and only a single thermos of water, they had pretty much taken every precaution for keeping me from just leaving.
A rather needless precaution all things considered, since if I wanted to take everything for myself I would wait to get back on the ship before killing them and taking their supplies. That wasn't completely off the table, since the threat of double crossing was still on the table. I gave the sailor on the deck the signal, the rope tying me to the rust bucket landed in the dingy and I set off towards the island.
Whatever defense the captain was expecting failed to show themselves after I had landed. Not for lack of existence, as once I dragged the rickety boat up on the beach I noticed the small concrete housing that held automated turrets that would have sunk me if there were working. Rather easy to spot, as I could see one end of the island to the other and there was little in the way of natural cover. Only a few natural palm trees and a small layer of grass, and there was even less in terms of rocks or hills. Which is probably why it was chosen as a base. Few obstructions that could block sight, or prevent the building the defenses that littered the place. Small bunkers and tank traps surrounded the central base, a collection of concrete blocks and the occasional more interesting cylinder. All of them in some way connecting to the lagoon itself, which had been dug out and whatever local ecosystem it once had replace with machinery which would be used to repair the ships that came in.
It was an otherwise normal military base were it not for the complete lack of any life around it. No men in the guard towers or manning the fence. A chill ran down my spine as it reminded me of the military base on Phobos, where it had been silent outside but completely spewing with demons inside. Scanning across the bunkers and numerous windows that decorates what seemed to be the main building, the largest one which had it's own defensible ramparts and a tower that stuck out a few more stories above the rest, I could not see any movement with in. This looked to be a simply bash and grab, and hope to fine the captain the ork was look for. But I knew it wouldn't be that simple. Nothing ever was.
"Fuck me, I already hate this place" I said to myself, finding my own company preferable to the captain as his crew at this point. I loaded myself up duffle bags, held my pistol in hand, and marched across the island ground into the base proper. The gate was easily pushed over, the bunkers just as empty as I first through (with little in the way of anything valuable). But that chill ran down my spine again once I was inside, and saw just how quickly abandoned the place was. Notes and files were still spread out across table along with half eaten meals. Unfortunately for me, those same people that left their lunches had been less careless with the equipment, as the lockers I broke into held nothing bar the occasional empty ammo pack. I would have to venture deeper into the complex.
A corridor lead into the main building from the outside, large double doors at both ends keeping potential intruders out. There were little work for me, a few hits with the stock of my shotgun causing the locks to break off and clatter to the floor. I easily pushed them open, and I found my first clue that something was not right about this place. A putrid smell of dead fish that almost overpowered me. It was not was I expected. Most people would have probably assume that it had something to do with the food in the mess hall going off, or fish getting caught in the repair machinery. But nothing could have caused this much build up in such a short amount of time by accident.
Something was in here, and made this place it's home. I pulled my shotgun from it's place, and I once again found myself tiptoeing around a base with the only thing between me and whatever horrible monster stalked these halls.
Like good old times.
I passed by the night crew and a few other early morning risers as on my way to the mess hall , the changing of the shifts and otherwise military setting making feel right at home. Complete with ornery greenhorns trying to drown their sorrows in coffee and the bowl of slop they were feeding everyone. I didn't see what everyone else was on about, it was not worse than the rations the USSMC fed me. I gave a grunt of thanks to the four armed man that handed me the bowl of food, and I was about to find a corner of the room to eat at I felt a hand tugging on the bottom of my backpack.
I spun around, ready to force feed the wooden bowl and the sludge it contained down the throat of whoever felt like such a wiseass to mess with my stuff, when I found blue-skinned hobbit-sized woman wearing smithy's clothes, and holding a gun bigger that she was, looking up at me .
"The boss wants you in the officer's quarters, ASAP" She practically ordered with a stoic and no-nonsense tone, the type you'd expect form a ship's quartermaster (the big gun was also a tip). I gave a shrug, and followed after her, leaving the slop in the unsuspecting hands of some sea dog as I left. I could hear the brawl start before I even got out of the room, and I'd remember to come back to it when I'm done talking to the captain.
---
If you thought that the food in the officer's quarters was any better than what was in the mess, you would be just as disappointed as I was. Disheartened, even. The long dinning table had in the center what looked to be slabs of meat and mugs of alcohol, but the meat was a vibrant red I would normally accommodate with a rotten tomato, and the beer was green and looked to have the consistency of grits. Captain Choprot wolfed down his share, but everyone else at there was just as happy as me to not touch the food as I was, so I kept to just picking at what veggies and fruit that wasn't already nabbed.
"You've been pretty friendly so far, captain" I complimented the ork as I faked drinking my thick green grog. At the very least the little I could eat tasted much better than the slop "We're already on our way, and you haven't even told me what you want out of it"
"We're 'alfway, actually" The ork corrected me, taking a much more real drink of his swill, grabbing Perry's mug once he finished his own "and I generally prefer to not wait. Plus, I find deals go much more smoothly when the other side doesn't know how to get back home" Both me and the captain let loose large laughs at that bit of humor, up until I stop and felt my heart sink into my gut as it finally sunk in that the joke was on me. He was right: They had sailed when I was asleep, and I had no idea which way port was. Even if I could fight my way off and steal a boat, I'd be going around in circles without any kind of map. I stared daggers at the freebooter, who simply gave me a wide and toothy predatory smile. "Aw, don't be sad, 'doomy', I'll keep a fair deal. So long as you 'old up your side.
Once "breakfast" was over, the table was rearranged into a square so everyone accounted could look over the map that the captain spread out upon it. I noted the familiar glum faces of first mate Perry and the quartermaster, and I noted the still completely covered Patches guarding the other maps when I attempted to sneak a look to which way port was. I gave a grunt of annoyance towards the mysterious bodyguard, and focused on the sheet the ork captain had spread out before me.
"What the Imperial gitz left behind isn't what's important to me," He explained to me as he chewed through a bit of red meat he had in his other hand "but I'z splitting whatever you bring back 'alf 'n' 'alf. So the more you get will only be better for you" The words he was using may have made him sound fair, but his toothy grin reminded me that he could take any amount he wanted. And he knew it. "But a rival captain decided to run his boyz into it, and no one's 'eard from him since. Either 'e trapped in there, git him out. Or the git iz dead. In which case, bring back proof of it. 'E 'as a gold ring with a heart shaped ruby, with a star cut into it. Don't ask why, 'e's a git. But it'z unique to 'im, and it would be proof of 'is deff. This will be your way in," At that, he looks down at the map, tracing his finger from a model of his ship to the sole land mass drawn onto the map: Crescent Lagoon, with a set of drawn on boxes with "Imperial Base" written in the largest square, The map was incredibly bare, but I got the impression they hadn't had much chance to scout the place before opportunity feel into their lap. my landing was on the western shore on the "outside" on the moon, opposite of where the base was "It's likely the imp's defenses are still active, so land as soon as you can see it"
"What's to stop me from just running with the loot myself?" I asked. Not because I planned on running, but because I wanted to know how they were going to trap my boat if they were to double cross me.
"There'll only be enough fuel to drive there and back. And if you try one of those sneaky prime tricks, Caral here will blow ya 'ead off" He glanced over to the blue skin girl, who gave a professional nod in confirmation. I could almost respect that stoicism if that rifle wasn't going to be pointed at me. "You got one 'our"
---
The alleged boat was not too unlike it's grown equivalent: A rusty piece of crap that was likely made from the parts of ships that sank years ago. At the very least the motor on the back worked. I had not intention of rowing towards the island that I could barely see at the horizon. Stuffed inside the back of the dingy were several empty duffle bags and, although Choprot claimed it wasn't important, I expected the green lug wanted me to have all of them full before I ran back. No food and only a single thermos of water, they had pretty much taken every precaution for keeping me from just leaving.
A rather needless precaution all things considered, since if I wanted to take everything for myself I would wait to get back on the ship before killing them and taking their supplies. That wasn't completely off the table, since the threat of double crossing was still on the table. I gave the sailor on the deck the signal, the rope tying me to the rust bucket landed in the dingy and I set off towards the island.
Whatever defense the captain was expecting failed to show themselves after I had landed. Not for lack of existence, as once I dragged the rickety boat up on the beach I noticed the small concrete housing that held automated turrets that would have sunk me if there were working. Rather easy to spot, as I could see one end of the island to the other and there was little in the way of natural cover. Only a few natural palm trees and a small layer of grass, and there was even less in terms of rocks or hills. Which is probably why it was chosen as a base. Few obstructions that could block sight, or prevent the building the defenses that littered the place. Small bunkers and tank traps surrounded the central base, a collection of concrete blocks and the occasional more interesting cylinder. All of them in some way connecting to the lagoon itself, which had been dug out and whatever local ecosystem it once had replace with machinery which would be used to repair the ships that came in.
It was an otherwise normal military base were it not for the complete lack of any life around it. No men in the guard towers or manning the fence. A chill ran down my spine as it reminded me of the military base on Phobos, where it had been silent outside but completely spewing with demons inside. Scanning across the bunkers and numerous windows that decorates what seemed to be the main building, the largest one which had it's own defensible ramparts and a tower that stuck out a few more stories above the rest, I could not see any movement with in. This looked to be a simply bash and grab, and hope to fine the captain the ork was look for. But I knew it wouldn't be that simple. Nothing ever was.
"Fuck me, I already hate this place" I said to myself, finding my own company preferable to the captain as his crew at this point. I loaded myself up duffle bags, held my pistol in hand, and marched across the island ground into the base proper. The gate was easily pushed over, the bunkers just as empty as I first through (with little in the way of anything valuable). But that chill ran down my spine again once I was inside, and saw just how quickly abandoned the place was. Notes and files were still spread out across table along with half eaten meals. Unfortunately for me, those same people that left their lunches had been less careless with the equipment, as the lockers I broke into held nothing bar the occasional empty ammo pack. I would have to venture deeper into the complex.
A corridor lead into the main building from the outside, large double doors at both ends keeping potential intruders out. There were little work for me, a few hits with the stock of my shotgun causing the locks to break off and clatter to the floor. I easily pushed them open, and I found my first clue that something was not right about this place. A putrid smell of dead fish that almost overpowered me. It was not was I expected. Most people would have probably assume that it had something to do with the food in the mess hall going off, or fish getting caught in the repair machinery. But nothing could have caused this much build up in such a short amount of time by accident.
Something was in here, and made this place it's home. I pulled my shotgun from it's place, and I once again found myself tiptoeing around a base with the only thing between me and whatever horrible monster stalked these halls.
Like good old times.
![[Image: oGzCtPC.png]](http://i.imgur.com/oGzCtPC.png)