Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

Okay, I'm about top put up the last 5 pages of RP's pn the site now. Oh, and sure I'll start in Cali. The only thing I ask is can someone basically sum up what's hapenning for me? Would be greatly appreciated.

yo Target,nice to see you're back buddy.We thought you were gone for good.You sure proved us wrong.
I might not be able to post for the next couple of days,i've got an annoying exam next thursday and my brains basically mush for the moment...so feel free to add my character in while i'm not here.He's outside the city trying not to die......yeh

Alright, nvm lat post. Just uptated the site(Hooray!), all of the alien sagas are up and ordered. Plus I redid the character page(Only recent profiles). If you guys wouldn't mind, wouldya add this to your sig? Thx.

((Think I'll hit the ground running.))

"What's the situation?"

"Not a good one. Take a look for yourself."

Jennifer handed David a pair of old, rusty binoculars. "Sure picked a fine time to leave..." he muttered.

A large convoy appeared in the distance. From what he could see, roughly half had guns, the rest had crude bludgeon or cutting weapons. They were in 4 old Army deuce and a half trucks, no big deal. What worried him was the jeep with the rather large repeater on the back. In California for 2 hours, and already a greeting party.

"Think we can take them?" whispered Jennifer. Jennifer was the groups only marksmen, touting an M14 that was likely older than both of them put together, at the age of 19 no less.

"I'm sure we can. The problem is, do we want to take them? I thought we were finished with this anarchist bull crap...guess old problems die hard. Spread the word to the rest of the convoy, we have a fight on our hands." As Jennifer waved the red flag, David tugged out his revolver, and checked if it was loaded.

The cylinder yanked to the side. 8 shots stared right back at him. Good.

The sound of various guns and weapons being drawn were like music to his ears. They were ready. 8 vehicles against 5. "Jennifer?" he called.

"I hear ya." she called from the top of the deuce and a half.

"Please get rid of the gunner before he makes trouble." A shot rang out, and the gunner's head disappeared in a spray of red mist. The distance between the convoys was rapidly shrinking. David readied his revolver.

150 yards. 100 yards. Jennifer opened up on them with lethal accuracy. 75 yards.

Luckily, David's convoy got the first volley in. Those with guns raked the raiders vehicles with reckless abandon. Cries and grunts of pain were barely heard above the roar of gunfire. David sighted in on a raider who was trying to man the repeater. He gently squeezed the trigger, and the .45 rocked violently backward, and the raider fell backward, clutching at his throat.

However, fun time seemed to be over, as the raiders were preparing to retaliate. Not good...

David prepared to duck, but was then struck with inspiration. "TAKE OUT THE TIRES!" he bellowed. Those who didn't blow their entire clip trained their fire around the tires. One by one, they were extinguished.

The radio crackled. "Convoy clear! Welcome to California!" shouted the lead driver.

Corpses lie around, stab wounds and various cuts protruding. Blood oozed from a particularly fresh corpse, though not all of these were his doing.

Dan reseaths his Katana, gazing up at the sky with a questioning look. How many more are to come? Will this ever end? Can we even win? Why are they here? Will Earth ever be the same again? Slowly these thoughts drove Dan to his knees, while he uttered an instinctive bellow of partial anger, partial confusion in his ever growing insanity.

Finding a barely suitable spot, Dan rested for a moment. He checked himself over to find a changed man. His gentle face was now rugged with dirt, cuts and blood, and he couldn't tell if the shadow he saw over his face was really ther or a figment of his imagination. His once lanky figure grew to a larger build due to both the carrying of his weapons and fighting battles. His hair was long and shaggy, due to the fact thatg the midst of war leaves no time for frivolous physical feature restoration. But not only his outside appearence changed. He was becoming a more enraged, parially mad person due to loss of contact wit the outside world. If he din't find another survivor fast, he would surely lose his mind.
kaplip, kaplop, kaplip, kaplop
Dan's ears perked up at the sound of gravel and feet colliding. He drew his Wakazashi and crouched, preparing to gain the element of surprise over the enemy. He caught a glimpse of one's face, and saw the malvolence behind it. His temper and rage, unleashed by the cold and raw emotions of war, began to rise rapidly. How dare this vile, disgusting bastards attack us. What right do they have to kill us off and inhabit the panet, sucking it down right to the core. Well, by the last breath he took, he would stop them. He charged, uncaring of the element ofsurprise anymore. He stabbed a soth right in the back of the head, useless shots being fired fom the now lifeless corps. More footsteps could be heard through the lot, ewhich meant this bastard had some friends. While he began to ran, the Soths enclosed his shelter with a living barricade, while soldiers rushed in. There had to be at least twenty surrounding him, and in his fatigue he was in no condition to fight. The Soths adance, preparing for the final blow...
(( Now in the next RP, someone(anyone) in California will come to my rescue(Please). That, or I'll gladly change the ending.))

((Alright, I'm way too damn lazy to catch myself up on the story with my character and the guy he's with, so could someone throw me in somewhere so I can have some place to continue? I'd appreciate it.))

((You could save my guy? Also, all the recent RP's are on the site(link on pg 121).))

Nick gasped in pain as the spear that was intended for Eddy's throat clattered harmlessly to the ground. He instinctively brought his other hand to the gash running from the middle of the side of his hand to about an inch above his wrist. He had miscalculated the spear's velocity, and hit the metal head instead of the wooden shaft.

He looked over at Eddy and bellowed, "Will you watch what's coming at..."

*BANG*

Nick was taken aback at the sudden explosion of noise from Eddy's gun. Nick whipped his head around just in time to see the crossbow bolt explode, taking out the thing carrying it and about a dozen Soth's to boot.

Time seemed to freeze. Everyone looked at the smoking crater where a moment ago, stood the Soth's mightiest weapon of this battle. The defenders recovered the quickest, slaying any Soth stupid enough to hang around on the walls. The luckier Soths made for the ladders. The ladder protested violently to that kind of weight overload, and didn't take much cajoling to fall over.

Some Soths lucked out and landed on grass. Others hit rocks or trees. Things broke. Not the scenery.

Tossing the corpse of a Soth Nick had just snapped the neck of off the wall outside, Nick finally had a chance to take a deep, calming breath. He took his hat off and scratched at his head, wincing as he did so. He could feel a bastard of a headache coming on.

"Great shot, Eddy, you really..." Nick trailed off as he saw Eddy lying on the wall. "Aw shit! Eddy!" Nick was beside him in a flash, checking for vitals. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt a pulse.

"Dude just faint?" inquired Ethan, finally catching up with Nick, Tony in hot pursuit.

"Yeah, dunno why....Jesus!" Nick looked up at his friends and dropped the mild oath. Tony had a black eye and several more bruises. Ethan was nursing a split lip, bloody nose, and what looked like a nasty burn on his arm.

"You too. Your arm, and your face," said Ethan, pointing.

Nick holstered his gun and felt his face. Something sticky transferred to his hand. He pulled it away and saw a large blood smear.

"Here," Tony handed Nick a small mirror fragment. Nick looked at his face and shied away. His left cheekbone was sliced clean open, leaking a small river of blood down his face and neck. A metal fragment was stuck in the left side of his forehead. Nick grabbed it and yanked it out, crying out in pain as he did so. More blood trickled out, mixing with the already congealed blood on his cheek, chin and neck.

"Man, that was fucking intense." said Ethan, staring out at the retreating Soths. Nick glanced out and saw that their numbers were greatly reduced, as they had left behind their wounded and crippled. Their cries filled the rank air, adding to the cries of hurt defenders, begging for medics.

Nick jerked his head towards a cluster of injured, "Let's leave Eddy here to sleep it off. He's not hurt, just out of it. He'll be fine in a short while. Let's go help so people that really need it."

(( Just a side not for those with writer's block, on the site(link on page 121) there's a forum to collaborate on ideas for new chapters))

((This is a shoot back to something I wrote a few pages back. Cannibal, essentially whats happened is Target is the leader once more, and in the story Joseph's Hill came under attack, and managed to fight it back, it came from Sothland, and was quite costly to the people, but thats not what I'm writing about.))

"Marines, gather!" Shouted the captain, flawlessly managing to pace in an impatient fashion, even on the deck of a heavily swaying ship. She was the Happy Raven, flagship of the merchant-man of war, a certain Mark Freeman, which was flying its flag somewhere north of Bergen. The men came from every plausible opening in the great steel vessels deck, dressed in light green camouflage fatigues, carrying light backpacks, shortswords at their sides and G3's and silenced AK's cradled in their arms. Their heads were covered in matching helmets, and they wore hiking boots, purposely covered in dirt to hide their fresh new shine. They numbered a little more than 30, and each wore a patch on their upper arm, on it was depicted a gray wolf swimming through green water, the emblem of the Green Bay mariner's guild, a sort of association of traders who often associated themselves with the crown and its interests. Those who wore the patch were members of their personal army, an extension of the Lakes military.

"Alright men, listen up. Here we are, the middle of a place my navigator tells me is called Osterfj, this fjord is luckily seldom plagued by Begenese patrol boats, but don't get careless, this is a very dangerous place for allies of Oslo now." The captain looked out over the water, which tossed and turned relentlessly in the dim, morning sky. "Our helicopter airlifted in a few soldiers to meet up with the Oslo trailblazers late last night while you were sleeping, so we can expect them to be dropping ladders down the side of this damn cliff any minute." He walked forward toward the group of men before him, some of the older ones standing perfectly still on the foredeck, their legs used to the water, some of the younger ones barely managing to keep from falling over on the wet steel. "Now we leave as soon as I'm finished briefing you so get ready, we may not be scheduled for any fighting today, but that doesn't mean it won't happen, these damn fjords are high and we don't know the lay of the land. I will tell you what I know, though, this is Malhoont country, the damn things will rip you apart in seconds if you let it, so be aware." One of the younger men began to sweat, and as soon as the captains eyes fell on him he said, "You nervous Freeman? A new marine like you should be, thats what separates those who survive from those who die."
The young man let his gun, a shiny new G3, fall to one hand and with the other he saluted the captain with the other, saying, "Yes sir, danke." He continued to sweat.
"Now now, no need for formalities, Freeman, especially on your father's ship." There was a light laugh from the other men. "We reach the side and find a ladder, climb up and get into position with the trailblazers today, then we wait for the time to strike. The idea here is to combat enemy attrition with knowledge and harassment, we learn the place and lead the Oslo army and Dirk's friends from Germany when it arrives, until then we beat the hell out of Bergen supply lines. Easier said than done though, Malhoonts and Bergeners plus anything else thats lurking around these woods will make it difficult, but we are Lake Marines, the best the Green Bay has to offer." The men let out a small cheer before waiting for him to finish speaking. "Good, your officers have information about where your ladder is, so get to your boats and good luck."

The tiny fishing boat's motor roared weakly as it pulled slowly up to the side of the massive fjord, waves crashing into it constantly. Six men sat in the boat, its gray steel hull bumping lightly into the rock as the man at the back killed the motor. "This the place Jens?" Asked one of them, the man in charge, his face covered by a camo burlap hood, like all the others.
"Yes sir, see that red x on that tree up there?" He said, one gloved hand pointed at a dead pine with a rough looking x on it sticking out of the side of the steep cliff.
"No, but I trust your eyes." Said the officer, grabbing his AK and a flare as he stood up. The men around him began to stand as well, preparing to finally get off their boat. They had been sitting for nearly half an hour on the rough metal benches, so their asses ached like an old man's arthritis. He raised the flare, clenched in one sweaty glove, and shot it straight into the air. Almost immediately after the tiny red beam left the barrel of the gun a rope ladder uncoiled down the side of the cliff. "Mr. Freeman, you first."
The young marine jumped at the sound of his name as he stretched out on the shaky boat.
"A little nervous there Ben, wie gehts?" Said one of the older men mockingly.
"I never thought I could sweat so much in this frigid weather." He responded as he grabbed one side of the creaky rope ladder. The officer patted him on the back before following behind. The cliff was steep and tall, so they would be climbing for some time before reaching the top.

((Ok, um... I still don't know how I'm gonna jump back into this. On an unrelated note, I'm finally out of high school. WOOHOO! And I got The Incredible Hulk for my PS2 (the new Hulk). I haven't played it yet, but it's an open-world game, which I like. I hope it rocks.))

((Sorry for the unrelated crap. Please don't kill me.))

((Damn, I just kept telling myself "Someone will post, someone will post." Guess I can't assume everyone else will take some initiative. Seriously, if you don't post the thread dies, slowly too, working its way to page five. So heres a little idea, POST!!! I know we all have shit going on but you can't in all honesty tell me you haven't got one 2 hour period free in the course of three days. I have stuff going on too, weddings to go to, parties to go to, friends to see, classes to take and tests to study for, cars to drive, meals to eat, television to watch, but I still find some time.

Regardless, I shall post once more to save the thread from falling to page five.))

Ed awoke, breathing hard, an aching in his neck and sweat all over his forehead. He looked over at what he had been sleeping on, and it all made sense. Ed had spent the rest of the evening sawing logs on top of the ramparts with a spear as a pillow. A slight feeling of anger passed over him for just a moment, broken immediately by the groaning of the wounded men, still being cleared off the battlefield. Instead, a certain degree of disgust hit him hard for being angry at not being taken off the walls. Around him the dead and dying were begging for attention, and he, hardly a scratch upon him, had nothing to be angry about. Nay, Eddy had much to be thankful for. He wasn't dead, his limbs still worked, his town was still free and (for the most part) alive. Yes, Ed was doing pretty damn well, morning sun shining on his face, giving him some slight sunburn. He was, very very Irish.

He rose to his feet, watching that he didn't step on any bodies or pieces of wood lying around, strewn across the walls like leaves on a forest floor. Screams and rusty squeals echoed in the quiet morning atmosphere as soldiers carted off the dead in old wheelbarrows. The sound of metal on dirt was a bit faint but Ed heard it as he walked down the stairs and out into town, which was mostly clean. The town was quick to dig these graves, fairly touching, and sort of depressing. The grass was wet with dew, but he couldn't help but think that it was blood, at least some of it. It was a long walk home for Eddy, lots of sights to see. Carts full of bodies and shovels full of dirt, as well as the chorus of moaning from each and every building. A glorious morning.

Ed house was not spared from the sight of the wounded, for as he entered he could here them, sobbing and pleading to invisible men standing over their beds. They cried and asked people who weren't there for relief, they asked whether they were in Heaven or Hell, they begged for their family. Local girls playing nurse were attending them as fast as they could, meds were limited in little border towns, but the Captain of the town's garrison requested some be brought in. The shop portion of the home, the smithy, however, was empty save a few tired faces sitting around a little table near a window, sipping cold beer. They were Jak, Nick and his associates, and Ed's father, the strongest looking, but obviously the most tired face of the bunch.

"Well look who decided to show up." Said Nick, trying to sound as natural and friendly as he could manage. "Sorry about leaving you up there all night, what was left of it anyway, but-"
"Don't be," said Ed, raising one hand. "You had more important things to do anyway, I don't envy what you, if anything you probably envy me, up there all night, not lifting a damn finger-"
"Hey now, don't short change what you did," This time it was Jak who spoke. "You did plenty during the siege, I'm surprised your up already." Eddy's father just sat silently, taking swigs of his drink, his eyes full of thought, sweat dripping off of his beard.
Ed sat down and began to drink as well, talking with them, reminiscing, for about 30 minutes. The screaming went down and several nurses took their break. Almost out of no where, Ed's father began to speak.
"Son, I need to speak with you, theres something you need to see." He rose from his chair and beckoned Ed to follow him. Without a second thought, he complied and they were out of the door, leaving the rest of the men to speak amongst themselves, contemplating what that was all about.

"I need you to look at something lad, something I seen out there last night." Said Ed's father, his prized shotgun cradled in his arms. They were walking fairly fast for the east gate, most people were taking a break to morn as it was nearly noon so there were no distractions.
"Sure, but what is it that is so urgent that I see this?" Ed was a little worried, his dad seemed different, not so logical and stern. I guess his emotions were finally showing themselves, provoked by recent events.
"You'll see. Now then, that letter I was writing, about that crazy motherfucker, Richard, who burnt down the Tilly, well I sent it yesterday. I imagine it will get you an audience as soon as you want one, but theres something I found out there, connected to this somehow." They had moved out of the gate now, walking through the killing field between the walls and the woods. His father's eyes scanned the ground, looking for landmarks, looking for the right corpse. "Here it is! Come close son." He said, setting his gun down on the corpse of a horse. Eddy came close to it, examining it.
It was a man, dead, a bullet in the stomach. He was a fairly average looking person, about 5'8", brown hair and a mustache, the attire of a military man, cavalry judging by the length of the sword in his hand. Ed looked at his father for a moment, confused and about to ask what was up when it dawned on him. This was one of Richard's men!
"What the fuck?" He stood up, and looked away, partially in surprise and partially in revulsion. His hands made mad gestures of confusion, his eyes trying to decide whether they wanted to be open or closed. He looked at his Dad again, standing now as well, and asked, "What in the nine circles of hell is this all about?"
Just as his father was about to respond, he paused, making a strange grunting noise. Ed furrowed his brow, about to ask what the problem was, when the tip of a sword poked through his father's stomach, and then quickly drew back, Ed's father merely falling aside and landing with a wet smack as he corpse hit the grass. There, behind him, a cruel look of satisfaction on his face, stood Richard, flanked on either side by Soth soldiers, their muskets pointed at Ed, cocked and ready kill him in the course of a second.

((Alright I think that Joe's hill is near me, so I shall ccontinue my story, since no one's feeling up to my rescue, than you very fu**in much!))
Panting, Dan had two choices: Stay here and die, or run like a bat out of fu**in hell. While choice one ws easier, Dan wasn't done just yet with his life. He charged for their northern wall, where the Soth were the weakest in numbers. He chrouched, and sprung off... Right over the Soth's head! "what the fu**? Must be adrenaline!" He ran, an army of about 50 Soths on his ass. He was tempted to turn around and take them, but he'd be dead before his first swing. So, he ran for his fu**in life. As he ran, he began to see a hill in the distance.

Meanwhile, Joe sat on top of his hill, overlooking a nice scenery. Some fellas were hanging in the back, recooperating from some damn nasty battles. But as Joe began to drift off, the ground began to rumble. "what the hell... My god!" Joe saw an army of at least 50 Soths chassing a bloke that an for his life. "Guys! Get your asses out here! And bring some weapons damn it!" "What do you wa.. Oh my god! Everybody, fire at them Soths!" The battle raged as the group shot at the Soths, and suddenly the Soths switched from their lonely, nearly dead victim to this group that was a threat. The Soths charged, but the group fought hard. As the Soths dwindled, though, so did their bullets. Everyone ran out of bullets, and all the melee weapons were in the hill. The 5 or so remaining Soth began to advance rapidly. But , one by one the fell. A shuriken protruded from each of their heads.Dan uttered a smile from his near exhaustion. "Thanks for the help, mates!" He collapsed to the ground in sheer exhaustion.

"Damn, that was a fierce battle" " My wuestion is, how did that guy outrun an aremy of Soths?!" Dan perked up at this question. "You'll never know what you can do when you r life is on the line" Joe came to the side of his bed. "Woah, easy there, mate. Have you seen yourself? You a damn mess of scas from head to to! Better get some rest, we're gonna need your help in the future." Dan fell asleep, willingly obliging/ My, it was weeks before he had made contacted with humans. Who knows what would vcome...

Finn slowly opened his eyes.He had been unconcious since the giant cross bow bolt had narrowly missed.His body like all others were thrown on a pile outside the walls of the city and left to rot while the stray animals and flies feasted.Finn pushed a body of a bandit from offf of his body and held his breath.The smell of more than a dozen bloody corpses could bring a grown man to tears.
Finn climbed away from the mound as quickly as possible and expelled the contents of his stomach onto the floor,he wiped his mouth with the spare bandage in his pocket.His eyes darted around to see what had happened since his descent into blackness.The battle was over and the monster was dead,one hell of a shot that killed it.Bodies lay everywhere and blood stained the remnents of the city walls.The doors hanged from their hinges loosely,at least finn could get into the city now.

One of his revolvers had been lost in the battle so decided to grab his bow from his horse.amazingly his horse was still alive and seemed to have conquered its wounds.
"Nice to see a friendly face again"
Finn carefully clambered atop the horses back and slowly entered the city.It was quite a shock.
The screams of the dying pierced his heart and the bodies of the fresh dead laid along the streets in a line,it was a long line.
"Such loss of life,what for exactly?"
Women and children brushed passed Finn and his horse carying whatever was useful for treating the wounded.He saw bandages and wool as well as bed sheets and curtain remains.
finn watched as the wounded screamed for attention and aid,many were not receiving it for there were not enough able bodied to help.The ranger jumped from his horse and pulled his jacket from his back.Finn slowly lowered himself to his knees and folded the jacket up as best he could to from the shape of a pillow,he slowly lifted a legless man's head and placed it behind him.The man screamed with agony,Finn knew he wouldn't live but decided to stay by his side anyway at least until he passed on.
Finn shook his head in sorrow.
"so many dead and so many more dying.What was the point?"
Finn would wait until the dying man travelled the long road of death then he would find who was in charge or at least someone that could talk to him.

"We're here! Port Town!" David shook himself awake; this was his stop. For the past 3 weeks he had been traveling in a combined arms convoy. In the United States, after the bandits were mostly eradicated, some local governments had enough money and supplies to form state convoys for travelers to be safe from remnants and survivors of the bandits. David had taken one such convoy to the edge of California.

He retrieved a letter from his worn jacket pocket. It was from his brother, and father, telling him that something very bad was happening down at London Town, and they wanted his help right away. It was dated 2 years ago.

David stepped off the truck, waving goodbye to his travelling companions. The trucks drove off, and he raised his hand to cover his eyes. When the dust settled, Jennifer was standing right in front of him.

"And why are you not on the convoy?" David asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion. She didn't answer, avoiding his gaze in preference to her boots. "I can wait all day, you know." said David, growing impatient. Finally she looked at him.

"Because I want to!" she blurted out. She blushed, but continued. "There's nothing else left for me here, and you're the only one that's respected me. So take me with you!"

David sighed. "Sure are a quick one, aren't you? Since you got no other place, feel free to tag along. No funny business though, ya here me?"

A look of relief came over her face. "Where are we going?" David pointed to the bustling docks. "We're hitting the first boat to London Town."

((The site has been updated again,and I put the link in my sig, all the RP's are up their, character profiles, forums, guestbook, would be nice if the site was actually used. In a bit of writer's block, so I can't post a story as of now. Oh, and can someone please start posting besides my, Chickydidow(sorry, can't spell it) and Target?))

((I'd imagine you'd be able to see this happen Misumena, so feel free to step in.))

Ed's mind was rushing with anger, firstly at the sight of this bastard, walking with Soth none the less! Secondly at the death of his father, who jerked violently on the ground at his feet.
"You son of a BITCH!" Screamed Ed, one fist raised.
"Ah ah ah, rash actions get foolish young men killed Edward. Watch your tounge and your fists." Richard tapped Ed's fist with the flat of his blade mockingly.
"First you take the lives of my fellow townsmen, and now you've taken one of my kin! You'll pay for this Richard, I'll kill you." Ed lowered his fist with difficulty, his eyes filled with hate.
"Empty threats will get you no where, though I suppose it will get you no where." he said, an arrogant smirk on his face as he sheathed his blade.
"Why? Why did you return, and betray Benito while you were at it?" Ed could hardly contain himself.
"You ask me why? I suppose I owe you that much," the tone of his voice darkened as he continued. "Why does a man betray all he believe in?" A slight spike of anger shot through his words. "Why does a man turn his back on his countrymen? Why would I, or anyone, go against all they believe in? Self preservation is a powerful motivator."
"What?" Ed said, genuinely curious.
"Benito is losing this war, look around you," Richard motioned to the battlefield, still littered with bodies. The blood was still fresh, the smell was nauseating, the sites ghastly. "A well established town like Joseph's hill can barely hold this position from an small detachment of Soth soldiers."
"Not fair, the thing that lead them, there were many soldiers, you can't short sell what we did!"
"EXCUSES!" Richard's face was fraught with paranoid anger, as if defending his actions. "The beast that lead the force was one of several, enough drugs and steroids and anyone has that potential. With the number of good young men being brought in from the east we can-"
"What do you mean? Brought in from the east?" Ed smiled as a shocked look spread across Richards face.
He stepped forward rapidly and knocked Eddy to his back. "You've heard to much, I'd suggest you get to your knees and stand still, it won't hurt as much if we get a stead shot to the back of your skull!" His lips curled with hate, he motioned one of the soldiers to take aim and prepare to fire. Ed rolled over to his knees, trying to think. [What do I do, their going to kill me?] He heard a click from behind him, the shifting of feet and the holding of breath. Around him was nothing but stained grass and dead bodies, including his father. Ed fought the tears as he tried to think. [What do I do?] His hands searched around rapidly for something, when they happened upon something familiar. [The shotgun, thank Jesus you brought it with you dad!]
With one, powerful motion Ed swung the gun up and knocked the Soth rifleman's barrel of course, sending off one random shot, breaking the solace of the solemn day. Richard had already walked off, Ed spied him mounting a horse. Upon seeing that Eddy was alive, he quickly ordered his other soldier, who was helping him onto the horse, to finish the job before taking off to the south. Ed wouldn't go down that easy. He got to one knee, bringing the butt of the magnificent gun to his shoulder, the safety was thankfully off, so with one pull of the trigger the confused and surprised Soth fell to the ground. The other Soth hit the deck at the sound of a gunshot, which moved him just out of the way of Ed's second shot, which was dead on. [Damn, little bastard!] Ed got to his feet and quickly ran forward. A rifle shot nearly clipped him in the leg. Nearly, but right afterwards, Ed leaped behind a horse conveniently nearby, barely dodging another rifle shot. As he got into a good shooting another shot trimmed the horses skin, barely missing the top of his head. [Bastard had me pinned down.] Ed searched around behind him with one hand, laying on his stomach, ready to jump up and shoot the Soth the first chance he got. After two more shots were fired, Ed wincing with each one, his hand finally found a helmet, essentially a small steel bucket. Ed carefully worked it back up to his face and put it on the barrel of his gun. He held his breath, prayed, and slowly raised it up from behind the horse. Five shots were fired, knocking the cheap bucket off behind Ed someplace. Ed listened with all the intensity he could muster, finally catching the noise, a few hushed clicks. The bastard was reloading.
Ed lept to his feet and raised his gun. "STOP!" He screamed as he looked down on the man before him. He was short, had very tan skin and black hair, he wore green fatigues and painted green helmet similar to the one he had shot off of Eddy's gun. His entire worried face was covered with sweat.
"DON'T SHOOT, DO-" He paused, coughing for breath as he raised his hands and got to his feet. Panting, he finished, "Don't shoot . . ."
Eddy rushed forward, anger starting to work its way back into his system. One look at the weapon he was using brought a rush of hot, steaming blood to his face. He shoved the barrel into the shuddering man before him and said, "Why the hell not?" The man recoiled with a wimpier. "ANSWER ME DAMMIT!"
"Because I'm just a soldier! I'm just doing my job!" The Soth soldier shouted.
Ed lowered his rifle, and with a disgusted tone he said, "Follow me or else I'll kill you." And began to walk towards the gate, slowly, preparing to answer questions that were bound to come.

Finn held the hand of the dying man as his life finally ended,a tear ran down his own cheek as his last breath was released.
"Thank you,i'm glad there are still some noble men"
Finn nodded as the mans head fell back limply,he was gone.Finn carefully grabbed his jacket and flung it once again on his back,he looked around slowly.It seemed very quiet especially seeing as there was a battle only a few hours before.Apart from the screams,it was quiet.

Finn walked over to his horse and grabbed a scratched canteen from the saddle bag,he took a few mouthfulls then returned it to the bag.The ranger stroked the stallion and breathed deeply.
"Well,it seems i was not of much use,pity"
Just as finn had finished talking to himself,anarchy was let loose.Just up the road,a braage of gunshots echoed from a building.Finn did the smart thing and told as many people as possible to get down.Finn grabbed a little girl just in time as the battle moved into the streets.The two ducked as the bullets whizzed past.Out of the corner of his eye,Finn saw a man run down the street and hide behind his stallion for cover,a second man quickly followed hoping to kill the runner but his aim was far from accurate.
Finn looked at the weapon the pursuer was carrying and noticed that it was his.He shook his head,before the day was over his weapon would be reclaimed.Finn kept out of sight and watched as the pursuer now obviously the bad guy frantically tried to kill the other man,he was wasting bullets like they were hairs.Finn watched The runner tricked the pursuer into wasting the bullets in the revolver.When the chance struck the runner jumped from his hiding place and pressed the rifle to the bandtis face,Finn couldn't hear what the two were saying but came to the conclusion that the bandit was pleading for his life.

The better armed man pushed the bandit forward towards the gate and walked ahead a couple of feet.Finn scrambled to his feet silently and followed suite.He grabbed the bandit just in time before clubing the runner iver the head with the revolver handle.Finn squeezed his arm round the bandits neck and whistled to the man armed with the rifle.
"you should watch out or you could regret it,he was about to club you"
finn pushed the bandit to the ground and stood on his back,he grabbed the revolver from the bandits hand and placed it in his hoster where it belonged.The ranger stared at the man who now pointed the rifle at him.
"Calm down mate,if i wanted to kill you i would have done it already.I wan't to help you.You're smart and you look like you're on a mission.Well if you need some help,then now's the time to ask.The name's finn"
The man slowly lowered his rifle.
"Now thats better,Well let me just get my horse,the one you so nicely used as cover while ducking from this idiots random firing.He obviously didn't know that you must be precise when firing a revolver rather than wasting the bullets in a matter of seconds."

Finn took his foot off of the bandit who stayed resting on the floor and walked to his horse,he slowly lead the stallion towards the bandit and the man who took him down.
"So what should i call you friend?"

Jak: *Squirt* Fuck fuck! Nurse nuuurrrse! Get yer ass over here!

Jak had left Ed's house after he and his father had left, being the only actual doctor for miles around he was fairly busy with the wounded. He wiped the dark red blood from his eye with the hairy back of his arm, smearing it and leaving a maroon stain from eyebrow to sideburn. He could taste the blood in the air, but that wasn't what was annoying him, he was used to blood, even felt more cozy when his hands were elbow deep in someones torso. What was really pissing him off was that everyone in the "imfirmary" was running around like stupid chickens with their heads chopped off!

Nurse: Yes sir?

The nurse was young, maybe 16, with a slender body, fair hips, huge lustrious lips, and eyes that could drop a man if she stared to hard. [She shouldn't be seeing all of this gore.] Any other time Jak would be hard pressed to control his "head", but right now was not the time. Right now he needed to fix this man's internal bleeding and sew him up, but with a slashed artery that keeps squirting in Jak's eye it was near impossible.

Jak: Grab a clamp, that bottle of Chloriform and bring 'em over here!

She looked slightly disappointed at his loud voice, though he wasn't mad at her, she went over to the shiny Stainless Steel table set up a few feet away from Jak and his patient, her hip tipping from left to right as she stride, [So maybe I do need to focus.] and picked up the also shiny instruments. Going over to where Jak was standing she dipped the utensils into a small pan of Hydrogen Peroxide as to keep away infection and handed them to Jak.

Jak: Ok, take the clamp and place it here, on the artery, now squeeze as hard as you can...

Her breast were most likely pushed together as she used both of her delicate hands to clamp the liquid spouting dragon but Jak stared straight into the man's body, the wound was pretty severe. A blade had come acrossed his mid section, splitting it open to let his entrails spill out. Ofcoarse the jakass' bringing the man back on a stretcher didn't think pick them up from the dirty ground so that they would need to be cleaned of dirt and other debri before being sewn up.

Jak: Ok, take the Chloriform and make sure he's still asleep, he's not going to want to feel this next step...

Jak took a surgical blade from his unravelled (SP) kit and heated it over the fire, which thankfully was a propane flame instead of a wooden, or coal one. When the blade became a bright range he touched it to the clamped artery, the end searing together. [There, that should stop the bleeding.]

Jak: Nurse! Sew him up!

He ran over to the next work table where a man had his right leg barely hanging by peices of flesh from the knee down. There was no way he had the correct equipment to fix that injury, not in these conditions...

Jak: Sir, it has to come off...

Man: Wha...

The man's words were cut off as a nurse, the same one from a few seconds ago, put a Chloriform soaked cloth over his mouth and nose.

Jak: Can I get a bone saw!

"Well, my name is Ed, Eddy McCreedy, what brings you here of all places Mr. Finn?" This newcomer was a curious sort, twin pistols like those were rare, seeing as everything had to be made one at a time. His dress was uncommon for the area, Ed figured he must be from the east.
"Well nothing in particular, what happened here? The corpses and blood, someth-"
"We were attacked," interrupted Ed, throwing a harsh glance to the prisoner as they walked towards the gate. He threw a hate filled kick at the prisoner, saying, "This bastard and his kin from Sothland decided to try and take the town. We held the town, and routed their force."
"And this man? What would an enemy be doing on the battlefield so long after, well, the actual battle?"
They had passed into the town, curious faces peered out of windows and barely open doors as they walked down the street. The screams had subsided, probably due to the gunshots, much in the same way an entire forest falls silent at the report of a gun. "He was an . . . accomplice of, a traitor." Ed looked at his gun, his father, taken. They passed the ashes of the Tilted Tilly, it and all those who were in it that night, taken. He looked around at the half dug graves being squeezed into the town common, all of who they were meant for, taken. Ed sighed and said, "He has taken more from this town than you can imagine."
Finn was taking in the grisly sights as well. "I'm sorry for your loss." was all he could find to say.
"Yeh, thanks." They came up to the stable, its old wooden walls were too full of horse shit and hay to house any wounded, and surprisingly Thomas was still working there, his face as tired as Ed had ever seen, a bandage on the side of his head. He got up form his stool at the open doorway, swinging noisily in the breeze, giving some sound to the quiet, solemn day.
"Mr. McCreedy, who are your friends?" said Thomas with a young man's interest.
"His name's Finn and the other one doesn't matter," Ed shot another dirty look at the prisoner. "Now how'd you get that bandage lad?" replied Eddy, genuinely concerned.
"Oh its nothing Ed, some Sothy bastard got lucky is all." Ed could tell he bore pride in his battle scar. It was amusing, and saddening.
"Good boy, now why don't you take Mr. Finn's horse into the stable and then lead 'im to my house." He looked over at Finn now, "You can stay there for the day, I won't be long, just have to take this bastard," pointing at the prisoner, "To the garrison."
Finn nodded and handed the reigns of his horse to the young man, who hurried off into the stables with it. Ed gave a small wave of goodbye before shoving the prisoner in the direction of the garrison, in the direction of the hill of Joseph on the north side of town.

* * * 20 minutes later * * *

"SPEAK DAMMIT!" Yelled the officer, throwing another hard punch into the prisoner, who's now bloody, bruised body was bound into a chair. Ed had brought him to the garrison, a fairly large building on the hill, its windows closed, the door guarded by gun totting soldiers. The officer had been ecstatic to have a prisoner, shaking Ed's hand and promising him a reward. Ed, however, said the only reward he needed was to sit in on the interrogation, to which the Officer had given a dark, hateful nod. Five minutes later he was brought to a dark room in the back of the building, the only light within was form a few candles. Soldiers stood in each corner, and in the middle, illuminated by a battery lamp, sat the prisoner, sweat running down his face. Ed took his place in one of the corners and the officer approached, and the interrogation began.

"I won't ask you again, what is your name?" said the officer coldly, he was an average looking man, 6', red hair, a short beard and a shaved head in military attired, brown pants and a green fatigued shirt with a few patches on the arm.
The prisoner, in all gray, sat sweating, his face drenched in the greasy liquid. "M-m-m-my name is Ricardo Gasset!" He screamed with a defiant sneer.
The officer gave him a strong backhanded slap. "Your in no goddamn place to be insolent, Sothy." A look of pure disgust was on his face, his brow curled downward, his lips quivering, his eyes merciless. "Now, Mr. Ricardo Gasset, tell me, what was the planning behind the strike at Joseph's Hill, what was the point?"
Red hot tears ran down Ricardo's face, but his face remained aggressive. "You think they would tell me asshole?" Another crisp slap traveled across the prisoner's face. "Stop that!"
"I'll stop hitting you when you stop lying." replied the officer in a casual tone. Ed felt sick watching this, but he needed to know, needed to know about Richard. "It is my understanding that your commanding officer was recently a man named Richard, a former Benetian cavalry officer. What exactly was he doing here, and where would he flee to?"
Ricardo thought now, Ed could see it, his face was that of a man weighing his options. After a minute, he replied, "He came here to scout the defenses of the town, see if it was in weak enough of a condition to risk another attack. The way I see it, you aren't. The business with that as- . . . man in the corner is news to me."
Ed stepped forward now, his face barely illuminated by the lamp. He pointed his finger into the face of the prisoner and said, "That commander of yours killed my father, my friends, and plenty of good spirits in this town, and your going to tell me where he's headed."
Defiance returned to Ricardo, for he spat back, "Up your mother's crotch and around the corner," a dark smirk crossed his face.
Ed threw a fist into his stomach, to which Ricardo coughed up some blood from his dirty, bloody lips. "Watch what you say you evil bastard!" Yelled Ed, ready to throw another punch.
Ricardo laughed weakly, saying, "Evil? Evil? Friend, you best learn there is no evil in this big fucking world of ours, just different shades of gray and fucking white! I do what I do because I'm a soldier, and I certainly didn't become one so some Irish fuck wit can call me evil."
Ed threw another punch, this time into his balls. The officer held his hand out in front of his other fist, already getting ready for another swing. "Thats enough Ed, I think he's passed out." Indeed, Ricardo had fainted, for the fist of an Irish fuck wit to the balls had been the straw that broke the Sothy's back. "You'd best head home now Ed, I'll send a soldier by if we learn anything more, take it easy out there huh?" said the officer, wiping sweat off his forehead.
"Yeh, you too . . ." Ed was escorted to the door by a soldier, after which he promptly headed home, a deeper, more sick feeling in his stomach than he had ever felt before.

((So whichever of you wants to take it, Misu, Jak or Blue, then go for it.))

((Ooo, after reading that bit Chickidy I feel delitefully evil...))

Jak had been indeed elbow deep in blood and guts for the past 6hours, feeling the gritty intestines slip over his blood matted hairy arms as he pulled shapnel and dozens of magezines full of ammunition from screaming men, or for the lucky ones, passed out men. The Chloriform had done wonders to keep most of the shouting down, and after he had found an assistant to aid him in his practices (the attractive lady from earlier) he found the work to go quite easily. Though after long hours of standing in the dimly lit rooms with blood practically filling the air, he just wanted to sit.

And that's what he did, after looking only one 1 patient, an older man who had been struck with a sword almost directly through the heart and severing most of the right lung, Jak was amazed the man had been breathing, but now he sat in the McCreedy house, sipping on his sweet tankard, and just gazed at the wall. It was nice to relax sometimes when the blood was over. [I wonder where that big guy is?] As he thought that simple brain spark he heard the back door open with a squeel. [That should really be oiled.] The wooden floors thumped with the heavy footfalls of Eddy McCreedy entering to the kitchen.

-Jak: Where ya been mate? (Speaking low to fit the headache and cozy feel in his brain)
-Ed: Took a prisoner to the Garrison, asterd passed out half way through questioning though. (The was a hint of controlled sadness in his voice as he sat with another cup of mead)
-Jak: Oh really? Anything special about this fellow? (His voice was lighter at the promise of a captee)
-Ed: He, he killed my father... (He spoke in hardly a whisper, so low that Jak sat a while to process the answer)
-Jak: ...

Jak wasn't good at consoling people he'd just met, so taking the easy option he jumped up from his chair and slid it under the table, all the while Ed simply sat in his chair, staring into the honey colored brew. Picking his leather bound tools up from the table and sliding them into his white coat pocket he walked to the door, gripping the handle he heared Ed speak.

-Ed: Where ya headed lad?
-Jak: I am going to go...imploy, my services. (His voice sounded normal as if he were going on a nightly stroll, or the watch stars, but his true intentions were a little more...painful)

-------------------------

It had taken Jak 5mins to get to the jail after he'd gone in the opposite direction and questioned numerous citizens as to the where-abouts of the building that the prisoner was being kept. Once he arrived there he had spent an extra 15mins explaining and reexplainign to the sheriff that he was not going to rescue the prisoner nor was he going to kill him, he only wanted to...talk. The sheriff finally caved and allowed Jak permission to interveiw the target alone, as long as the sheriff remained outside, Jak thanked the man and strode into the room.

The prisoner stilled had his head lowled ((This the correct spelling?)) backward and to the side with a trail of saliva dripping onto the floor, his body was stripped down to nothing but a pair of breifs, possibly done by officers earlier. Jak pulled up a wooden chair and sat upon it, the wood creaking silently as he pulled out his tools and set them on the floor unraveled, along with a small white capsule. He took the white capsule from the ground, brushing the dirt from the casing and reached over to the man's nose with two hand clenching the pill-like thing. Snapping the canister in two let out it's powerful vapors to be inhaled by the soldier's nostrils, a second passed and Jak saw the man inhale a deep breath [Fantastic], only to be exhaled as a hurried gasp of coughing and choking.

-Richard: (Through ragged gasps) "What was that." (A powerful snort)
-Jak: (Casually sitting back and tossing the capsule to the ground) "Smelling salts of sorts, used before The War to awake people from sleep, don't worry your nose will burn for a few minutes but it's not toxic."
(Sitting back in his chair he began to pick at his own nails.)
-Rich: (Still trying slightly to exhale the remaining aroma) Smelling salts?
-Jak: Well actually it's called Amonia, but that isn't important right now, what is important (Looking the man in the eyes) is what you want to tell the sheriff or whatever he is, what he wants to know. And then you will apologize to my aquaintance for murdering his father.

Jak now had risen from his chair and began to circle to man strapped to the chair accross from him. The man had sucked in all his spit when Jak came to the front once more, only to recieve a face full of blood and mucus. Wiping it from his cheek Jak mearly shrugged and picked up his Surgical Steel blade, twirling it between his fingers and continueing his pacing.

-Jak: Now ya see here Rich, can I call ya Rich? Eh, doesn't matter. I have a problem with people who go around killing innocent people, esspecially those who don't fess up to their crimes against humanity. (He was now looking at the chandelier illuminating the room as the shining blade gleamed) There's this technique I read about in a very old book (stopping behind the man), the Chinese I believe it was, created this very technique to make prisoners, such as yourself, talk...or in other cases just for the fun of it. (Bending behind the man's ear) Would you like to know it's name?
-Rich: Fuck off scum. (His words somewhat quivered, maybe by the bruises on his body, maybe by the calmness in Jak's voice)
-Jak: In do time, but first I need my answers. And just so you know, the art is called "Chinese Papercut torture", and what it is, is that the torturer takes a finely honed blade, such as this one (Holding the blade up for the prisoner to see) and cut ever so carefully just below the surface. The target is cut thousands of times, all very minor, nothing to die over, but all touch the nervous system causing emenss pain...

Jak wasn't a bad person, and nor was he phyco, but he'd found that playing mental games as well as severe physical torture could be an extremely well negotiation tactic when dealing with people of such filth. Walking infront of the man he carefully drew the blade down the man's chest, eliciting a "Gah!" of pain. The man was panting heavily...

-Jak: You can't be done already? It hasn't even gotten good. Soon I will work my way down, keeping away from major arteries so you can feel the pain that you put others through. (His words were dripping with hatred and disgust for the worthless sack of skin)

Turning from the man he set down the blade and picked up a large bottle, extracting an eyedropper from it full of clear liquid. With it he dripped the contents over the first mark. The liquid hit the skin with a hiss as it smoked slightly, bubbling the only slightly blooded cut...the traitor screamed.

-Jak: That would be Sulferic Acid, burns like a sonofabitch, can't imagine what it feels like in an open wound, specially so close to nerve endings. Well only 999 more to go, that is...unless there is something you want to tell me?

Richerd's nech was tight in anguish, his eye's would clench close and open looking like a bewildered Helldeer caught off-gaurd, but coming onto Jak's face, he said nothing.

-Jak: Fine by me, order up for cut number 2.

--------------------

It was hours later when the screaming stopped, the prisoner was actually quite willing to take pain to hold a secret, Jak had even had to "forget" his place when reachin 999 marks, but they all give in the end. Pounding a fist on the door and waking the Sheriff from his slumber just outside the room in a wooden chair.

Jak: He has something to tell you...

With that he left the Sheriff and a man looking half cut to ribbons to have a nice conversation as he returned to his place of refuge until tomorrow. Noone would be awake at this time of night, so he planned on heading straight to bed, no thanks were needed, nor wanted for that matter.

((Whoah , 0 characters remaining, this it the longest thing I've ever wrote. Just had to do it, since there's barely any other place for my char to use his "skills".))

((Eh, cna't leave off like that.))

Jak stumbled into the house, the gear he'd brought with him stored in the armored ambulance parked behind the house except for his regular tool kit that is. As he reached his couch he picked up his freindly neighborhood wastebasket and again emptied the contents of his stomach. [Even doing bad things for a good reason can have repercussions of the soal I suppose] His head swooning from the sudden noticable loss of energy he held it on one sit with his hand and with the other he put down the trash-bin in it's place, luckily fast enough to get it there as he passed out on the floor.

((That felt good to write after such a long period of silence, but I need to sleep, should be already. See you all sometime tomorrow.))