COMMAND: New Entry
STANDING BY...
They're insane. Completely, totally insane.
One minute, we're on the causeway, which is *just* calm enough that I can pretend we're over one of the Terraces back home and maybe get some sleep, and then the next minute there's an explosion and the truck's careening towards the edge. Sam's firing at something off to the right, but I can't acquire a target. I don't turn away for more than three seconds, and somehow in that time the driver takes a hit and goes down.
And then, as fast as that, it's all over. There wasn't any terrorist attack. It was all them, feigning our own abduction. And for what? So we can "do some covert work" off the grid? So they can get more money from Paxton for our "ransom"? Did they even think they they're blowing up military property, injuring an innocent bystander, and putting all our lives in jeopardy? God's tears! How mad do you have to be to even come up with this insanity?
And as if that weren't bad enough, we have to travel the rest of the way through the swamp. Because that's *just* what I need right now.
PUBLISH ENTRY?:
COMMAND TIME OUT
COMMAND: Delete
ENTRY DELETED
*****
COMMAND: New Entry
STANDING BY...
Okavango smells like something died in the swamp. Something probably did. A lot of somethings probably did. Tom and I made it in without too much attention, and the raft that we floated in on obliged us by sinking thirty seconds later, thus hiding our means of entry. Thanks be to God that it was thirty seconds after, and not thirty seconds before. How people willingly surround themselves by water -- stinking, unclean swamp water -- at all hours of the day and don't go mad, I'll never understand.
The Emir's forces here are brutal. I have no idea what things were like in Basal before... well, before everything... but I hope it wasn't like this. Tom and I walked right past a trio of guards on some racketeering spree. It reminds me of the days back before the war. I never spent much time in the Prospects, but I had friends there, and they'd tell me stories that sounded just like this. At least in Peace River, people fought back. If you can't trust the authorities, you've gotta make do for yourself. But here, the sajhalin don't even do that, they just take it. It shouldn't be allowed.
Listen to me, ranting like a radical. We're here to do a job and get out, and step one is getting some new identity, given that "Maia Kessler" is apparently off-limits while we're still "ransomed" by the Emirate Liberation Front. Tom says he's got an idea, and it's not like I've got too many options right now.
PUBLISH ENTRY?:
COMMAND TIME OUT
COMMAND: Delete
ENTRY DELETED
*****
COMMAND: New Entry
STANDING BY...
Bread riots. Okavango's having bread riots. Why haven't we heard about this before?
I missed the riots back home after the war. I was stuck in a hospital bed, pacing the hall on a leg and a crutch, watching the riots on trideo. But it looked a lot like what I saw today. Damn.
These people are starving. You can see it in their eyes, the way their faces are sunk in. There were children in that crowd. There was a girl -- couldn't have been older than six -- who got trampled underfoot when the crowd swarmed the guards. Yes, there are children starving in Basal, too, but at least they've got people like Brother Herbertson to go to. People who look out for little children with nothing to eat. Here... whatever twisted sense of justice these people adhere to, taking care of starving children doesn't seem to be part of it.
I've got trideo of the riot. Not that it'll do much good. Too far away for anyone to care, and even if anyone did, it's not like they can do anything substantive.
I can't sleep, and all I can see is a little girl getting trampled. I never thought I'd wish to be back in Basal.
PUBLISH ENTRY?:
COMMAND TIME OUT
COMMAND: Delete
ENTRY DELETED
*****
COMMAND: New Entry
STANDING BY...
We've met our contact, and (unfortunately) reconvened with Delacroix and his gunslinger. I thought his impulsiveness was unchecked before. How little I knew. For reasons known only to himself, he's assured the local resistance that we'll just waltz in and assassinate the Emir. Because if we're already on the MILICIA's shit list for blowing up their van and shooting their driving, why not go for the big leagues?
I was impressed that there's actually a resistance movement here at all, given the MILICIA and SRIF presence, not to mention the brutality of the Emir's forces. Delacroix, on the other hand, decided this was a prime moment to give them a lecture on how to fight the war they've already been fighting. Arrogance and insanity, all in one conveniently tied-up package.
Maybe I'm just sleep deprived. Maybe his grand master plan will reveal itself to me after a few hours of shut-eye. Or maybe he's just bat-shit crazy.
PUBLISH ENTRY?:
COMMAND TIME OUT
COMMAND: Delete
ENTRY DELETED
*****
COMMAND: New Entry
STANDING BY...
The people here want Bhravo. No one will say it too loudly, not with Thoras' men in every shadow, but you can tell. If Thoras goes down, Bhravo can come back. Who knows? Maybe he'll actually get his troops in line and arrange for adequate food supplies. Maybe Delacroix actually saw further than I thought. Maybe he's actually a hero, deep down underneath it all, ready to risk his neck for the good of the common man. I didn't think he had it in him. Maybe I underestimated him.
COMMAND: Delete
ENTRY DELETED
*****
COMMAND: New Entry
STANDING BY...
Back-stabbing psychopaths! I was wrong. I didn't underestimate him at all. And if that wasn't bad enough, I'm coming to rapidly revise my new image of Chambers as some sort of decent human being. I can't believe that after taking all of the resistance's information, intel that no doubt people have bled and died for, they're just going to go hand it over to the Emir! What in the nine hells are they thinking? Do they care about nothing?
No, they care about their friends. And apparently only their friends. To hell with anyone else who burns, so long as their friends escape. To hell with their informants, their associates, and even me. Who cares if mothers, fathers, and children die in the aftermath, so long as the people they personally care about are all right.
No. To hell with that.
They took the information on the Emir, and they're damned well going to do something useful with it, so help me God.
COMMAND: Delete
ENTRY DELETED
COMMAND: Purge memory.
MEMORY PURGED
NO ENTRY SELECTED
Monday, June 21, 2010
17 June 2010 - 72 hours with psychopaths
Posted by Julie at 19:31
Labels: game night , maia , session log
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2 comments :
CB, can you give us an in-game date here?
CB and I have both been keeping track of the date, though my math might be a little off. If I'm calculating right, this takes place from the night of 21 Winter to the night of 23 Winter.
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